corn copper satin teaching horse
velvet tin coasting surveying sheep
potatoes muslin swimming building oxen
wheat lead tennis linen dog
barley brass skating mining silk
beets gold football printing cattle
THE TRAINING OF A BOY KING
We think little of kings and princes nowadays. They appear chiefly
in our fairy stories when we know they are pure creations of
somebody's imagination. Possibly some of you have wished you had
been born a prince or princess. This story will give you a glimpse
of the real life of a prince who was the son of one of the most
powerful kings of England.
Almost everybody knows something about Queen Elizabeth, the famous
queen who made England such a powerful country long ago in the
sixteenth century. And almost everybody knows something about her
older sister, Queen Mary, who caused so much sorrow to England
because of religious persecution. But not nearly so many people know
about their younger brother, King Edward the Sixth, who came to the
throne before either of his sisters, and whose short life was full
of burdens and anxieties. This story tells something about the way
in which a boy had to be educated if he was going to be a king. You
will see that he had very little chance for freedom or happiness.
Read the story through quickly, and then glance back and make an
outline of it. Your teacher will let two or three of you tell the
story from the outline you have made.
Almost four hundred years ago all London was rejoicing because of the
birth of a prince, the son of the wicked Henry the Eighth. To be sure,
Henry had two other children, Mary and Elizabeth; but there were
reasons, it was thought, why neither of them could inherit the throne.
So the people were glad when little Edward was born; anthems of joy
were sung in all the churches; bonfires were lit, and bells rang.
Three days later, when the baby prince was baptized, the way from the
palace to the chapel was hung with silk and velvet and cloth of gold,
and lined with torch-bearers. Noble lords held a shining canopy over
his head, and others carried the towels and basins needed in the
ceremony. His sister Mary, a gracious lady of twenty-one, was his
godmother, the archbishop was his godfather, and little red-haired
Elizabeth, only four years old, also had a share in the ceremony.
Ten days later joy was turned to mourning, for the Queen died, and
little Prince Edward was left motherless. The baby, however, had a
kind nurse and many servants, four of whom were called "rockers", as
it was then thought right to rock a baby in his cradle or in the arms.
All these servants were charged to watch and guard the Prince night
and day lest any harm should befall him, for, as King Henry said, he
was "the whole realm's most precious jewel".
While Edward was a little child he lived chiefly in the country, and
was brought up till he was six years old by the women of the
household. After that he had learned men for his schoolmasters, and
they taught him languages, philosophy, and such art and science as
were known at the time. Such studies sound like very grown-up lessons
for a little boy, do they not? A large part of education in those days
consisted of Greek and Latin. Both Edward and his sister Elizabeth
were very fond of books, and many were the happy mornings that the two
children spent together over their lessons.
Besides his sister, Edward had other school companions. In order that
he might not be alone, several boys, the sons of noblemen, were
brought up in the palace along with the Prince. One of them, it is
said, was known as Edward's "whipping boy"; that is, if the Prince
misbehaved, as he seldom did, this boy was punished for it, as it was
not thought proper to punish the Prince himself.
By the time he was eight, the boy could both read and write Latin. He
wrote his letters in Latin, and several of them, along with three of
his exercise books, have been handed down to the present time. The
books are filled with Greek and Latin exercises. He must have been a
clever boy, and must also have studied hard and long.
One winter morning when Edward was nine years old, gentlemen came
riding out from London with the news that his father, King Henry, was
dead, and that Edward was the new King. He wept bitterly, for to him
his father had always been loving and gentle, however cruel he was to
others. But the boy could not weep long, for he had to mount his horse
and ride to London to be welcomed by the people. The next day all the
nobles came and knelt before him to kiss his hand and swear that they
would always be loyal. But Edward was still too young to be really
king. His father had left the government in the hands of eighteen men
whom he named. These men now decided that they would put all the power
into the hands of the most important one among them, Edward's uncle,
the Duke of Somerset, who should be called Lord Protector.
For a long time hardly a day passed without some tiresome state
ceremony to which the little King had to go. You can imagine that he
grew very tired of so much showing off. At last came the coronation.
The day before it, King Edward rode through the streets in solemn
procession, clad in a suit of white velvet and silver, adorned with
pearls and diamonds. The trappings of his horse were crimson and gold
embroidered with pearls. The progress of the procession was very slow,
lasting from noon till nightfall; for in every open space was a raised
platform hung with gay curtains, where a company of actors, acrobats,
or singing children would give some kind of exhibition which the King
must stay to watch. One thing that we must suppose he particularly
liked was a wonderful tightrope walker. But after all, he was only a
little nine-year-old boy, and you can imagine that he was very tired
when the long day was over and he went home to bed.
Next day at nine Edward was on his way to Westminster Abbey for the
long and splendid ceremony of the coronation, at which he was formally
presented to the people and crowned by the Archbishop of Canterbury.
After two more days of feasting and celebration, the young King
settled down to a quiet life again. But now it was a very lonely life
and not so happy a one. He saw little of his sisters; and though he
went on with his lessons, they were often interrupted by the business
of the state. For though he had no real power, and the Lord Protector
actually ruled England, yet the little boy had to go through the form
of approving or disapproving of what was done.
Now the Duke of Somerset was very ambitious, and since he had so much of
the power of a king, he began to act and to talk as if he were really
king. This made some people angry and other people jealous. One of the
jealous ones was Lord Seymour, the Protector's brother. Somerset was
very stern with Edward, and kept him very short of money, so Seymour
tried to win the young King's liking by kindness and by gifts of
pocket-money, which kings like as well as other boys. But Seymour's
enemies were too strong for him; he was shut up in the tower, and
Somerset so influenced the child king that he consented to have his kind
uncle condemned to death. It seems a pity that a boy so wise and good
should have been so cold-hearted. It must have been because all the men
around him were hard and cold; if he had only not been a king he might
have been warm and loving and full of gratitude for kindness.
Meantime Somerset went on being more and more proud and ambitious and
making more and more people hate him. Finally, after he had put down
two rebellions by very cruel means, another nobleman, the Duke of
Northumberland, formed a plot to kill Somerset and become Protector
himself. When Somerset heard this, he went to Edward's palace, and
frightened the boy into going away with him on his flight. He thought
that the people would spare his own life out of love and respect for
Edward, and like a coward he used the young King as a shield. It was
dusk when they set out, and the crowded courtyard of the palace was
alight with moving torches and glittering armor. Confused and alarmed
by the champing of the horses, the rattle of steel, and the sound of
voices, the boy cried out, "I pray, good people, be good to us and to
our uncle."
Then Somerset made a long, angry speech to the people, telling them
that he knew of the plot to kill him and seize the King. He finished
his speech in truly cowardly fashion. "I tell you," he said, "if
anything is attempted against me, here," pointing to the King, "is he
who shall die before me."
The King and his uncle fled away safely to Windsor. They rode almost
all night, and arrived at dawn. Nothing was ready for them; they were
not expected, and there was neither food nor fire. The October nights
were cold, and the boy, who was never strong, fell ill of cold and
weariness and fear. At Windsor he lived closely guarded, and felt as
if he were in prison, for the place was then only a fortress, not a
beautiful castle as it is now.
He did not stay long at Windsor, however. Somerset's enemies came
after him, and presented to Edward all their charges against the
cruel, ambitious Protector. Edward seems to have listened to them very
readily, and not to have tried to save his uncle when he was taken and
shut up in the Tower of London. And later, when Somerset was beheaded,
the King cared little about his uncle's fate. It seems strange that
so lovable a boy should have said not one word of regret, even though
he had never liked his uncle.
So, in the midst of anxiety and strife and scenes that hardened his
boyish heart, Edward grew to be fifteen years old. He was now beginning
to take great interest in the government, and to show that he had a mind
and will of his own. Yet, King though he was, he still went on with
lessons. So earnest was he that he was held up to all the boys of
England, as an example. At the same time, however, he liked to play,
though he had sadly little chance for it. He played a game something
like baseball, and tennis, and was fond of archery as a sport.
You will be interested to read what were the things that a boy who was
to be a king had learned by the time he was fifteen. He could speak and
write Latin and French as well as English. He read Greek, Italian, and
Spanish. He had studied the geography of his own country thoroughly, and
knew all about the chief ports of England, Ireland, Scotland, and
France. He had studied fortifications, and the places where they needed
to be built or strengthened. He astonished his advisers by the
intelligence with which he could talk about affairs of state.
It seems likely, does it not, that Edward would have made an excellent
King if ever he had taken the government into his own hands? For the
only fault that shows plainly in him is his coldness of heart. But he
had never been strong, and before he was sixteen he became very ill,
as a result of a cough that he had had for a long time. He had not
strength to fight off the disease; so, patiently and gently as he had
lived, the boy King died. He had had a chance to be neither a real boy
nor a real King.
--_Adapted from "Boy-Kings and Girl-Queens",
by H. E. Marshall._
"SOME UGLY OLD LAWYER"
One of the things that made President Lincoln great was his
kindness in small things. Here is a story, told by a man who saw
the incident take place, that gives an instance of such kindness.
You should all begin reading this story at the same moment. At the
end of one minute your teacher will ask you to close your books
and answer the questions she asks.
One day President Lincoln was met in the park between the White House
and the War Department by an irate, crippled soldier, who was swearing
in a high key, cursing the Government from the President down. Mr.
Lincoln paused and asked him what was the matter.
"Matter enough," was the reply. "I want my money. I have been
discharged here, and can't get my pay."
Mr. Lincoln asked if he had his papers, saying that he used to
practice law in a small way, and possibly could help him. The soldier
rather ungraciously said that he had the papers.
My friend and I stepped behind some convenient shrubbery where we
could watch the result. Mr. Lincoln took the papers from the hands of
the angry soldier, and sat down with him at the foot of a convenient
tree, where he examined them carefully, and writing a line on the
back, told the soldier to take them to Mr. Potts, Chief Clerk of the
War Department, who would doubtless attend to the matter at once.
After Mr. Lincoln had left the soldier, we stepped out and asked him
if he knew whom he had been talking with. "Some ugly old fellow who
pretends to be a lawyer," was the reply. My companion asked to see the
papers, and on their being handed to him, pointed to the indorsement
they had received. To the soldier's great surprise and confusion, this
indorsement read:
"Mr. Potts, attend to this man's case at once and see that he gets his
pay. A. L."
QUESTIONS
1. Why was Mr. Lincoln willing to help the soldier?
2. Why didn't he tell the soldier who he was?
3. Is there a joke in this story? If so, whom was the joke on?
ADDING THE RIGHT WORDS
Arrange your paper with your name on the first line and your grade
on the second line. Do not write anything on the third line, but
on the next six lines, write in the margin the numbers 1 to 6.
Below are six lists of words. All the words included in each list
are related in some way. For instance, all the words in the first
list name colors--
red yellow orange
After figure 1 on your paper write two other words that might be
included in this list of colors. Any two color-words will be
correct.
Now in the same way find out what kind of words are included in
the second list and after figure 2 write two words that could be
added to this list. Complete the exercise by adding to each of the
remaining lists in the same manner. When you finish, wait quietly
for the others.
1. red, yellow, orange.
2. wash, scrub, dust.
3. trolley car, bicycle, carriage.
4. desk, picture, bookcase.
5. Marion, Louise, Ruth.
6. harp, piano, cornet.
THE DESERT INDIANS' "FIRE BED"
You may have one minute in which to read this selection.
The Indians of our "American Sahara" are compelled by circumstances to
overcome conditions not encountered by their brothers of the plains
and mountains.
The "fire bed" is among the most useful and original methods employed
by them to "sleep warm", in the "open", as in fall and spring the
nights are very cold.
A shallow trench is "scooped out" in the sand, about six feet in
length, three feet wide, and six or eight inches deep. The sand is
"banked up" on the sides, and a fire is then made in the "pit",
covering the entire length. This not only warms the bottom but the
banked sides as well.
After the fire has burned long enough to warm the sand thoroughly, the
larger unburned sticks are thrown out, but all live coals are left in
the pit. The sand on the sides is now covered over the coals to a
depth of about four inches. The "sleeper" will then lie down in the
warm sand; and, if he possesses a blanket, he will throw it over him,
thus keeping in the heat, and will sleep warm.
I have tried this out myself many times, both upon the desert and in
the mountains, and have never suffered from the cold.
--"_Boy Scouts' Year Book."
Courtesy of D. Appleton and Company._
Describe to your teacher how the Desert Indians are able to sleep
out of doors in warm beds.
YES OR NO?
1. All dogs have a keen sense of smell. My pet animal has a keen sense
of smell; do you know that my pet is a dog?
2. It took George six minutes to finish his exercise correctly. John
finished in five minutes, but most of his answers were wrong. Was
George the better reader?
PIETRO'S ADVENTURE
You should all begin reading at the same moment. Your teacher will
announce before you begin how much time she is going to give you.
She will divide the class into three equal groups according to
speed and find out which group writes the best answers to the
questions at the end of this selection.
I
Pietro Vittori was playing in the shade of an olive grove on a
mountain side that overlooked the sea near Naples. Just below him was
a white road that stretched away into the distance for many miles. Far
below the road the blue water sparkled in the sunshine. It was a
beautiful spot. Pietro, who had never been far from the olive grove
and the mountain side, supposed that all the world was like it.
As he looked at the road, he saw a little cloud of dust in the
distance; soon a motor car moved slowly along the road until it came
to a stop. The driver and a man on the seat behind him got out and
busied themselves about the car. They looked at the long slope of the
road before them and shook their heads.
Drawn by curiosity, Pietro moved nearer and nearer until he stood beside
the road. He could see that something was wrong, but he understood no
word that the strangers spoke. Suddenly the glance of the man fell on
the bright-eyed, barefoot lad, and he asked Pietro a question. His voice
was kindly, but Pietro could only shake his head. Then the man laughed
and patted Pietro's brown curls. He led the boy to the side of the car,
and pointed to a tank beneath the seat of the driver.
This time Pietro understood; he knew that the tank contained the
wonderful fluid that made the car go. This car could go no farther
because the supply of the wonderful fluid was used up. It was all
plain enough, and he knew what he could do to help. His dark eyes
shone brightly as he looked up at the man.
[Illustration: "SI, SI, SIGNORE!" HE CRIED EAGERLY]
"Si, si, signore!" he cried, eagerly; and in an instant more he was
flying up the long slope, until at last he was out of sight round a
curve. The driver of the car started to follow him, but soon gave up
the attempt, for it was very hot. All the way to the village Pietro
ran as fast as his bare feet would carry him--two kilometres or more.
It was nearly an hour before Pietro came hurrying back. With him was
the man from the shop in the village, and he bore a filled can in
either hand. The travelers were patiently waiting. They could do
nothing else, for their only hope lay in Pietro, unless by chance
another motor car should come along.
When they were ready to start again, the man patted Pietro's curly head
once more, and slipped some bright silver coins into his hand--to the
great surprise of Pietro, who had never seen other coins than those made
of copper. Then the man leaped to his seat, and the whole party waved
their hands to Pietro, and called out gayly to him in their strange
language; then the car sped out of sight. Then Pietro hurried up through
the olive grove to his little home, where the bright silver coins
surprised his parents even more than they had surprised him.
Now that was only a small adventure; but adventures were few in
Pietro's life, and so he thought of it often through the weeks and
months that followed. A year later, with his parents and his brothers
and sisters, he went over the mountains to Naples, and sailed in a
great ship across the ocean to Boston; and all that meant so many
adventures that he almost forgot his long run over the hot and dusty
road to help the strangers.
II
Pietro had lived in the North End of Boston about two years, when he
had another adventure. Late one afternoon, toward the end of November,
he was walking slowly along the street on his way home from school.
His heart was heavy. At school he had just been learning the story of
Thanksgiving, and he had heard much about Thanksgiving celebrations;
but he knew that there would be no Thanksgiving dinner in the crowded
little rooms where he lived, for the family was large, and his father
had long been without work.
As two men passed him, one said to the other, "How this part of Boston
has changed! I thought I could take you straight to the Old North
Church, but I seem to be getting lost."
Pietro sprang to the man's side. "I know the way!" he cried. "Let me
show you! And I can tell you all about the church where Paul Revere
hung the lanterns."
The two men looked down, and laughed. "That is the way with the little
Italian boys; they soon become real Americans," said the one who had
spoken first. "We shall be glad to have you guide us," he added to
Pietro.
So Pietro proudly walked before them, and led the way, first to the
historic church, and then to the old cemetery on Copp's Hill, near by.
All this time the man was watching him curiously. "I think you and I
have met before," he said at length. "Do you remember me?"
For the first time Pietro looked long and hard at the man's face. Then
he cried out, "Yes, yes! I did not see before! You were the man in the
car that stopped on the Amalfi road." He fairly danced for pleasure
that the strange man had remembered him so long. Then he hurried on:
"See! I can talk with you now! I am an American! I go to school!"
"You see," said the man laughingly, as he turned to his friend, "I can
remember the face of a bright Italian boy better than I can the
streets of my own city."
Then he told his friend of the help that Pietro had given when the
motor car stopped on the Italian mountain side. With a few questions,
he drew from Pietro his own story, and he watched the brown-eyed boy
closely as they talked.
"Pietro," he said, at last, "I like you, and I want to be your friend.
Keep on in school and study. Come and see me to talk things over once
in a while. I'll be able to help you when it is time for you to go to
work. In the meantime I can find work for your father." He gave Pietro
his address, and checked the words of thanks that came pouring out.
"And this," the man went on, "will give you all a Thanksgiving dinner
as a reward for your work as guide this afternoon."
A bill was pressed into Pietro's hand, and the men hurried on. Pietro
stood where they left him, and looked first at the bill in his hand,
and then at the two men, who turned and waved their hands as they went
round a corner.
So it came about that the fortunes of the Vittori family took a sudden
change for the better, and there was a happy Thanksgiving dinner in
their tenement--all as a result of Pietro's cheerful readiness to be
of help three years before, when strangers were in trouble on an
Italian mountain side.
--_John Clair Minot.
Courtesy of "The Youth's Companion"._
QUESTIONS
1. Near what city did the first part of this story take place?
2. In what city did the second part occur?
3. What service did Pietro do for the travelers in the first part?
4. What happened to Pietro between the first and second parts of
the story?
5. Did Pietro do anything in the second part of the story similar
to what he did in the first?
6. Do you think the American gentleman had a good memory?
7. Pietro was very polite and obliging, wasn't he? What two good
things did he do for his family by being so?
8. What do you think "_Si, si, signore_" means? Why are these
three words printed in italics?
SOME PATRIOTIC MINE WORKERS
You should all begin reading this selection at the same moment.
Can you read it thoroughly in thirty seconds?
Not all the good soldiers in the American army which helped to win
the World War were in the trenches, or even in France. And they
were not all young men. See if you do not think the following
occurrence proves the truth of this statement.
In October, 1918, shortly before the war ended, one hundred and fifty
mine workers, who had retired from service after earning enough to
support themselves in their old age, returned to the mines at
Stoneboro, Pennsylvania, when they learned of the shortage of men
during the war. They mined four thousand tons of coal while they
waited for the railway siding to be completed to the new opening where
they were to work.
--"_Youth's Companion._"
QUESTIONS
Why is it right to call these men patriotic?
Is that kind of patriotism needed only in war time?
FATHER DOMINO
It was the early spring time. The snow banks were melting away,
leaving the brown earth soft enough for the flowers to push through as
soon as they felt the warmth of the sun.
Across the high hill, which sloped down to the river, came a pair of
foxes. The splendid Silver Fox, with a black mark across the eyes like
a mask, was called Domino. The dainty little lady fox by his side,
with a red coat and an elegant ruffle of white, was Snowyruff. They
had met one day in the woods, and chosen each other for mates and
friends for life, as is the way of foxes. Now they were searching
through the woods for a place to build their home.