them--not an avalanche of snow, but one prepared by the Swiss
themselves. Great stones, rocks, and trunks of trees had been poised
on the edge of the heights above the pass. When the Austrians were
seen below, these were thrust over the brink of the descent, and came
rolling, leaping, thundering down the mountainside, and crashing in
among the horsemen. Many were struck down, and the horses became so
terrified that the whole body of the assailants was thrown into utter
confusion.
Here was the opportunity of the Swiss, and they did not let it slip.
Down the pass they swept upon the bewildered foe, and assailed them
furiously with their swords, their halberds (a heavy shaft of wood
fitted with axe and spear-point), and with their great iron-spiked
clubs.
The Austrians tried to turn back and escape, but in vain. They were
caught in the narrow pass as in a net. Many sprang from their horses
and tried to get away on foot; but they slipped on the rocks, and the
nimble mountaineers, whose nailed shoes gave them good foothold on
their native slopes, and who were used to climbing over perilous
heights, caught and destroyed them easily.
It was hardly a battle: it was a mere slaughter. Great numbers of the
Austrians were slain on the spot; many were driven into the lake and
drowned; the rest fled. Among the latter was Duke Leopold, who himself
narrowly escaped with his life. One who saw him on his flight from
this fatal field said that he looked "like death, and quite
distracted". Well might he look distracted. He had left behind him a
battleground drenched with the best blood of Austria; while of the
brave Swiss only fourteen men had fallen.
The latter could scarce believe at first that they had won so mighty a
victory; but when they saw the Austrians flying for their lives, and
knew that the day was indeed their own, they fell on their knees upon
this forever famous field of Morgarten, and thanked God for
deliverance from the power of Austria; and to this day a service of
thanksgiving is held every year on the anniversary of that great
fight. Year by year, on the 15th of November, Swiss men and women
visit that sacred spot where the liberty of their land was won in one
of the decisive battles of the world, for after Morgarten the Forest
Cantons never lost their freedom again.
--_From "A Peep at Switzerland",
by John Finnemore._
FINDING OPPOSITES
This is another drill that asks you to make a careful choice of words.
_Do not_ write your name at the top of the paper this time, but
beginning on the first line, write the figures 1 to 12 in the margin.
Below are ten sets of words. In each set, the first word is followed by
four other words. Among these four words there is one that is exactly
opposite in meaning to the first word in the group. Look at the first
group. SUMMER is the first word. Of the four words that follow it which
one is the opposite in meaning to SUMMER? WINTER, of course. Write this
pair of opposites after figure 1 on your paper as follows:
1. SUMMER WINTER
After figure 2 write the second pair of opposites:
2. TIGHT LOOSE
Complete the drill by selecting the opposites from each remaining
group, and writing them after the proper figure on your paper. When
finished, sign your name in the lower right-hand corner of your paper
and wait quietly for the others.
1. SUMMER (snow, winter, skating, January).
2. TIGHT (small, larger, loose, bind).
3. LONG (straight, heavy, short, reach).
4. LEFT (before, right, corner, wrong).
5. STORM (calm, rain, sun, wind).
6. ROUND (box, cake, seat, square).
7. BEAUTIFUL (picture, flower, girl, ugly).
8. COLD (winter, ice, warm, weather).
9. HELP (mother, book, lift, hinder).
10. ROUGH (place, smooth, cotton, paper).
11. SWEET (candy, sour, smile, lemon).
12. POLITE (courtesy, manners, rude, clumsy).
WHAT MEKOLKA KNOWS
Here is a story of Mekolka, a little boy whose home is in the far
northern part of Russia. Mekolka is a Samoyad; that is, a dweller
on the northern coast of Russia or Siberia. The Tundra is a wide,
almost level plain without any trees.
As you read, make a list of the things Mekolka can do with his
hands.
What do you think a _disha_ must be? What is a _toor_?
Mekolka does not know how to read print, but he can read in the
book of "all out-doors". What is the lesson he knows best?
Mekolka's clothes have queer Russian names. See if you can tell,
from the way each is described, what is a _militza_, what is a
_soveek_, and what are _pimmies_?
How does Mekolka keep track of the months and days?
If you were a little Samoyad boy, it is more than likely that you would
not go to school, unless you were one of a family that went off in a
procession of sleighs at the beginning of every winter to some small
town on the Petchora, or even farther on to Mezen or Archangel on the
White Sea. Then there would be some small school for you to go to while
the days were dark, till the approach of spring brought with it a new
packing up and long sleigh drive back to the haunts of seal and walrus.
But it is just as likely that there would be no school and no lessons.
Mekolka, for instance, though he has picked up a little learning--a very
little--from the Russian traders, and from friends who have traveled
over the Tundra, knows very few of the things you know.
But he can use his fingers with great skill, and if he cannot write
much, he can make a beautiful pattern with one knife on the horn
handle of another one. In fact, he is quite skilful in carving the
reindeer horns. He is always on the lookout for a good piece of horn,
and whenever he finds the shed antlers of a reindeer--for the deer
cast off their antlers and grow new ones every spring--he picks them
up and puts them to "season". There are regular piles of these antlers
about. It is the custom for everyone to put the ones he finds on to
one of these heaps, and to take the horn he wants to work from the
more seasoned pieces at the bottom of the heap. Mekolka always chooses
his piece with great care, cuts it down to the right shape, and as
often as not decorates it with a metal pattern. For this he has to cut
his design in a regular groove all over the horn. Having got his
grooves deep and wide enough he puts some white-looking metal on the
fire in a piece of wood scooped out like a cup. The metal soon melts,
and Mekolka pours it into the groove and prevents it from running off
by holding a piece of paper tight round the horn. The metal cools, and
the edges are cut away. Then he polishes it with sand, after which he
possesses a beautiful knife-handle.
Sometimes Mekolka goes in for ornaments without regard to use, and
makes himself a ring. This time he makes the groove in a round piece
of wood, which he has pared down to the right size, and runs in the
same metal as before, with the piece of paper held tight, to support
the metal on the under side. Then he cuts away the wood, and brings
out knife and sand for the finishing; at the end he puts it on his
finger with a look of proud content. Some of the patterns he makes on
the knife-handles are really very beautiful, so that the Russian
traders are glad to take them away in return for snuff and tobacco.
Mekolka can make a sleigh and mend it when required, throw the _disha_
when he wants to catch a reindeer, and bring it round its horn at the
first throw. He can harness a team of five correctly, and drive them
like the wind. At the gullies he is splendid; he puts the deer to a
gallop when he sees the ravine ahead; then over they go, sleigh and
all, Mekolka sitting there, proud and unmoved. Sometimes the ravine
cannot be treated this way. Then Mekolka brings the team up to the
edge and holds his _toor_--the long driving pole--across them to make
them stand evenly. Then he dexterously removes the pole and shouts to
the deer; at once they leap together across the cleft and climb up the
steep snow wall on the other side by the grip of their outspread
hoofs. They are not long at the top with the sleigh before Mekolka has
slithered down and scrambled up the walls of the ravine, where they
are less steep and where the ravine is not quite so narrow. He is
quickly on to his sleigh again while the deer race forwards.
It is cold work racing through the chill air, which is frequently
thick with an icy mist; but Mekolka is clad from head to foot in fur.
His _militza_ of reindeer-skin with fur inside often has a hood and
mittens attached to it and covers him like a smock from head to knees.
On his feet he wears _pimmies_, which reach up to the _militza_, and
are generally made of sealskin with the fur cut into strips to form an
attractive pattern. Over the _militza_ he sometimes puts a _soveek_,
the Samoyad overcoat. Here the fur is worn outside, and the garment is
big and roomy.
After a long journey the reindeer must be unharnessed for feeding.
They find their own food, of course, and Mekolka seizes the chance to
go to sleep. He always goes to sleep in the same queer way; he sits
down on the ground, pulls his arms out of the sleeves, and then lies
flat on his back. The empty sleeves stretch out stiffly by his side,
and look, of course, as though the arms are in them, though the hands
have found a warmer spot inside on his chest.
The air on the Tundra, and, indeed, in all the Arctic region has a
curious way of deceiving the traveler. It makes things look like
something else. Take a day when the sunshine lights up the scene and
the grey, lichen-covered mounds take wonderful colors in the distance
from the blue sky and the haze. Though lakes of water appear to grow
and fill the far-off hollows, Mekolka knows they are not lakes, but
little snowdrifts. It is the mirage that plays these little tricks. So
when he sees mighty ships sailing over the sea, he knows it is nothing
more than blocks of ice, while what looks like a great headland on the
coast is nothing but a little mound thirty or forty feet high. And if,
when alone, he sees half a dozen other Samoyads come to the river-bank
within a couple of hundred yards and then stop while one sits on a
stone, he doesn't call out or walk toward them; he knows quite well
that in a minute or two they will form themselves into a group of
bernacle geese, or a family of snow buntings; in fact, he is quite
prepared to hear one suddenly burst into song (for the snow bunting is
the gayest warbler of the Arctic), and to find a cleft in the peat
where there will be a nest, lined with dead grasses and the white
feathers of the willow-grouse, and holding half a dozen eggs.
He knows every bird that flies overhead, and can name them, too,
though his names are very different from ours. He knows that the snow
bunting arrives about the middle of April, and he begins to watch for
its appearance as soon as the days are getting long. He has no
calendar of months and days to look at, but he makes notches on a
stick--one for each day, with an extra cut at the seventh--and he is
just as quick in glancing at his stick and telling you the date as an
American boy would be with his printed calendar. He will watch for the
purple sandpiper in May, and find its eggs in June, though they are
very hard to find for anyone with eyes less trained than Mekolka's.
The nest is always built in some hollow among the Arctic willow or
lichen, and the eggs are difficult enough to see, as is the bird
itself when sitting on them--they all look so exactly like the ground.
And the bird will let you come ever so close to her--in fact, almost
tread on her--before she will leave her cherished eggs.
Mekolka can tell you about the behavior of the little stint when he came
upon her nest one day. It had four precious eggs in it. When the old
bird found she was really discovered, she jigged about like an acrobat,
squeaked like a mouse, and did everything she could to take off
Mekolka's attention from the nest. As that did not work, the little bird
twittered and pretended to be lame, running about as though asking to be
caught; but all she wanted was that no one should notice that deep hole
in the ground half full of dried birch-leaves where her four cherished
eggs were laid. The little stint had been into a creek in Scotland early
in June, and wanted to get back there with four chicks before the end of
July. She did not want to lose those eggs and go back all that long
journey without any little ones. Not that she is very kind to them after
they begin to grow, for on the very earliest opportunity she kicks them
out of the nest to teach them self-reliance!
--_From "Finn and Samoyad"._
Imagine that you have been for a long visit to Mekolka. Your
teacher will call on some one to come to the front of the class to
tell about each of the following experiences:
1. Helping Mekolka make a horn knife-handle.
2. A ride with Mekolka.
3. Being fooled by a mirage.
4. Some birds I saw with Mekolka.
THE BEAR'S NIGHT
You should all begin reading at the same moment. When you have
finished, close your book and raise your hand. Your teacher will
divide the class into three equal groups according to speed. She
will ask you to write answers to the questions given at the end of
the story and will appoint a committee of one pupil from each
group to look the answers over and report which of the three
groups has given the best answers.
Have you seen the brown bears at the Zoo? Do you remember how
restlessly they walk up and down, or stand on their hind legs and
wave their noses in the air? You will not wonder at it, when you
read how independent a bear is at home, and how cozily he spends
the long, dark winter.
It would seem that within or near the Arctic Circle Nature gives a big
yawn at the end of her energetic summer, and settles down to her long
winter sleep. Certainly some of her children prepare for sleep with
plenty of care, especially Bruin, the big brown bear of Finland.
Even in the summer he goes sniffing round in the strong marshlands of
the north or in the forests to the east. "That will make a good couch
for me," he thinks, as he spies a cosy nook among some big boulders.
He makes a note of the place, and goes on to look at other possible
sites. He decides nothing then, but waits till the snow comes. Then
the house-hunting must be undertaken seriously, and he tramps through
the soft white carpet, leaving a well-marked "spoor" to tell the tale
of his journeys. He is very fat after his summer feast of berries and
roots, and his heavy body ploughs a deep furrow along the snow.
When once he has fixed on his boulders or tree trunks, he becomes very
suspicious, and spends several days walking round and round his
lodgings, on the watch for an enemy. He wants to be quite sure that no
one can see him go to rest, and by going all round in a ring he
catches the wind whichever way it may be blowing. If he scents danger
he is off, and so fleet of foot is he that no hunter can catch him. In
short, Master Bruin is so much on the alert that it takes a very wary
hunter to catch him before he goes to rest.
Bruin is a good weather-prophet, and can sniff the signs of a coming
snow-storm better than most; so when at last he has chosen his couch he
arranges to nestle down in it just as a heavy fall of snow is coming
which will, he knows, cover up both his trail and himself, and so
conceal all his traces from the curious. Sometimes he is a little out in
his calculations, for his furrows are so deep that nothing short of a
gale, with its heavy drifts of snow, will quite obliterate them.
The hunter Finn, however, has been watching, and has marked Bruin in
his quest. He finds the "spoor" before it is lost, and travels along
it till it enters some wood or hiding place. Then on his skis, or
snowshoes, he starts across it and describes a big circle. If he cuts
the spoor again farther on, he knows that Bruin has not yet halted, so
another circle must be described. But if the ski-er comes back to the
first line of spoor without having crossed it again, then "honey paws"
must be within his circuit.
The hunter keeps his secret to himself and tells no one, because he
will get the money for the skin, and also a reward from the Government
for killing the animal.
There is no hurry, for the bear, when once settled in his snug
quarters, will doze away quite comfortably through the winter. His
ears and nose, however, seem to keep awake, even though his eyes are
shut, and a scent of danger will cause him to move quickly and
silently away to a new couch.
As spring approaches, the Finn tells a few of his chosen friends about
the matter, and together they go off to hunt "Flatnose", as they often
call him, before he wakes up, thin and hungry, after his six months'
fast. Warily they search, till they see a mass of snow covering a heap
of rocks or a pile of fallen pine-trees. Then they whisper:
"The bear is sleeping under that heap of snow." They fire a few guns,
the dogs bark, the men shout; altogether the bear receives a very
effective morning call. He is very easily awakened, but he is in no
haste to show himself, and waits while he thinks over matters, and
prepares for a strategic and rapid retreat, for he has met danger
before, and found his fleetness his greatest defence. In the meantime
the hunters have fired a few shots into his retreat in the hope of
stinging him into action, but they probably hit only his protective
stones. Then they gather twigs and branches together and light a
bonfire at his very door, or what they guess to be his door, trusting
that the wind will carry the smoke to his nostrils. Some of their
efforts succeed in their object; there is an upheaving of the snow;
Flatnose pushes out his head. Then follow the shoulders and front
paws, and soon the huge brown body rises as he sits upright on his
haunches. He gives a terrific growl, which shows he is not to be
trifled with; and, indeed, this is his most dangerous time, for he is
very hungry after his long foodless sleep, and ready to attack
anything--cow, reindeer, or man.
The dogs are much too frightened to go near him. They bark at a
distance. One man fires a shot and hits. The bear shows his teeth and
hisses as he makes a rush forwards. Another shot makes him look round,
and the dogs grow bolder. A shot in the muzzle makes him quite
furious, and he springs at one of the dogs. He catches one dog by the
back and flings it howling over the snow. Then he springs at the
other, and tears his ear or paw. Wild with fury, he rushes toward his
attackers, but between them he is soon laid low, and carried off in a
sleigh. His skin alone will be worth many dollars, and the flesh more,
so that with the Government grant, the men will have a comfortable
little sum each as a result of their hunting.
It is not without danger, this bear-hunt, neither is it certain of
success; for if the bear once dodges the early shots, he will manage
to get through the trees and disappear in a way that is almost
uncanny. So when a man has once been on a bear-hunt and brought his
prey safely home, he becomes a hero in his village.
--_From "Finn and Samoyad"._
Draw a diagram, showing:
1. A hollow tree.
2. A pile of rocks.
3. A fallen pine-tree.
4. The track made by the bear in seeking a winter bed.
5. The bear's stopping place.
6. The track made by the hunter in a circle.
You will have to indicate the two tracks by two different kinds of
lines.
What is a _spoor_?
IS IT THE SAME BEAR?
In Longfellow's "Hiawatha," the poet describes a bear asleep, as
follows:
"He had stolen the Belt of Wampum,
From the Great Bear of the mountains,
From the terror of the nations,
As he lay asleep and cumbrous
On the summit of the mountains,
Like a rock with mosses on it,
Spotted brown and gray with mosses."
THE CHINESE NEW YEAR'S DAY
At New Year time Hok-a, the Chinese boy, and Gold-needle, his sister,
and their cousins always have plenty of fun. Their grandmother once told
them a story of why there was always so much feasting then. She said:
"They tell us that the people of long ago had a saying that on the
last day of the twelfth month a great flood would drown everyone. When
the people of that time heard this, they were very sad, and thought,
'Now we are going to die, let us take the food we have and eat, and
the clothes we have and dress up gaily'. So they took rice, and fried
rice-cakes, and prepared strained rice and basins of vegetables, in
order to take leave of their ancestors. (The 'ancestors' mean the
spirits of their ancestors, who are supposed to live in wooden tablets
kept on a table placed against the wall of the chief room.) When they
had worshipped the ancestors, all the family sat together round the
table to eat their rice and put a little stove underneath because it
was winter, and they needed a fire to warm themselves. On that night
they shut the door very close and put a prop against it. They did not
dare to go to sleep, but watched anxiously for the flood to come.
"At daybreak they opened the door, and discovered that there was no
flood. That was New Year's Day. They immediately ran out to visit
their friends and relatives, and found that none of them had been
drowned either; so they all congratulated one another, and drank tea
and wine. From that time there have always been feasting and visiting
and congratulations at New Year."
Hok-a and Gold-needle have been looking forward to the holiday for a
long time. All the people in the house have been busy for days. The
dust and dirt of the year has been swept from the house into the
street. The men have been hurrying about collecting any money that
was owing to them, for no bills must be left over till New Year.
Mother and aunts have been sitting by the door to catch the light to
darn, and mend, and make, for everyone must have something fine to
wear on New Year's day. Such a cooking goes on the day before! and
such a frying of rice flour cakes you never saw. Pigs and ducks and
chickens and even poor little fish have a bad time of it just then.
The great day arrives, and Hok-a and Gold-needle dress themselves in
their new clothes. Hok-a has a blue coat, with a yellow silk waistcoat
on the top of it, green silk anklets, and a green cap; while his little
sister is gay in a pink coat and blue trousers trimmed with black, and
wears some silver pins and cloth flowers in her shining black hair.
By twelve o'clock all is ready. The men and boys, in long blue or
green gowns, are gathered in the hall, and prostrate themselves three
times begging the idols and the spirits of their ancestors to eat the
food prepared for them. A basin of rice and another of vegetables,
with a piece of meat, is carried to the bed-room for the Mother Bed
Spirit to eat, as, if they don't feed her, she will revenge herself by
tripping up the children. The Kitchen God, too, must have his share,
and the fireplace is gaily decorated with flowers.
When they have finished worshipping, a lot of silver and paper money
is burnt, that the spirits may buy good things in the other world, and
have a nice time. Then all the family gather round for the feast of
the year. Usually the men eat alone and the women afterwards, but on
this day everyone has a place. Such fun they have, roasting cockles
and parching beans! Everyone must give a stir to the bean-pan. A
little stove is carried to the table, and wine is warmed over it, for
all to have a taste. A great supply of celery has been laid in, and
the stalks must be boiled and swallowed whole, to give long life.
When the feast is finished, the grandfather hands a piece of money to
each, so that they may have money the year through. Then a basin of
rice and a bit of meat is given to the dog, a treat he gets only once
a year. It is time to light up now. A bit of sugar-cane is stuck
behind each door, and in each room food is placed for the spirits.
There is so much noise and merriment that, for a wonder, the rats
don't dare to peep out; so they say that "the rats are marrying and
giving in marriage". Twelve bamboo lamps are lighted in the hall, and
afterwards carried out to burn. Everybody gathers round to watch which
goes out first, as each lantern stands for a month, and the first that
burns black means a month of rain. If it is the first month the
children are sad, for that is holiday-time. And it usually is the
first, as it is carried out before the others.
Our little friend Hok-a has been saving up for weeks, so as to buy
plenty of squibs and fireworks to let off on this day, just as
American boys used to do for the 4th of July. His father has bought
hundreds of them, too, and so has everyone else in the place; the
cracking of them is heard everywhere.
A great bonfire is kindled, and the children jump over it, singing:
"Jump busily, jump away--the fire burns bright!"
It is late before anyone gets to bed, for they think that the longer
the children sit up, the longer the old people will live. Some dutiful
boys and girls sit up all night long!