came up. The winds drove the ship upon the rocks, and it was wrecked.
The soldier was cast half-drowned upon the shore; and he would have
died there, had it not been for the kind care of a farmer who lived
close by.
[Illustration]
When the soldier was well enough to go home, he thanked the farmer for
what he had done, and promised that he would repay him for his
kindness.
But he did not mean to keep his promise. He did not tell King Philip
about the man who had saved his life. He only said that there was a
fine farm by the seashore, and that he would like very much to have
it for his own. Would the king give it to him?
"Who owns the farm now?" asked Philip.
"Only a churlish farmer, who has never done anything for his country,"
said the soldier.
"Very well, then," said Philip. "You have served me for a long time,
and you shall have your wish. Go and take the farm for yourself."
And so the soldier made haste to drive the farmer from his house and
home. He took the farm for his own.
The poor farmer was stung to the heart by such treat-ment. He went
boldly to the king, and told the whole story from beginning to end.
King Philip was very angry when he learned that the man whom he had
trusted had done so base a deed. He sent for the soldier in great
haste; and when he had come, he caused these words to be burned in his
forehead:--
"THE UNGRATEFUL GUEST."
Thus all the world was made to know of the mean act by which the
soldier had tried to enrich himself; and from that day until he died
all men shunned and hated him.
ALEXANDER AND BUCEPHALUS.
One day King Philip bought a fine horse called Bu-ceph´a-lus. He was a
noble an-i-mal, and the king paid a very high price for him. But he
was wild and savage, and no man could mount him, or do anything at all
with him.
They tried to whip him, but that only made him worse. At last the king
bade his servants take him away.
"It is a pity to ruin so fine a horse as that," said Al-ex-an´der, the
king's young son. "Those men do not know how to treat him."
"Perhaps you can do better than they," said his father scorn-ful-ly.
"I know," said Al-ex-an-der, "that, if you would only give me leave to
try, I could manage this horse better than any one else."
"And if you fail to do so, what then?" asked Philip.
"I will pay you the price of the horse," said the lad.
While everybody was laughing, Alexander ran up to Bu-ceph-a-lus, and
turned his head toward the sun. He had noticed that the horse was
afraid of his own shadow.
He then spoke gently to the horse, and patted him with his hand. When
he had qui-et-ed him a little, he made a quick spring, and leaped upon
the horse's back.
Everybody expected to see the boy killed outright. But he kept his
place, and let the horse run as fast as he would. By and by, when
Bucephalus had become tired, Alexander reined him in, and rode back to
the place where his father was standing.
All the men who were there shouted when they saw that the boy had
proved himself to be the master of the horse.
He leaped to the ground, and his father ran and kissed him.
"My son," said the king, "Macedon is too small a place for you. You
must seek a larger kingdom that will be worthy of you."
After that, Alexander and Bucephalus were the best of friends. They
were said to be always together, for when one of them was seen, the
other was sure to be not far away. But the horse would never allow any
one to mount him but his master.
Alexander became the most famous king and warrior that was ever known;
and for that reason he is always called Alexander the Great.
Bucephalus carried him through many countries and in many fierce
battles, and more than once did he save his master's life.
DIOGENES THE WISE MAN.
At Cor-inth, in Greece, there lived a very wise man whose name was
Di-og´e-nes. Men came from all parts of the land to see him and hear
him talk.
But wise as he was, he had some very queer ways. He did not believe
that any man ought to have more things than he re-al-ly needed; and he
said that no man needed much. And so he did not live in a house, but
slept in a tub or barrel, which he rolled about from place to place.
He spent his days sitting in the sun, and saying wise things to those
who were around him.
At noon one day, Di-og-e-nes was seen walking through the streets with
a lighted lantern, and looking all around as if in search of
something.
"Why do you carry a lantern when the sun is shining?" some one said.
"I am looking for an honest man," answered Diogenes.
When Alexander the Great went to Cor-inth, all the fore-most men in
the city came out to see him and to praise him. But Diogenes did not
come; and he was the only man for whose o-pin-ions Alexander cared.
[Illustration: Diogenes and Alexander.]
And so, since the wise man would not come to see the king, the king
went to see the wise man. He found Diogenes in an out-of-the-way
place, lying on the ground by his tub. He was en-joy-ing the heat and
the light of the sun.
When he saw the king and a great many people coming, he sat up and
looked at Alexander. Alexander greeted him and said,--
"Diogenes, I have heard a great deal about your wisdom. Is there
anything that I can do for you?"
"Yes," said Diogenes. "You can stand a little on one side, so as not
to keep the sunshine from me."
This answer was so dif-fer-ent from what he expected, that the king
was much sur-prised. But it did not make him angry; it only made him
admire the strange man all the more. When he turned to ride back, he
said to his officers,--
"Say what you will; if I were not Alexander, I would like to be
Diogenes."
THE BRAVE THREE HUNDRED.
All Greece was in danger. A mighty army, led by the great King of
Persia, had come from the east. It was marching along the seashore,
and in a few days would be in Greece. The great king had sent
mes-sen-gers into every city and state, bidding them give him water
and earth in token that the land and the sea were his. But they
said,--
"No: we will be free."
And so there was a great stir through-out all the land. The men armed
themselves, and made haste to go out and drive back their foe; and the
women staid at home, weeping and waiting, and trembling with fear.
There was only one way by which the Per-sian army could go into Greece
on that side, and that was by a narrow pass between the mountains and
the sea. This pass was guarded by Le-on´i-das, the King of the
Spartans, with three hundred Spartan soldiers.
Soon the Persian soldiers were seen coming. There were so many of them
that no man could count them. How could a handful of men hope to stand
against so great a host?
And yet Le-on-i-das and his Spartans held their ground. They had made
up their minds to die at their post. Some one brought them word that
there were so many Persians that their arrows dark-ened the sun.
"So much the better," said the Spartans; "we shall fight in the
shade."
Bravely they stood in the narrow pass. Bravely they faced their foes.
To Spartans there was no such thing as fear. The Persians came
forward, only to meet death at the points of their spears.
But one by one the Spartans fell. At last their spears were broken;
yet still they stood side by side, fighting to the last. Some fought
with swords, some with daggers, and some with only their fists and
teeth.
All day long the army of the Persians was kept at bay. But when the
sun went down, there was not one Spartan left alive. Where they had
stood there was only a heap of the slain, all bristled over with
spears and arrows.
Twenty thousand Persian soldiers had fallen before that handful of
men. And Greece was saved.
Thousands of years have passed since then; but men still like to tell
the story of Leonidas and the brave three hundred who died for their
country's sake.
SOCRATES AND HIS HOUSE.
There once lived in Greece a very wise man whose name was Soc´ra-tes.
Young men from all parts of the land went to him to learn wisdom from
him; and he said so many pleasant things, and said them in so
delightful a way, that no one ever grew tired of listening to him.
One summer he built himself a house, but it was so small that his
neighbors wondered how he could be content with it.
"What is the reason," said they, "that you, who are so great a man,
should build such a little box as this for your dwelling house?"
"Indeed, there may be little reason," said he; "but, small as the
place is, I shall think myself happy if I can fill even it with true
friends."
THE KING AND HIS HAWK.
Gen´ghis Khan was a great king and war-rior.
He led his army into China and Persia, and he con-quered many lands.
In every country, men told about his daring deeds; and they said that
since Alexander the Great there had been no king like him.
One morning when he was home from the wars, he rode out into the woods
to have a day's sport. Many of his friends were with him. They rode
out gayly, carrying their bows and arrows. Behind them came the
servants with the hounds.
It was a merry hunting party. The woods rang with their shouts and
laughter. They expected to carry much game home in the evening.
On the king's wrist sat his favorite hawk; for in those days hawks
were trained to hunt. At a word from their masters they would fly high
up into the air, and look around for prey. If they chanced to see a
deer or a rabbit, they would swoop down upon it swift as any arrow.
All day long Gen-ghis Khan and his huntsmen rode through the woods.
But they did not find as much game as they expected.
Toward evening they started for home. The king had often ridden
through the woods, and he knew all the paths. So while the rest of the
party took the nearest way, he went by a longer road through a valley
between two mountains.
The day had been warm, and the king was very thirsty. His pet hawk had
left his wrist and flown away. It would be sure to find its way home.
The king rode slowly along. He had once seen a spring of clear water
near this path-way. If he could only find it now! But the hot days of
summer had dried up all the moun-tain brooks.
At last, to his joy, he saw some water tric-kling down over the edge
of a rock. He knew that there was a spring farther up. In the wet
season, a swift stream of water always poured down here; but now it
came only one drop at a time.
The king leaped from his horse. He took a little silver cup from his
hunting bag. He held it so as to catch the slowly falling drops.
It took a long time to fill the cup; and the king was so thirsty that
he could hardly wait. At last it was nearly full. He put the cup to
his lips, and was about to drink.
All at once there was a whir-ring sound in the air, and the cup was
knocked from his hands. The water was all spilled upon the ground.
The king looked up to see who had done this thing. It was his pet
hawk.
The hawk flew back and forth a few times, and then alighted among the
rocks by the spring.
The king picked up the cup, and again held it to catch the tric-kling
drops.
This time he did not wait so long. When the cup was half full, he
lifted it toward his mouth. But before it had touched his lips, the
hawk swooped down again, and knocked it from his hands.
And now the king began to grow angry. He tried again; and for the
third time the hawk kept him from drinking.
The king was now very angry indeed.
"How do you dare to act so?" he cried. "If I had you in my hands, I
would wring your neck!"
Then he filled the cup again. But before he tried to drink, he drew
his sword.
"Now, Sir Hawk," he said, "this is the last time."
He had hardly spoken, before the hawk swooped down and knocked the cup
from his hand. But the king was looking for this. With a quick sweep
of the sword he struck the bird as it passed.
The next moment the poor hawk lay bleeding and dying at its master's
feet.
"That is what you get for your pains," said Genghis Khan.
But when he looked for his cup, he found that it had fallen between
two rocks, where he could not reach it.
"At any rate, I will have a drink from that spring," he said to
himself.
With that he began to climb the steep bank to the place from which the
water trickled. It was hard work, and the higher he climbed, the
thirst-i-er he became.
At last he reached the place. There indeed was a pool of water; but
what was that lying in the pool, and almost filling it? It was a huge,
dead snake of the most poi-son-ous kind.
The king stopped. He forgot his thirst. He thought only of the poor
dead bird lying on the ground below him.
[Illustration]
"The hawk saved my life!" he cried; "and how did I repay him? He was
my best friend, and I have killed him."
He clam-bered down the bank. He took the bird up gently, and laid it
in his hunting bag. Then he mounted his horse and rode swiftly home.
He said to himself,--
"I have learned a sad lesson to-day; and that is, never to do
any-thing in anger."
DOCTOR GOLDSMITH.
There was once a kind man whose name was Oliver Gold-smith. He wrote
many de-light-ful books, some of which you will read when you are
older.
He had a gentle heart. He was always ready to help others and to share
with them anything that he had. He gave away so much to the poor that
he was always poor himself.
He was some-times called Doctor Goldsmith; for he had studied to be a
phy-si-cian.
One day a poor woman asked Doctor Goldsmith to go and see her husband,
who was sick and could not eat.
Goldsmith did so. He found that the family was in great need. The man
had not had work for a long time. He was not sick, but in distress;
and, as for eating, there was no food in the house.
"Call at my room this evening," said Goldsmith to the woman, "and I
will give you some med-i-cine for your husband."
In the evening the woman called. Goldsmith gave her a little paper box
that was very heavy.
"Here is the med-i-cine," he said. "Use it faith-ful-ly, and I think
it will do your husband a great deal of good. But don't open the box
until you reach home."
"What are the di-rec-tions for taking it?" asked the woman.
"You will find them inside of the box," he answered.
When the woman reached her home, she sat down by her husband's side,
and they opened the box; What do you think they found in it?
It was full of pieces of money. And on the top were the
di-rec-tions:--
"TO BE TAKEN AS OFTEN AS NE-CES-SI-TY REQUIRES."
Goldsmith had given them all the ready money that he had.
THE KINGDOMS.
There was once a king of Prussia whose name was Frederick William.
On a fine morning in June he went out alone to walk in the green
woods. He was tired of the noise of the city, and he was glad to get
away from it.
So, as he walked among the trees, he often stopped to listen to the
singing birds, or to look at the wild flowers that grew on every side.
Now and then he stooped to pluck a violet, or a primrose, or a yellow
but-ter-cup. Soon his hands were full of pretty blossoms.
After a while he came to a little meadow in the midst of the wood.
Some children were playing there. They were running here and there,
and gathering the cow-slips that were blooming among the grass.
It made the king glad to see the happy children, and hear their merry
voices. He stood still for some time, and watched them as they played.
Then he called them around him, and all sat down to-geth-er in the
pleasant shade. The children did not know who the strange gentleman
was; but they liked his kind face and gentle manners.
"Now, my little folks," said the king, "I want to ask you some
ques-tions, and the child who gives the best answer shall have a
prize."
Then he held up an orange so that all the children could see.
"You know that we all live in the king-dom of Prussia," he said; "but
tell me, to what king-dom does this orange belong?"
[Illustration]
The children were puz-zled. They looked at one another, and sat very
still for a little while. Then a brave, bright boy spoke up and
said,--
"It belongs to the veg-e-ta-ble kingdom, sir."
"Why so, my lad?" asked the king.
"It is the fruit of a plant, and all plants belong to that kingdom,"
said the boy.
The king was pleased. "You are quite right," he said; "and you shall
have the orange for your prize."
He tossed it gayly to the boy. "Catch it if you can!" he said.
Then he took a yellow gold piece from his pocket, and held it up so
that it glit-tered in the sunlight.
"Now to what kingdom does this belong?" he asked.
Another bright boy answered quick-ly, "To the min-er-al kingdom, sir!
All metals belong to that kingdom."
"That is a good answer," said the king. "The gold piece is your
prize."
The children were de-light-ed. With eager faces they waited to hear
what the stranger would say next.
"I will ask you only one more question," said the king, "and it is an
easy one." Then he stood up, and said, "Tell me, my little folks, to
what kingdom do I belong?"
The bright boys were puz-zled now. Some thought of saying, "To the
kingdom of Prussia." Some wanted to say, "To the animal kingdom." But
they were a little afraid, and all kept still.
At last a tiny blue-eyed child looked up into the king's smiling face,
and said in her simple way,--
"I think to the kingdom of heaven."
King Frederick William stooped down and lifted the little maiden in
his arms. Tears were in his eyes as he kissed her, and said, "So be
it, my child! So be it."
THE BARMECIDE FEAST.
There was once a rich old man who was called the Bar-me-cide. He lived
in a beautiful palace in the midst of flowery gardens. He had
every-thing that heart could wish.
In the same land there was a poor man whose name was Schac-a-bac. His
clothing was rags, and his food was the scraps which other people had
thrown away. But he had a light heart, and was as happy as a king.
Once when Schac-a-bac had not had anything to eat for a long time, he
thought that he would go and ask the Bar-me-cide to help him.
The servant at the door said, "Come in and talk with our master. He
will not send you away hungry."
Schacabac went in, and passed through many beautiful rooms, looking
for the Barmecide. At last he came to a grand hall where there were
soft carpets on the floor, and fine pictures on the walls, and
pleasant couches to lie down upon.
At the upper end of the room he saw a noble man with a long white
beard. It was the Barmecide; and poor Schacabac bowed low before him,
as was the custom in that country.
The Barmecide spoke very kindly, and asked what was wanted.
Schacabac told him about all his troubles, and said that it was now
two days since he had tasted bread.
"Is it possible?" said the Barmecide. "You must be almost dead with
hunger; and here I have plenty and to spare!"
Then he turned and called, "Ho, boy! Bring in the water to wash our
hands, and then order the cook to hurry the supper."
Schacabac had not expected to be treated so kindly. He began to thank
the rich man.
"Say not a word," said the Barmecide, "but let us get ready for the
feast."
Then the rich man began to rub his hands as though some one was
pouring water on them. "Come and wash with me," he said.
Schacabac saw no boy, nor basin, nor water. But he thought that he
ought to do as he was bidden; and so, like the Barmecide, he made a
pretense of washing.
"Come now," said the Barmecide, "let us have supper."
He sat down, as if to a table, and pre-tend-ed to be carving a roast.
Then he said, "Help yourself, my good friend. You said you were
hungry: so, now, don't be afraid of the food."
Schacabac thought that he un-der-stood the joke, and he made pretense
of taking food, and passing it to his mouth. Then he began to chew,
and said, "You see, sir, I lose no time."
"Boy," said the old man, "bring on the roast goose.--Now, my good
friend, try this choice piece from the breast. And here are sweet
sauce, honey, raisins, green peas, and dry figs. Help yourself, and
remember that other good things are coming."
Schacabac was almost dead with hunger, but he was too polite not to do
as he was bidden.
"Come," said the Barmecide, "have another piece of the roast lamb. Did
you ever eat anything so de-li-cious?"
"Never in my life," said Schacabac. "Your table is full of good
things."
"Then eat heartily," said the Barmecide. "You cannot please me
better."
After this came the des-sert. The Barmecide spoke of sweet-meats and
fruits; and Schacabac made believe that he was eating them.
"Now is there anything else that you would like?" asked the host.
"Ah, no!" said poor Schacabac. "I have indeed had great plenty."
"Let us drink, then," said the Barmecide. "Boy, bring on the wine!"
"Excuse me, my lord," said Schacabac, "I will drink no wine, for it is
for-bid-den."
The Barmecide seized him by the hand. "I have long wished to find a
man like you," he said. "But come, now we will sup in earnest."
He clapped his hands. Servants came, and he ordered supper. Soon they
sat down to a table loaded with the very dishes of which they had
pre-tend-ed to eat.
Poor Schacabac had never had so good a meal in all his life. When they
had fin-ished, and the table had been cleared away, the Barmecide
said,--
"I have found you to be a man of good un-der-stand-ing. Your wits are
quick, and you are ready always to make the best of everything. Come
and live with me, and manage my house."
And so Schacabac lived with the Barmecide many years, and never again
knew what it was to be hungry.
THE ENDLESS TALE.
In the Far East there was a great king who had no work to do. Every
day, and all day long, he sat on soft cush-ions and lis-tened to
stories. And no matter what the story was about, he never grew tired
of hearing it, even though it was very long.
"There is only one fault that I find with your story," he often said:
"it is too short."
All the story-tellers in the world were in-vit-ed to his palace; and
some of them told tales that were very long indeed. But the king was
always sad when a story was ended.
At last he sent word into every city and town and country place,
offering a prize to any one who should tell him an endless tale. He
said,--
"To the man that will tell me a story which shall last forever, I will
give my fairest daugh-ter for his wife; and I will make him my heir,
and he shall be king after me."
But this was not all. He added a very hard con-di-tion. "If any man
shall try to tell such a story and then fail, he shall have his head
cut off."
The king's daughter was very pretty, and there were many young men in
that country who were willing to do anything to win her. But none of
them wanted to lose their heads, and so only a few tried for the
prize.
One young man invented a story that lasted three months; but at the
end of that time, he could think of nothing more. His fate was a
warning to others, and it was a long time before another story-teller
was so rash as to try the king's patience.
But one day a stran-ger from the South came into the palace.
"Great king," he said, "is it true that you offer a prize to the man
who can tell a story that has no end?"
"It is true," said the king.
"And shall this man have your fairest daughter for his wife, and shall
he be your heir?"
"Yes, if he suc-ceeds," said the king. "But if he fails, he shall lose
his head."
"Very well, then," said the stran-ger. "I have a pleasant story about
locusts which I would like to relate."
"Tell it," said the king. "I will listen to you."
The story-teller began his tale.
"Once upon a time a certain king seized upon all the corn in his
country, and stored it away in a strong gran-a-ry. But a swarm of
locusts came over the land and saw where the grain had been put. After
search-ing for many days they found on the east side of the gran-a-ry
a crev-ice that was just large enough for one locust to pass through
at a time. So one locust went in and carried away a grain of corn;
then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn; then
another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn."
Day after day, week after week, the man kept on saying, "Then another
locust went in and carried away a grain of corn."
A month passed; a year passed. At the end of two years, the king
said,--
"How much longer will the locusts be going in and carrying away corn?"
"O king!" said the story-teller, "they have as yet cleared only one
cubit; and there are many thousand cubits in the granary."
"Man, man!" cried the king, "you will drive me mad. I can listen to it
no longer. Take my daughter; be my heir; rule my kingdom. But do not
let me hear another word about those horrible locusts!"
And so the strange story-teller married the king's daughter. And he
lived happily in the land for many years. But his father-in-law, the
king, did not care to listen to any more stories.
THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT.
There were once six blind men who stood by the road-side every day,
and begged from the people who passed. They had often heard of
el-e-phants, but they had never seen one; for, being blind, how could
they?