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[Illustration: IN A JAPANESE GARDEN.
(See page 178.)]
BROOKS'S READERS
THIRD YEAR
BY
STRATTON D. BROOKS
SUPERINTENDENT OF SCHOOLS, BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
[Illustration]
NEW YORK ❖ CINCINNATI ❖ CHICAGO
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.
COPYRIGHT, 1907, TOKYO.
BROOKS'S READERS. THIRD YEAR.
CONTENTS
PAGE
The Magic Windows 11
The Land of Story Books _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 16
O Big, Round World _Alice C. D. Riley_ 18
A Wonderful Ball _Adapted_ 19
The Great, Wide World _William Brighty Rands_ 21
Flowers that Tell Time _Kate L. Brown_ 22
Dandelion _George Cooper_ 24
The Farmer's Wheat Field _W. E. Baldwin_ 25
The Song of the Wheat _Selected_ 27
The Song of the Mill Wheel _Selected_ 29
The Sky Bridge _Christina G. Rossetti_ 30
The Apple-tree Mother _Selected_ 31
The Diamond Dipper _An Old Legend_ 39
Beautiful Things _David Swing_ 43
My Country _Marie Zetterberg_ 44
My Own Land Forever _John G. Whittier_ 44
Home, Sweet Home _John Howard Payne_ 45
Verses for September, October, November 46
_Emily Dickinson, Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Dora Read Goodale_
An Autumn Riddle _Selected_ 48
Leaves at Play _Frank D. Sherman_ 48
Where Go the Boats _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 49
The Corn Song _John G. Whittier_ 50
Shapes of Leaves _Adapted_ 52
Dogs that almost Talk _Edith Carrington_ 56
A Little Girl's Fancies _Selected_ 60
A Boy's Wishes _William Allingham_ 61
Rollo and George _Jacob Abbott_ 62
The Farmer's Story _Jacob Abbott_ 64
The Dog and his Image _Æsop_ 68
Belling the Cat _Æsop_ 69
The Dog in the Manger _Æsop_ 70
A Wise Indian _Adapted_ 70
Clovernook 73
The Poet Sisters 76
Our Homestead _Phœbe Cary_ 78
Suppose _Phœbe Cary_ 79
November _Alice Cary_ 81
Columbus in the New World 82
Columbus returns to Spain 85
Columbus at the Court of Spain 87
The First Thanksgiving _Marian M. George_ 90
Thanksgiving Day _Lydia Maria Child_ 94
The Snow Baby _Josephine D. Peary_ 96
A Snow House _Adapted_ 101
The Northern Seas _William Howitt_ 104
Verses for December, January,
February _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 106
Christmas Everywhere _Phillips Brooks_ 107
The Christmas Song _Selected_ 108
The New Year _Marie Zetterberg_ 110
How Plants Grow _Adapted_ 111
Talking in their Sleep _Edith M. Thomas_ 115
A Riddle _George Macdonald_ 116
Snowflakes _Frank Dempster Sherman_ 117
Fannie's Menagerie _"Rainbows for Children"_ 118
How Lambkin White was Saved 122
The Lamb _William Blake_ 129
The Necklace of Truth _Old Fairy Tales_ 130
Speak the Truth _Selected_ 135
Saint Valentine _Adapted_ 135
A Famous Old House 138
Hiawatha's Hunting _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 140
Longfellow with his Children _Adapted_ 143
Letter to a Little Girl _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 147
The Open Window _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 150
The Village Blacksmith _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 151
George Washington, the Young Surveyor 154
Surveying in the Wilderness 156
Abraham Lincoln _James Baldwin_
His New Home 158
His First Great Sorrow 163
Hana and Tora
Their Home 167
Their Festival Days 173
Verses for March, April, May 178
_Dora R. Goodale, Thomas Bailey Aldrich_
An Easter Song _Mary A. Lathbury_ 179
The Song of the Poppy Seed _E. Nesbit_ 180
Clovers _Helena L. Jelliffe_ 181
Who Told the News? _Selected_ 182
Air _Worthington Hooker_ 183
The Unseen Giant 185
What Robin Told _George Cooper_ 190
A Bird's Education _Olive Thorne Miller_ 191
How Birds Learn to Sing _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 196
The Greatest of Beasts 197
The Story of Giant Sun _Mary Proctor_ 202
Summer Sun _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 205
The Story of Phaethon _Greek Myths_ 206
A Sunflower Story _Greek Myths_ 210
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod _Eugene Field_ 212
Rosa Bonheur _Adapted_
A Little Girl who Loved Animals 214
A Little Girl who Painted Animals 217
A Great Artist 220
When Benjamin Franklin was a
Boy _Adapted_ 225
A Weaving Story _Adapted_ 229
America _Samuel Francis Smith_ 234
A Song for Flag Day _Lydia Coonley Ward_ 235
Verses for June, July, August 236
The Seasons. The Months 237
For the Girls _Charles Kingsley_ 238
For the Boys _Selected_ 238
What would I Do? _Selected_ 239
PRONOUNCING KEY AND WORD LIST 241
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The selections from the writings of Henry W. Longfellow, Thomas Bailey
Aldrich, John G. Whittier, Frank Dempster Sherman, Olive Thorne
Miller, Dora Read Goodale, Lucy Larcom, Alice and Phœbe Cary, are used
by permission of and by special arrangements with Houghton, Mifflin &
Co., the authorized publishers of the writings of these authors.
Special arrangements have also been made with the following publishers
for permission to use selections from their publications: Little,
Brown & Co. for a stanza from Emily Dickinson's poems; The Macmillan
Company for "Clovers," copyright, 1902; Charles Scribner's Sons for
"Wynken, Blynken, and Nod," by Eugene Field, and for a stanza from
"Rhymes and Jingles," by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Acknowledgments are also due to Silver, Burdett & Company for "Flowers
that tell Time" and "Maple Leaves," from _The Plant Baby and its
Friends_, by Kate Louise Brown, copyright, 1897, and also for a
selection from _Stories of Starland_; to the Century Company for "How
Birds learn to Sing," by Mary Mapes Dodge, from _When Life is Young_;
to F. A. Stokes Company for a selection from _The Snow Baby_, by
Josephine D. Peary, copyright, 1901; to the Biglow & Main Company for
"The Easter Song," from _Little Pilgrim Songs_; to A. Flanagan Company
for "The First Thanksgiving," from _The Plan Book_; to James Baldwin
for "Abraham Lincoln," from _Four Great Americans_; to Alice C. D.
Riley and to Lydia A. C. Ward for selections from their writings.
Acknowledgments are due to Miss Frances Lilian Taylor of Galesburg,
Illinois, and to Mr. W. J. Button of Chicago for valuable assistance
rendered in choosing the selections comprised in this volume.
[Illustration: THE MAGIC WINDOWS.]
THE MAGIC WINDOWS
I
Did you ever hear of the Magic Windows? Those who look through them
behold many strange and beautiful sights. If you will but make them
your own, you may enter the fairyland of wonder and see all its rich
treasures.
You ask me how you can do this? I will answer by telling you a story.
There was once a happy boy who played through the long summer days.
And where he played the meadows were green, and the sky was blue, and
the sunshine was bright.
On every side the flowers nodded like smiling playmates. Birds chirped
to him from the bushes. The rabbits gave him a friendly look as they
went leaping by. The squirrels watched him with bright eyes as they
ran up and down the trees.
A little brook flowed through the meadows. On its sandy bed the happy
boy found bright pebbles. His toy ships sailed proudly upon its waves or
rested in the quiet harbors along its banks. Tiny fishes darted from
their hiding places to eat the crumbs which he threw into the water.
"I wonder where the brook goes," said the happy boy. "I should like to
follow it and see. How I wish the school bell would never call me from
my play! I would rather sail my boat than learn to read, and I like
the rabbits and squirrels better than my books."
II.
harbor magic curious spun
crumbs delight slumber cubs
The little brook heard the boy's words as it went flowing by. On its
way to the great river it ran through a forest where fairyland was
hidden. There it told the fairies of the happy boy and of his wishes.
By and by the sun went down and playtime ended. Night came, and the
Shut-eye train carried the boy far away to the Land of Slumber.
There a wise fairy met the happy boy. "Come with me," she said, "and I
will let you look through Magic Windows into a land of wonders."
[Illustration]
Through the Magic Windows the boy looked with delight. All the things
that he had ever wished to see were before him. There were the hiding
places of the wild birds. There were the animals that live in the
fields and in the woods.
[Illustration]
He could look into the birds' nests that hung on the tallest trees. He
could peep into the holes where the squirrels kept their little ones.
He could see the mole digging long halls under ground. He could watch
the spider as it spun the silk for its curious house.
Rabbits were hiding their young in the long grass, and little foxes
were playing by their rocky dens.
He could even see the bear's cubs curled up like balls in the hollow
trunks of trees.
III.
seal reindeer monkeys crept
huge dashing elephants hollow
"Look to the north," said the fairy.
And then the happy boy looked away over the great round world. He saw
strange lands and strange people. Far off in the north he could see
the land of snow and ice. There were the homes of the seal, the
reindeer, and the white bear.
[Illustration]
Children dressed in fur crept out of snow houses. They went dashing
over the snow in sleds drawn by dogs.
Again the happy boy looked, and the wonder lands of the south lay
before him. Gay flowers blossomed everywhere. Bright-colored birds
found a safe home in the great forest.
[Illustration]
He could see the lion and his mate in their home. Hundreds of monkeys
played in the branches of the trees. Tigers ran through the tall
grass, and huge elephants pushed their way among the trees and bushes.
Once more the happy boy looked through the Magic Windows, and oh, how
wonderful! He could see into fairy land where animals talk, and where
the playthings are alive.
"Oh, kind fairy, let me stay here," said the happy boy. "I can not
leave this land of wonders."
"Would you like to have the Magic Windows for your own?" asked the
fairy. "Then listen well. When the school bell rings, it will call you
to the land of books. Through the Magic Windows of your books you may
see greater wonders than fairies can tell or fairy land can show."
Another day came with the rising sun. Once more the school bell rang.
Gladly the happy boy left his play, for in his books he would find the
Magic Windows.
THE LAND OF STORY BOOKS
At evening, when the lamp is lit,
Around the fire my parents sit;
They sit at home and talk and sing,
And do not play at anything.
Now, with my little gun, I crawl,
All in the dark along the wall,
And follow round the forest track
Away behind the sofa back.
There in the night, where none can spy,
All in my hunter's camp I lie,
And play at books that I have read.
Till it is time to go to bed.
These are the hills, these are the woods,
These are my starry solitudes;
And there the river by whose brink
The roaring lions come to drink.
I see the others far away,
As if in firelit camp they lay,
And I, like to an Indian scout,
Around their party prowled about.
So, when my nurse comes in for me,
Home I return across the sea,
And go to bed with backward looks
At my dear Land of Story Books.
--ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
[Illustration]
O, big round world, O, wide, wide world,
How wonderful you are.
Your oceans are so very deep,
Your hills reach up so far;
Down through your valleys wide and green,
Such mighty rivers flow;
Upon your great sky-reaching hills,
Such giant forests grow.--ALICE C. D. RILEY.
By permission of John Church Company,
owners of the copyright.
A WONDERFUL BALL
rough surface stretches drifts
level islands feathery dreary
I have heard of a wonderful ball which floats in the sweet blue air,
and has soft white clouds about it as it floats along.
There are many charming stories to be told about this wonderful ball.
Some of them you shall hear.
It is so large that many houses are built upon it. Men and women live
upon it, and little children can play upon its surface.
In some places it is soft and green, like the long meadows between the
hills. In other parts there are trees for miles and miles on every
side. All kinds of wild animals live in the great forests that grow on
this wonderful ball.
Then again in some places it is steep and rough. And there are mountains
so high that the snow lies upon their tops all the year around.
In other parts there are no hills at all, but level land, and quiet
little ponds of blue water. There the white water lilies grow and
fishes play among the lily stems.
Now, if we look on another side of the ball, we shall see no ponds,
but something very dreary. A great plain of sand stretches away on
every side. There are no trees, and the sunshine beats down upon the
burning sand.
We look again, and we see a great body of water. Many islands are in
the sea, and great ships sail upon it.
Look at one more side of this ball as it turns around. Jack Frost must
have spent all his longest winter nights here. For see what a palace
of ice he has built for himself.
How cold it looks! See the clear, blue ice, almost as blue as the sky.
And look at the snow, drifts upon drifts, and the feathery flakes
filling the air.
Now, what do you think of this ball, so white and cold, so warm and
green, so dreary and rough, as it floats along in the sweet blue air,
with the flocks of white clouds about it?
I will tell you one thing more. The wise men have said that this earth
on which we live is just such a ball. We shall know more about this
when we are older and wiser.
THE GREAT, WIDE WORLD
Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world,
With the wonderful water round you curled,
And the wonderful grass upon your breast--
World, you are beautifully dressed.
The wonderful air is over me,
And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;
It walks on the water, and whirls the mills,
And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.
You friendly earth, how far do you go,
With the wheat fields that nod and the rivers that flow,
With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles,
And people upon you for thousands of miles?
--WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS.
FLOWERS THAT TELL TIME
sign remained refreshing curls
jolly nightgown clambered porch
Down in the grass plot of a pretty garden grew a little dandelion. He
wore a green jacket, and his head was covered with sunny, yellow curls.
[Illustration]
In the morning, he stood up boldly, lifting his jolly little face to
catch the dewdrops. In this way he took his morning bath, and he found
it very refreshing. At dusk he put on his green nightgown and went to
bed very early.
The mothers said, as they called the children from their play, "See,
there is the good dandelion! He knows when it is time to go to bed."
As the dandelion grew older, his yellow curls turned white. Then the
children would blow--one, two, three times. If all the hairs blew
away, it was a sign that mother wanted them at once.
[Illustration]
If there were ten hairs left, the children said, "Mother wants us at
ten o'clock." If but two hairs remained, they said, "Mother will look
for us at two o'clock."
When the children awoke in the morning, they saw the morning-glory
cups peeping in at the windows. "Six o'clock! Time to get up!" they
said. "The morning glories are calling us."
Every afternoon the four-o'clocks bloomed. Their red and white flowers
told the children that their father would soon be home.
In the evening the moon flowers unfolded their great white blossoms on
the vines that clambered over the porch. "Now it is bedtime," said
the children, "for the moon flowers are looking down at us."
All day long the time flowers, like our clocks, are telling us the
time of day.
--KATE LOUISE BROWN.
DANDELION
Dandelion, dandelion,
Where's your cup of gold?
Where's your jacket green and trim
That you wore of old?
Then you nodded to the birds
In a jaunty way,
And you danced to every tune
The breeze could play.
Dandelion, dandelion,
Age comes creeping on,
And your wig is snowy white,
Golden locks are gone;
But you've had a merry time
Since your days began,
And even now you're a cheery,
Blithe old man.
--GEORGE COOPER.
THE FARMER'S WHEAT FIELD
stalk threshed breeze flour
plump healthy bearded grain
forth neighbor thousand cheer
There was once a stalk of wheat that grew in the middle of a field. It
was very tall and it lifted its head high and nodded in the wind.
[Illustration]
All around it were a thousand other stalks not quite so tall. Every
one was looking up at the sun and bowing to its neighbor, and saying,
"Good morning."
"How bright and golden we are!" said the tall stalk; "and how
beautiful we look, standing together like a great army of soldiers!
The sun shines to cheer us. And when the gentle rains fall, how sweet
and refreshing they are!"
"Yes, yes!" said the other stalks, waving back and forth in the
morning breeze. "All the world is very kind to us. We have nothing to
do but to live and grow and become bright and golden like the sun."
"Ah," said the tall stalk. "It is true that we must live and grow and
become yellow and golden. But after that, there must be something else
for us to do."
The very next day the farmer came into the fields to look at his
wheat. He took some of the bearded heads and rubbed them between his
hands. They were full of plump, round, golden grains.
"What fine flour these will make, and what good bread for little
Alice," he said. "The wheat is fully ripe and it must be cut at once."
Then all the golden-headed stalks waved back and forth in the wind.
"Now we understand it all," they whispered. "It is for the sake of the
farmer's fair little girl that we are here.
"She must live and grow and be healthy and beautiful. There is
nothing that can help her to do this so well as good bread made from
the best of wheat."
Very soon the golden stalks were cut. The wheat was threshed and
ground into the finest of flour. And then the flour was baked into
fresh, white loaves of bread.
But little Alice did not know that her bread was made of the wheat
that she had seen growing in the big field where the daisies bloomed.
--W. E. BALDWIN.
THE SONG OF THE WHEAT
Back of the bread is the snowy flour;
Back of the flour is the mill;
Back of the mill the growing wheat
Nods on the breezy hill;
Over the wheat is the glowing sun
Ripening the heart of the grain;
Above the sun is the gracious God,
Sending the sunlight and rain.
[Illustration: THE OLD MILL WHEEL.]
THE SONG OF THE MILL WHEEL
Round and round it goes,
As fast as water flows,--
The dripping, dropping, rolling wheel
That turns the noisy, dusty mill.
Round and round it goes,
As fast as water flows.
Turning all the day,
It never stops to play,--
The dripping, dropping, rolling wheel
That keeps on grinding golden meal.
Turning all the day,
It never stops to play.
Sparkling in the sun,
The merry waters run
Upon the foaming, flashing wheel
That laugheth loud, but worketh still.
Sparkling in the sun,
The merry waters run.
--SELECTED.
[Illustration]
Boats sail on the rivers,
Ships sail on the seas,
But the clouds that sail across the sky
Are prettier far than these.
[Illustration]
There are bridges on the rivers,
As pretty as you please,
But the bow that bridges heaven,
And overtops the trees,
And builds a bridge from earth to sky
Is prettier far than these. Christina G. Rossetti.
THE APPLE-TREE MOTHER
I.
reason mischief pasture couch
bitter exclaimed sloping steam
The old apple tree had stood in the corner of the pasture for so many
years that no one could tell when it was planted.
[Illustration]
It was a friendly old tree. Under its branches men and animals found
pleasant shade. In the spring it gave blossoms to all that came, and
in the fall it dropped apples at their feet.
The apple tree was easy to climb, as Dick well knew. From its top he
could see the sloping hillside and the little brook that flowed
through the pasture. Indeed, he spent so much time playing in the old
tree that his father often said, "Well, Dick, has the Apple-Tree
Mother kept you out of mischief to-day?"
And so Dick came to wonder a great deal about the Apple-Tree Mother.
The time of green apples had come, and all day long a hard wind had
been blowing. When supper time came Dick was ill. Perhaps the apple
tree could have told the reason.
Dick was lying on the couch, and his mother was busy making a cup of
tea for him.
After he had taken the hot and bitter drink he lay watching the steam
that rose from the teakettle. Just as he was closing his eyes in sleep
the steam began to turn from white to green. Then an apple tree grew
up out of the teakettle and stretched its branches to the ceiling.
"That looks like the apple tree in the corner of our pasture," thought
Dick.
And then he saw a woman sitting in the midst of the branches. She wore a
dress that was green and brown, like the apple-tree leaves in the fall.
"I suppose that is the Apple-Tree Mother," said Dick to himself. "If
she is as old as our tree, she must be very old indeed."
Then the Apple-Tree Mother laughed and all the leaves of the tree
danced. "My little boy," she said, "I am so old that I have grown
young again, and I bring with me pictures and stories of the world
that has lived about my tree."
"Pictures and stories!" exclaimed Dick. "Oh, can't you show me some of
them?"
"That is just why I came to visit you," she said. "Will you have
pictures of animals or of flowers?"
"I would like to see pictures of animals first," said Dick.
II.
dusty oriole drooping happen
handled sadness whistling joyous
Then the room changed to the corner of the pasture. There was the
fence and the brook and the old apple tree. Just above the fence,
half hidden in the branches, was a nest that held five tiny eggs.
The sound of bird voices was heard, and there in the tree Dick saw two
orioles. They were singing a song together, and somehow Dick could
understand it all. They sang of their little home and of the eggs that
lay within it. And they sang of the happy time when five little birds
would come to be loved and cared for.
[Illustration: The Oriole's Nest.]
Then the two orioles rose slowly into the air and flew across the
field. The nest was left alone.
Down the road came a boy whistling and kicking up the dust with every
step.
Dick began to feel very unhappy, for he knew just what would happen
next.
The boy in the picture looked up and saw the brown nest among the
leaves. "There is an oriole's nest," thought he. And in a moment he
had climbed the tree, and the five tiny eggs were in his hand.
"I'll take them home," he said, as he put the eggs into his pocket.
But he handled them so roughly that three were broken.
With an angry word he threw all the eggs on the ground, and then went
on whistling and kicking up the dust.
A joyous bird song was heard in the air, and the two orioles darted
into the apple tree. The mother bird flew to her nest. Then she gave a
cry so sharp and sad that it hurt one's heart to hear it.
The father bird joined the poor mother in her outcries of fright and
sorrow. There on the dusty ground lay all that was left of the
beautiful eggs.
Far across the field flew the oriole mother, almost wild with sorrow.
The father, with his feathers drooping, sat on a fence post, and his
happy songs were changed to notes of sadness.
III.
empty whining shoulder weary
stolen crooked cruelly shelter
howled rattling pattering limping
second wounded terrible banging
The Apple-Tree Mother looked very grave, but she only said, "Shall we
have another picture?"
Dick was afraid to say "No." He lay quite still, looking at the apple
tree. The rain was beginning to beat against the leaves. Then he saw a
weary little dog come limping to the tree, whining, and licking one of
his paws.
He was not a handsome dog. His legs were crooked and one ear was torn.
The branches of the tree bent above him. And when the poor dog looked up
at their shelter, one could see how big and soft and sad were his eyes.
With a splashing noise two boys came wading across the brook. Each boy
had a fishing pole over his shoulder, and in his hand was a small tin
pail in which he had carried bait.
As they came toward the tree one of them pointed to the poor little
dog. It was the same boy that had stolen the oriole's eggs.
[Illustration]
"Now for some fun!" he said. Then both the boys sat down on the ground,
and to work they went with a fishing line and one of the empty pails.
They did not see how the apple tree shook its head at them. They did
not hear how each raindrop called, "No! no! no!" as it fell pattering
on the leaves.
The poor little dog lay resting under the tree, safe from the storm.
All at once he was caught and held by rough hands. He howled with
fright and pain, but he could not get away. A strong cord was bound
around his thin little body, and his wounded foot was sadly hurt.
At last the boys let him go, and with a wild bound he jumped through
the fence and ran along the road.
But oh, what terrible thing is rattling and banging around him? At
every leap he is cruelly struck on his crooked little legs.
Dick had turned his head the other way. His cheeks burned and his
heart was sad. Then he opened his eyes and saw his mother standing
beside him with a second cup of bitter tea in her hand.
"Such a nice sleep as you have had," she said. "I really think you are
better. Now sit up and drink this like a man."
Never a word said Dick. He sat up and drank the bitter tea, while he
thought of many things. Had he seen himself in the pictures which the
Apple-Tree Mother had brought to his bedside?
--Adapted from "True Fairy Stories."
THE DIAMOND DIPPER
I.
rusty narrow further fern
dipper towered suffering brim
dying withered carefully spill
Once upon a time it was very hot and very, very dry. No rain had
fallen for days and days. The thirsty birds had stopped singing. The
plants withered and the animals were dying for want of water. All the
people were praying for rain.
One morning a little girl started out to find some water for her sick
mother. In her hand she carried a tin dipper.
She climbed a high hill hoping to find a spring. Up and up she climbed.
On her way she saw the dusty plants, the quiet birds, and the suffering
animals.
[Illustration]
The sharp stones cut her feet. High rocks towered above her head.
Their strange shapes filled her with fear. But she thought of her sick
mother and she would not turn back. At last she came to a great wall
of rocks, and could go no farther.
"Oh, that some good fairy would show me where to find water!" she cried.
And then a beautiful fairy stood before her in a robe like the clouds at
sunset. She pointed to a narrow path among the rocks. The child followed
the path and soon came to a spring hidden under green fern leaves.
She filled her dipper to the brim. How carefully she held it! How
softly she stepped, so as not to spill one drop!
In her path down the hill there lay a rabbit almost dead from thirst.
The little girl needed all the water, but she poured a few drops upon
the rabbit's tongue. Then something wonderful happened! The rusty tin
dipper was changed to shining silver.
II.
hurried twinkle garments stranger
precious faithful diamonds ragged
The little girl hurried home. With a happy heart she gave the water to
her sick mother. The gentle mother raised the dipper to her lips, but
she did not drink. "My faithful nurse, let her drink first," she said.
As she gave the silver dipper to the nurse, behold! it was changed to
yellow gold.
Again the mother raised the water to her lips. Just then a shadow fell
across the floor. In the open doorway stood an old woman. She was
ragged and pale and weak. She could only stretch out her thin hand
toward the water.
The mother and the little girl looked at each other. Could they give up
the last drop of the precious water? The mother nodded her head, and the
little girl put the golden dipper into the hands of the stranger.
The poor old woman took the water and drank it all. As she drank, her
rags were changed into beautiful garments, and the dipper sparkled
with diamonds.
"Oh, mother, look! There is the fairy I saw in the mountains," cried
the little girl. "And see! The dipper shines like diamonds!"
They looked again, but the fairy was gone. It was not long before clouds
spread over the sky, and a gentle rain began to fall. Soon there was
water for all the plants, the birds, the animals, and the people.
But the dipper could not anywhere be found. Night came, and the little
girl looked up at the stars. There, in the sky, she saw the dipper
shining like diamonds.
And now, when the evening stars twinkle overhead, the mothers point
out the great dipper in the northern sky and tell this story to their
children.
"Is the story true?" the children ask when the tale is ended.
And the mothers smile as they answer:--
"When you can tell what the story means, you will know that it is true."
BEAUTIFUL THINGS
Beautiful hands are those that do
Work that is earnest, brave, and true,
Moment by moment, the long day through.
Beautiful feet are those that go
On kindly errands to and fro--
Down humblest ways, if God wills it so.
Beautiful faces are those that wear--
It matters little if dark or fair--
Whole-souled honesty printed there.
--DAVID SWING.
MY COUNTRY
From sea to sea my country lies
Beneath the splendor of the skies.
Far reach its plains, its hills are high,
Its mountains look up to the sky.
Its lakes are clear as crystal bright,
Its rivers sweep through vale and height.
America, my native land,
To thee I give my heart and hand.
God in His might chose thee to be
The country of the noble free!
--MARIE ZETTERBERG.
MY OWN LAND FOREVER
Land of the forest and the rock,
Of dark blue lake and mighty river,
Of mountains reared on high to mock
The storm's career and lightning's shock,
My own green land forever!
--JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
HOME, SWEET HOME
'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is not met with elsewhere.
An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again;
The birds singing gayly, that came at my call;
Give me them, and that peace of mind, dearer than all.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home,
There's no place like home,
Oh, there's no place like home.
--JOHN HOWARD PAYNE.
[Illustration]
SEPTEMBER
The peaches are ripe in the orchard,
The apricots ready to fall,
And the grapes reach up to the sunshine
Over the garden wall.
--THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.
[Illustration]
The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown,
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
--EMILY DICKINSON.
[Illustration]
OCTOBER
October glows on every tree,
October shines in every eye,
While up the hill and down the dale
Her crimson banners fly.
--DORA READ GOODALE.
[Illustration]
NOVEMBER
Nuts are falling, trees are bare,
Leaves are whirling everywhere;
Plants are sleeping, birds have flown,
Autumn breezes cooler grown,
In the chill November.
AN AUTUMN RIDDLE
They are seen on the trees,
They are seen on the ground,
They are seen in the air,
Whirling softly around;
They sing rustling songs
As our footsteps they hear,
And their name is well known,
For they come every year.
LEAVES AT PLAY
Scamper, little leaves, about
In the autumn sun;
I can hear the old wind shout,
Laughing as you run;
And I haven't any doubt
That he likes the fun.
So run on and have your play,
Romp with all your might;
Dance across the autumn day,
While the sun is bright.
Soon you'll hear the old wind say,
"Little leaves, good night!"
--FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN.
WHERE GO THE BOATS
Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand;
It flows along forever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating--
When will all come home?
On goes the river,
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.
Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.
--ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
THE CORN SONG
Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard!
Heap high the golden corn!
No richer gift has Autumn poured
From out her lavish horn.
Through vales of grass and meads of flowers,
Our plows their furrows made,
While on the hills the sun and showers
Of changeful April played.
We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain,
Beneath the sun of May,
And frightened from our sprouting grain
The robber crows away.
All through the long, bright days of June
Its leaves grew green and fair,
And waved in hot midsummer's noon
Its soft and yellow hair.
And now, with Autumn's moonlit eves,
Its harvest time has come,
We pluck away the frosted leaves
And bear the treasure home.
--JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
[Illustration: IN THE CORNFIELD.]
SHAPES OF LEAVES
notice passages fingers peach
veined dandelion currant pipes
Did you ever take a feather in your hand and look at it? Did you
notice how the quill keeps the feather in shape and makes it strong?
[Illustration]
Now find the leaf of an apple tree. Hold it before your eyes and let
the light shine through it.
Do you see the large rib running along the middle of the leaf? Do you
see the fine ribs on each side of the large rib? Does not the large
rib make you think of the quill of a feather?
The ribs of a leaf have fine passages or pipes in them through which
the sap flows. These passages are called veins, and the large rib is
called a midvein. When a leaf has one strong midvein like the quill of
a feather, it is said to be feather-veined.
Let us go out of doors and find leaves that are shaped like feathers.
There is a peach tree. Pick a leaf and look at it. Yes, the peach leaf
is feather-veined. Now go to the pear tree. "These leaves look like
the apple leaves," you say.
Here is a dandelion plant growing in the grass. Take a leaf in your
hand and look at its ragged edges. There is one straight rib or vein
along the middle of the leaf. And so you see that the dandelion leaf
is also feather-veined.
[Illustration]
You can find feather-veined leaves on the plants in the garden and on
the flower stems that grow in our window boxes. And you can also find
feather-veined leaves on the weeds that grow by the side of the road.
Look again at the apple leaf. Do you see the fine network of veins?
Now take up a leaf of grass and hold it in the light. Can you see a
network of veins in it? No, the grass leaf has straight veins.
All the grass blades are long and narrow. Have you ever seen any other
leaves that were long and narrow like the grass?
[Illustration]
But what is this leaf under the maple tree? "It is a maple leaf," you
say. This leaf is not shaped like a feather.
Hold out your hand and stretch out your fingers. Does not the maple
leaf look as if it had fingers, too? We may call the maple leaf a
hand-shaped leaf. Perhaps we can find more hand-shaped leaves. Let us
go to the currant bushes. Yes, these also have hand-shaped leaves.
One of the strangest leaves in the world is shaped like a pitcher. It
has a lid that opens and shuts. Some leaves of this kind hold more
than a cup of water.
There are leaves shaped like hearts and leaves shaped like arrowheads.
And there are many other wonderful leaves which we may see if we keep
our eyes open.
[Illustration]
Green leaves, what are you doing
Up there on the tree so high?
"We are shaking hands with the breezes,
As they go singing by."
What, green leaves! have you fingers?
Then, the maple laughed with glee--
"Yes, just as many as you have;
Count them, and you will see!"
--KATE LOUISE BROWN.
[Illustration]
DOGS THAT ALMOST TALK
human scratched tinkled begged
humble drowning cottage wagged
It seems as if our friend the dog can talk without using words. He not
only makes other dogs understand him, but he also makes his wants
known to his master.
A little dog named Rudy was once taken to the city. One day he lost
his way in the streets and did not come home at night.
The next morning, as Rudy's master was looking out of the window, he
saw his little dog coming along the street with two other dogs.
The strangers left Rudy at his own door, and then went away. As they
left they seemed to say, "Good-by." But how did Rudy ask the other
dogs to show him the way home? This we should like to know.
Another dog called Prince often asked in his own way to be let out of
doors. But when he returned he could not always get into the house
again.
The bell was too high for Prince to reach it or he might have learned
to ring it. As he could not do this he found another way to get in. A
little girl who lived near by often played with him. He ran to her and
begged until she saw what he wanted. This he did day after day.
After the little girl had rung the bell for him, Prince never forgot
to thank her. He jumped around her and wagged his tail to show his
pleasure.
One day Prince could not find his little friend. So he begged a man
who was passing by to ring the bell. It was some time before the man
could understand what the dog wanted. But at last the bell tinkled,
the door was opened, and Prince ran into the house.
A faithful dog never forgets those he loves. Sometimes he proves to be
a good friend in time of great need.
One night a fire broke out in a shed close by a little cottage. The
watchdog saw the flames. He ran to the cottage and began to scratch the
door with his paws. He scratched and howled until he woke the family.
After the fire had been put out the children put their arms around the
faithful dog. They patted him and thanked him for saving their lives.
They treated him as if he were a human being instead of only a dog.
There are many true stories about dogs that have saved the lives of
children. A great artist has painted a beautiful picture of one of
these noble animals.
A dog has jumped into the sea and saved a child from drowning. He has
caught the child's clothes in his strong jaws, and has brought her to
the shore.
See, he is almost too tired to climb up beside her! There she lies on
his big paws. He seems to be waiting for help. Does he not look as if
he could speak?
[Illustration]
The artist who painted this picture was a great friend of dogs. His name
was Edwin Landseer. He has made hundreds of paintings of his humble
friends. Many of the dogs in his pictures look as if they could talk.
A LITTLE GIRL'S FANCIES
O little flowers, you love me so,
You could not do without me;
O little birds that come and go,
You sing sweet songs about me;
O little moss, observed by few,
That round the tree is creeping,
You like my head to rest on you,
When I am idly sleeping.
O rushes by the river side,
You bow when I come near you;
O fish, you leap about with pride,
Because you think I hear you;
O river, you shine clear and bright,
To tempt me to look in you;
O water lilies, pure and white,
You hope that I shall win you.
O pretty things, you love me so,
I see I must not leave you;
You'd find it very dull, I know,
I should not like to grieve you.
A BOY'S WISHES
Ring-ting! I wish I were a primrose,
A bright yellow primrose, blooming in the spring!
The stooping bough above me,
The wandering bee to love me,
The fern and moss to creep across,
And the elm tree for our king!
Nay, stay! I wish I were an elm tree,
A great, lofty elm tree with green leaves gay!
The winds would set them dancing,
The sun and moonshine glance in,
And birds would house among the boughs,
And sweetly sing.
Oh, no! I wish I were a robin--
A robin, or a little wren, everywhere to go,
Through forest, field, or garden,
And ask no leave or pardon,
Till winter comes, with icy thumbs,
To ruffle up our wing!
--WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.
ROLLO AND GEORGE
scream frightened directly treat
hurting frightening opposite harsh
pushing wheelbarrow enemies tomtit
One day Rollo and his playmate, George Cropwell, were running along
the road, pushing their little wheelbarrows.
Just as they came near George's home they saw before them a little boy
much smaller than Rollo. He was ragged and barefooted.
[Illustration]
"There is Tom," said George. "See how I will frighten him."
As he said this, George rolled his wheelbarrow directly toward Tom as
if he were going to run over him. Tom was very much frightened and
began to scream.
Just at that moment Farmer Cropwell happened to be coming up the lane
on the opposite side of the road. He called out,--
"George!"
George stopped his wheelbarrow.
"Is that right?" said the farmer.
"Why, I was not going to hurt him," said George.
"You did hurt him,--you frightened him."
"Is frightening him hurting him, father?"
"Why, yes; it is giving pain, and a very unpleasant kind of pain, too."
"I did not think of that," said George.
"Besides," said his father, "when you treat boys in that harsh, rough
way you make them your enemies. And it is a very bad plan to make
enemies."
"Enemies, father!" said George, laughing; "Tom could not do me any
harm if he were my enemy."
"That makes me think of the story of the bear and the tomtit," said
the farmer. "If you and Rollo will jump into the cart I will tell it
to you."
--JACOB ABBOTT.
THE FARMER'S STORY
I.
wolf distance impatient breathe
poked scrambled intending pressed
terror perhaps troublesome punish
One pleasant summer morning a wolf met a bear in a lonely wood. In a
tree near by, a bird was singing.
"Brother," said the bear, "that is very good singing, indeed. What
kind of bird do you think it is?"
"That is a tomtit," said the wolf.
"I should like to see his nest. Where do you think it is?" asked the
bear.
"Perhaps we shall see if we wait until his mate comes home," said the
wolf.
Soon the mother bird came flying with some food in her mouth for her
children. She went to the tree where her mate was singing.
"Now, I shall climb the tree," said the bear.
"Not yet," said the wolf. "Wait until the birds leave the nest."
They walked away for some distance, but soon returned, for the bear
was impatient to see the nest. He scrambled up the tree, intending to
frighten the young birds.
"Take care," said the wolf. "The tomtits are very little, but little
enemies are sometimes very troublesome."
"Who is afraid of a tomtit?" said the bear, as he poked his black nose
into the nest.
"Go away! go away!" screamed the poor little birds in terror.
"What do you mean by making such a noise and talking so to me?" said
the bear. "I will teach you better manners."
So he put his great paw on the nest and pressed it down until the poor
little birds could hardly breathe. Then he left them and went away.
The young tomtits were terribly frightened, and some of them were
hurt. When the old birds came home they were very angry.
They could see the bear walking about among the trees, but they did
not know how to punish him.
II.
peeped prudent followed toward
flutter whether surrounded nailed
escape prowling overlooked paused
Not far away there was a glen, surrounded by high rocks, where the
bear used to go to sleep because it was a lonely place.
One day, as he was prowling in the woods, he saw two hunters coming
with their guns. In fright, he fled to his glen, where he thought he
should be safe.
The tomtits saw the bear run to the rocks and hide in terror.
"Why is the bear hiding?" said one bird to the other.
"Do you see those hunters with their guns?" said the mother tomtit.
"If only they can find the bear, then our little ones will be safe.
Let us help them."
So the tomtits began to flutter around the hunters and fly a little
way toward the glen and then back again. The men followed the birds to
see what could be the matter.
By and by the bear saw the hunters coming, led on by his little enemies,
the tomtits. He ran from one side of the glen to the other. He hid
himself in a cave among the rocks. But he could not escape the hunters.
The wolf happened to be near by upon the rocks that overlooked the
glen. Hearing the noise, he came and peeped over.
As soon as he saw what had happened to the bear, he thought it would
be prudent for him to walk away. This he did, saying to himself as he
went:--
"Well, the bear has found out that a friend is better than an enemy,
whether he is great or small."
* * * * *
Here the farmer paused. He had ended his story.
"What did they do with the bear?" asked Rollo.
"Oh," said the farmer, "they took off his skin to make caps of, and
nailed his claws up on the barn."
--JACOB ABBOTT.
THE DOG AND HIS IMAGE
snap image behold jaws
piece within plainly greed
snatch bottom hurrying plank
A dog, with a piece of meat in his mouth, was hurrying home to eat his
supper in quiet. On his way he had to pass over a narrow plank which
lay across a small stream.
As he looked down into the water he saw his own image in the smooth
surface of the brook. This, he thought, was another dog with a larger
piece of meat in his mouth.
He put his head down near the water. Behold, the meat, which the other
dog carried, was plainly within his reach.
"Now, I shall have a fine dinner," he thought. And with a quick snap
of his jaws, he tried to snatch the meat from the dog in the water.
But as he opened his mouth, his own piece of meat fell to the bottom
of the brook. And thus, by greed, he lost all that he had.
BELLING THE CAT
quiet easily manner sly
danger enemy coming chief
Once upon a time some mice met together to find a way to save
themselves from their enemy, the cat.
"I have a plan," said a young mouse, "which will save the life of
every one of us. You all know that our chief danger lies in the cat's
sly and quiet manner of walking. If we could hear her coming, we could
easily run away.
[Illustration]
"Let us hang a bell to the cat's neck, and when we hear it ring we
shall all know that she is near."
"A fine plan! a fine plan!" cried all the mice. "But who will bell the
cat?"
"Not I, not I," cried all the mice at once.
THE DOG IN THE MANGER
chose manger growled pair
oxen feeding mouthful meal
A dog once chose to make his bed in a manger full of hay. Now this
manger was the feeding place of a pair of oxen who worked hard in the
fields all day.
When the tired beasts came for their evening meal, the dog growled and
showed his teeth. He could not eat the hay himself, and he would not
let the oxen have so much as a mouthful of it.
--ÆSOP.
A WISE INDIAN
lazy angry observe stool
passes owner answered short
An Indian boy sees many things which a white boy passes by without
seeing. Can you tell why?
The Indian boy is taught to look at things closely, and to think
about everything he sees. He learns to observe. Here is a good story
of an Indian who was trained to use his eyes when he was young.
An old Indian once lived in a village among white people. His little
hut was near the woods. A white man lived alone in a cabin near by.
One night the white man came home late from his work in the fields. He
had left a bag of corn hanging in his cabin. Some one had taken it.
He was very angry. "That lazy Indian who lives in the hut has stolen
my corn," he told his neighbors.
"Send for the Indian and let him speak for himself," said one of the
neighbors.
When the Indian came he said, "I did not take your corn."
"If you did not take my corn, who did?" asked the angry man.
"I can not tell you his name," the Indian answered. "I have never seen
him, but I can tell you something about him.
"Your corn was stolen by a white man. He is an old man, and he is a
short man."
One of the neighbors had seen a little old man. He was going to the
woods with a bag on his back.
They went out to hunt for him. Soon he was found, and the bag of corn
was returned to its owner.
How could the Indian tell who had taken the corn? Every one wanted to
know.
"I will tell you," said the Indian. "I knew that the thief was an old
man from the heavy mark of his feet in the earth. A young man's step
is much lighter.
"I knew he was a white man because he turned his toes out when he
walked. An Indian does not walk in that way.
"Did you not see that he stood on a stool to reach the bag of corn?
This shows that he was a short man."
"Now see," said the neighbors. "If you had kept your eyes open as the
Indian keeps his open, you would not have said that he stole your corn."
CLOVERNOOK
group cottage repeating sugar
hymns daughter sweetbrier cellar
merry gathered old-fashioned saucer
One summer morning, a merry group of children was helping to make hay
in one of the Clovernook hay fields.
Not far away stood a little brown house in the cool shade of cherry
trees and apple trees. A sweetbrier clambered over the windows, and in
the dooryard grew bushes of large red roses.
[Illustration]
Near the house was a deep well of clear, cold water. An old-fashioned
well sweep was used to draw up the water, as you see in the picture.
This was the Clovernook home. Here lived the merry children who were
helping in the hayfield, and there were nine of them. What if the
house was small? There was the barn in which they could play, and
there were the fields and woods in which they could wander.
[Illustration: "He liked to gather his children around him."]
They thought their gentle, blue-eyed mother the most beautiful woman in
the world. Their father was one of the kindest of men. Every child loved
him, and the horses and the cows followed him all over the farm.
He loved books, and went about his work repeating fine old hymns and
lines from grand poems. In the long winter evenings he liked to gather
his children around him before the open fire. Then he told them
wonderful stories of the olden time.