Again, ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old time, Thou

shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine

oaths: but I say unto you, Swear not at all; neither by heaven; for it

is God's throne: nor by the earth; for it is his footstool: neither by

Jerusalem; for it is the city of the great King. Neither shalt thou

swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one hair white or black.

But let your communication be, Yea, yea; Nay, nay: for whatsoever is

more than these cometh of evil.

Ye have heard that it hath been said. An eye for an eye, and a tooth

for a tooth; but I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever

shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if

any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have

thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with

him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow

of thee turn not thou away.

Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and

hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them

that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which

despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of

your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the

evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.

For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even

the publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye

more than others? do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore

perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.

Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them:

otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven.

Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before

thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that

they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their

reward. But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy

right hand doeth: that thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father

which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly.

And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for

they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the

streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have

their reward. But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and

when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret;

and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly. But when

ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think

that they shall be heard for their much speaking. Be not ye therefore

like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of,

before ye ask him. After this manner therefore pray ye: Our Father

which art in heaven, Hallowed by thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will

be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not

into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom,

and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen. For if ye forgive men

their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: but if ye

forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your

trespasses.

Moreover when ye fast, be not, as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance:

for they disfigure their faces, that they may appear unto men to fast.

Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But thou, when thou

fastest, anoint thine head, and wash thy face; that thou appear not

unto men to fast, but unto thy Father which is in secret: and thy

Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.

Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust

doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: but lay up for

yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth

corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: for where

your treasure is, there will your heart be also. The light of the body

is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be

full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full

of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how

great is that darkness!

No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love

the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye

cannot serve God and mammon. Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought

for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for

your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and

the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not,

neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father

feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking

thought can add one cubit unto his stature? And why take ye thought for

raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil

not, neither do they spin: and yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in

all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so

clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast

into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we

drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things

do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have

need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his

righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take

therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought

for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye

shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to

you again. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's

eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Or how wilt

thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye;

and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, first cast out

the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast

out the mote out of thy brother's eye.

Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls

before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again

and rend you.

Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it

shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he

that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. Or

what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a

stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then,

being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much

more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that

ask him? Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to

you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.

Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the

way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in

thereat: because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which

leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.

Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but

inwardly they are ravening wolves. Ye shall know them by their fruits.

Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good

tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil

fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt

tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good

fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits

ye shall know them.

Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the

kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in

heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not

prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in

thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them,

I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.

Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I

will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: and

the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat

upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock. And

every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall

be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand: and

the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat

upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it.

And it came to pass, when Jesus had ended these sayings, the people

were astonished at his doctrine: for he taught them as one having

authority, and not as the scribes.

PAUL'S DISCOURSE ON CHARITY

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not

charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And

though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and

all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove

mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all

my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and

have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not, charity

vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly,

seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;

rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all

things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall

fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be

knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy

in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in

part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I

understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I

put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but

then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as

also I am known.

And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of

these is charity.

LETTERS

LEWIS CARROLL TO MISS STANDEN

THE CHESTNUTS, GUILFORD

_August_ 22, 1869

_My dear Isabel:_

[Footnote: Little Miss Isabel Standen, whom Carroll had just met in a

park in Reading.]

Though I have been acquainted with you only fifteen minutes, yet, as

there is no one else in Reading I have known so long, I hope you will

not mind my writing to you.... A friend of mine, called Mr. Lewis

Carroll, tells me he means to send you a book. He is a _very_ dear

friend of mine. I have known him all my life (we are the same age) and

have _never_ left him. Of course he was with me in the Gardens, not

a yard off, even while I was drawing those puzzles for you. I wonder if

you saw him.

Your fifteen-minute friend,

C. L. DODGSON

THOMAS HOOD TO MISS ELLIOT

17, ELM TREE ROAD, ST. JOHN'S WOOD

Monday, _April_, 1844

_My dear May_, [Footnote: May Elliot, a little girl Hood had met

during a summer vacation.]--

I promised you a letter, and here it is. I was sure to remember it; for

you are as hard to forget, as you are soft to roll down a hill with.

What fun it was! only so prickly, I thought I had a porcupine in one

pocket, and a hedgehog in the other. The next time, before we kiss the

earth, we will have its face shaved well. Did you ever go to Greenwich

Fair? I should like to go there with you, for I get no rolling at St.

John's Wood. Tom and Fanny [Footnote: Hood's son and daughter.] only

like roll and butter, and as for Mrs. Hood, she is for rolling in

money.

Tell Dunnie that Tom has set his trap in the balcony and has caught a

cold, and tell Jeanie that Fanny has set her foot in the garden, but it

has not come up yet. Oh, how I wish it was the season when "March winds

and April showers bring forth _May_ flowers!" for then of course

you would give me another pretty little nosegay. Besides it is frosty

and foggy weather, which I do not like. The other night, when I came

from Stratford, the cold shriveled me up so, that when I got home, I

thought I was my own child!

However, I hope we shall all have a merry Christmas; I mean to come in

my most ticklesome waistcoat, and to laugh till I grow fat, or at least

streaky. Fanny is to be allowed a glass of wine, Tom's mouth is to have

a _hole_ holiday, and Mrs. Hood is to sit up for supper! There

will be doings! And then such good things to eat; but, pray, pray,

pray, mind they don't boil the baby by a mistake for a _plump_

pudding, instead of a plum one.

Give my love to everybody, from yourself down to Willy, with which and

a kiss, I remain, up hill and down dale,

Your affectionate lover,

THOMAS HOOD

CHARLES DICKENS TO MASTER HUGHES

[Footnote: Master Hughes had written to Dickens about _Nicholas

Nickleby_, protesting against Squeers' school.]

DOUGHTY STREET, LONDON

_Dec_. 12th, 1838

_Respected Sir_,

I have given Squeers one cut on the neck and two on the head, at which

he appeared much surprised and began to cry, which, being a cowardly

thing, is just what I should have expected from him--wouldn't you?

I have carefully done what you told me in your letter about the lamb

and the two "sheeps" for the little boys. They have also had some good

ale and porter, and some wine. I am sorry you didn't say _what_

wine you would like them to have. I gave them some sherry, which they

liked very much, except one boy, who was a little sick and choked a

good deal. He was rather greedy, and that's the truth, and I believe it

went the wrong way, which I say served him right, and I hope you will

say so too.

Nicholas had his roast lamb, as you said he was to, but he could not

eat it all, and says if you do not mind his doing so he should like to

have the rest hashed tomorrow with some greens, which he is very fond

of, and so am I. He said he did not like to have his porter hot, for he

thought it spoilt the flavor, so I let him have it cold. You should

have seen him drink it. I thought he never would have left off. I also

gave him three pounds of money, all in sixpences, to make it seem more,

and he said directly that he should give more than half to his mamma

and sister, and divide the rest with poor Smike. And I say he is a good

fellow for saying so; and if anybody says he isn't I am ready to fight

him whenever they like--there!

Fanny Squeers shall be attended to, depend upon it. Your drawing of her

is very like, except that I don't think the hair is quite curly enough.

The nose is particularly like hers, and so are the legs. She is a

nasty, disagreeable thing, and I know it will make her very cross when

she sees it; and what I say is that I hope it may. You will say the

same, I know--at least I think you will.

I meant to have written you a long letter, but I cannot write very fast

when I like the person I am writing to, because that makes me think

about them, and I like you, and so I tell you. Besides, it is just

eight o'clock at night, and I always go to bed at eight o'clock, except

when it is my birthday, and then I sit up to supper. So I will not say

anything more besides this--and that is my love to you and Neptune; and

if you will drink my health every Christmas Day I will drink yours--

come.

I am,

Respected Sir,

Your affectionate Friend

P. S.--I don't write my name very plain, but you know what it is,

you know, so never mind.

TRAITS OF INDIAN CHARACTER

Washington Irving

"I appeal to any white man if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and

he gave him not to eat; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed

him not."

_Speech of an Indian Chief_

There is something in the character and habits of the North American

savage, taken in connection with the scenery over which he is

accustomed to range,--its vast lakes, boundless forests, majestic

rivers, and trackless plains,--that is to my mind wonderfully striking

and sublime. He is formed for the wilderness, as the Arab is for the

desert. His nature is stern, simple, and enduring; fitted to grapple

with difficulties and to support privations. There seems but little

soil in his heart for the support of the kindly virtues; and yet, if we

would but take the trouble to penetrate through that proud stoicism and

habitual taciturnity which lock up his character from casual

observation, we should find him linked to his fellow man of civilized

life by more of those sympathies and affections than are usually

ascribed to him.

It has been the lot of the unfortunate aborigines of America, in the

early periods of colonization, to be doubly wronged by the white men:

they have been dispossessed of their hereditary possessions by

mercenary and frequently wanton warfare, and their characters have been

traduced by bigoted and interested writers. The colonist often treated

them like beasts of the forest, and the author has endeavored to

justify him in his outrages. The former found it easier to exterminate

than to civilize, the latter to vilify than to discriminate. The

appellations of "savage" and "pagan" were deemed sufficient to sanction

the hostilities of both; and thus the poor wanderers of the forest were

persecuted and defamed, not because they were guilty, but because they

were ignorant.

The rights of the savage have seldom been properly appreciated or

respected by the white man. In peace he has too often been the dupe of

artful traffic; in war he has been regarded as a ferocious animal whose

life or death was a question of mere precaution and convenience. Man is

cruelly wasteful of life when his own safety is endangered and he is

sheltered by impunity, and little mercy is to be expected from him when

he feels the sting of the reptile and is conscious of the power to

destroy.

The same prejudices which were indulged thus early exist in common

circulation at the present day. Certain learned societies have, it is

true, with laudable diligence endeavored to investigate and record the

real characters and manners of the Indian tribes; the American

government, too, has wisely and humanely exerted itself to inculcate a

friendly and forbearing spirit towards them, and to protect them from

fraud and injustice. [Footnote: The American government has been

indefatigable in its exertions to ameliorate the situation of the

Indians, and to introduce among them the arts of civilization and civil

and religious knowledge. To protect them from the frauds of the white

traders, no purchase of land from them by individuals is permitted; nor

is any person allowed to receive lands from them as a present, without

the express sanction of government. These precautions are strictly

enforced.] The current opinion of the Indian character, however, is too

apt to be formed from the miserable hordes which infest the frontiers

and hang on the skirts of the settlements. These are too commonly

composed of degenerate beings, corrupted and enfeebled by the vices of

society, without being benefited by its civilization. That proud

independence which formed the main pillar of savage virtue has been

shaken down, and the whole moral fabric lies in ruins. Their spirits

are humiliated and debased by a sense of inferiority, and their native

courage cowed and daunted by the superior knowledge and power of their

enlightened neighbors. Society has advanced upon them like one of those

withering airs that will sometimes breed desolation over a whole region

of fertility. It has enervated their strength, multiplied their

diseases, and superinduced upon their original barbarity the low vices

of artificial life. It has given them a thousand superfluous wants,

whilst it has diminished their means of mere existence. It has driven

before it the animals of the chase, who fly from the sound of the ax

and the smoke of the settlement, and seek refuge in the depths of

remoter forests and yet untrodden wilds. Thus do we too often find the

Indians on our frontiers to be the mere wrecks and remnants of once

powerful tribes, who have lingered in the vicinity of the settlements,

and sunk into a precarious and vagabond existence. Poverty, repining

and hopeless poverty, a canker of the mind unknown in savage life,

corrodes their spirits and blights every free and noble quality of

their natures. They become drunken, indolent, feeble, thievish, and

pusillanimous. They loiter like vagrants about the settlements, among

spacious dwellings replete with elaborate comforts which only render

them sensible of the comparative wretchedness of their own condition.

Luxury spreads its ample board before their eyes, but they are excluded

from the banquet. Plenty revels over the fields; but they are starving

in the midst of its abundance; the whole wilderness has blossomed into

a garden, but they feel as reptiles that infest it.

How different was their state while yet the undisputed lords of the

soil! Their wants were few, and the means of gratification within their

reach. They saw every one around them sharing the same lot, enduring

the same hardships, feeding on the same aliments, arrayed in the same

rude garments. No roof then rose but was open to the homeless stranger;

no smoke curled among the trees but he was welcome to sit down by its

fire and join the hunter in his repast. "For," says an old historian of

New England, "their life is so void of care, and they are so loving

also, that they make use of those things they enjoy as common goods,

and are therein so compassionate that rather than one should starve

through want, they would starve all; thus they pass their time merrily,

not regarding our pomp, but are better content with their own, which

some men esteem so meanly of." Such were the Indians whilst in the

pride and energy of their primitive natures; they resembled those wild

plants which thrive best in the shades of the forest, but shrink from

the hand of cultivation and perish beneath the influence of the sun.

In discussing the savage character, writers have been too prone to

indulge in vulgar prejudice and passionate exaggeration, instead of the

candid temper of true philosophy. They have not sufficiently considered

the peculiar circumstances in which the Indians have been placed, and

the peculiar principles under which they have been educated. No being

acts more rigidly from rule than the Indian. His whole conduct is

regulated according to some general maxims early implanted in his mind.

The moral laws that govern him are, to be sure, but few--but then he

conforms to them all; the white man abounds in laws of religion,

morals, and manners--but how many does he violate?

A frequent ground of accusation against the Indians is their disregard

of treaties, and the treachery and wantonness with which, in time of

apparent peace, they will suddenly fly to hostilities. The intercourse

of the white men with the Indians, however, is too apt to be cold,

distrustful, oppressive, and insulting. They seldom treat them with

that confidence and frankness which are indispensable to real

friendship, nor is sufficient caution observed not to offend against

those feelings of pride or superstition which often prompt the Indian

to hostility quicker than mere considerations of interest. The solitary

savage feels silently, but acutely. His sensibilities are not diffused

over so wide a surface as those of the white man, but they run in

steadier and deeper channels. His pride, his affections, his

superstitions, are all directed towards fewer objects; but the wounds

inflicted on them are proportionately severe, and furnish motives of

hostility which we cannot sufficiently appreciate. Where a community is

also limited in number, and forms one great patriarchal family, as in

an Indian tribe, the injury of an individual is the injury of the

whole, and the sentiment of vengeance is almost instantaneously

diffused. One council fire is sufficient for the discussion and

arrangement of a plan of hostilities. Here all the fighting men and

sages assemble. Eloquence and superstition combine to inflame the minds

of the warriors. The orator awakens their martial ardor, and they are

wrought up to a kind of religious desperation by the visions of the

prophet and the dreamer.

An instance of one of those sudden exasperations, arising from a

motive peculiar to the Indian character, is extant in an old record of

the early settlement of Massachusetts. The planters of Plymouth had

defaced the monuments of the dead at Passonagessit, and had plundered

the grave of the sachem's mother of some skins with which it had been

decorated. The Indians are remarkable for the reverence which they

entertain for the sepulchers of their kindred. Tribes that have passed

generations exiled from the abodes of their ancestors, when by chance

they have been traveling in the vicinity, have been known to turn aside

from the highway, and guided by wonderfully accurate tradition have

crossed the country for miles to some tumulus, buried perhaps in woods,

where the bones of their tribe were anciently deposited, and there have

passed hours in silent meditation. Influenced by this sublime and holy

feeling, the sachem whose mother's tomb had been violated gathered his

men together and addressed them in the following beautifully simple and

pathetic harangue--a curious specimen of Indian eloquence, and an

affecting instance of filial piety in a savage:--

"When last the glorious light of all the sky was underneath this globe,

and birds grew silent, I began to settle, as my custom is, to take

repose. Before mine eyes were fast closed, methought I saw a vision, at

which my spirit was much troubled; and trembling at that doleful sight,

a spirit cried aloud: 'Behold, my son, whom I have cherished, see the

breasts that gave thee suck, the hands that lapped thee warm, and fed

thee oft. Canst thou forget to take revenge of those wild people who

have defaced my monument in a despiteful manner, disdaining our

antiquities and honorable customs? See now the sachem's grave lies like

the common people, defaced by an ignoble race. Thy mother doth

complain, and implores thy aid against this thievish people who have

newly intruded on our land. If this be suffered, I shall not rest quiet

in my everlasting habitation.' This said, the spirit vanished, and I,

all in a sweat, not able scarce to speak, began to get some strength

and recollect my spirits that were fled, and determined to demand your

counsel and assistance."

I have adduced this anecdote at some length, as it tends to show how

these sudden acts of hostility, which have been attributed to caprice

and perfidy, may often arise from deep and generous motives which our

inattention to Indian character and customs prevents our properly

appreciating.

Another ground of violent outcry against the Indians is their barbarity

to the vanquished. This had its origin partly in policy and partly in

superstition. The tribes, though sometimes called nations, were never

so formidable in their numbers but the loss of several warriors was

sensibly felt. This was particularly the case when they had frequently

been engaged in warfare; and many an instance occurs in Indian history,

where a tribe that had long been formidable to its neighbors has been

broken up and driven away by the capture and massacre of its principal

fighting men. There was a strong temptation, therefore, to the victor

to be merciless; not so much to gratify any cruel revenge, as to

provide for future security. The Indians had also the superstitious

belief, frequent among barbarous nations and prevalent also among the

ancients, that the manes of their friends who had fallen in battle were

soothed by the blood of the captives. The prisoners, however, who are

not thus sacrificed, are adopted into their families in the place of

the slain, and are treated with the confidence and affection of

relatives and friends; nay, so hospitable and tender is their

entertainment, that when the alternative is offered them, they will

often prefer to remain with their adopted brethren rather than return

to the home and the friends of their youth.

The cruelty of the Indians toward their prisoners has been heightened

since the colonization of the whites. What was formerly a compliance

with policy and superstition has been exasperated into a gratification

of vengeance. They cannot but be sensible that the white men are the

usurpers of their ancient dominion, the cause of their degradation, and

the gradual destroyers of their race. They go forth to battle smarting

with injuries and indignities which they have individually suffered,

and they are driven to madness and despair by the wide-spreading

desolation and the overwhelming ruin of European warfare. The whites

have too frequently set them an example of violence, by burning their

villages and laying waste their slender means of subsistence; and yet

they wonder that savages do not show moderation and magnanimity towards

those who have left them nothing but mere existence and wretchedness.

We stigmatize the Indians, also, as cowardly and treacherous, because

they use stratagem in warfare in preference to open force; but in this

they are fully justified by their rude code of honor. They are early

taught that stratagem is praiseworthy. The bravest warrior thinks it no

disgrace to lurk in silence and take every avantage of his foe; he

triumphs in the superior craft and sagacity by which he has been

enabled to surprise and destroy an enemy. Indeed, man is naturally more

prone to subtility than open valor, owing to his physical weakness in

comparison with other animals. They are endowed with natural weapons of

defense--with horns, with tusks, with hoofs, and talons; but man has to

depend on his superior sagacity. In all his encounters with these, his

proper enemies, he resorts to stratagem; and when he perversely turns

his hostility against his fellow man, he at first continues the same

subtle mode of warfare.

The natural principle of war is to do the most harm to our enemy with

the least harm to ourselves; and this, of course, is to be effected by

stratagem. That chivalrous courage which induces us to despise the

suggestions of prudence and to rush in the face of certain danger is

the offspring of society, and produced by education. It is honorable,

because it is in fact the triumph of lofty sentiment over an

instinctive repugnance to pain, and over those yearnings after personal

ease and security which society has condemned as ignoble. It is kept

alive by pride and the fear of shame, and thus the dread of real evil

is overcome by the superior dread of an evil which exists but in the

imagination. It has been cherished and stimulated also by various

means. It has been the theme of spirit-stirring song and chivalrous

story. The poet and minstrel have delighted to shed round it the

splendors of fiction, and even the historian as forgotten the sober

gravity of narration, and broken forth into enthusiasm and rhapsody in

its praise. Triumphs and gorgeous pageants have been its reward;

monuments on which art has exhausted its skill, and opulence its

treasures, have been erected to perpetuate a nation's gratitude and

admiration. Thus artificially excited, courage has risen to an

extraordinary and factitious degree of heroism; and arrayed in all the

glorious "pomp and circumstance of war," this turbulent quality has

even been able to eclipse many of those quiet but invaluable virtues

which silently ennoble the human character and swell the tide of human

happiness.

But if courage intrinsically consists in the defiance of danger and

pain, the life of the Indian is a continual exhibition of it. He lives

in a state of perpetual hostility and risk. Peril and adventure are

congenial to his nature, or rather seem necessary to arouse his

faculties and to give an interest to his existence. Surrounded by

hostile tribes whose mode of warfare is by ambush and surprisal, he is

always prepared for fight, and lives with his weapons in his hands. As

the ship careers in fearful singleness through the solitudes of ocean,

as the bird mingles among clouds and storms, and wings its way, a mere

speck, across the pathless fields of air, so the Indian holds his

course, silent, solitary, but undaunted, through the boundless bosom of

the wilderness. His expeditions may vie in distance and danger with the

pilgrimage of the devotee or the crusade of the knight-errant. He

traverses vast forests, exposed to the hazards of lonely sickness, of

lurking enemies, and pining famine. Stormy lakes, those great inland

seas, are no obstacles to his wanderings; in his light canoe of bark he

sports like a feather on their waves, and darts with the swiftness of

an arrow down the roaring rapids of the rivers. His very subsistence is

snatched from the midst of toil and peril. He gains his food by the

hardships and dangers of the chase; he wraps himself in the spoils of

the bear, the panther, and the buffalo, and sleeps among the thunders

of the cataract.

No hero of ancient or modern days can surpass the Indian in his lofty

contempt of death and the fortitude with which he sustains its cruelest

infliction. Indeed, we here behold him rising superior to the white man

in consequence of his peculiar education. The latter rushes to glorious

death at the cannon's mouth; the former calmly contemplates its

approach, and triumphantly endures it, amidst the varied torments of

surrounding foes and the protracted agonies of fire. He even takes a

pride in taunting his persecutors and provoking their ingenuity of

torture; and as the devouring flames prey on his very vitals and the

flesh shrinks from the sinews he raises his last song of triumph,

breathing the defiance of an unconquered heart and invoking the spirits

of his fathers to witness that he dies without a groan.

Notwithstanding the obloquy with which the early historians have

overshadowed the characters of the unfortunate natives, some bright

gleams occasionally break through which throw a degree of melancholy

luster on their memories. Facts are occasionally to be met with in the

rude annals of the eastern provinces, which, though recorded with the

coloring of prejudice and bigotry, yet speak for themselves, and will

be dwelt on with applause and sympathy when prejudice shall have passed

away.

In one of the homely narratives of the Indian wars in New England,

there is a touching account of the desolation carried into the tribe of

the Pequod Indians. Humanity shrinks from the coldblooded detail of

indiscriminate butchery. In one place we read of the surprisal of an

Indian fort in the night, when the wigwams were wrapped in flames, and

the miserable inhabitants shot down and slain in attempting to escape,

"all being dispatched and ended in the course of an hour." After a

series of similar transactions, "our soldiers," as the historian

piously observes, "being resolved by God's assistance to make a final

destruction of them," the unhappy savages being hunted from their homes

and fortresses and pursued with fire and sword, a scanty but gallant

band, the sad remnant of the Pequod warriors, with their wives and

children, took refuge in a swamp.

Burning with indignation and rendered sullen by despair, with hearts

bursting with grief at the destruction of their tribe and spirits

galled and sore at the fancied ignominy of their defeat, they refused

to ask their lives at the hands of an insulting foe, and preferred

death to submission.

As the night drew on they were surrounded in their dismal retreat so as

to render escape impracticable. Thus situated, their enemy "plied them

with shot all the time, by which means many were killed and buried in

the mire." In the darkness and fog that preceded the dawn of day some

few broke through the besiegers and escaped into the woods; "the rest

were left to the conquerors, of which many were killed in the swamp,

like sullen dogs who would rather, in their self-willedness and

madness, sit still and be shot through or cut to pieces," than implore

for mercy. When the day broke upon this handful of forlorn but

dauntless spirits, the soldiers, we are told, entering the swamp, "saw

several heaps of them sitting close together, upon whom they discharged

their pieces laden with ten or twelve pistol bullets at a time, putting

the muzzles of the pieces under the boughs within a few yards of them;

so as, besides those that were found dead, many more were killed and

sunk into the mire, and never were minded more by friend or foe."

Can any one read this plain, unvarnished tale without admiring the

stern resolution, the unbending pride, the loftiness of spirit that

seemed to nerve the hearts of these self-taught heroes and to raise

them above the instinctive feelings of human nature? When the Gauls

laid waste the city of Rome, they found the senators clothed in their

robes and seated with stern tranquillity in their curule chairs; in

this manner they suffered death without resistance or even

supplication. Such conduct was, in them, applauded as noble and

magnanimous; in the hapless Indian it was reviled as obstinate and

sullen! How truly are we the dupes of show and circumstance! How

different is virtue clothed in purple and enthroned in state from

virtue naked and destitute and perishing obscurely in a wilderness!

But I forbear to dwell on these gloomy pictures. The Eastern tribes

have long since disappeared; the forests that sheltered them have been

laid low, and scarce any traces remain of them in the thickly settled

states of New England, excepting here and there the Indian name of a

village or a stream. And such must, sooner or later, be the fate of

those other tribes which skirt the frontiers, and have occasionally

been inveigled from their forests to mingle in the wars of white men.

In a little while, and they will go the way that their brethren have

gone before. The few hordes which still linger about the shores of

Huron and Superior and the tributary streams of the Mississippi will

share the fate of those tribes that once spread over Massachusetts and

Connecticut and lorded it along the proud banks of the Hudson, of that

gigantic race said to have existed on the borders of the Susquehanna,

and of those various nations that flourished about the Potomac and the

Rappahannock, and that peopled the forests of the vast valley of

Shenandoah. They will vanish like a vapor from the face of the earth,

their very history will be lost in forgetfulness, and "the places that

now know them will know them no more forever." Or if, perchance, some

dubious memorial of them should survive, it may be in the romantic

dreams of the poet, to people in imagination his glades and groves,

like the fauns and satyrs and sylvan deities of antiquity. But should

he venture upon the dark story of their wrongs and wretchedness; should

he tell how they were invaded, corrupted, despoiled, driven from their

native abodes and the sepulchers of their fathers; hunted like wild

beasts about the earth, and sent down with violence and butchery to the

grave, posterity will either turn with horror and incredulity from the

tale, or blush with indignation at the inhumanity of their forefathers.

"We are driven back," said an old warrior, "until we can retreat no

farther; our hatchets are broken, our bows are snapped, our fires are

nearly extinguished; a little longer, and the white man will cease to

persecute us--for we shall cease to exist!"

OF STUDIES

Francis Bacon

Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief

use for delight is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in

discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of

business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars,

one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots and marshaling of

affairs, come best from those that are learned. To spend too much time

in studies is sloth; to use them too much for ornament is affectation;

to make judgment wholly by their rules is the humor of a scholar. They

perfect nature, and are perfected by experience; for natural abilities

are like natural plants, that need proyning by study; and studies

themselves do give forth directions too much at large, except they be

bounded in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies; simple men admire

them; and wise men use them: for they teach not their own use; but that

is a wisdom without them and above them, won by observation. Read not

to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to

find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to

be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and

digested: that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to

be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with

diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and

extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in the less

important arguments, and the meaner sort of books; else distilled books

are like common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full

man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore,

if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer

little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had

need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories

make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtle; natural philosophy

deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend. _Abeunt studia

in mores_. Nay, there is no stond or impediment in the wit, but may

be wrought out by fit studies: like as diseases of the body may have

appropriate exercises. Bowling is for the stone and reins; shouting for

the lungs and breast; gentle walking for the stomach; riding for the

head; and the like. So if a man's wit be wandering, let him study the

mathematics; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so

little, he must begin again: if his wit be not apt to distinguish or

find differences, let him study the schoolmen; for they are _cymini

sectores:_ if he be not apt to beat over matters, and to call one

thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers'

cases: so every defect of the mind may have a special receipt.

THE AMERICAN BOY

Theodore Roosevelt

Of course what we have a right to expect of the American boy is that he

shall turn out to be a good American man. Now, the chances are strong

that he won't be much of a man unless he is a good deal of a boy. He

must not be a coward or a weakling, a bully, a shirk, or a prig. He

must work hard and play hard. He must be clean-minded and clean-lived,

and able to hold his own under all circumstances and against all

comers. It is only on these conditions that he will grow into the kind

of American man of whom America can be really proud.

There are always in life countless tendencies for good and for evil,

and each succeeding generation sees some of these tendencies

strengthened and some weakened; nor is it by any means always, alas!

that the tendencies for evil are weakened and those for good

strengthened. But during the last few decades there certainly have been

some notable changes for good in boy life. The great growth in the love

of athletic sports, for instance, while fraught with danger if it

becomes one-sided and unhealthy, has beyond all question had an

excellent effect in increased manliness. Forty or fifty years ago the

writer on American morals was sure to deplore the effeminacy and luxury

of young Americans who were born of rich parents. The boy who was

well off then, especially in the big Eastern cities, lived too

luxuriously, took to billiards as his chief innocent recreation, and

felt small shame in his inability to take part in rough pastimes and

field-sports. Nowadays, whatever other faults the son of rich parents

may tend to develop, he is at least forced by the opinion of all his

associates of his own age to bear himself well in manly exercises and

to develop his body--and therefore, to a certain extent, his character--

in the rough sports which call for pluck, endurance, and physical

address.

Of course boys who live under such fortunate conditions that they have

to do either a good deal of outdoor work or a good deal of what might

be called natural outdoor play do not need the athletic development. In

the Civil War the soldiers who came from the prairie and the backwoods

and the rugged farms where stumps still dotted the clearings, and who

had learned to ride in their infancy, to shoot as soon as they could

handle a rifle, and to camp out whenever they got the chance, were

better fitted for military work than any set of mere school or college

athletes could possibly be. Moreover, to mis-estimate athletics is

equally bad whether their importance is magnified or minimized. The

Greeks were famous athletes, and as long as their athletic training had

a normal place in their lives, it was a good thing. But it was a very

bad thing when they kept up their athletic games while letting the

stern qualities of soldiership and statesmanship sink into disuse. Some

of the younger readers of this book will certainly sometime read the

famous letters of the younger Pliny, a Roman who wrote, with what seems

to us a curiously modern touch, in the first century of the present

era. His correspondence with the Emperor Trajan is particularly

interesting; and not the least noteworthy thing in it is the tone of

contempt with which he speaks of the Greek athletic sports, treating

them as the diversions of an unwarlike people which it was safe to

encourage in order to keep the Greeks from turning into anything

formidable. So at one time the Persian kings had to forbid polo,

because soldiers neglected their proper duties for the fascinations of

the game. We cannot expect the best work from soldiers who have carried

to an unhealthy extreme the sports and pastimes which would be healthy

if indulged in with moderation, and have neglected to learn as they

should the business of their profession. A soldier needs to know how to

shoot and take cover and shift for himself--not to box or to play

football. There is, of course, always the risk of thus mistaking means

for ends. Fox-hunting is a first-class sport; but one of the most

absurd things in real life is to note the bated breath which certain

excellent fox-hunters, otherwise quite healthy minds, speak of this

admirable, but not over-important pastime. They tend to make it almost

as much of a fetich as, in the last century, the French and German

nobles made the chase of the stag, when they carried hunting and game-

preserving to a point which was ruinous to the national life. Fox-

hunting is very good as a pastime, but it is about as poor a business

as can be followed by any man of intelligence. Certain writers about it

are fond of quoting the anecdote of the fox-hunter who, in the days of

the English civil war, was discovered pursuing his favorite sport just

before a great battle between the Cavaliers and the Puritans, and right

between their lines as they came together. These writers apparently

consider it a merit in this man that when his country was in a death-

grapple, instead of taking arms and hurrying to the defense of the

cause he believed right, he should have placidly gone about his usual

sports. Of course, in reality the chief serious use of fox-hunting is

to encourage manliness and vigor, and to keep men hardy, so that at

need they can show themselves fit to take part in work or strife for

their native land. When a man so far confuses ends and means as to

think that fox-hunting, or polo, or football, or whatever else the

sport may be, is to be itself taken as the end, instead of the mere

means of preparation to do work that counts when the time arises, when

the occasion calls--why, that man had better abandon sport altogether.

No boy can afford to neglect his work, and with a boy work, as a rule,

means study. Of course there are occasionally brilliant successes in

life where a man has been worthless as a student when a boy. To take

these exceptions as examples would be as unsafe as it would be to

advocate blindness because some blind men have won undying honor by

triumphing over their physical infirmity and accomplishing great

results in the world. I am no advocate of senseless and excessive

cramming in studies, but a boy should work, and should work hard, at

his lessons--in the first place, for the sake of what he will learn and

in the next place, for the sake of the effect upon his own character of

resolutely settling down to learn it. Shiftlessness, slackness,

indifference in studying, are almost certain to mean inability to get

on in other walks of life. Of course, as a boy grows older it is a good

thing if he can shape his studies in the direction toward which he has

a natural bent; but whether he can do this or not, he must put his

whole heart into them. I do not believe in mischief-doing in school

hours, or in the kind of animal spirits that results in making bad

scholars; and I believe that these boys who take part in rough, hard

play outside of school will not find any need for horse-play in school.

While they study they should study just as hard as they play football

in a match game. It is wise to obey the homely old adage, "Work while

you work; play while you play."

A boy needs both physical and moral courage. Neither can take the place

of the other. When boys become men they will find out that there are

some soldiers very brave in the field who have proved timid and

worthless as politicians, and some politicians who show an entire

readiness to take chances and assume responsibilities in civil affairs,

but who lack the fighting edge when opposed to physical danger. In each

case, with soldiers and politicians alike, there is but half a virtue.

The possession of the courage of the soldier does not excuse the lack

of courage in the statesman, and even less does the possession of the

courage of the statesman excuse shrinking on the field of battle. Now,

this is all just as true of boys. A coward who will take a blow without

returning it is a contemptible creature; but after all, he is hardly as

contemptible as the boy who does not stand up for what he deems right

against the sneers of his companions who are themselves wrong. Ridicule

is one of the favorite weapons of wickedness, and it is sometimes

incomprehensible how good and brave boys will be influenced for evil by

the jeers of associates who have no one quality that calls for respect,

but who affect to laugh at the very traits which ought to be peculiarly

the cause for pride.

There is no need to be a prig. There is no need for a boy to preach

about his own conduct and virtue. If he does he will make himself

offensive and ridiculous. But there is urgent need that he should

practice decency; that he should be clean and straight, honest and

truthful, gentle and tender, as well as brave. If he can once get to a

proper understanding of things, he will have a far more hearty contempt

for the boy who has begun a course of feeble dissipation, or who is

untruthful, or mean, or dishonest, or cruel, than this boy and his

fellows can possibly, in return, feel for him. The very fact that the

boy should be manly and able to hold his own, that he should be ashamed

to submit to bullying without instant retaliation, should, in return,

make him abhor any form of bullying, cruelty, or brutality.

There are two delightful books, Thomas Hughes's "Tom Brown at Rugby"

and Aldrich's "Story of a Bad Boy," which I hope every boy still reads;

and I think American boys will always feel more in sympathy with

Aldrich's story, because there is in it none of the fagging, and the

bullying which goes with fagging, the account of which, and the

acceptance of which, always puzzles an American admirer of Tom Brown.

There is the same contrast between two stories of Kipling's. One,

called "Captains Courageous," describes in the liveliest way just what

a boy should be and do. The hero is painted in the beginning as the

spoiled, over-indulged child of wealthy parents, of a type which we do

sometimes unfortunately see, and than which there exist few things more

objectionable on the face of the broad earth. This boy is afterward

thrown on his own resources, amid wholesome surroundings, and is forced

to work hard among boys and men who are real boys and real men doing

real work. The effect is invaluable. On the other hand, if one wishes

to find types of boys to be avoided with utter dislike, one will find

them in another story by Kipling, called "Stalky & Co.," a story which

ought never to have been written, for there is hardly a single form of

meanness which it does not seem to extol, or of school mismanagement

which it does not seem to applaud. Bullies do not make brave men; and

boys or men of foul life cannot become good citizens, good Americans,

until they change; and even after the change scars will be left on

their souls.

The boy can best become a good man by being a good boy--not a goody-

goody boy, but just a plain good boy. I do not mean that he must love

only the negative virtues; I mean he must love the positive virtues

also. "Good," in the largest sense, should include whatever is fine,

straightforward, clean, brave, and manly. The best boys I know--the

best men I know--are good at their studies or their business, fearless

and stalwart, hated and feared by all that is wicked and depraved,

incapable of submitting to wrongdoing, and equally incapable of being

aught but tender to the weak and helpless. A healthy-minded boy should

feel hearty contempt for the coward, and even more hearty indignation

for the boy who bullies girls or small boys, or tortures animals. One

prime reason for abhorring cowards is because every good boy should

have it in him to thrash the objectionable boy as the need arises.

Of course the effect that a thoroughly manly, thoroughly straight and

upright boy can have upon the companions of his own age, and upon those

who are younger, is incalculable. If he is not thoroughly manly,

then they will not respect him, and his good qualities will count for

but little; while, of course, if he is mean, cruel, or wicked, then his

physical strength and force of mind merely make him so much the more

objectionable a member of society. He cannot do good work if he is not

strong and does not try with his whole heart and soul to count in any

contest; and his strength will be a curse to himself and to every one

else if he does not have thorough command over himself and over his own

evil passions, and if he does not use his strength on the side of

decency, justice, and fair dealing.

In short, in life, as in a football game, the principle to follow is:

Hit the line hard; don't foul and don't shirk, but hit the line hard!

ORATIONS

GIVE ME LIBERTY OR GIVE ME DEATH

Patrick Henry

Mr. President: No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism,

as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just

addressed the house. But different men often see the same subject in

different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought

disrespectful to those gentlemen, if, entertaining as I do, opinions of

a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments

freely and without reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The question

before this house is one of awful moment to the country. For my own

part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or

slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be

the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to

arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to

God and to our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time,

through fear of giving offense, I would consider myself as guilty of

treason toward my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the

Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.

Mr. President, It is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of

hope. We are apt to shut our eye's against a painful truth, and listen

to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this

the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for

liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes,

see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern

their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it

may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst and

to provide for it.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp

of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the

past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in

the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years, to justify

those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves

and the house. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has

been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your

feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves

how this gracious re--ception of our petition comports with those

warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are

fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have

we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be

called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir.

These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to

which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial

array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen

assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in

this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies

and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can be

meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those

chains which the British Ministry have been so long forging. And what

have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been

trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon

the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of

which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to

entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find, which have

not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive

ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done, to

avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have

remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before

the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the

tyrannical hands of the Ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have

been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and

insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been

spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these

things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There

is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free--if we mean to

preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been

so long contending--if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle

in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged

ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest

shall be obtained--we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An

appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable

an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week,

or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a

British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather

strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of

effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the

delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand

and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means

which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of

people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as

that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can

send against us. Besides, we shall not fight our battles alone. There

is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will

raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not

to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave.

Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it,

it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but

in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be

heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable--and let it come!

I repeat it, sir, LET IT COME!

It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace,

peace--but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale

that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of

resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we

here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is

life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of

chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course

others may take; but, as for me, GIVE ME LIBERTY OR GIVE ME DEATH!

SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN ADAMS

Daniel Webster

Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my

heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, that, in the beginning, we

aimed not at independence. But

There's a divinity which shapes our ends.

The injustice of England has driven us to arms; and, blinded to her own

interest for our good, she has obstinately persisted, till independence

is now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is

ours. Why, then, should we defer the Declaration?

Is any man so weak as now to hope for a reconciliation with England,

which shall leave either safety to the country and its liberties, or

safety to his own life or his own honor? Are not you, Sir, who sit in

that chair, is not he, our venerable colleague near you, are you not

both already the proscribed and predestined objects of punishment and

vengeance? Cut off from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what

can you be, while the power of England remains, but outlaws? If we

postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or give up, the war? Do

we mean to submit to the measures of Parliament, Boston Port Bill and

all? Do we mean to submit, and consent that we ourselves shall be

ground to powder, and our country and its rights trodden down in the

dust? I know we do not mean to submit. We never shall submit. Do we

intend to violate that most solemn obligation ever entered into by men,

that plighting, before God, of our sacred honor to Washington, when,

putting him forth to incur the dangers of war, as well as the political

hazards of the times, we promised to adhere to him, in every extremity,

with our fortunes and our lives? I know there is not a man here, who

would not rather see a general conflagration sweep over the land, or an

earthquake sink it, than one jot or tittle of that plighted faith fall

to the ground. For myself, having, twelve months ago, in this place,

moved you that George Washington be appointed commander of the forces

raised, or to be raised, for the defense of American liberty, may my

right hand forget her cunning, and my tongue cleave to the roof my

mouth, if I hesitate or waver in the support I give him.

The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through. And if the war

must go on, why put off longer the Declaration of Independence? That

measure will strengthen us. It will give us character abroad. The

nations will then treat with us, which they never can do while we

acknowledge ourselves subjects, in arms against our sovereign. Nay, I

maintain that England herself will sooner treat for peace with us on

the footing of independence, than consent, by repealing her acts, to

acknowledge that her whole conduct toward us has been a course of

injustice and oppression. Her pride will be less wounded by submitting

to that course of things which now predestinates our independence, than

by yielding the points in controversy to her rebellious subjects. The

former she would regard as the result of fortune; the latter, she would

feel as her own deep disgrace. Why then, why then, Sir, do we not as

soon as possible change this from a civil to a national war? And since

we must fight it through, why not put ourselves in a state to enjoy all

the benefits of victory, if we gain the victory?

If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not fail. The cause

will raise up armies; the cause will create navies. The people, the

people, if we are true to them, will carry us, and will carry

themselves, gloriously, through this struggle. I care not how fickle

other people have been found. I know the people of these Colonies, and

I know that resistance to British aggression is deep and settled in

their hearts, and cannot be eradicated. Every Colony, indeed, has

expressed its willingness to follow, if we but take the lead. Sir, the

Declaration will inspire the people with increased courage. Instead of

a long and bloody war for the restoration of privileges, for redress of

grievances, for chartered immunities, held under a British king, set

before them the glorious object of entire independence, and it will

breathe into them anew the spirit of life. Read this Declaration at the

head of the army; every sword will be drawn, and the solemn vow

uttered, to maintain it, or perish on the bed of honor. Publish it from

the pulpit; religion will approve it, and the love of religious liberty

will cling around it, resolved to stand with it, or fall with it. Send

it to the public halls; proclaim it there; let them hear it who heard

the first roar of the enemy's cannon; let them see it who saw their

brothers and their sons fall on the field of Bunker Hill and in the

streets of Lexington and Concord, and the very walls will cry out in

its support.

Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs, but I see, I see clearly

through this day's business. You and I, indeed, may rue it. We may not

live to see the time when this Declaration shall be made good. We may

die; die colonists; die slaves; die, it may be, ignominiously and on

the scaffold. Be it so. Be it so. If it be the pleasure of Heaven that

my country shall require the poor offering of my life, the victim shall

be ready at the appointed hour of sacrifice, come when that hour may.

But while I do live, let me have a country, or at least the hope of a

country, and that a free country.

But whatever may be our fate, be assured, be assured that this

Declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost blood;

but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both. Through the

thick gloom of the present I see the brightness of the future, as the

sun in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immortal day. When we

are in our graves, our children will honor it. They will celebrate it

with thanksgiving, with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On

its annual return they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of

subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of exultation,

of gratitude, and of joy. Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come.

My judgment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. All

that I have, and all that I am, and all that I hope, in this life, I am

now ready here to stake upon it; and I leave off as I began, that, live

or die, survive or perish, I am for the Declaration. It is my living

sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall be my dying sentiment;

independence _now_, and INDEPENDENCE FOREVER.

ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATION OF THE CEMETERY AT GETTYSBURG

Abraham Lincoln

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this

continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the

proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation,

or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are

met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a

portion of that field, as a final resting-place for those who here gave

their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and

proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate--we can not consecrate--we

can not hallow--this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who

struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or

detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say

here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the

living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they

who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to

be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us,--that from

these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which

they gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly

resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain--that this nation,

under God, shall have a new birth of freedom--and that government of

the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the

earth.

APPENDIX

In this Appendix are given lists of masterpieces of children's

literature which, for reasons stated in the Preface, could not be

included in this collection. The editor has attempted to limit the lists

of books to those which, in his judgment, are undoubted masterpieces,

yet at the same time to include the books in the different types with

which students in normal school and college classes in children's

literature need to be familiar. These books should be in the reference

library at the disposal of the students, and reports and conferences on

them should form a part of the course in children's literature.

A brief bibliography of books dealing with literature for children

is appended. The teacher of the class in children's literature should

know some of these books, and perhaps use one as a text to guide

his work.

COLLECTIONS OF CHILDREN'S LITERATURE

ELIOT, C. W. _The Junior Classics_. 8 vols. P. F. Collier & Sons,

New York.

SCUDDER, H. E. _The Children's Book_. 1 vol. Houghton Mifflin

Company, Boston.

TAPPAN, E. M. The Children's Hour. 10 vols. Houghton Mifflin Company,

Boston.

Among school readers, the _Heart of Oak_ series, edited by Charles

Eliot Norton (D. C. Heath & Co., New York), is the most profuse in

literary masterpieces.

COLLECTIONS OF MOTHER GOOSE VERSES

HALLIWELL, J. O. _The Nursery Rhymes of England_. Frederick Warne

& Co., New York.

LANG, A. _The Nursery Rhyme Book_. Frederick Warne & Co., New York.

SAINTSBURY, G. E. B. _National Rhymes of the Nursery_. Frederick A.

Stokes Company, New York.

WELSH, C. _Mother Goose: A Book of Nursery Rhymes_. D. C. Heath &

Co., New York.

WHEELER, W. _A. Mother Goose's Melodies_. Houghton Mifflin Company,

Boston.

CHILDREN'S POETS

In addition to the children's poets represented on pages 13-36, the

following books of children's poems should be in the school library:

BROWN, A. F. _A Pocketful of Posies_. Houghton Mifflin Company,

Boston.

GARY, A. and P. _Poems for Children_. Houghton Mifflin Company,

Boston, (In _Cary's Poetical Works_.)

DODGE, M. _Rhymes and Jingles._ Charles Scribner's Sons, New York.

DOWD. _The Owl and the Bobolink._ Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.

EARLS, M. _Ballads of Childhood._ Benziger Brothers, New York.

FIELD, E. _Songs of Childhood._ Charles Scribner's Sons, New York.

LAMB, C. _Poetry for Children._ E. P. Button & Co., New York.

(Volume 8 of Works of Charles Lamb.)

PEABODY, J. P. _The Book of the Little Past._ Houghton Mifflin

Company, Boston.

RICHARDS, L. E. _In My Nursery._ Little, Brown & Co., Boston.

RILEY, J. W. _Rhymes of Childhood._ Bobbs-Merjill Company,

Indianapolis.

SHERMAN, F. D. _Little-Folk Lyrics._ Houghton Mifflin Company,

Boston.

TAGORE, R. _The Crescent Moon._ Macmillan Company, New York.

WELLS, C. _The Jingle Book._ Macmillan Company, New York.

ANTHOLOGIES OF CHILDREN'S POETRY

CHISHOLM, L. _The Golden Staircase._ G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York.

HAZARD, B. _Three Years with the Poets._ Houghton Mifflin Company,

Boston.

HENLEY, W. E. _Lyra Heroica._ Charles Scribner's Sons, New York.

LUCAS, E. V. _A Book of Verses for Children._ Henry Holt & Co.,

New York.

PALGRAVE, F. _Children's Treasury of English Song._ Macmillan

Company, New York.

REPPLIER, A. _A Book of Famous Verse._ Houghton Mifflin Company,

Boston.

STEVENSON, B. _The Home Book of Verse for Young Folks._ Henry Holt

& Co., New York.

THACHER, L. W. _The Listening Child._ Macmillan Company, New York.

WIGGIN, K. D., and SMITH, N. A. _Golden Numbers._ McClure Company,

New York.

ANONYMOUS. _Our Children's Songs._ Harper and Brothers, New York.

FAIRY STORIES

In addition to the collections of fairy stories mentioned in the notes,

the following collections contain first-rate material:

Folk Tales

JACOBS, J. _More English Fairy Tales and Celtic Fairy Tales._ G. P.

Putnam's Sons, New York.

LANG, A. _The Blue Fairy Book and The Green Fairy Book._ Longmans,

Green & Co., New York.

RHYS, E. _The English Fairy Book._ Frederick A. Stokes Company, New

York.

SCUDDER, H. E. _Book of Fables and Folk Stories._ Houghton Mifflin

Company, Boston.

WIGGIN, K. D., and SMITH, N. A. _The Fairy Ring._ McClure Company,

New York,

NEGRO FOLK TALES

HARRIS, J. C. _Nights with Uncle Remus_ and _Uncle Remus and His

Friends_. Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.

MODERN FAIRY TALES

BARRIE, J. M. _Peter Pan_. Silver, Burdett & Co., Boston.

CARROLL, L. _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the

Looking-Glass_. Macmillan Company, New York.

COLLODI, C. _Adventures of Pinocchio_. Ginn & Co., Boston.

INGELOW, J. _Mopsa the Fairy_. J. B. Lippincott Company,

Philadelphia. _Three Fairy Tales_. D. C. Heath & Co., New York.

KINGSLEY, C. _Water Babies_. E. P. Dutton & Co., New York.

LANG, A. _Prince Prigio_. Thomas Y. Crowell Company, New York.

MAETERLINCK, M. _The Blue Bird for Children_. Silver, Burdett &

Co., Boston.

MACDONALD, G. _The Princess and the Goblin_. J. B. Lippincott

Company, Philadelphia.

ROSTAND, E. _The Story of Chanticleer_. Frederick A. Stokes

Company, New York.

STOCKTON, F. R. _Fanciful Tales and The Floating Prince_. Charles

Scribner's Sons, New York.

THACKERAY, W. M. _The Rose and the Ring_. D. C. Heath & Co., New

York.

HOMERIC STORIES

No selection from the classic stories of Homer have been included in the

present collection, having been ruled out by the principle that nothing

but complete units must be presented. But every child must be exposed to

the charm of the wonderful story-teller of Greece. If the child prefers

verse--and Homer's stories are at their best in good verse--Bryant's

translation should be used (Students' Edition, 2 vols. Houghton Mifflin

Company, Boston). Perhaps the best prose translation is that of Palmer

(Houghton Mifflin Company).

MYTHS

In addition to the Kingsley and Hawthorne stories of the Greek myths and

legends, the child's library should contain Mrs. Peabody's _Old Greek

Folk Stories_ (Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston).

HERO STORIES

Preeminent among the stories in which the chief element of interest is

that which arises from the deeds of heroic characters, are the Robin

Hood and the King Arthur stories. The Robin Hood tales contain material

unusually interesting and valuable for children; but, though they have

been told and retold times without number, there is but one version that

may properly be called a "masterpiece." This is the Howard Pyle version,

_Merry Adventures of Robin Hood_ (Charles Scribner's Sons, New York).

A less expensive edition is called _Some Merry Adventures of Robin

Hood_.

The King Arthur cycle is at its best in the Malory version (_Le Morte

d'Arthur_, by Sir Thomas Malory. _Everyman's_ series. E. P. Dutton

& Co., New York). This, however, is somewhat too diffuse and too

difficult for any child but a bookish one. Sidney Lanier's version of

the stories (_The Boy's King Arthur_, Charles Scribner's Sons, New

York) is a masterpiece of narration for youthful readers, and it is

faithful to the atmosphere and spirit of the Malory stories.

The hero stories in Plutarch are among the choicest of stories in this

type. Edwin Ginn's edition (Ginn & Co., Boston) is an admirable one. It

is based on the Clough translation, which was based, in turn, on the

so-called Dryden version.

ANIMAL AND NATURE STORIES AND SKETCHES

BURROUGHS, J. _Wake Robin_. Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.

KIPLING, R. _Jungle Book_ and _Just-So Stories_. Century

Company, New York.

LONG, W. J. _A Little Brother to the Bear_. Ginn & Co., Boston.

MILLER, J. _True Bear Stories_. Rand-McNally & Co., Chicago.

Mum, J. _Stickeen._ Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston. A most

charming and thrilling story of a dog.

ROBERTS, C. G. D. _Kindred of the Wild_. Grosset & Dunlap, New

York.

SEGUR, S. Story of a Donkey. D. C. Heath & Co., New York.

SETON THOMPSON, E. _Wild Animals I Have Known_. Charles Scribner's

Sons, New York.

MISCELLANEOUS STORIES

(Chiefly Fiction)

ALCOTT, L. M. _Little Men and Little Women_. Little, Brown & Co.,

Boston.

ALDRICH, T. B. _Story of a Bad Boy_. Houghton Mifflin Company,

Boston.

BLACKMORE, R. D. _Lorna Doone_. Thomas Y. Crowell Company, New

York.

BUNYAN, J. _Pilgrim's Progress_. Ginn & Co., Boston.

CLEMENS, S. L. _Tom Sawyer_, _Huckleberry Finn_, and _The

Prince and the Pauper_. Harper and Brothers, New York.

COOPER, J. F. _Deerslayer_ and _Last of the Mohicans_. G. P.

Putnam's Sons, New York.

DEFOE, D. _Robinson Crusoe_. Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.

FRANKLIN, B. _Autobiography_. D. C. Heath & Co., New York.

HALE, E. E. _The Man Without a Country_. Ginn & Co., Boston.

HALE, L. _Peterkin Papers_. Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.

HUGHES, T. _Tom Brown's School Days_. Rand-McNally & Co., Chicago.

SCOTT, W. _Quentin Durward and Ivanhoe_. Dana Estes & Co., Boston.

STEVENSON, R. L. _Treasure Island_. Charles Scribner's Sons, New

York.

SWIFT, J. _Gulliver's Travels_. D. C. Heath & Co., New York.

BOOKS ON CHILDREN'S LITERATURE

BARNES, W. _English in the Country School_. Row, Peterson & Co.,

Chicago.

CARPENTER, BAKER, and SCOTT. _The Teaching of English_. Longmans,

Green & Co., New York.

CHUBB, P. _Teaching of English_ (elementary school edition).

Macmillan Company, New York.

COLBY, J. R. _Literature and Life in the School_. Houghton Mifflin

Company, Boston.

COX, J. H. _Literature in the Common Schools_. Little, Brown & Co.,

Boston.

FIELD, W. T. _Fingerposts to Children's Reading_. A. C. McClurg &

Co., Chicago.

HUNT. _What Shall We Read to the Children_? Houghton Mifflin

Company, Boston.

LEE, G. S. _The Child and the Book_. G. P. Putnam's Sons, New

York.

LOWE. _Literature for Children_. Macmillan Company, New York.

MACCLINTOCK, P. L. _Literature in the Elementary School_.

University of Chicago Press, Chicago.

OLCOTT, F. J. _The Children's Reading_. Houghton Mifflin Company,

Boston.

NOTES

Page 1. Attention is directed to the classification of the Nursery

Jingles as indicated in the Contents. Several classifications of the

Jingles, from one standpoint or another, have been made, that by J. O.

Halliwell being the most elaborate, and that by the late Charles Welsh

being, perhaps, the most logical. The present classification is to

indicate more clearly the content, the source, the point, the

"intrinsic motive" of the Jingles. It is hoped that this new

classification will at least make conspicuous the scope and variety,

and the widely varying sources and themes, of the verses that children

have been selecting and scholars have been collecting under the generic

name of Nursery Jingles or Mother Goose Verses.

There are, of course, different versions of the Jingles, as there are

of any truly "popular" form of literature. Of not many Jingles can it

be said that any version is the oldest, the authoritative, the real

version. The editor, therefore, despairing of finding the most accurate

version, has endeavored to find the best. In many instances the best

seemed the one he had heard in childhood rather than the one printed in

any of the collections. The collection found most useful is Lang's

_The Nursery Rhyme Book_ (Frederick Warne & Co., London, 1897).

The editor has tried to select those specimens that would give teacher

and class as many characteristic Mother Goose elements, touches,

rhythms, and styles as possible. Many of the Jingles in this collection

have not been printed before--at least, not to the editor's knowledge.

He believes, however, that they are all genuine Folk Jingles, and he

hopes that their quaintness and novelty will justify their appearance

here.

Page 13. The poems from Blake are from _Poetical Works_ (George

Bell & Sons, London, 1909). The three poems are from the series called

_Songs of Innocence_.

Page 15. Christina Rossetti's poems are from _Sing-Song_

(Macmillan & Co., London, 1907). The poems are not given titles in

this, the authoritative edition.

Page 17. Stevenson's poems are from _Complete Poems_ (Charles

Scribner's Sons, New York, 1912). The poems reprinted here are all from

the series called _A Child's Garden of Verses_. There are many

good editions of the _Child's Garden_, the Scribner edition being

one of the most beautiful.

Page 20. The Lucy Larcom pieces are from _Childhood Songs_

(Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1874), and are here used by

permission of Houghton Mifflin Company.

Page 22. The four poems of the Taylors' are from E. V. Lucas's edition

of _The Original Poems and Others_ (Wells, Gardner, Darton & Co.,

London, 1903). The readings given here follow the last revision by Ann

Taylor, some years after the death of Jane. In the case of "The Star"

the more familiar version seemed, to the present editor, the better,

but he felt that he should conform to the reading that seems to have

the strongest authority. No attempt is made to discriminate between the

poems of the two sisters; all the poems are here ascribed to them

jointly.

Page 26. The first two poems of Watts' are from _Divine Songs for

Children_; the third poem, from _Moral Songs_, or, to give it

its full title, _A Slight Specimen of Moral Songs, such as I wish

some happy and condescending genius would undertake for the use of

children, and perform much better_. The two collections of poems for

children are to be found in Watts's _Horæ Lyricæ_ (Little, Brown &

Co., Boston, 1864). The advertisement to this edition states that "the

volume is reprinted, with many corrections," from the quarto edition of

Watts's entire works, published in 1753. Stanzas 5-10 and stanzas 12

and 14 have been omitted from the text of "A Cradle Hymn." They are

given here, that the student may have before him an illustration of how

necessary it is occasionally to expurgate material set before children.

5. Blessed babe! what glorious features,

Spotless fair, divinely bright!

Must he dwell with brutal creatures?

How could angels bear the sight!

6. Was there nothing but a manger

Cursed sinners could afford,

To receive the heavenly Stranger?

Did they thus affront their Lord?

7. Soft, my child; I did not chide thee,

Though my song might sound too hard;

'Tis thy mother sits beside thee,

And her arms shall be thy guard.

8. Yet to read the shameful story,

How the Jews abus'd their King,

How they serv'd the Lord of Glory,

Makes me angry while I sing.

9. See the kinder shepherds round him,

Telling wonders from the sky;

There they sought him, there they found him,

With his virgin mother by.

10. See the lovely babe a-dressing;

Lovely infant, how he smil'd!

When he wept, the mother's blessing

Sooth'd and hush'd the holy child.

12. 'Twas to save thee, child, from dying,

Save my dear from burning flame,

Bitter groans and endless crying,

That thy blest Redeemer came.

14. I could give thee thousand kisses,

Hoping what I most desire;

Not a mother's fondest wishes

Can to greater joys aspire.

Page 28. Lewis Carroll's poems reprinted here are from _The Hunting

of the Snark, and Other Poems_ (Harper & Brothers, New York, 1903).

"Father William" is from _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_; the

others are from _Through the Looking-Glass_. All three poems are

much better fun when read in their original setting.

Page 33. Edward Lear's poems are from _Nonsense Books_ (Little,

Brown & Co., Boston, 1888). This includes all four of the Nonsense

books by Lear: _Book of Nonsense_, 1846; _Nonsense Songs,

Stories, etc._, 1871; _More Nonsense Pictures_, etc., 1872;

and _Laughable Lyrics: A Fresh Book of Nonsense, etc._, 1877.

Page 37. The ballad of "Bonny Barbara Allan" is from Percy's _Reliques

of Ancient English Poetry_ (Frederick Warne & Co., New York, 1880).

The spelling is modernized. Stanzas 5-8 have been inserted. They were

discovered in Buchanan County, Virginia, by Professor C. Alphonso

Smith, of the University of Virginia, and printed in his monograph,

_Ballads Surviving in the United States_ (G. Schirmer, New York,

1916). This and dozens of other "popular" ballads are still sung in

the mountains of the Southern states; undoubtedly they have been

transmitted orally for generations.

Page 38. "Sir Patrick Spence" is from Percy's _Reliques_, the

edition above mentioned. In the editor's opinion, this is the most

effective of the several versions of this beautiful ballad.

Page 40. This version of "Robin Hood and Allin a Dale" is from

Sargent and Kittredge's _English and Scottish Popular Ballads_

(Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1904).

Page 43. "Kinmont Willie" is from _The Poetical Works of Sir Walter

Scott, together with The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_ (J. B.

Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, 1880). Sir Walter, in his

introduction to the ballad, states that because the piece had been

"much mangled by reciters," "some conjectural emendations have been

absolutely necessary to render it intelligible." As no other version of

the ballad has ever been discovered, no one knows just how many

"conjectural emendations" Sir Walter made. It is safe to say, however,

that the poet's taste and antiquarian interests would prevent his

taking unwarrantable liberties with the original. In its present form

it is one of the finest of the ballads, whatever change it may have

suffered in passing through Scott's hands.

Page 49. This poem of Longfellow's and "A Psalm of Life," page 83, are

from _Complete Poetical Works_ (Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston,

1893). They are used by permission.

Page 52. "La Belle Dame sans Merci" and the Keats poem on page 75 are

from _Complete Poetical Works and Letters_ (Houghton Mifflin

Company, Boston, 1899). Lord Houghton's version, as given in _Life,

Letters, and Literary Remains_, has some important variant readings.

Page 53. The Campbell poem is taken from the _Complete Poetical

Works_ (Phillips, Samson & Co., Boston, 1857).

Page 55. "Lochinvar" comes from the _Poetical Works_ (Thomas Y.

Crowell Company, New York, 1894).

Page 56. This spirited poem of Browning's is from the _Complete

Poetic and Dramatic Works_ (Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1895).

Page 58. The three poems by Tennyson in this collection are from

_Poetic and Dramatic Works_ (Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.

1898).

Page 63. This version of "America" is from the facsimile reproduction

of the hymn in the author's handwriting found in _A History of

Newton, Massachusetts_, by S. F. Smith, D.D. (published, 1880, by

The American Logotype Company, Boston). The original copy of "America,"

according to all the evidence, is the one in Dr. Smith's handwriting

contained on a slip of waste paper which is now kept in the treasure

room of the Harvard Library. In this original version the two notable

points of difference from that given here are the reading "breathes"

for "breathe" in the third stanza, and "Our God" for "Great God" in the

fourth stanza.

Page 64. This well-known passage is the first stanza of Canto VI of

Scott's _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_ (_Poetical Works_

above described).

Page 64. Miller's "Columbus" is from the Bear Edition of Miller's poems

(Harr Wagner Publishing Company, San Francisco, 1909).

Page 65. Mrs. Hemans' poem is from _Complete Works_ (D. Appleton &

Co., New York, 1847).

Page 67. The "Concord Hymn" and "The Rhodora," page 74, are from the

_Poems_ (Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1899).

Page 67. This poem of Holmes' and "The Chambered Nautilus," page 77,

are from the _Poetical Works_ (Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston,

1895). The latter poem appeared originally in _The Autocrat of the

Breakfast Table_.

Page 68. "O Captain! My Captain!" is from _Leaves of Grass_ (David

McKay, Philadelphia, 1900).

Page 70. "To Lucasta" is from _Epodes, Odes, Sonnets, Songs, etc.,

etc., to which is added Aramantha, a Pastoral, by Richard Lovelace,

Esq. A New Edition_ (Chiswick: from the Press of C. Whittingham,

1817).

Page 70. Byron's poem is from _Hebrew Melodies_ (London, printed

for John Murray, 1815).

Page 71. "A Red, Red Rose" is from _Complete Poetical Works_

(Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1897).

Page 72. "The Greenwood Tree" is from _As You Like It_ (New

Variorum Edition, 1890).

Page 72. This well-known sea song by Cunningham is from _The Songs of

Scotland, Ancient and Modern_, Vol. IV (printed for John Taylor,

London, 1825).

Page 73. "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud", or "The Daffodils," as it is

often called, is from _Complete Poetical Works_ (Thomas Y. Crowell

Company, New York, n. d.). The text is that of the edition of 1857.

Page 74. "To the Fringed Gentian" is from _Poetical Works_ (D.

Appleton & Co., New York, 1909). "To a Waterfowl," page 76, is from the

same.

Page 79. "The Noble Nature" is from the volume of Ben Jonson's poems in

_The Canterbury Poets_, edited by William Sharp (published by the

Walter Scott Publishing Company, London and Newcastle, n. d.).

Page 79. This poem of Wotton's is from _Reliquæ Wottoniæ_, etc.,

London, (printed by Thomas Maxey for R. Marriot, G. Bedel, and T.

Garthwait, 1651). The meaning of the third stanza is obscure. In this

edition it runs as follows:

Who envies none that Chance doth raise,

Nor Vice hath ever understood;

How deepest wounds are given by praise,

Nor rules of State, but rules of good.

Page 80. This inspiring poem by Clough is found in _Poetical

Works_ (George Routledge & Sons, London, n. d.).

Page 80. "For A' That an' A' That" is from _The Edinburgh Book of

Scottish Verse_ (Meiklejohn and Holden, London, 1910).

Page 82. The poem by Henley is from _Echoes_ (published by David

Nutt, London, 1908). This poem is the fourth of the forty-seven poems

in _Echoes._ The title "Invictus" is not in the original.

Page 82. "Opportunity" is from _Poems by Edward Rowland Sill_

(Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1888).

Pages 85-86. These six fables are from _The Fables of Æsop_,

translated into English by Samuel Croxall, with new applications,

morals, etc., by the Rev. George Fyler Townsend (Frederick Warne & Co.,

London, 1869). This is the second edition. There are, of course, scores

of versions of the Æsopian fables. The one selected is approved by

Greek scholars for the fidelity of the translation, while its literary

value is unusually high. The tagged-on morals and applications have

been pruned away from the text.

Pages 87-88. The two fables of Bidpai are to be found in _The

Tortoise and the Geese, and Other Fables of Bidpai_, retold by Maude

Barrows Dutton (Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1908). They are

reprinted here by permission of the publishers.

Page 89. These two metrical fables are from _Fables of La

Fontaine,_ translated by Elizur Wright, Jr. (Worthington Company,

New York, 1889). The French writer's fables, though usually not

original in content, are clever and keen and shrewd, and this

translation represents faithfully their thought and spirit.

Page 91. Both "The Old Woman and Her Pig" and "The Three Little Pigs"

are from _English Fairy Tales_, third edition (G. P. Putnam's

Sons, New York, 1910). The stories are from Halliwell's _Nursery

Rhymes and Tales_, but are retold by Jacobs, who, as usual, improves

the original without sinning against the mood and spirit of the

"popular" story.

Page 95. "Hans in Luck" and "The Frog-Prince," are from the translation

of Edgar Taylor, London, 1823. This, so far as the editor could

determine, was the first translation into English, and it remains one

of the best.

Page 98. "The Valiant Little Tailor" and "The Elves," are from

_Grimms Household Tales_, translated by Margaret Hunt (George Bell

& Sons, London, 1913). The two volumes of Miss Hunt's translation are,

together with her notes and Andrew Lang's introduction, an important

contribution to the folklore of the "popular" Fairy Story and Nursery

Tale.

Page 105. "Cinderella" and "Blue Beard," are from _The Tales of

Mother Goose_, translated from the French by Charles Welsh (D. C.

Heath & Co., New York, 1901). They are reprinted in this collection by

permission of the publishers. _The Tales of Mother Goose_ were

published in 1697. There have been dozens of translations, but Welsh's

version is perhaps the most satisfactory.

Page 110. This version of "Whittington" is from _Amusing Prose Chap-

Books, chiefly of Last Century_, edited by Robert Hays Cunningham

(Hamilton, Adams & Co., London, 1889). The version is strikingly

similar to the one given by Jacobs in _English Fairy Tales_,

which, Jacobs says, was "cobbled up out of three chapbook versions."

Page 117. "The Ugly Duckling" is from _Fairy Tales and Stories_,

translated by H. W. Dulcken (Rand-McNally & Co., Chicago, n. d.). The

Dulcken translation published by A. L. Burt Company, New York, n. d.,

contains the same stories as the Rand-McNally translation, and eleven

more.

Page 125. "The Flax" is from the translation of Caroline Peachey,

_Danish Fairy Legends and Tales_ (George Bell & Sons, London,

1881). This is the "third edition, enlarged." It contains fifty-seven

stories.

Neither of the Andersen stories used for this collection is a folk

story--though, for tradition's sake, they are here placed with genuine

folk stories. Of the fifty-seven stories in the Peachey translation,

all but ten are entirely original with Andersen, and all of these ten

he worked over to suit his purpose. Andersen, then, unlike Grimm,

Jacobs, Lang, and others, is not a collector and teller of fairy

stories, but a maker of fairy stories--if, indeed, they should be

called fairy stories at all. In spirit and purpose and method Andersen

belongs with the modern writers of fairy stories--with Macdonald,

Stockton, Ingelow, and Barrie, rather than with the "dealers in the

genuine article."

Page 133. This version of "Jack and the Beanstalk" is from Jacobs'

_English Fairy Tales_ above cited. Jacobs states that this telling

came from Australia. It is the best version known to the editor--in

fact, the only possible change to be desired is in the flippant ending,

"The ogre fell down and broke his crown." This is too serious a matter

for such lightness!

Page 142. The only story of Asbjornsen reprinted in this collection is

from _Fairy Tales from the Far North_ (A. L. Burt Company, New

York, n. d.). The translator is H. L. Braekstad. Asbjornsen's stories

are sterling folk tales, but somewhat too gross and crude for the

delicate stomach of the modern child.

Page 146. This Negro folk tale is from _Told by Uncle Remus_

(Grosset & Dunlap, New York, 1905. Copyright 1903-1904-1905 by Joel

Chandler Harris). Reproduced here by courtesy of Doubleday, Page & Co.

Page 155. Mrs. Craik's story is the first tale in _The Adventures of

a Brownie_ (Rand-McNally & Co., Chicago, 1911); it is printed here

by permission of the publishers. The text, according to the editor,

agrees with the standard text (Samson, Low, Marston, Low, and Searle,

London, 1872).

Page 161. The text of "The King of the Golden River" is that found in

_Ruskin's Works_ (American Publishers Corporation, New York, n.

d.). The versions commonly found in readers have been sadly mangled by

editors--largely on the theory, it would seem, that children cannot

understand the meaning of a word of more than two syllables.

Page 183. "Aladdin" is from _The Arabian Nights Entertainments_,

translated by Jonathan Scott (printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, &

Brown, London, 1811). The translation is based on Galland's French

translation, the first translation into any European language; but Dr.

Scott states that the stories are "carefully revised and occasionally

corrected from the Arabic." Of the many editions of _The Arabian

Nights_--several of them excellent--this has always seemed, to the

editor, the best.

The name in Scott's edition is spelled "Alla ad Deen," but the editor

has thought it best to use the name most familiar to the English

translations. The story has been altered slightly in that part which

relates the circumstances following the marriage of the princess and

the vizier's son. Quotation marks have been inserted throughout.

Page 267. "The Gorgon's Head" is from _The Wonder Book_ (Houghton

Mifflin Company, Boston, 1881).

Page 286. "Theseus" is from _The Heroes_ (_Kingsley's Works_,

Macmillan & Co., London, 1879). One obvious blunder in spelling has

been corrected.

Page 311. "Thor Goes a-Fishing" is from Mabie's _Norse Stories_

(Rand-McNally & Co., Chicago, 1902. Copyright, 1900, 1901, by Dodd,

Mead & Co.). It is printed here through special arrangement with the

holders of the copyright.

Page 315. "Baldur" is Chapter VI of _The Heroes of Asgard_,

revised and abridged by Charles H. Morss (Macmillan Company, New York,

1909). The preface states that "this volume is really an abridgment of

Keary's _The Heroes of Asgard_, adapting it to classroom use for

pupils of about the fourth and fifth grades." The selection is

presented here as a splendid specimen of "made-over" literature, as

well as, in its own right, a masterpiece of story-telling for children.

Page 327. The story of William Wallace is from _The Tales of a

Grandfather_ (Adam and Charles Black, Edinburgh, 1889). This edition

is "reprinted from the latest edition published in the lifetime of Mr.

Lockhart, and probably under his immediate supervision."

Page 339. "The Tempest" is from _Tales from Shakespeare_, with

introductions and additions by F. J. Furnivall (Raphael Tuck & Sons,

London, 1901). The "Tales" are very uneven in merit, the Comedies being

superior, in the editor's opinion, to the Tragedies, and "The Tempest"

being considerably the best of the Comedies. It is generally understood

that it was Mary Lamb who told the Comedies and Charles who had charge

of the Tragedies.

Page 349. "The Purple Jar" is from "Rosamond" in a volume entitled

_Frank, Rosamond, Harry, and Lucy_ (Frederick Warne & Co., London,

n. d.). This is an inexpensive volume containing all of Miss

Edgeworth's good stories except those in _The Parent's Assistant_.

One may not care for tales of this sort; but they have their value,

both as morality and literature, and "The Purple Jar" is one of the

most effective specimens of its kind.

Pages 354, 356. The two didactic stories by Aiken and Barbauld are from

_Evenings at Home; or, the Juvenile Budget opened: consisting of a

variety of miscellaneous pieces for the instruction and amusement of

young persons_ (Henry Washbourne, London, 1847). This edition is

described as "newly arranged." "Eyes and No Eyes" has been admired and

praised by thousands of readers of past generations, among whom Oliver

Wendell Holmes and Charles Kingsley are preeminent.

Page 363. "Rab and His Friends" is the first sketch in _Horæ

Subsecivæ_, First Series (Frederick A. Stokes Company, New York,

1893). An accurate and inexpensive edition is that in the Canterbury

Classics (Rand-McNally & Co., Chicago). It is one of the most pathetic

stories in all literature, conforming precisely to Ruskin's theory that

a child's story should be "sad and sweet."

Page 375. Mrs. Miller's story of the blue jay is one of the most

charming of the stories in _True Bird Stories_ (Houghton Mifflin

Company, Boston, 1903). It is reprinted in this collection with the

permission of the publishers.

Page 378. "A Cry in the Night" is the second story in _Wood Folk at

School_ (Ginn & Co., Boston, 1903). It is printed here by special

arrangement with the publishers. Mr. Long's studies of wild animal life

are among the few distinctive contributions to children's literature

within this generation.

Page 389. The selections from the Bible are from the King James

Version. The verse divisions in this version have been ignored in this

reprint, as having little literary significance, and the paragraphs

indicated by the paragraph marks in the original have been used as the

natural units of thought--though the paragraphing does not always

represent the thought divisions. Quotation marks have been inserted

throughout.

From the story of Joseph, Genesis 37-50, it has been thought best to

omit the following: all of Chapter 38, Chapter 39: 7-19; Chapter 46: 8-

27; Chapter 49; 1-28. From the story of Samson, Judges 13:24 to end of

Chapter 17, one clause in the first verse of Chapter 16 has been

omitted. From the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5:1-7:29, verses 27-32

from Chapter 5 have been omitted. The discourse of Paul on Charity,

First Corinthians, Chapter 13, has been separated into paragraphs.

Page 421. The letter of Lewis Carroll is from _Life and Letters of

Lewis Carroll_, by S. Dodgson Collingwood (T. Fisher Unwin, London,

1898). Hood's letter is from _Thomas Hood: His Life and Times_

(London, 1907). Dickens's letter is from _Letters of Charles

Dickens_ (London, 1880).

Page 425. Irving's essay on "Indian Character" is reprinted from _The

Sketch Book_, Author's Revised Edition (G. P. Putnam's Sons, New

York, 1888).

Page 434. "Of Studies" is from _The Essays of Francis Bacon_

(Longmans, Green & Co., London, 1907). The text is that of Aldis

Wright, but the spelling and punctuation have been modernized.

Page 435. Theodore Roosevelt's spirited and characteristic essay on

"The American Boy" is to be found among the essays and addresses in

_The Strenuous Life_ (Century Company, New York, 1911), and is

here used by permission of author and publisher.

Page 441. Patrick Henry's celebrated oration is from _Sketches of the

Life of Patrick Henry_, by William Wirt, third edition, corrected by

the author, Philadelphia, 1818, which is the first printed version of

the speech. No one really knows how much of it is Henry's, how much is

Wirt's. Wirt gives much of the oration in the third person, with many

"he said's." It is here given in the first person, following almost

precisely the version given in Tyler's _Patrick Henry_ (Houghton

Mifflin Company, Boston, 1898), which, of course, is based on Wirt's

version. All the evidence bears out the contention that Wirt's account

of the oration is authentic.

Page 443. The "Supposed Speech of John Adams" is taken from the

_Works of Daniel Webster_ (Little, Brown & Co., Boston, 1853). The

speech is really a portion of Webster's oration on Adams and Jefferson,

delivered in Faneuil Hall, Boston, August 2, 1826, less than a month

after the death of Adams and Jefferson. The "Supposed Speech" is

Webster's conception of how Adams might have answered a speaker who had

argued against the passing of the Declaration of Independence.

Page 446. This reading of the "Gettysburg Address" is taken,

punctuation and all, from the autographed copy of the address written

for the Baltimore Fair and signed November 19, 1863. The facsimile

lithographed copy of this is to be found in _Autograph Leaves of Our

Country's Authors_ (Cushings & Bailey, Baltimore, 1864). A full and

accurate account of the three versions of the address is found in the

_Century_ magazine for February, 1894.