prince's absence; and, seeing him now at liberty, he believed all he
said. He presented the traitor to the princess, who, not doubting but
he came from Firouz, readily agreed to go with him. The Indian,
overjoyed at his success, mounted his horse, took the princess behind
him, and turning the peg, the horse immediately ascended into the air.
The king and his whole court were on the road to the house in the
wood, to conduct the princess of Bengal from thence to the palace;
when the Indian, to brave them, and revenge the severe treatment he
had received, passed several times over their heads with his prize.
The rage and grief of the king were extreme. He loaded the villain
with a thousand execrations, in which he was joined by the courtiers
and people. The Indian, having expressed his contempt for them, and
his triumph over the king and his son, was presently out of sight.
But who can describe the horror and despair of Firouz, when he saw his
beloved princess torn from him by a vile Indian he so thoroughly
detested, and found himself unable to afford her the least assistance.
At first he abandoned himself to despair; but, recollecting that such
a conduct would neither recover the princess nor punish the captor, he
restrained his affliction, and began to consider how he could best
effect these desirable purposes. He put on the habit of a dervish, and
left the palace the same evening, uncertain which way to go, but
determined not to return till he had found his princess again.
In the meantime, the Indian having pursued his journey for several
hours, alighted in a wood, near the capital of Cashmere. As he was
hungry himself, and doubted not but the princess was so too, he left
her by the side of a brook and flew away on the horse to the city to
procure provisions. The princess made the best use in her power of
his absence; and though faint for want of food, she traveled on, and
had got a considerable distance from the place where he left her, when
she had the mortification to see him return and alight close by her;
for the Indian had wished to be set down wherever the princess was,
and the horse always obeyed the desire of the rider.
The Indian produced some wine and provisions, and ate heartily, urging
her to follow his example, which she thought it best to do. When they
had done, he drew near and began to pay his addresses to the princess,
which she repulsed with indignation. Her outcries drew a company of
horsemen to her assistance.
They proved to be the sultan of Cashmere and his attendants, returning
from a day's hunting. When the sultan asked of the Indian why he
annoyed the lady, he boldly answered that she was his wife; but the
princess, though she knew not the quality of the sultan, besought his
protection, and declared that by the basest deceit only she had been
thrown into the power of such a reptile.
The sultan of Cashmere was very chivalrous. The disorder and distress
of the princess added to her beauty and interested the monarch.
Judging that, whether the Indian was the husband of the lady or not,
he would be best out of the way, he pretended to be much enraged
against him, and ordered his head to be stuck off immediately. He then
conducted the princess to his palace, and directed his attendants to
bring the horse after them, though he knew nothing of the use of it.
The princess of Bengal rejoiced at her deliverance. She entertained
hopes that the sultan of Cashmere would generously restore her to the
prince of Persia; but she was much deceived; for as soon as the sultan
learned that she was daughter to the king of Bengal, he determined to
marry her, and that no untoward circumstances might happen to prevent
it, he gave orders for the necessary preparations to be completed by
the next day.
In the morning the princess was awakened early by the sounding of
trumpets, the beating of drums, and other noisy tokens of public joy,
which echoed through the palace and city. On her asking the cause of
this rejoicing, she was told it was to celebrate her marriage with
their sultan, which was to take place presently.
The princess' attachment to Firouz would have made any other man
disagreeable to her. But this conduct of the sultan of Cashmere in
proclaiming their nuptials, without even having asked her consent, at
once enraged and terrified her. She was entirely in his power; and the
disrespect he had paid her convinced her that she had everything to
fear from his violence, if she refused to comply with his wishes.
Thus critically situated, she had recourse to art. She arose and dressed
herself fancifully, and in her whole behavior appeared to her women to
be unsettled in her intellect. The sultan was soon told of his
misfortune, and on his approach she put on the appearance of frenzy, and
endeavored to fly at him; and this fury she ever after affected whenever
he came in her sight. The sultan was much disturbed at this unfortunate
event, as he thought it, and offered large rewards to any physician who
could cure her, but the princess would not suffer any one to come near
her, so that all hope of her recovery began to be despaired of.
During this interval, Firouz, disguised as a dervish, had traveled
through many provinces, full of grief, and uncertain which way to direct
his course in search of his beloved princess. At last, passing through a
town in India, he heard an account that a princess of Bengal had run
mad on the day of the celebration of her nuptials with the sultan of
Cashmere. Slender as was the hope that such a report gave him, he
resolved to travel to the capital of that kingdom; where, when he
arrived, he had the happiness to find he had not journeyed in vain. He
learned all the particulars of her having been delivered from the Indian
by their sultan, and that the very next day she was seized with madness.
Firouz saw at once the reason of the princess' conduct, and was
delighted with this tender proof of her love and constancy to him. All
the difficulty which remained was to obtain an opportunity of speaking
to her. To gain this, he put on the clothes of a physician, and,
presenting himself to the sultan, undertook to cure the princess.
His services being accepted, he desired first to see her, without
being seen by her. For this purpose he was conveyed into a closet,
whence he saw her unobserved. She was carelessly singing a song, in
which she deplored the unhappy fate which had forever deprived her of
the object she loved so tenderly. When he quitted the closet, he told
the sultan she was not incurable, but that it was necessary for him to
speak with her alone; and that notwithstanding her violent fits at the
sight of physicians, he knew how to make her attend to him.
As the princess had been long thought incurable, the sultan made no
difficulty of complying with the supposed physician's request. As soon
as he entered her apartment, she began to rave at him in her usual
furious manner, on which he went up close to her, and said, in a low
voice, "I am the prince of Persia."
The princess ceased to rave, and the attendants withdrew, rejoiced at
this proof of the physician's abilities. After mutual congratulations,
Firouz acquainted her with the plan he had formed for her deliverance.
He then returned to the sultan, who demanded eagerly what hopes he now
entertained. The pretended physician shook his head, and said, "All
depends upon a mere chance; the princess, a few hours before she was
taken ill, had touched something that was enchanted. Unless I can obtain
that something, whatever it may be, I cannot cure her."
The sultan of Cashmere presently recollected the horse, which was
still preserved in his treasury. He showed it to the imaginary
physician, who, on seeing it, very gravely said, "I congratulate your
majesty on the certainty of my success. Let this horse be brought out
into the great square before the palace, and let the princess attend;
I will promise that in a few minutes she shall be perfectly cured."
Accordingly, the following morning the horse was placed in the middle
of the square, and the supposed physician drew a large circle, and
placed around it chafing dishes, with a little fire in each. The
sultan, full of expectation, with all his nobles and ministers of
state, attended. The princess was brought out veiled, conducted within
the circle, and the physician placed her on the enchanted horse. He
then went round to each chafing dish, and threw in a certain drug,
which presently raised such a cloud of smoke that neither the
physician, the princess, nor the horse could be seen through it. At
that instant the prince of Persia mounted the horse; and, turning the
peg, while the horse ascended into the air, he distinctly pronounced
these words: "Sultan of Cashmere, when thou wouldst marry princesses
who implore thy protection, learn first to obtain their consent."
The same day the prince of Persia and his beloved princess arrived
safely at his father's court, when their nuptials were immediately
celebrated with the greatest splendor.
--_Arabian Nights._
THINKING
Arrange your paper with your name on the first line, at the right,
and your grade below it on the second line. Put nothing on the next
line. Here are ten problems to be answered, not with figures, but
with the word, _yes_ or _no_. No other answer will be satisfactory.
Put the answer to the first problem on the fourth line, and in the
margin of your paper mark it number 1. Use a new line for each new
answer guess at it, and pass on to the next problem.
1. One day last June, I picked sixty-five pounds of cherries. My
mother wanted about thirty pounds. Did I have enough to sell Mrs.
Clark thirty pounds also?
2. Sugar-cane grows in a moist tropical region. If you were a farmer
in Kansas, would you plant most of your farm with sugar-cane?
3. All the boys and girls of the Sixth Grade belong to the School
Library. Marie is in the Sixth Grade. Is she a member of the Library?
4. John is older than Robert. I am younger than John. Do you know that
Robert is older than I am?
5. I have been saving since last vacation in order to buy a bicycle.
It will cost me $19.50, but I have already saved more than half of
this. If my father gives me ten dollars for my birthday shall I be
able to get the bicycle?
6. All the boys in the Sixth Grade have enlisted in the United States
School Garden Army. Robert is a member of the United States School
Garden Army. Does that prove that he is a member of the Sixth Grade?
7. Hawaii has a warm moist climate. From what you read in the second
problem, would you expect to find sugar-cane growing there?
8. John is three years younger than Robert. I am one year older than
John. Is Robert the oldest?
WHAT IS A BOY SCOUT?
Perhaps you are a Boy Scout already, though not a very big one.
Perhaps you intend to be one some day. In this description of the
best kind of Scout, find reasons why you would like to be one.
A Scout enjoys a hike through the woods more than he does a walk in
the city streets. He can tell north or south or east or west by the
"signs." He can tie a knot that will hold; he can climb a tree which
seems impossible to others; he can swim a river; he can pitch a tent;
he can mend a tear in his trousers; he can tell you which fruits and
seeds are poisonous and which are not; he can sight nut-bearing trees
from a distance. If he lives near the ocean or a lake he can reef a
sail or take his trick at the wheel, and, if near any body of water at
all he can pull an oar or use paddles and sculls; in the woods he
knows the names of birds and animals; in the water he tells you the
different varieties of fish.
A Scout walks through the woods with silent tread. No dry twigs snap
under his feet, and no loose stones turn over and throw him off his
balance. His eyes are keen and he sees many things that others do not
see. He sees tracks and signs which reveal to him the nature and
habits of the creatures that made them. He knows how to stalk birds
and animals and how to study them in their natural haunts. He sees
much, but is little seen.
A Scout, like an old frontiersman, does not shout his wisdom from the
housetops. He possesses the quiet power that comes from knowledge. He
speaks softly and answers questions modestly. He knows a braggart but
he does not challenge him, allowing the boaster to expose his
ignorance by his own loose-wagging tongue.
A Scout can kindle a fire in the forest on the wettest day, and he
seldom uses more than one match. When no matches can be had, he can
still have a fire, for he knows the secret of the rubbing sticks used
by the Indians, and he knows how to start a blaze with only his knife
blade and a piece of flint. He knows, also, the danger of forest
fires; so he kindles a blaze that will not spread. The fire once
started, what a meal he can prepare out there in the open! Just watch
him and compare his appetite with that of a boy who lounges at a lunch
counter in a crowded city. He knows the unwritten rules of the
campfire, and he contributes his share to the pleasures of the
council. He also knows when to sit silent before the ruddy embers and
give his mind free play.
A Scout holds his honor to be his most precious possession, and he
would rather die than have it stained. He knows what is his duty, and
all obligations imposed by duty he fulfills of his own free will. His
sense of honor is his only task-master, and his honor he guards as
jealously as did the knights of old. In this manner a Scout wins the
confidence and respect of all people.
A Scout practices self-control, for he knows that men who master
problems in the world must first master themselves. He keeps a close
guard on his tongue, for he knows that loud speech is often a cloak to
ignorance, that swearing is a sign of weakness, and that untruthfulness
shatters the confidence of others. He keeps a close guard on his
appetite and eats moderately of food which will make him strong; he
never uses alcoholic liquors because he does not wish to poison his
body; he desires a clear, active brain, so he avoids tobacco.
A Scout never flinches in the face of danger; for he knows that at
such a time every faculty must be alert to preserve his safety and
that of others. He knows what to do in case of fire, or panic, or
shipwreck; he trains his mind to direct and his body to act. In all
emergencies he sets an example of resourcefulness, coolness and
courage, and considers the safety of others before that of himself. He
is especially considerate of the helpless and weak.
A Scout can make himself known to a brother Scout wherever he may be
by a method which only Scouts can know. He has brothers in every city
in the land and in every country in the world. Wherever he goes he can
give his signs and be assured of a friendly welcome. He can talk with
a brother Scout without making a sound or he can make known his
message by imitating the click of a telegraph key.
--_From "The Boy Scouts' Year Book",
Courtesy of D. Appleton and Company._
QUESTIONS
1. Why would you like a Boy Scout as a companion if you were lost
in the woods?
2. What is meant by, "His sense of honor is his only task-master"?
3. Why would you trust a Boy Scout who lived up to the teachings
of the Boy Scouts?
THE SCOUT AND THE KNIGHT
Some of the pledges which the knights of King Arthur's Round Table
had to take were not unlike the code of the Boy Scouts. Find the
points of likeness in these lines from Tennyson's version of the
vows:
"To honor his own word as if his God's;
To ride abroad redressing human wrongs;
To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it."
THE FIRE SPIRIT
Here is a splendid story that makes the discovery of fire real to
us because it shows us how a man might have felt.
This is a story to read and enjoy. No questions will be asked
about it, but you may ask your teacher to explain anything you do
not understand. Perhaps you would like to tell the story to your
parents or friends or to some class below yours in the school.
Before the years were counted or the circuit of the seasons reckoned,
man lived where it was always summer, and summer heat ruled the
Northland, now ruled by winter cold. As the scepter of the Frost King
reached farther and farther south, men slowly and reluctantly
retreated from the old homes. But some lingered through the fireless
winters for the love of the familiar places and the beauty of the
northern spring and summer.
Among those who lingered was Ang, the mighty hunter. His home was in a
cave at the edge of the great forest. It faced the south so that it
could catch all the scant rays of the winter's sun. The mouth of the
cave was partly closed by a screen of fir boughs, while a bark slab,
torn from a big tree, formed a rude door. Inside the cave were bunks
piled high with dry moss and leaves, with the skins of animals which
Ang had slain thrown over them.
It was not yet midwinter, but it was cold, bitter cold. As Ang sat in
front of his cave, chipping knife blades and arrow points from flint,
he moved from time to time to keep in the feeble light of the sun, but
it seemed to have little warmth, and he shivered and grumbled to
himself: "Every year the cold grows stronger. The old men tell of a
time when it came late and went soon, but that must have been long
ago. Ugh! but it is cold! It gets under my bearskin; it nips my ears
and numbs my hands. I wish I had taken the long journey to the
Southland, but it was far for the woman and the child, and I hoped
that the Ice Giant would grow old and lose his strength--and I was
born here; my father and my father's father hunted in these woods and
fished in this river, and men, like trees, take root."
The sun sank into a cold gray cloud in the west. The bite of the wind
grew sharper. The hoarse cough of a child echoed from the cave behind
him, and the dull crooning song of the mother, as she tried to warm
the sick child at her breast, could be heard as the wind was lulled
for a moment.
Colder and more cold it grew, but Ang would not enter the cave. He
could not bear to hear the troubled breathing of the child or see the
face of the mother. He dreaded the coming of the grim White Spirit for
this, his last child. Sometimes he fancied he could hear him rushing
through the woods above the cliff, and feel the chill of his breath on
his face. Had he no other food but children, this dread hunter?
Colder and more cold it grew, but Ang still lingered. He piled dry moss
about his feet and tried to bring warmth to his numb hands by hammering
off flakes of flint which he would later shape into rough weapons and
tools. He struck two flints together in a kind of dumb fury. It was a
glancing blow, and one of the flints dropped into the dry moss at his
feet with a flicker of sparks. A coil of gray smoke crept out of the
moss like a serpent coming out of his hole. A bright spot at its heart
grew brighter and brighter, and then red flames lapped hungrily.
Ang leaped to his feet in astonishment. At the smiting of the flint
the Fire Spirit had been born. Its breath was the breath of summer. He
stretched out his hands over the flames, and the cold loosened its
grip. He touched the flame, and it stung him like an angry bee.
Clearly the Spirit must not be handled. Awe and wonder filled the mind
of Ang. He fell on his knees and prayed to the Fire Spirit: "Spirit of
light and heat, Thou hast come in our hour of need--I know not whence.
Stay and keep away the terrible cold Spirit with thy red arrows. Stay!
I will deny thee nothing. If Thou art hungry, I will feed thee."
[Illustration: THE FIRE SPIRIT]
As Ang watched the fire, it hungrily ate up the dry moss, and lapped
the dry sticks. He brought more and fed them to the reaching flames.
The northern darkness had shut in the rest of the world, light
lingered at the door of the cave of Ang, and the warm breath of the
fire brought back the heat of summer in the midst of winter. Joy
filled the heart of Ang, and he called to the mother and the child:
"Oma, Om, come! The Great One has heard. Come, come, come quickly."
The bark door opened, and the mother came out holding the child to her
breast. A cry of wonder broke from her as she saw the fire, but wonder
gave way to the mother instinct. The All-Father had heard. Here were
warmth and light. The gray huntsman should not have her child. She
crouched by the fire, holding the babe in her arms so that she
sheltered it from the encircling cold while the glowing fire warmed
and healed it. With gratitude and awe she watched the color come back
to the child's face, and then she looked with eager questioning at the
face of Ang, as it shone with a light brighter than that of the fire.
Finally he spoke: "I sat at the going in of the cave. Fear gripped me;
the cold smote me. I said, Odin has forgotten. It may be that he has
gone to the Southland because the cold was stronger than he. I heard
the barking of the child. The dread of the great robber was on me. I
tried to forget. I smote the flints together. Star-flies seemed to
leap from the stone, and the fire was born in the heart of the moss."
Then Ang stood by the mother and the child and placed his left hand on
the head of the mother and raised his right hand to the sky to which
the leaping flames pointed and said: "Great Father, now I know that
none is greater than Thou; not even the giants of the North. Thy
shining arrows have driven the huntsman back. And I know that Thine
eyes see farther than the eagle floating in the sky, for thou hast
seen us alone in the great woods, and Thine ear is quicker to hear
than that of the mother listening for the cry of her first-born, for
thou hast heard the cry that did not rise to our lips. Henceforth the
fire shall be the sign of Thee. As the flames leap up the sky, so
shall our thoughts leap to Thee, Our Father."
All through the long cold winter Ang and Oma fed the fire, and Om grew
well and strong again. They very soon found that the fire, though it
gave so freely the life-giving light and heat, had to be treated with
great care. It was a good servant but a poor master. One day little Om
toddled too close and burned his hand on a live coal. On another day
the wind blew the sparks from the fire into the dry rushes which
screened the entrance to the cave, and in a moment the cave was filled
with flames and smoke, and Oma had to cover her head and that of Om
with skins, and dash out into the open. All the bedding of dry leaves
was burned up, and some of the skins were badly scorched. The wooden
handles of many of Ang's spears and arrows and knives were burned
also. It took many days of hard work to replace what the fire had
eaten. So they came to fear as well as to love it.
But Ang and Oma learned one thing from the fire which burned out
their cave that was worth more than a thousand fires could destroy.
Part of a deer, which Ang had killed, hung inside of the cave. It had
been very hard to get, and it was almost the first thing which Ang
thought of after the fire had burned down. If that had been destroyed,
they might starve before he could kill another one. He dashed into the
cave to see if anything was left, the fear of hunger already gripping
his vitals. A strange new odor filled his nostrils and doubled his
hunger--the smell of roasted venison. The deer still hung from the
side of the cave. The hair had been burned off and the skin hung in
rolls, but the flesh was there, brown, hot, dripping red.
At Ang's call Oma hurried in. It needed but one whiff of the fragrant
air to convince her that the touch of fire had made of the cold frozen
meat food more delicious than the fruits of summer. She snatched a
long stone knife from her belt and cut strips of venison steak from
the smoking mass and gave to Ang and Om.
After they had eaten, Ang looked into the glowing embers of the fire in
front of the cave and pondered. The Fire Spirit had grown angry because
they had taken only one of the gifts of the Great Father and had burned
out the cave, but it had showed them what its magic touch would do to
the frozen meat. The wonder of it grew on him. As he looked into the
world at the heart of the coals, he saw the promise of a better one than
that in which he lived--a world in which the sons of his son's sons
should have discovered all the gifts of the Fire Spirit.