told his father's new demand, which, he said, he looked upon to be a
thing more impossible than the other two. "For," added he, "I cannot
imagine there can be such a man in the world. How can my father suppose
that I should be able to find a man so small and at the same time so
well armed? What arms can I make use of to reduce him to my will?"
66. "Don't be frightened, prince," replied the fairy; "you ran a risk
in getting the water of the Fountain of Lions for your father, but
there is no danger in finding this man, who is my brother Schaibar.
Far from being like me, he is of so violent a nature that nothing can
prevent his resenting a slight offence; yet, on the other hand, he is
so good as to oblige any one in whatever is desired. He is exactly as
the sultan, your father, has described him.
[Illustration: There arose a thick cloud of smoke.]
67. "I'll send for him, and you shall judge of the truth of what I tell
you; but prepare yourself not to be frightened at his extraordinary
appearance."
"What! my queen," replied Prince Ahmed; "do you say Schaibar is your
brother? Let him be never so ugly and deformed, I shall be so far from
being frightened at the sight of him that, as our brother, I shall
honor and love him."
68. The fairy ordered a gold chafing dish to be set with a fire in it
in the porch of her palace, and taking a perfume, she threw it into the
fire, out of which there arose a thick cloud of smoke.
69. Some moments after, the fairy said to Prince Ahmed: "See, here
comes my brother." The prince immediately perceived Schaibar coming
gravely, with his heavy bar on his shoulder; his long beard, which he
held up before him; and a pair of thick moustachios, which he tucked
behind his ears and which almost covered his face. His eyes were very
small and deep-set in his head, and he wore a high cap; besides all
this, he was very much humpbacked.
70. Schaibar, as he came forward, looked at the prince earnestly enough
to chill the blood in his veins, and asked Peribanou who he was. To
which she replied: "He is my husband, brother. His name is Ahmed;
he is the son of the sultan of the Indies. The reason why I did not
invite you to my wedding was that I was unwilling to divert you from
an expedition in which you were engaged, and from which I heard with
pleasure that you returned victorious, and so I took the liberty to
call for you."
71. At these words, Schaibar, looking on Prince Ahmed favorably, said:
"Is there anything, sister, wherein I can serve him? That he is your
husband is enough to engage me to do for him whatever he desires."
"The sultan, his father," replied Peribanou, "has a curiosity to see
you, and I desire that the prince may be your guide to the sultan's
court."
72. Schaibar and Prince Ahmed set out for the sultan's court. When they
arrived at the gates of the capital, the people no sooner saw Schaibar
than they ran and hid themselves; so that Schaibar and Prince Ahmed, as
they went along, found the streets all deserted till they came to the
palace. There the porters, instead of keeping the gates, ran away, too,
so that the prince and Schaibar advanced to the council hall, where the
sultan was seated on his throne, giving audience.
73. Schaibar went boldly up to the throne, without waiting to be
presented by Prince Ahmed, and addressed the sultan in these words:
"Thou hast asked for me; see, here I am. What wouldst thou have with
me?"
74. The sultan, instead of answering him, clapped his hands before
his eyes to avoid the sight of so terrible an object; at which rude
reception Schaibar was so much provoked, after he had taken the trouble
to come so far, that he instantly lifted up his iron bar and killed the
sultan before Prince Ahmed could intercede.
75. All that the prince could do was to prevent his killing the grand
vizier by saying that this officer had always given the sultan good
advice.
After this Schaibar said: "This is not yet enough; I will treat all the
people in the same way if they do not immediately acknowledge Prince
Ahmed, my brother-in-law, for their sultan and the sultan of the
Indies."
76. Then all that were there present made the air echo again with the
repeated shouts of "Long life to Sultan Ahmed!" and immediately he was
proclaimed through the whole town. Schaibar had him installed on the
throne, and after he had caused all to swear fidelity to Ahmed, he
brought Peribanou with all the pomp and grandeur imaginable, and had
her crowned sultaness of the Indies.
* * * * *
I. =Sŭl´tan=: an Eastern king. =Ho̤_u_s´sā̍_i_n=. =Ä_h´_mĕd=.
=No̤=_u_ =rŏn´ĭ här=. =Dĭs g_u_īs̝_e_d´=: dressed for the
purpose of concealment. =Bĭs nȧ gär´.= =Trăns pōrt´ĕd=: carried.
=Säm ar känd´.= =Çĕr´ē̍ mō̍ nĭ_e_s̝=: forms of politeness.
=Cŏm mĕnd´ĕd=: praised.
II. =Hẽr´mĭt=: a man who lives apart from other people.
=Rē̍ nounç=_e´_: give up. =Lē_a_g_ue_s̝=: a league is a
measure of distance of from two to four miles. =Pōrt=: manner
of carrying oneself. =Ġē´nĭ_e_s̝=: spirits; powerful fairies.
=Pĕ rï bä´no̤_u_.= =Ĭn´fĭ nĭt=_e_ =ly̆=: beyond measure; greatly.
=Cŏn jĕc´tū̍r_e_=: guess.
III. =Ē̍ quĭp_pe_d´=: dressed; fitted out. =Pĕn´ē̍ trāt_e_=:
pierce into. =Viz´iers=: in Eastern countries, officers of high
rank. =Fĭ dĕl´ĭ ty̆=: faithfulness.
IV. =Ĭm pŏs´tor=: a cheat; one who imposes upon others.
=Fŏr b_e_âr´=: keep from. =Sȯv´ẽr= _e_=ĭ_g_n=: effectual.
V. =Cŏn jūr=_e´_: beg earnestly. =No̤_u_r´gĭ hän=.
=Ĭn crē̍ dū´lĭ ty̆=: unbelief. =Qua̤r´tẽr stȧf=_f_: a long, stout
staff used as a weapon.
VI. =Mo̤_u_s tȧçh´ĭ ō̍s̝=: mustache. =Dĭ vẽrt´=: turn aside.
=Ĭn tẽr çēd_e´_=: speak in his behalf. =Ĭn sta̤l_le_d´=: placed
in office.
[Illustration: William Cullen Bryant]
The Planting of the Apple Tree
BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT
William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878): An American poet and journalist.
His most famous poem is "Thanatopsis," written when he was only
eighteen. Among his other poems are "To a Waterfowl," "The Death of
the Flowers," and "To a Fringed Gentian."
1. Come, let us plant the apple tree.
Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;
Wide let its hollow bed be made;
There gently lay the roots, and there
Sift the dark mold with kindly care,
And press it o'er them tenderly,
As round the sleeping infant's feet
We softly fold the cradle sheet;
So plant we the apple tree.
[Illustration]
2. What plant we in this apple tree?
Buds which the breath of summer days
Shall lengthen into leafy sprays;
Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast,
Shall haunt and sing, and hide her nest;
We plant, upon the sunny lea,
A shadow for the noontide hour,
A shelter from the summer shower,
When we plant the apple tree.
3. What plant we in this apple tree?
Sweets for a hundred flowery springs
To load the May wind's restless wings,
When, from the orchard row he pours
Its fragrance through our open doors;
A world of blossoms for the bee,
Flowers for the sick girl's silent room,
For the glad infant sprigs of bloom
We plant with the apple tree.
4. What plant we in this apple tree?
Fruits that shall swell in sunny June,
And redden in the August noon,
And drop, when gentle airs come by
That fan the blue September sky;
While children come, with cries of glee,
And seek them where the fragrant grass
Betrays their bed to those who pass,
At the foot of the apple tree.
5. And when, above this apple tree,
The winter stars are quivering bright,
And winds go howling through the night,
Girls, whose young eyes o'erflow with mirth,
Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth,
And guests in prouder homes shall see,
Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine,
And golden orange of the line,
The fruit of the apple tree.
6. The fruitage of this apple tree
Winds and our flag of stripe and star
Shall bear to coasts that lie afar,
Where men shall wonder at the view,
And ask in what fair groves they grew;
And sojourners beyond the sea
Shall think of childhood's careless day,
And long, long hours of summer play
In the shade of the apple tree.
7. Each year shall give this apple tree
A broader flush of roseate bloom,
A deeper maze of verdurous gloom,
And loosen, when the frost clouds lower,
The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower.
The years shall come and pass, but we
Shall hear no longer, where we lie,
The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh,
In the boughs of the apple tree.
8. And time shall waste this apple tree.
Oh, when its aged branches throw
Thin shadows on the ground below,
Shall fraud and force and iron will
Oppress the weak and helpless still?
What shall the tasks of mercy be,
Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears
Of those who live when length of years
Is wasting this little apple tree?
9. "Who planted this old apple tree?"
The children of that distant day
Thus to some aged man shall say;
And, gazing on its mossy stem,
The gray-haired man shall answer them:
"A poet of the land was he,
Born in the rude but good old times;
'Tis said he made some quaint old rhymes
On planting the apple tree."
[Illustration: "Who planted this old apple tree?"]
* * * * *
=Clē_a_v_e_=: cut; part. =Grē_e_n´swa̤rd=: turf green with grass.
=Lē=_a_: meadow; field. =Çĭn´trȧ=: a town in Portugal. =The
line=: the Equator. =Sō´j_o_ûrn ẽrs̝=: those who dwell for a
time. =Rō´s̝ē̍ ā̍t_e_=: rosy. =Māz_e_=: a tangle; a network.
=Vẽr´dū̍r= _o_=ŭs=: green. =Low´ẽr=: seem dark and gloomy.
=Fra̤_u_d=: deceit; cheat. =Quā_i_nt=: odd; curious.
Nests
Make yourselves nests of pleasant thoughts! None of us yet know, for
none of us have been taught in early youth, what fairy palaces we
may build of beautiful thoughts, proof against all adversity; bright
fancies, satisfied memories, noble histories, faithful sayings,
treasure-houses of precious and restful thoughts, which care cannot
disturb, nor pain make gloomy, nor poverty take away from us; houses
built without hands, for our souls to live in.
RUSKIN
Sir Isaac Newton
BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE
I
1. On Christmas Day, in the year 1642, Isaac Newton was born at the
small village of Woolsthorpe, in England. Little did his mother think,,
when she beheld her new-born babe, that he was to explain many matters
which had been a mystery ever since the creation of the world.
[Illustration: Sir Isaac Newton]
2. Isaac's father being dead, Mrs. Newton was married again to a
clergyman and went to live at North Witham. Her son was left to the
care of his good old grandmother, who was very kind to him and sent him
to school.
3. In his early years Isaac did not appear to be a very bright scholar,
but was chiefly remarkable for his ingenuity. He had a set of little
tools and saws of various sizes, manufactured by himself. With the aid
of these Isaac made many curious articles, at which he worked with so
much skill that he seemed to have been born with a saw or chisel in
hand.
4. The neighbors looked with admiration at the things which Isaac
manufactured. And his old grandmother, I suppose, was never weary of
talking about him.
"He'll make a capital workman one of these days," she would probably
say. "No fear but what Isaac will do well in the world and be a rich
man before he dies."
5. It is amusing to conjecture what were the expectations of his
grandmother and the neighbors about Isaac's future life. Some of
them, perhaps, fancied that he would make beautiful furniture. Others
probably thought that little Isaac would be an architect, and would
build splendid houses, and churches with the tallest steeples that had
ever been seen in England.
6. Some of his friends, no doubt, advised Isaac's grandmother to
apprentice him to a clock-maker; for, besides his mechanical skill, the
boy seemed to have a taste for mathematics, which would be very useful
to him in that profession.
7. And then, in due time, Isaac would set up for himself, and would
manufacture curious clocks like those that contain sets of dancing
figures which come from the dial-plate when the hour is struck; or
like those where a ship sails across the face of the clock and is seen
tossing up and down on the waves as often as the pendulum vibrates.
8. Indeed, there was some ground for supposing that Isaac would devote
himself to the manufacture of clocks, since he had already made one of
a kind which nobody had ever heard of before. It was set a-going, not
by wheels and weights like other clocks, but by the dropping of water.
9. This was an object of great wonderment to all the people round
about; and it must be confessed that there are few boys, or men either,
who could contrive to tell what o'clock it is by means of a bowl of
water.
10. Besides the water clock, Isaac made a sundial. Thus his grandmother
was never at a loss to know the hour; for the water clock would tell it
in the shade and the dial in the sunshine. The sundial is said to be
still at Woolsthorpe, on the corner of the house where Isaac dwelt.
11. If so, it must have marked the passage of every sunny hour that has
passed since Isaac Newton was a boy. It marked all the famous moments
of his life; it marked the hour of his death; and still the sunshine
creeps slowly over it, as regularly as when Isaac first set it up.
12. Yet we must not say that the sundial has lasted longer than its
maker; for Isaac Newton will exist long after the dial--yes, and long
after the sun itself--shall have crumbled to decay.
II
13. Isaac possessed a wonderful power of gaining knowledge by the
simplest means. For instance, what method do you suppose he took to
find out the strength of the wind? You will never guess how the boy
could compel that unseen, inconstant, and ungovernable wonder, the
wind, to tell him the measure of its strength.
14. Yet nothing can be more simple. He jumped against the wind; and
by the length of his jump he could calculate the force of a gentle
breeze or a tempest. Thus, even in his boyish sports he was continually
searching out the secrets of philosophy.
15. Not far from his grandmother's house there was a windmill which
worked on a new plan. Isaac was in the habit of going thither
frequently, and would spend whole hours in examining its various
parts. While the mill was at rest he pried into its machinery.
[Illustration: The windmill]
16. When its broad sails were set in motion by the wind, he watched the
process by which the millstones were made to turn and crush the grain
that was put into the hopper. After gaining a thorough knowledge of its
construction, he was observed to be unusually busy with his tools.
17. It was not long before his grandmother and all the neighborhood
knew what Isaac had been about. He had constructed a model of the
windmill. Though not so large, I suppose, as one of the box traps
which boys set to catch squirrels, yet every part of the mill and its
machinery was complete.
18. Its little sails were neatly made of linen, and whirled round very
swiftly when the mill was placed in a draught of air. Even a puff of
wind from Isaac's mouth or from a pair of bellows was sufficient to set
the sails in motion. And, what was most curious, if a handful of grains
of wheat was put into the little hopper, they would soon be converted
into snow-white flour.
19. Isaac's playmates were enchanted with his new windmill. They
thought that nothing so pretty and so wonderful had ever been seen in
the whole world.
"But, Isaac," said one of them, "you have forgotten one thing that
belongs to a mill."
20. "What is that?" asked Isaac; for he supposed that, from the roof of
the mill to its foundation, he had forgotten nothing.
"Why, where is the miller?" said his friend.
"That is true; I must look out for one," said Isaac; and he set himself
to consider how the deficiency should be supplied.
21. He might easily have made a little figure like a man; but then
it would not have been able to move about and perform the duties of
a miller. It so happened, however, that a mouse had just been caught
in the trap; and, as no other miller could be found, Mr. Mouse was
appointed to that important office.
22. The new miller made a very respectable appearance in his dark gray
coat. To be sure, he had not a very good character for honesty, and
was suspected of sometimes stealing a portion of the grain which was
given him to grind. But perhaps some two-legged millers are quite as
dishonest as this small quadruped.
23. As Isaac grew older, it was found that he had far more important
matters in his mind than the manufacture of toys like the little
windmill. All day long, if left to himself, he was either absorbed in
thought or engaged in some book of mathematics or natural philosophy.
24. At night, I think it probable, he looked up with reverential
curiosity to the stars and wondered whether they were worlds like our
own, and how great was their distance from the earth, and what was the
power that kept them in their courses. Perhaps, even so early in life,
Isaac Newton felt that he should be able some day to answer all these
questions.
25. When Isaac was fourteen years old, his mother's second husband
being now dead, she wished her son to leave school and assist her
in managing the farm at Woolsthorpe. For a year or two, therefore,
he tried to turn his attention to farming. But his mind was so bent
on becoming a scholar that his mother sent him back to school, and
afterwards to the University of Cambridge.
III
26. I have now finished my anecdotes of Isaac Newton's boyhood.
My story would be far too long were I to mention all the splendid
discoveries which he made after he came to be a man.
He was the first that found out the nature of light; for, before his
day, nobody could tell what the sunshine was composed of.
27. You remember, I suppose, the story of an apple's falling on his
head and thus leading him to discover the force of gravitation, which
keeps the heavenly bodies in their courses. When he had once got hold
of this idea, he never permitted his mind to rest until he had searched
out all the laws by which the planets are guided through the sky.
28. This he did as thoroughly as if he had gone up among the stars and
tracked them in their orbits. The boy had found out the mechanism of
a windmill; the man explained to his fellow men the mechanism of the
universe.
29. While making these researches he was accustomed to spend night
after night in a lofty tower, gazing at the heavenly bodies through
a telescope. His mind was lifted far above the things of this world.
He may be said, indeed, to have spent the greater part of his life in
worlds that lie thousands and millions of miles away; for where the
thoughts and the heart are, there is our true life.
[Illustration: There stood little Diamond, the author of all the
mischief.]
30. Did you never hear the story of Newton and his little dog, Diamond?
One day, when he was fifty years old, and had been hard at work more
than twenty years studying the theory of light, he went out of his
chamber, leaving his little dog asleep before the fire.
31. On the table lay a heap of manuscript papers containing all the
discoveries which Newton had made during those twenty years. When his
master was gone, up rose little Diamond, jumped upon the table, and
overthrew the lighted candle. The papers immediately caught fire.
32. Just as the destruction was completed, Newton opened the chamber
door and perceived that the labors of twenty years were reduced
to a heap of ashes. There stood little Diamond, the author of all
the mischief. Almost any other man would have sentenced the dog to
immediate death. But Newton patted him on the head, with his usual
kindness, although grief was at his heart.
33. "O Diamond, Diamond," exclaimed he, "thou little knowest the
mischief thou hast done!"
This incident affected his health and spirits for some time afterwards;
but, from his conduct towards the little dog, you may judge what was
the sweetness of his temper.
34. Newton lived to be a very old man, and acquired great fame. He was
made a member of Parliament and was knighted by the king. But he cared
little for earthly fame and honors, and felt no pride in the vastness
of his knowledge. All that he had learned only made him feel how little
he knew in comparison to what remained to be known.
35. "I seem to myself like a child," he observed, "playing on the
sea-shore and picking up here and there a curious shell or a pretty
pebble, while the boundless ocean of truth lies undiscovered before
me."
36. At last, in 1727, when he was fourscore and five years old, Sir
Isaac Newton died--or, rather, he ceased to live on earth. We may be
permitted to believe that he is still searching out the infinite wisdom
and goodness of the Creator as earnestly, and with even more success,
than while his spirit animated a mortal body.
He has left a fame behind him which will be as lasting as if his name
were written in letters of light formed by the stars upon the midnight
sky.
* * * * *
I. =Ĭn ġē̍ nū´ĭ ty̆=: skill; inventiveness.
=Măn ū̍ făc´tū̍r_e_d=: made. =Är´c̵hĭ tĕct=: a person skilled
in the art of building. =Mē̍ c̵hăn´ĭ cal=: relating to tools and
machinery. =Vī´brāt_e_s=: moves to and fro.
II. =Phi los´o phy=: the science or knowledge of things, their
causes and effects. =Prī_e_d=: looked closely. =Hŏp´pẽr=: a box
through which grain passes into a mill. =Con struc´tion=: manner
of building; arrangement. =Cŏn vẽrt´ĕd=: changed. =De fi´cien cy=:
want. =Quạd´rụ pĕd=: an animal having four feet. =Rev er en´tial=:
respectful; humble.
III. =Grav i ta´tion=: the law of nature by which all bodies
are drawn towards one another. =Ôr´bĭts=: paths round the sun.
=Mĕc̵h´an ĭs̝m=: Arrangement of the parts of anything. =Fō_u_r
scōr_e_=: eighty.
* * * * *
Who is here?
It is I. It is he. It is she. It is we. It is they.
Who was here?
It was I. It was he. It was she. It was we. It was they.
Answer the following questions, using the right words:
Who is there? Who is coming? Who is reading the book? Who brought
the flowers?
* * * * *
It is not what we earn, but what we save, that makes us rich. It is not
what we eat, but what we digest, that makes us strong. It is not what
we read, but what we understand, that makes us wise. It is not what we
intend, but what we do, that makes us useful.
Lucy
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
1. She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none to praise,
And very few to love;
2. A violet by a mossy stone,
Half hidden from the eye;
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky!
3. She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
[Illustration:
From the painting by Jules Breton
The Song of the Lark]
To a Skylark
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, that music still!
* * * * *
=Ē̍ thē´rē̍al=: heavenly. =Mĭn´strĕl=: poet; singer.
Tom Goes down to the Sea
BY CHARLES KINGSLEY
Charles Kingsley (1819-1875): An English clergyman, who was the
author of several popular novels. He wrote two books for children
which have become child classics--"The Heroes," a collection of
Greek fairy tales, and "The Water-Babies."
This selection is from "The Water-Babies," which is a story about
the strange and beautiful changes which go on in the water. Tom was
a little chimney sweep whom the fairies changed into a water-baby.
He had been a poor, neglected little boy, who was mischievous and
unkind because he knew no better. At first he was a mischievous,
unkind water-baby, and the water-creatures found no pleasure in
playing with him, so that for a while he was very lonely. But, as
he learned to be more kind and loving, he won friends. Here is the
story of his journey in search of other water-babies, whom at last
he found in the great sea.
I
1. And then, on the evening of a very hot day, Tom, the water-baby, saw
a sight.
He had been very stupid all day, and so had the trout, for they would
not move an inch to take a fly, though there were thousands on the
water, but lay dozing at the bottom, under the shade of the stones; and
Tom lay dozing, too, and was glad to cuddle their smooth, cool sides,
for the water was quite warm and unpleasant.
2. But toward evening it grew suddenly dark, and Tom looked up and saw
a blanket of black clouds lying right across the valley above his head,
resting on the crags right and left. He felt not quite frightened, but
very still, for everything was still. There was not a whisper of wind
nor a chirp of a bird to be heard; and next a few great drops of rain
fell plop into the water, and one hit Tom on the nose and made him pop
his head down quickly enough.