Something must have come into the apple seed to make it grow into a
plant. And something must have come into the little green apple plant
to make it grow into a tree.
What was it? Where did the plant get it? Cut into a green stem of the
apple tree. See how the juice runs out!
The apple tree was made from this juice which we call sap. This sap is
the blood of the plant. It makes the plant grow just as your blood
makes you grow.
The sap came to the little apple plant all the time it was growing.
But where did the plant get the sap?
The food of a plant lies all about its roots. The rain, or water from
your watering pot, falls around the plant. It sinks into the ground.
Then the water dissolves the earth just as it dissolves sugar.
The seed swells, and the brown seed coat bursts. Then a little root runs
down into the earth. This root has hundreds of openings or mouths. The
little openings are so small that our eyes can not see them.
The roots suck in the water from the ground. The earth that is
dissolved in the water creeps up into the plant. This juice or sap
makes the plant grow.
But the plant must have air as well as food. The sap can not turn into
wood and bark and fruit until it has met the air. So the sap flows up
into the leaves and meets the air.
Then it finds its way into every part of the plant. It changes into
the rough bark and hard wood of the apple tree. It changes into pink
apple blossoms and buds. It changes into red apples and yellow apples.
The same sap makes sweet apples and sour apples. Every part of a plant
is made from sap. Is not that very strange?
[Illustration: Apple Blossoms.]
We have learned that the roots take the food of plants from the earth.
They do more than this. The roots are the feet of the plant.
You could not stand without your feet. You would fall on the ground or
the floor. And so the tree or the plant could not stand without its
roots.
Other plants grow just as the apple tree grows. The roots of a plant
get food from the earth and keep the plant in its place in the ground.
The stem makes the plant strong and holds it up in the air. And the
leaves draw in just what the plants need from the air around them.
[Illustration: Fruit of the Apple Tree.]
TALKING IN THEIR SLEEP
"You think I am dead,"
The apple tree said,
"Because I have never a leaf to show--
Because I stoop
And my branches droop,
And the dull gray mosses over me grow.
But I'm still alive in trunk and shoot;
The buds of next May
I fold away--
But I pity the withered grass at my foot."
"You think I am dead,"
The quick grass said,
"Because I have parted with stem and blade.
But under the ground
I am safe and sound
With the snow's thick blanket over me laid.
I'm all alive and ready to shoot,
Should the spring of the year
Come dancing here--
But I pity the flowers without branch or root."
"You think I am dead,"
A soft voice said,
"Because not a branch or root I own!
I never have died
But close I hide,
In a plumy seed that the wind has sown.
Patient I wait through the long winter hours;
You will see me again--
I shall laugh at you then,
Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers."
--EDITH M. THOMAS.
A RIDDLE
I have only one foot, but thousands of toes;
My one foot stands, but never goes;
I have many arms and they're mighty all;
And hundreds of fingers, large and small.
None e'er saw me eat--I've no mouth to bite;
Yet I feed all day in the full sunlight;
In the summer with song I shake and quiver,
But in winter I fast and groan and shiver.
--GEORGE MACDONALD.
SNOWFLAKES
Out of the sky they come,
Wandering down the air,
Some to the roofs, and some
Whiten the branches bare;
Some in the empty nest,
Some on the ground below,
Until the world is dressed
All in a gown of snow;
Dressed in a fleecy gown
Out of the snowflakes spun;
Wearing a golden crown,
Over her head the sun.
Out of the sky again
Ghosts of the flowers that died
Visit the earth, and then
Under the white drifts hide.
--FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN.
[Illustration]
FANNIE'S MENAGERIE
I.
dozen trickled creatures dive
pounced mustn't shoulders bunch
seized shouldn't snatching shawl
"What a long, long day!" said Fannie. "Rain, rain all the time, and
nothing pleasant to do. I wish mother would let me go out of doors and
play in the water.
[Illustration]
"The ducks seem to be having a fine time on the pond. They like the
rain. If I only had a coat of feathers, I shouldn't mind a little
wetting. I could dive and splash about all day long. But now I suppose
I must go to sleep, for there seems to be nothing else for me to do."
So Fannie threw herself on her bed. She lay with her eyes half open,
watching the raindrops as they trickled down the window panes.
Flap, flap, flap! "What is that at the window?" Flap, flap, flap! In
flew a dozen geese. "Quack, quack! quack! Who carried off our
feathers?" they were screaming. They flew around the room, beating
their wings against the walls and ceiling.
Flap, flap, flap! went the flock of geese over Fannie's head, and down
they pounced upon the pillow. In a few minutes it was torn to pieces,
and the feathers scattered all over the floor.
"Quack, quack, quack! Here are our feathers!" cried all the geese; and
each one seized a bunch of feathers in its bill. Then they flew off,
leaving the air full of soft, white down.
Patter, patter, patter! The door was gently pushed open, and there
stood a sheep. "Please walk in, madam," said Fannie; and in came a
whole flock of sheep.
"Baa, baa, baa! Where is the wool they cut from my back?" said a
great, black sheep.
"Baa, baa, baa! Who has carried off our wool?" cried all the other
sheep.
"I didn't carry off your wool," said Fannie. "Stop, stop! that's my
shawl. You mustn't take that. What are you pulling the carpet to
pieces for?"
Without minding a word Fannie said, the great, black sheep marched out
of the room with the shawl on its shoulders. All the other sheep
followed with pieces of carpet folded over them.
II.
swarm nibbling exclaimed mattress
troop neighing cranberries bursting
eaten nonsense disturbed pillows
Buzz, buzz, buzz! "What comes to the window now?" In flew a swarm of
bees.
"Buzz, buzz, buzz! Where is our wax?" said the queen bee.
"Hum, hum, hum! Who stole our wax?" said all the bees.
"There is no wax here," said Fannie.
The bees flew about, crying, "Buzz, buzz, buzz! Hum, hum, hum!" They
seemed to be very angry about something.
"Oh, dear," exclaimed Fannie; "they have all lighted on my doll and
are nibbling away her pretty face. Oh, my beautiful wax doll! What
shall I do? What shall I do?"
At that moment there was a great noise in the hall. "I wonder what will
come next," said Fannie. In trotted a troop of horses, neighing loudly,
"Who stole our flowing manes? Who carried off our long, waving tails?"
"Here they are," said a great, white horse, and he began pulling the
mattress into pieces.
"I shall have no bed to sleep on," thought Fannie, as the horses went
galloping out of the room, with their mouths full of horsehair.
But what can be coming through the hall now, making so much noise?
"Fannie! Fannie! Why don't you come down to tea?" shouted Frank,
bursting into the room.
"Oh, Frank," said she, "did you meet the horses running downstairs?"
"Horses running downstairs! What are you talking about, Fannie?"
"Why, some geese flew in through the window, and took the feathers
from my pillows. A whole troop of horses came into my room and tore
the mattress to pieces. A flock of sheep carried off the carpet, and a
swarm of bees has eaten up my doll's head."
"Your doll is lying in her cradle, with cheeks as red as cranberries,"
said Frank. "The carpet looks as pretty as ever; and your bed has not
been disturbed. Sister dear, I think you have been dreaming a great
deal of nonsense for one afternoon."
--From "Rainbows for Children."
HOW LAMBKIN WHITE WAS SAVED
I.
frolic trestle railroad marsh
leader minute suddenly barrel
bubbled lambkin companions swamp
The morning sun was just rising over the hills when Lambkin White
opened his eyes and scrambled to his feet. All around him lay the
sleeping flock.
One after another the sheep and lambs awoke, and soon they were
feeding on the grassy hillside.
[Illustration]
After the morning meal the lambs began to frolic. They raced across
the pasture. They bounded over the stones that lay in their way. They
seemed to plan their plays as children do, and everywhere Lambkin
White was the leader.
Suddenly, he left his companions and ran to a large, flat rock. Upon
this he jumped and stood waiting. Every lamb followed him. What the
new game was called in sheep language no one can tell. But they chased
one another like boys in a game of tag.
The sun crept up the sky and the air grew hotter. And now the sheep
stopped eating grass. They turned, all together, into a path that led
to their drinking place.
But to-day they could find no water. Instead of the spring which had
bubbled out from under the great rock there were only stones and dry
sand.
Down the hill the flock slowly wound its way, looking for water. But
Lambkin White did not walk with the flock. He ran here and there. He
climbed rocks and hid behind trees. Indeed, could the mother sheep
have spoken, she would have called him a very troublesome lambkin.
The pasture sloped down to a piece of low, wet land. A wooden bridge or
trestle had been built across the marsh for a railroad track. Trains of
cars rolled over this high bridge nearly every hour of the day.
On came the sheep to the very edge of the swamp. Here they found black
mud, but not a drop of water to drink.
Near the end of the trestle was a cask, or water barrel, which had
been sunk into the ground. Lambkin White ran to the barrel and looked
in. There was some water in the cask, and the thirsty lamb stretched
his neck farther and farther down to get a drink. Before his mother
could reach him he fell, head foremost, into the water barrel.
II.
feebly drowning locomotive distress
monster struggles passengers whistle
Poor little lamb! The smooth sides of the barrel were all around him
and he could not get out. The helpless mother was in great distress,
but what could she do? Her little one was drowning before her eyes,
and she could not save him!
The lamb's wild struggles were growing slower and slower. His limbs
now moved feebly. In a moment more the brave young heart would stop
beating. Soon there would be one less in the flock. Soon there would
be a sad mother sheep calling in vain for her little lamb.
Just then a shrill whistle sounded across the marsh. Over the trestle
came the great locomotive dragging a train of cars filled with
passengers.
The foolish sheep, in their terror, ran along the railroad track in
front of the moving train.
But Lambkin White's mother still stood by the water cask. Nearer and
nearer came the terrible noise of the engine. The black monster was
coming directly toward her. Soon it will be upon her!
Will she not run away from danger? Will she not join the flock? No!
for the mother heart is brave and the mother love is strong. If she
can not save her darling, she can, at least, die by his side.
III.
track fireman brakeman drowned
brakes sunken engineer darling
fleece pumped conductor dripping
The engineer was watching with sharp eyes the flock of sheep on the
track ahead. He saw the lamb in the water barrel as the engine came
near the end of the trestle. "Down brakes!" he whistled, and the train
suddenly stopped.
The passengers crowded to the windows. What could be the matter? They
saw the engineer running. They saw him stoop down and lift a little
lamb from the sunken water barrel. Its fleece was dripping with water.
The engineer placed the half-drowned creature by its mother's side.
And then what a cheer arose from the passengers for the kind deed
which he had done.
The fireman drove the sheep from the track and turned them toward the
hillside pasture. A brakeman pumped the water barrel full of water for
the thirsty flock.
Back ran the engineer to his engine. "All aboard," shouted the
conductor, as he swung himself upon the last car of the rolling train.
Late that afternoon a happy mother sheep wandered back to the pasture
with Lambkin White following very slowly in her tracks.
* * * * *
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man, and bird, and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
--SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE.
[Illustration]
THE LAMB
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee--
Gave thee life, and bade thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little lamb, I'll tell thee;
Little lamb, I'll tell thee;
He is callèd by thy name,
For he calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are callèd by His name.
Little lamb, God bless thee!
Little lamb, God bless thee!
--WILLIAM BLAKE.
THE NECKLACE OF TRUTH
I.
Merlin fault necklace clasp
habit wizard untruths shame
There was once a little girl named Pearl, who had a bad habit of telling
untruths. For a long time her father and mother did not know this. But
at last they found that she very often said things that were not true.
Now, at this time--for it was long, long ago--there lived a wonderful
man named Merlin. He could do such strange things, and he was so very
wise, that he was called a wizard.
Merlin was a great lover of truth. For this reason children who told
untruths were often brought to him, so that he might cure them of
their fault.
"Let us take our child to the wonderful wizard." said Pearl's father.
And the mother said, "Yes, let us take her to Merlin. He will cure
her!" So Pearl's parents went to the glass palace where Merlin lived.
When they reached Merlin's palace, the wise old man said, "I know very
well what is the matter with your child; she does not love the truth."
[Illustration]
Poor Pearl hid her head with shame and fear. But Merlin said, "Do not
be afraid. I am only going to make you a present."
Then the wizard opened a drawer and took from it a lovely necklace
with a diamond clasp. This he put on Pearl's neck, and told her
parents to go home happy, for the little girl would soon be cured.
As they were going away, Merlin looked at Pearl, and said, "In a year
from now I shall come for my necklace. Till then you must not dare to
take it off."
II.
coarse satin truthful size
sobbed tassels falsehood wrong
choked weeping confessed coach
Can you guess what the necklace was? It was the wonderful Necklace of
Truth.
Next day Pearl went to school. When her schoolmates saw the beautiful
necklace, they crowded around her.
"Oh, what a lovely necklace! Where did you get it, Pearl?"
"My father gave it to me for a Christmas present," said Pearl.
"Oh, look, look!" cried the children. "The diamond has turned dim!"
Pearl looked down at her necklace and saw that the lovely clasp was
changed to coarse glass. Then she was very much afraid, and said, "I
will tell you the truth: the wizard Merlin gave it to me."
At once the diamond was as bright as before.
The girls now began to laugh, because they knew that only children who
told falsehoods were sent to Merlin.
"You need not laugh," said Pearl. "Merlin sent a lovely coach to bring
us. It was drawn by six white horses, and was lined with satin, and
had gold tassels."
She stopped, for all the children were laughing again. Then she looked
at her necklace, and--what do you think? It hung down to the floor! At
each false word she had spoken, the necklace had stretched out more
and more.
"You are stretching the truth!" cried the little girls.
Then Pearl confessed that all she had told them was false; and at once
the necklace changed to its right size.
"But what did Merlin say when he gave you the necklace?"
"He said it was a present for a truthful--"
She could not go on speaking. The necklace became so short that it
nearly choked her.
"O dear, no!" sobbed Pearl. "He said I did not love the truth, nor
speak the truth."
The girls did not laugh now. They were sorry for Pearl when they saw
her weeping.
At last Pearl was cured. She saw how wrong and how foolish it is to
tell falsehoods. "Never more will I tell a lie," said she. And she
kept her word.
Before the year was ended Merlin came for his necklace. He knew that
Pearl did not need it now, and he wanted it for another little girl.
Since Merlin died, no one can tell what has become of the wonderful
Necklace of Truth. Would you like to wear it? Are you sure the diamond
would always keep bright?
--From "Old Fairy Tales."
SPEAK THE TRUTH
TO BE MEMORIZED
Speak the truth!
Speak it boldly, never fear;
Speak it so that all may hear;
In the end it shall appear
Truth is best in age and youth.
Speak the truth.
Speak the truth!
Truth is beautiful and brave,
Strong to bless and strong to save;
Falsehood is a cowardly knave;
From it turn thy steps in youth--
Follow truth.
SAINT VALENTINE
Here is one of the many stories that have been told about Saint
Valentine.
Father Valentine was a priest who lived a long time ago. He spent his
time in nursing the sick and in comforting the sorrowing. As he went
about among his people, the children, too, found a kind and helpful
friend.
They liked to talk with him, and to run by his side as he went from
one house to another. What wonderful stories he told them about the
birds and the flowers! How many beautiful things he taught them as
they walked together through the forest and by the river!
Father Valentine loved all the little creatures of the woods and the
streams, and they seemed to love him in return. The birds would come
at his call, and the squirrels would scamper down the trees to take
food from his hand.
Years went by, and at last the good priest became too old to visit his
people. How they must have wished to hear again the sound of his
footsteps at the door! How the children must have missed their kind
teacher and the stories that he told!
Father Valentine was very sad because he could no longer go about from
home to home. But he soon found a way by which he could still be of
use to those he loved.
As he sat in his room he wrote the kind words which had always made
his visits so full of good cheer. Every day his loving messages were
sent near and far. They were carried by the boys and girls who had
learned from him to be happy in helping others.
Soon his friends began to watch for the kind words that were sure to
come to them whenever they were in need of help. Even the little
children, when they were ill, would say, "I am sure that Father
Valentine will send me a letter to-day."
After a time the good father passed away from earth, but he has not
been forgotten.
Each year, when the fourteenth of February comes around, we still keep
his birthday.
* * * * *
Think of the lonely, remember the sad,
Be kind to the poor, make every one glad,
On good old Saint Valentine's Day.
A FAMOUS OLD HOUSE
fancy buckles victory office
bosom ruffled headquarters freedom
[Illustration]
Here is a picture of a famous old house. It was built more than one
hundred years ago, and it still stands, painted yellow and white, as
in the days of old. People come from far and near to see it, and
perhaps some day you will visit it.
Do you wish to know why so many people travel miles and miles to see
this old place?
Two great men once lived here. The first one was a brave general. Long
ago he was called from his own home to take command of an army. In
those days, the yellow and white house was one of the finest places
for miles around. So it was given to the general for his headquarters.
If these old walls could only speak, what wonderful stories they could
tell! For in this house many plans were made, which helped to bring
freedom to our land.
We like to fancy that we can see the great general going in and out of
the front door. He used to wear a three-cornered hat and ruffled shirt
bosom, knee-breeches, and low shoes with silver buckles.
This brave and noble commander led his army through many dangers to
victory, and he afterward became the first president of the United
States. You need not be told that the great general who once lived in
the famous old house was George Washington.
After many years the old house became the home of another great and
good man. He did not lead armies, nor make laws, nor hold office. And
yet few men in our country have been so well known or so well loved.
His poems are read in all parts of the world, and his beautiful
thoughts have helped hundreds and hundreds of people to love the right
and to hate the wrong.
And now you are eager to speak the name of the great poet who once
lived in the famous old house--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
HIAWATHA'S HUNTING
Then the little Hiawatha
Learned of every bird its language,
Learned their names and all their secrets,--
How they built their nests in summer,
Where they hid themselves in winter,--
Talked with them whene'er he met them,
Called them "Hiawatha's chickens."
Of all beasts he learned the language,
Learned their names and all their secrets,--
How the beavers built their lodges,
Where the squirrels hid their acorns,
How the reindeer ran so swiftly,
Why the rabbit was so timid,--
Talked with them whene'er he met them,
Called them "Hiawatha's brothers."
Forth into the forest straightway
All alone walked Hiawatha
Proudly, with his bow and arrows;
And the birds sang round him, o'er him,
"Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!"
Sang the robin, sang the bluebird,
"Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!"
And the rabbit from his pathway
Leaped aside, and at a distance
Sat erect upon his haunches,
Half in fear and half in frolic
Saying to the little hunter,
"Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!"
But he heeded not, nor heard them,
For his thoughts were with the red deer;
On their tracks his eyes were fastened,
Leading downward to the river,
To the ford across the river;
And as one in slumber walked he.
[Illustration]
Hidden in the alder bushes,
There he waited till the deer came,
Till he saw two antlers lifted,
Saw two eyes look from the thicket,
Saw two nostrils point to windward,
And a deer came down the pathway,
Flecked with leafy light and shadow.
And his heart within him fluttered,
Trembled like the leaves above him,
As the deer came down the pathway.
LONGFELLOW WITH HIS CHILDREN
I.
eager birthday nursery elm
planned question musician lawn
The famous old house looks very quiet and lonely in the picture. But
there was a time when many children ran about its halls and played
upon the lawn.
[Illustration]
"How many children did Mr. Longfellow have? Did he have any boys? What
were their names?"
These questions are asked again and again by little people who keep
the birthday of the poet and wish to learn about his life.
In his journal, Mr. Longfellow tells us about his children, and it is
there we may find answers to all our questions.
The poet's eldest son was named Charles. When Charles was two years
old his little brother Ernest was born. Longfellow then moved his
books into another room and gave up his study to his babies.
And so the room in which Washington had planned battles became the
nursery of the Longfellow children. Did any children ever have a more
famous nursery?
In this room which once belonged to Washington we like to think that
the children heard again and again the story of our first President.
When Ernest was but a few days old his father told a friend that the
little newcomer was a great musician. Do you know what the poet meant
by this?
While Charles and Ernest were still little boys, their baby sister
Fannie came to live in the nursery. Just as she was old enough to run
about, the dear little girl died. Then the house was full of sorrow.
Many of the poems Longfellow wrote at this time tell the story of his
grief at the loss of his little daughter.
Charles was six years old and Ernest four, when their father first
took them to school. He left them sitting on little chairs among the
other children in an old house near a large elm tree.
It was under this same tree that Washington took command of the
American army.
As time went on three little girls took the places of the boys in the
nursery. How all these children loved their father! They thought him
the best playfellow in the world, and so he was.
He made toys for them, taught them games, and wrote letters which he
placed under their pillows for them to find in the morning.
II.
beloved loss providing wreaths
sealing grief happiness package
coasting meant playfellow pleasure