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Young American Readers
OUR TOWN AND CIVIC DUTY
by
JANE EAYRE FRYER
Author of “The Mary Frances Story-Instruction Books”
Illustrations by Charles Holloway, Jane Allen Boyer and from Photographs
[Illustration: ONE TO-DAY IS WORTH TWO TO-MORROWS.]
_In these vital tasks of acquiring a broader view of human
possibilities the common school must have a large part. I urge that
teachers and other school officers increase materially the time and
attention devoted to instruction bearing directly on the problems of
community and national life._--WOODROW WILSON.
The John C. Winston Company, Publishers
Philadelphia Chicago
Copyright, 1920, by
The John C. Winston Co.
Copyright, 1918, by
The John C. Winston Co.
All Rights Reserved
CIVICS FOR AMERICAN CHILDREN
It will be seen at a glance that Part I of this reader contains
material emphasizing the civic virtues of courage, self-control,
thrift, perseverance and kindness to animals. Since these virtues are
so essential to the good citizen, the lesson periods devoted to the
teaching of them are among the most profitable in the course in Civics
for the Elementary Grades.
In the earlier Young American Reader, “Our Home and Personal Duty,” the
children learned about their dependence upon the people who serve by
contributing to their physical needs--the people connected with home
life. In this volume, “Our Town and Civic Duty,” the idea of service is
still the dominant note.
The work herein differs from that of the earlier volume, however,
in that the people who are being studied render a service which is
primarily civic. Therefore, in Part II a study is made of public
servants, both those who are directly in the employ of the community
and those who, although employed by private individuals, are, through
contract, engaged in public service. Among these are the policeman, the
postman, the fireman, the street cleaner, the garbage collector, and
the ash and rubbish collector. In the study of these various people the
threefold idea of dependence, interdependence and co-operation through
community agencies finds ample illustration.
Of course, it should always be kept in mind that the purpose is to
understand the nature of the _service_ rendered, and that the acquiring
of information is but incidental. The work should be so treated as
to arouse in the children an interest in these public servants, a
friendly feeling toward them, and a desire to aid them in the services
they are rendering.
In Part III, the nation-wide movement for Safety First finds
expression. The aim is two-fold; to point out the sources of danger,
and to teach habits of carefulness and caution.
The study and work of the Junior Red Cross, which form the subject
matter of Part IV, are admirably adapted to bring the pupil into direct
contact with one of the most inspiring aspects of our national life as
exemplified in the humane and patriotic activities of the American Red
Cross.
_Suggestions as to the Method of Teaching._ It is well known that
children learn best by doing. Therefore, teachers are more and more
appreciating the value of dramatization, or story acting.
Whenever the stories in the reader are suitable, their dramatization
is a simple matter. The children are assigned the various parts, which
they enact just as they remember the story. In no case should the words
be memorized. The children enter eagerly into the spirit of the story,
and the point of the lesson is thus deeply impressed on their minds.
They should be encouraged to talk about the various topics in the book,
and to describe their own experiences.
It should always be borne in mind that when children begin to realize
that the good of all depends upon the thorough and conscientious work
of the individual, the foundation of good citizenship is being laid.
This reader is not intended to be exhaustive in any sense, but rather
suggestive, so that the teacher may use any original ideas which add to
the interest of the lessons.
In his introduction to the previous volume, Doctor J. Lynn Barnard
emphasizes this point when he says: “Like all texts or other helps in
education, these civic readers cannot teach themselves or take the
place of a live teacher. But it is believed that they can be of great
assistance to sympathetic, civically minded instructors of youth who
feel that the training of our children in the ideals and practices of
good citizenship is the most imperative duty and, at the same time, the
highest privilege that can come to any teacher.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks are due to Doctor J. Lynn Barnard of the Philadelphia
School of Pedagogy, for valuable suggestions and helpful criticism
in the making of this reader; also to Miss Isabel Jean Galbraith, a
demonstration teacher of the Philadelphia School of Pedagogy, for
assistance in preparing the questions on the lessons.
For kind permission to use copyrighted and other material
acknowledgments are due to the following: Cassell & Co. for “Better
Not, Bob!” from _Little Folks_; The Bobbs-Merrill Company for “The
Knights of the Silver Shield,” from _Why the Chimes Rang_, by
Raymond M. Alden, Copyright 1908; The American Humane Education
Society for “The Story of Barry,” selections by George T. Angell,
and other material; Wilmer Atkinson Company for the story of
“Nellie’s Dog;” Miss H. H. Jacobs for two selections; The Animal
Rescue League of Boston and The Ohio Humane Society for selections;
and to The Macmillan Company for “How the Mail is Delivered,”
from _How We Travel_, by James F. Chamberlain; to _The Red Cross
Magazine_ for several photographs; to the F. A. Owen Publishing
Company for the “Red Cross Emblem,” “Plain Buttons,” “The American
Flag,” and other material from _Normal Instructor and Primary
Plans_.
[Illustration: THE CHILD
OBEDIENCE
CLEANLINESS
ORDERLINESS
COURTESY
HELPFULNESS
KINDNESS TO ANIMALS
PUNCTUALITY
TRUTHFULNESS
CARE OF PROPERTY
FAIR PLAY
THOROUGHNESS
HONESTY
RESPECT
COURAGE
SELF CONTROL
THRIFT
PERSEVERANCE
PATRIOTISM
FAMILY
FATHER
MOTHER
BROTHERS
SISTERS
COMMUNITY
DOCTOR
TEACHER
BAKER
MILKMAN
SHOEMAKER
TAILOR
COALMAN
GROCER
PUBLIC SERVANTS
FIREMAN
POLICEMAN
STREET CLEANER
POSTMAN
PUBLIC UTILITIES
ELECTRICITY
WATER
GAS
TELEPHONE
PARK
LIBRARY
PLAYGROUNDS
SCHOOL
COMMUNITY INDUSTRIES AND OCCUPATIONS
AGRICULTURE
INDUSTRY
COMMERCE
PROFESSIONS
ELEMENTS OF WELFARE
CIVIC BEAUTY
EDUCATION
RECREATION
HEALTH
PROTECTION OF LIFE AND PROPERTY
CHARITIES
CORRECTION
WEALTH
COMMUNICATION
TRANSPORTATION
A BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF THE PLAN OF THE YOUNG AMERICAN READERS]
It may be said that a child’s life and experience move forward in ever
widening circles, beginning with the closest intimate home relations,
and broadening out into knowledge of community, of city, and finally of
national life.
A glance at the above diagram will show the working plan of the
Young American Readers. This plan follows the natural growth and
development of the child’s mind, and aims by teaching the civic virtues
and simplest community relations to lay the foundations of good
citizenship. See Outline of Work.
CONTENTS
PART I
CIVIC VIRTUES
Stories Teaching Courage, Self-control, Thrift, Perseverance,
Patriotism, Kindness to Animals.
_Courage_ (_Physical_) PAGE
IDA LEWIS, THE HEROINE OF LIME ROCK LIGHT 3
RUN! JOHN, RUN! 6
HE DID NOT HESITATE 7
DOWN A MANHOLE 9
_Courage_ (_Moral_)
THE TWELVE POINTS OF THE SCOUT LAW 11
CAPTAIN ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND THE INDIAN 12
DANIEL IN THE LIONS’ DEN 17
_Self-control_
BETTER NOT, BOB! (adapted), _Hartley Richards_ 21
THE KNIGHTS OF THE SILVER SHIELD (adapted), _Raymond M. Alden_ 30
_Thrift_
THE PRINCE AND THE CRUMBS OF DOUGH 37
THE TRAMP 41
UNCLE SAM’S MONEY 46
THREE WAYS TO USE MONEY 48
THRIFT DAY 50
HOW RICHARD PLANTED A DOLLAR 54
HOW TO START A BANK ACCOUNT 58
_Perseverance_
THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE (a play) 60
AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW 63
THE CROW AND THE PITCHER 74
DRIVE THE NAIL ARIGHT 76
_Kindness to Animals_
THE ARABIAN HORSE 79
THE STORY OF BARRY 81
BANDS OF MERCY 84
SOME THINGS MR. ANGELL TOLD BOYS AND GIRLS 85
NELLIE’S DOG, _Robert E. Hewes_ 87
WHO SAID RATS? _H. H. Jacobs_ 92
A BRAVE MOTHER, _H. H. Jacobs_ 93
ABOUT THOREAU 96
FAIR PLAY FOR OUR WILD ANIMALS 96
THE TRUE STORY OF PEDRO 97
WHAT CHILDREN CAN DO 99
A HORSE’S PETITION TO HIS DRIVER 100
THE HORSE’S POINT OF VIEW 101
A MAN WHO KNEW HOW 103
HOW TO TREAT A HORSE 103
THE HORSE’S PRAYER 104
BIRDS AS THE FRIENDS OF PLANTS 108
ANDROCLUS AND THE LION 113
LIST OF BOOKS ABOUT ANIMALS 117
PART II
STORIES ABOUT OUR PUBLIC SERVANTS
_The Policeman_
THE POLICEMAN AND THE RUNAWAY 122
EVERYBODY’S FRIEND 125
WHAT THE POLICEMAN DOES FOR US 126
HOW WE MAY AID THE POLICEMAN 127
_The Fireman_
DUTIES OF A FIREMAN 129
THE STORY OF A FIRE 130
I. JACK GIVES THE ALARM 130
II. AT THE FIRE 133
III. THE RESCUE OF SHORTY 136
HOW TO HELP THE FIREMAN 141
DON’TS FOR YOUR OWN PROTECTION 143
_The Postman_
HOW THE MAIL IS DELIVERED, _James F. Chamberlain_ (adapted) 145
I. UNCLE CHARLES WRITES FROM ALASKA 145
II. EARLY MAIL CARRIERS 148
III. POSTAGE STAMPS 150
IV. THE PONY EXPRESS 153
V. THE MAILS OF TODAY 154
_The Street Cleaner_
BEN FRANKLIN’S OWN STORY ABOUT PHILADELPHIA STREETS 159
YOU AND YOUR STREETS 161
EQUIPMENT OF STREET CLEANERS 166
HOW WE MAY HELP KEEP THE STREETS CLEAN 167
_The Garbage Collector_
WHAT THE GARBAGE CAN TOLD ROBERT 169
TWO GARBAGE COLLECTORS 175
ROBERT’S VISIT TO THE GARBAGE PLANT 179
_The Ash and Rubbish Collector_
THE FIRE THAT STARTED ITSELF 180
PART III
SAFETY FIRST
WHO AM I 187
OUR SAFETY FIRST MEN 189
BRAVE WATCHMAN RECEIVES MEDAL FROM PRESIDENT WILSON 193
STOP! LOOK! LISTEN! 194
BE ON YOUR GUARD 196
A CLEAN CITY 201
FIRE-PREVENTION DAY 202
HOW TO FIGHT FLIES 204
HOW TO FIGHT MOSQUITOES 206
HOW TO MAKE A MOSQUITO TRAP 208
PART IV
THE AMERICAN RED CROSS
_Junior Membership and School Activities_
_Patriotic Service_
THE JUNIOR RED CROSS 213
THE PRESIDENT’S PROCLAMATION 214
WHAT THE CHILDREN DID 215
THE RED CROSS IN WAR 216
THE RED CROSS IN PEACE 216
THE GOOD NEIGHBOR 219
OUR TWO FLAGS 220
THE RED CROSS FLAG 220
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 221
HENRI DUNANT 222
CLARA BARTON 222
I. THE CHRISTMAS BABY 223
II. THE LITTLE NURSE 223
III. CLARA GROWS UP 224
IV. THE CIVIL WAR 225
V. THE ARMY NURSE 226
VI. MISS BARTON HEARS OF THE RED CROSS 226
VII. THE AMERICAN RED CROSS 227
WHEN THERE WAS NO RED CROSS 228
WHEN THE RED CROSS CAME 229
THE RED CROSS 231
HOW MAPLEWOOD WON SONNY 232
THE JUNIOR RED CROSS’ FIRST BIRTHDAY 233
HOW TO MAKE A RED CROSS EMBLEM 234
I KNEW YOU’D COME 235
_Patriotism_
THE DEBT 236
PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE TO OUR FLAG 237
TO THE FLAG, _Edward B. Seymour_ 238
THE AMERICAN FLAG 239
PLAIN BUTTONS--THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY (adapted) 240
AMERICA, MY HOMELAND 247
COLUMBUS, _Joaquin Miller_ 248
DEMOCRACY 250
THE FUTURE--WHAT WILL IT BRING? 251
* * * * *
OUTLINE OF WORK (For the Teacher) 253
HOW TO OBTAIN INFORMATION ABOUT THE JUNIOR RED CROSS 258
PART I
CIVIC VIRTUES
Stories Teaching Courage, Self-Control, Thrift, Perseverance,
Patriotism, Kindness to Animals
[Illustration: IT WAS A HARD STRUGGLE TO MAKE HEADWAY]
IDA LEWIS, THE HEROINE OF LIME ROCK LIGHT
This is the story of Ida Lewis, a New England girl who became famous as
a lighthouse keeper.
Ida’s father, Captain Lewis, kept the lighthouse on Lime Rock, near
Newport in Rhode Island. While Ida was still a young girl, Captain
Lewis became a helpless cripple, and the entire care of the light fell
upon the daughter.
One stormy day, as Ida was looking out over the water, she saw a
rowboat capsize. In a moment, she was in the lifeboat rowing to the
spot. There, in the high waves, three young men were struggling for
their lives. Somehow, Ida got them all safely aboard her boat and rowed
them to Lime Rock.
That was the first of her life-saving ventures. Before she was
twenty-five years old there were ten rescues to the credit of this
brave girl.
Ida did not seem to know fear. She risked her life constantly. Whenever
a vessel was wrecked or a life was in danger within sight of her
lighthouse, Ida Lewis and her lifeboat were always the first to go to
the rescue.
One wintry evening in March, 1869, came the rescue that made Ida famous
throughout the land.
She was nursing a severe cold, and sat toasting her stockinged feet
in the oven of the kitchen stove. Around her shoulders her mother had
thrown a towel for added warmth.
Outside the lighthouse a winter blizzard was blowing, churning the
waters of the harbor and sending heavy rollers crashing against the
rock.
Suddenly above the roar of the tempest, Ida heard a familiar sound--the
cry of men in distress.
Even a strong man might have thought twice before risking his life on
such a night--but not Ida Lewis.
Without shoes or hat, she threw open the kitchen door and ran for the
boat.
“Oh, don’t go!” called her mother; “it is too great a risk!”
“I must go, mother!” cried the brave girl, running faster.
“Here’s your coat,” called her mother again.
“I haven’t a moment to spare if I am to reach them in time!” cried Ida,
pulling away at the oars.
She had only a single thought. Human life was in danger. Her path of
duty led to the open water.
Strong though she was, it was a hard struggle to make headway against
those terrible waves. Time and again she was driven back. But she would
not give up. At last she guided her boat to the spot where the voices
were still crying for help.
There she found two men clinging to the keel of a capsized boat. They
were almost exhausted when she helped them to safety in her lifeboat.
The men were soldiers from Fort Adams, across the bay. Returning from
Newport at night, they were caught in the gale and their frail boat was
upset.
“When I heard those men calling,” said Ida, in telling about it
afterwards, “I started right out just as I was, with a towel over my
shoulders.
“I had to whack them on the fingers with an oar to make them let go of
the side of my boat, or they would have upset it. My father was an old
sailor, and he often told me to take drowning people in over the stern;
and I’ve always done so.”
The story of Ida’s heroic deed sent a thrill of admiration across the
country. The soldiers of the fort gave her a gold watch and chain.
The citizens of Newport, to show their pride in her, presented her
with a fine new surfboat. This boat was christened the “Rescue.” The
legislature of Rhode Island praised her for bravery; and the humane and
life-saving societies sent her gold and silver medals.
Best of all, Congress passed a special act, making her the official
keeper of Lime Rock Lighthouse in place of the father who had died some
years before.
For over fifty years she held this position. It was her duty to trim
the lamps every day, and to keep them burning brightly every night. Not
once in all that half century did the light fail to shine and guide
ships in safety. When an old lady, Ida Lewis was asked if she was ever
afraid.
“I don’t know that I was ever afraid,” she replied; “I just went, and
that was all there was to it. I never even thought of danger.
“If there were some people out there who needed help,” she said,
pointing across the water, “I would get into my boat and go to them,
even if I knew I could not get back. Wouldn’t you?”
Do you wonder that Ida Lewis was called the heroine of Lime Rock Light?
RUN! JOHN, RUN!
Once there was a boy, John Hart, who lived at the edge of a wood, half
a mile from a village. One winter evening his mother said, “John, I
want you to go to the village on an errand; are you afraid of the dark?”
“No, indeed, mother, I’m not afraid.”
John set out bravely on the lonely road. Passing a great oak tree, he
heard a queer rustling sound. His heart beat fast and fear whispered,
“Run! John, run!” His feet began to run, but he said, “I won’t run!”
Then he saw that the sound was made by leaves blown about in the wind.
“Only leaves,” he said, laughing.
Halfway to the village a dark figure was standing beside the path. Fear
whispered, “A robber! Run! John, run!” but he thought, “I won’t run,”
and called out as he drew nearer, “Good evening!” Then he saw that the
robber was a small fir tree. “Only a fir tree,” he said, and laughed
again.
Just outside the village a tall white figure appeared beside a dark
hedge. Fear whispered, “A ghost! Run! John, run!” Although shivering,
he said, “I will not run!” Then the ghost disappeared, and the rising
moon was shining through a break in the hedge. “Only moonshine,” he
said, laughing once more.
His errand done, John set out on his return. The ghost was gone, the
fir tree was a friendly sentinel, the leaves were still playing in
the wind. The next day he cut down the fir tree and set it up as a
Christmas tree. Spreading some dry leaves beneath it, he said, “Just
suppose, mother, I’d let them scare me.”
[Illustration]
HE DID NOT HESITATE
In a forest on the banks of the Shenandoah River, in the northern part
of Virginia, a party of young surveyors were eating their picnic dinner.
Suddenly they heard the shriek of a woman. “Oh, my boy! my poor little
boy is drowning!” rose the cry. The young men sprang to their feet, and
rushed toward the river.
A tall youth of eighteen was the first to reach the woman, whom two men
were holding back from the water’s edge.
“Oh, sir,” pleaded the woman, as the young man approached; “please
help me! My boy is drowning, and these men will not let me go!”
“It would be madness!” exclaimed one of the men. “She would jump into
the river, and be dashed to pieces in the rapids.”
Throwing off his coat, the youth sprang to the edge of the bank. For
a moment he scanned the rocks and the whirling currents. Then, as the
bright red of the little boy’s dress caught his eye, he plunged into
the roaring foam. Everyone watched the struggle, as he battled against
the raging waters.
Twice the boy went down; twice he reappeared farther and farther away.
The terrible rapids were bearing him on to the most dangerous part of
the river. The youth put forth all his strength. Three times the child
was almost within his grasp; three times an ever stronger eddy tossed
it from him.
On the bank the people waited breathless, almost hopeless. Suddenly,
the brave swimmer caught the little body. A shout of joy arose that
quickly changed into a cry of horror. The boy and man had shot over the
falls and vanished in the seething waters below.
The watchers ran along the bank, peering into the foaming, boiling
depths.
“There! There they are!” cried the mother. “See! See, they are safe!”
She fell on her knees with a prayer of thanksgiving. Eager, willing
arms drew them up from the water--the boy insensible, but alive; the
youth well-nigh exhausted.
“God will reward you for this day’s work,” said the grateful woman.
“The blessings of thousands will be yours.” She spoke truly; for the
youth of whom this story is told was George Washington.--_Selected._
DOWN A MANHOLE
If Willie Duncan had played where his mother told him to play, he would
not have fallen down a manhole; neither would he have had a narrow
escape from losing his life by being buried in the snow.
[Illustration]
But Willie was only four years old, and therefore not so much to blame
as an older boy would have been.
The street cleaners were dumping the dirty snow from the street into a
manhole, which opened into a big drain. This drain carried off the rain
in summer and the snow in winter.
While the shovelers were at work, Willie toddled across the street.
Before the men near the manhole could stop him, he disappeared into the
opening.
“Bring a ladder!” some one shouted. But there were no ladders in that
street of crowded houses.
“Turn in a fire alarm!” some one else cried--and this was quickly done.
The men knew that firemen always bring ladders, and that they perform
many other duties besides putting out fires.
While they were waiting for the ladder, Frank Brown came running up.
Now, Frank was only twelve years old, but he was a boy of quick wit and
great presence of mind. Only the summer before, he had jumped into the
river from a pier to rescue a small boy from drowning.
“Let me go down and get him out,” cried Frank to the workmen.
The men tied ropes about the daring boy and lowered him feet first into
the manhole.
Meanwhile, they could hear poor Willie crying bitterly down there in
the soft, cold snow.
“Where are you?” called Frank.
“Here I am in the snow,” came a wee voice from the darkness.
Frank caught the half-frozen little boy in his arms, and both were
quickly pulled to the surface.
Willie was hurried off to the hospital to be treated for exposure; but
Frank was none the worse for his adventure.
While all this was happening, an accident befell the fire patrol which
was rushing to Willie’s rescue. The patrol motor-truck ran into a
bakery wagon. The driver of the wagon was thrown out and hurt. Both the
wagon and the patrol truck were damaged.
Wasn’t it fortunate for Willie that day that Frank Brown knew what to
do, and did it?
When the people praised Frank, he said, “Oh, that was nothing. I am
glad I could help the poor little chap--but I would have gone down
there to save even a kitten, wouldn’t you?”
QUESTIONS
Since it took some time for the fire patrol to reach the manhole
after the accident, what would have become of the little boy if
Frank had not been a hero?
How would you like to go down into a dark, cold manhole to rescue
somebody?
Tell what you know about Hero Medals--those of Andrew Carnegie, and
others.
Do you think that Frank was a Boy Scout? Why?
THE TWELVE POINTS OF THE SCOUT LAW
1. A scout is trustworthy.
2. A scout is loyal.
3. A scout is helpful.
4. A scout is friendly.
5. A scout is courteous.
6. A scout is kind.
7. A scout is obedient.
8. A scout is cheerful.
9. A scout is thrifty.
10. A scout is brave.
11. A scout is clean.
12. A scout is reverent.
[Illustration]
CAPTAIN ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND THE INDIAN
Among the rough young men of the frontier, Abraham Lincoln was famous
for his quick wit and great strength. Many stories are told of his
courage in rescuing the weak and helpless from danger, often at the
risk of his life.
When Lincoln was serving as captain in the Black Hawk War, there
wandered into his camp one day a poor old Indian. The Indian carried
no weapon, and he was too old to be dangerous. He was just a forlorn,
hungry old man in search of food.
“Injun white man’s friend,” he cried to the soldiers, as he took a
paper from his belt and held it out to them.
The paper was a pass from the general in command, saying that the old
man was a peaceful, friendly Indian.
But the soldiers were too much excited to pay any attention to the pass.
“Kill him! Scalp him! Shoot him!” they cried, running for their weapons.
They were enlisted to fight Indians, and here was an Indian--perhaps
Black Hawk himself. They were not going to let him escape.
“Me good Injun! Big White Chief says so--see talking paper,” protested
the Indian, again offering them the paper.
“Get out! You can’t play that game on us. You’re a spy! Shoot him!
Shoot him!” the soldiers shouted.
A dozen men leveled their rifles ready to fire. The others handled the
old Indian so roughly and made so much noise over their prize that they
aroused the captain.
“What is all the trouble about?” he demanded, coming from his tent.
His glance fell on the frightened Indian, cowering on the ground.
Dashing in among his men, he threw up their weapons, and shouted,
“Halt! Hold on, don’t fire! Stop, I tell you!”
Then, placing his hand on the red man’s shoulder, he cried, “Stand
back, all of you! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves--pitching into
a poor old redskin! What are you thinking of? Would you kill an unarmed
man?”
“He’s a spy! He’s a spy!” shouted the soldiers.
“If he’s a spy,” answered Lincoln, “we will prove it, and he shall
suffer the penalty. Until then, any man who harms him will have to
answer to me.”
The poor old Indian crouched at Lincoln’s feet, recognizing in him his
only friend.
“What are you afraid of?” demanded one of the ringleaders, raising his
rifle. “We’re not afraid to shoot him, even if you are a coward!”
The tall young captain faced his accuser and slowly began to roll up
his sleeves.
“Who says I’m a coward?” he demanded.
There was no response to this.
Every man in the company knew the great strength of that brawny arm;
some had felt it on more than one occasion.
“Get out, Capt’n,” they said; “that’s not fair! You’re bigger and
stronger than we are. Give us a show!”
“I’ll give you all the show you want, boys,” Captain Lincoln replied;
“more than you are willing to give this Indian. Take it out of me, if
you can; but you shall not touch him.”
Again, there was no answer.
The Indian showed his pass, which proved him to be one of the friendly
Indians from General Cass’ division. Lincoln knew at once that it was
genuine.
The young captain ordered one of the men to give the captive food and
let him go free. The poor man could not speak his thanks. To show his
gratitude, he knelt down and kissed the feet of the young soldier.
The men scattered and the trouble was over. No man in that camp had any
desire to try his strength with Captain Abraham Lincoln, who was ready
to protect a friendless Indian with his life.
MEMORY GEMS
Oh, give us men with vision clear;
With rugged hearts that know no fear!
Good men, who are both brave and bold,
Unshaken by the lure of gold;
Who stand for right, whate’er their fate--
Such men will make our nation great.
--_Selected._
* * * * *
Do all the good you can,
In all the ways you can,
At all the times you can,
To all the people you can.
[Illustration: THEY HAVE NOT HURT ME, FOR I HAVE DONE NO WRONG]
DANIEL IN THE LIONS’ DEN
I
In the days of long ago, when Darius was king, a very brave man lived
in Babylon. His name was Daniel. Daniel was just as truthful as he was
brave. No one ever knew him to do a mean thing, or to tell a lie.
Now, Daniel was a foreigner. He had been carried to Babylon as a
captive when a little boy. But that made no difference to King Darius.
The king liked Daniel because he was loyal and faithful, which was more
than could be said for some of the king’s servants. So the king made
Daniel first ruler in the kingdom--a very high position indeed; but the
proud nobles and princes of Babylon were very angry at this.
“He’s only a foreigner,” some said. “We despise him.”
“He was little better than a slave when he came here; now he rules over
us,” others said. “We hate him.”
Then they put their heads together and plotted to kill Daniel. “Come,”
the plotters said. “Let us search his record and accuse him to the
king. He must be dishonest, or a bribe-taker, to succeed like this.”
These men judged Daniel by themselves. They searched high and they
searched low, but could not find a single item of wrongdoing. Daniel
was true to his trust. His enemies were defeated, but not for long; for
they kept on plotting.
“Why didn’t we think of it before?” cried one. “We’ll put him in a
trap. His religion--he won’t give that up even to save his life.”
II
Now, you must know that the people of Babylon worshipped idols; Daniel
worshipped the true God.
This is the trap they laid for Daniel. They went to the king and said:
“King Darius, live forever. All the nobles and princes of the kingdom
desire to pass a law that whoever shall pray to any god or man for
thirty days, save to thee, O king, shall be thrown into the den of
lions. Now, O king, sign the writing that it be not changed, according
to the laws of Babylon which alter not.”
This pleased the king’s vanity and he signed the law, not knowing that
it was aimed at Daniel.
Then the plotters set spies to catch Daniel.
When Daniel knew that the law was signed, he might have said to
himself: “Oh, well, it’s only for thirty days; I won’t pray at all;
or I’ll pray in secret; or I’ll go to the king, who is my friend, and
explain the plot.”
He did none of these things. This is what he did. He went into his
house; up the stairs to his bedroom; opened the window toward the
far-off city of his birth; knelt down and prayed to his God. He did
this at morning, at noon, at night--three times a day as he had always
done.
III
Daniel did just what his enemies had expected. He walked right into
their trap, rather than disobey his conscience. It took a brave heart
to do that. To be thrown into the den of lions meant certain death.
“Ha! ha!” laughed the plotters, “now we have him;” and they came in the
morning to report to the king.
“O great king,” they said, “this foreigner, Daniel, pays no regard to
the law that thou hast signed, but openly worships his God three times
a day.”
Then the king was very angry with himself for having signed the law.
All that day he tried to find some way to save Daniel, but could not;
for the laws of Babylon, once made, could not be changed.
The same evening, the plotters came again, accusing Daniel. Then the
king could wait no longer and sent for Daniel.
“O Daniel,” said the king, “the law must be obeyed. It may be that thy
God whom thou servest continually will deliver thee.”
Daniel made no reply.
Then the king sadly ordered the soldiers to take Daniel to the lions.
The den was underground. As the soldiers removed the flat stone from
the mouth of the den, the snarling beasts could be heard below.
Quickly they lifted Daniel and threw him in. He made no resistance.
They replaced the stone over the mouth of the den, and the king sealed
it, so that no one could open the den without his permission.
Then the king went to his palace. He sent away the musicians and
refused to eat. All night long he tossed on his bed and could not
sleep.
Meanwhile, Daniel’s enemies were having a merry time, drinking to
celebrate their victory.
By daylight, the king was in a fever. Hastily he rose, ran out of his
palace to the den, and ordered the guard to remove the stone.
Then he stooped and looked down, fearful of what he was sure had
happened. All was quiet.
“O Daniel, Daniel,” he cried. “Is thy God able to deliver thee from the
lions?”
Then up from the den rose Daniel’s voice, clear and steady:
“O king, live forever. My God hath sent his angel to shut the lions’
mouths, and they have not hurt me, for I have done no wrong.”
“Lift him out! Lift him out!” cried the king, too happy to wait another
moment.
Quickly they lifted Daniel into the daylight. Not a scratch was found
on him anywhere.
Then the king ordered the plotters to be brought to the den immediately.
“You laid a trap for my faithful servant, Daniel,” cried the king to
them, “and have walked into it yourselves. The fate you intended for
him is reserved for you. What have you to say?”
But they could say nothing, save to beg for mercy.
“Away with them to the lions!” ordered the king.
* * * * *
Whene’er a noble deed is wrought,
Whene’er is spoken a noble thought,
Our hearts, in glad surprise,
To higher levels rise.
--_Henry W. Longfellow._
[Illustration]
BETTER NOT, BOB!
I
Thud! thud! thud! “Hit him in the eye!” “Knock the pipe out of his
mouth!” “Ha! ha! there goes his nose!” “I hit him that time!”
The victim of this piece of cruelty was only a snowman, which the boys
of Strappington School had set up in their playground.
But how was Mr. Gregor, who lived next door to the school, to know that
it was only a snowman? And what was more natural than that he should
peep over the playground wall to see what was going on? And how was
little Ralph Ruddy to know that Mr. Gregor was there? And how was he to
know that the snowball which was meant for the snowman’s pipe would
land itself on Mr. Gregor’s nose?
Oh, the horror that seized upon the school at that dire event, and the
dead silence that reigned in that playground! For those were the good
old times of long ago, when anything that went wrong was set right with
a birch-rod. Little Ralph Ruddy knew only too well what was coming,
when he saw the angry man stalk into the schoolhouse and speak to the
schoolmaster.
When the bell rang at four o’clock, the boys came out; and among them
was Bob Hardy, the son of a poor farm laborer.
“It’s a shame,” muttered Bob, “to make a row ’bout an accident. Of
course the schoolmaster had to take some notice of it. He is talking
to little Ralph now. I told him Ralph did not mean to do it. Just the
same, I’ll smash old Gregor’s windows for him.”
And Bob meant to do it, too. When all were asleep, he made his way down
to the schoolhouse by moonlight, with a pocketful of stones.
He climbed the wall of the playground, and stood there all ready to
open fire, when a voice startled him, a sort of shivering whisper.
“Better not, Bob! better wait a bit!” said the voice.
Bob dropped the stone and looked about; but there was no one near him
except the snowman shining weirdly in the pale moonlight. However,
the words set Bob to thinking, and instead of breaking Mr. Gregor’s
windows, he went home again and got into bed.
II
That was in January; and when January was done February came, as
happens in most years. February brought good fortune--at least Bob’s
mother said so, for she got work at the squire’s for which she was well
paid.
But it did not turn out to be such very good fortune, after all; for
the butler said she stole a silver spoon, and told the squire so; and
if the butler could have proved what he said, the squire would have
sent her to prison; but he could not, so she got off; and Bob’s mother
declared that she had no doubt the butler took the spoon himself.
“All right,” said Bob to himself, “I’ll try the strength of my new
oaken stick across that butler’s back.” And he meant it too, for that
very evening he shouldered his cudgel and tramped away to the big
house. When he got there the door stood wide open; so in he walked.
Now, there hung in the hall the portrait of a queer old lady in a stiff
frill and a long waist and an old-fashioned hoop petticoat; and when
Bob entered the house, what should this old lady do but shake her head
at him! To be sure, there was only a flickering lamp in the entry, and
Bob thought at first it must have been the dim light and his own fancy;
so he went striding through the hall with his cudgel in his hand:
“Better not, Bob!” said the old lady; “better wait a bit!”
“Why, they won’t let me do anything!” grumbled Bob; but he went home
without thrashing the butler, all the same.
III
That was in February, you know. Well, when February was done, March
came, and with it came greater ill-fortune than ever; for Bob’s father
was driving his master’s horse and cart to market, when what should
jump out of the ditch but old Nanny Jones’s donkey, an ugly beast at
the best of times, and enough to frighten any horse. But what must
the brute do on this occasion but set up a terrific braying, which
sent Farmer Thornycroft’s new horse nearly out of his wits, so that he
backed the cart and all that was in it--including Bob’s father--into
the ditch.
A pretty sight they looked there, for the horse was sitting where the
driver ought to be, and Bob’s father was seated, much against his wish,
in a large basket full of eggs, with his legs sticking out one side and
his head the other.
Of course, Farmer Thornycroft did not like to lose his eggs--who
would?--for even the most obliging hens cannot be persuaded to lay an
extra number in order to make up for those that are broken; but for all
that, Farmer Thornycroft had no right to lay all the blame on Bob’s
father, and keep two shillings out of his week’s wage.
So Bob’s father protested, and that made Farmer Thornycroft angry; and
then, since fire kindles fire, Bob’s father grew angry too, and called
the farmer a cruel brute; so the farmer dismissed him and gave him no
wages at all.
We can hardly be surprised that when Bob heard of all this he felt a
trifle out of sorts. He went pelting over the fields, and all the way,
he muttered to himself, “A cruel shame I call it, but I’ll pay him
back; I mean to let his sheep out of the pen, and then I will just go
and tell him that I’ve done it.”
[Illustration]
Now, the field just before you come to Farmer Thornycroft’s sheep-pen
was sown with spring wheat, and they had put up a scarecrow there to
frighten the birds away. The scarecrow was truly sorry to see Bob
scouring across the field in such a temper; so just as Bob passed him,
he flapped out at him with one sleeve, and the boy turned sharply round
to see who it was.
“Only a scarecrow,” said he, “blown about by the wind,” and went on his
way. But as he went, strange to say, he thought he heard a voice call
after him, “Better not, Bob! better wait a bit!”
So Bob went home again, and never let the sheep astray after all; but
he thought it very hard that he might not punish either Mr. Gregor or
the butler or the farmer.
IV
Now, the folk that hide behind the shadows thought well of Bob for his
self-restraint, and they determined that they would work for him and
make all straight again. So when Bob went down to the riverside next
day, and took out his knife to cut some reeds for “whistle-pipes,”
Father Pan breathed upon the reeds and enchanted them. “What a breeze!”
exclaimed Bob; but he knew nothing at all of what had in reality
happened.
Bob finished his pan-pipes, and trudged along and whistled on them to
his heart’s content. When he got to the village, he was surprised to
see a little girl begin to dance to his tune, and then another little
girl, and then another. Bob was so astonished that he left off playing,
and stood looking at them, open-mouthed, with wonder. But as soon as he
left off playing, the little girls ceased to dance, and begged him not
to play again, for the whistle-pipes, they were sure, must be bewitched.
“Ho! ho!” cried Bob, “here’s a pretty game. I’ll just give old Gregor a
turn. Come! that will not do him any harm, at any rate!”
Strange to say, at that very moment Mr. Gregor came along the street.
“Toot! toot! toot! tweedle, tweedle, toot!” went the pan-pipes; and
away went Mr. Gregor’s legs, cutting such capers as the world never
looked upon before. Gaily trudged Bob along the street, and gaily
danced Mr. Gregor. The people looked out of their windows, and laughed;
and the poor man begged Bob to leave off playing.
“No, no,” answered Bob; “poor little Ralph Ruddy never meant to hit
you, and you made him dance with pain. It is your turn now.”
Just then the squire’s butler came down the street. Of course, he was
much puzzled to see Mr. Gregor dancing to the sound of a boy’s whistle,
but he was presently more surprised to find himself doing the very same
thing. He tried with all his might to retain his stately gait; but
it was all of no use. His legs flew up in spite of himself, and away
he went behind Mr. Gregor following Bob all through the village and
dancing for all he was worth.
The best sight was still to come; for the tyrannical Farmer Thornycroft
was just then walking home from market in a great heat, with a big
sample of corn in each of his side-pockets; and turning suddenly round
a corner, he went right into the middle of the strange procession and
began to dance in a moment. Up flew his great fat legs, and away he
went, pitching and tossing, and jumping and twirling, and jigging up
and down like an elephant in a fit.
How the people laughed, to be sure, standing in their doorways, and
viewing this odd trio! Mr. Gregor was nearly fainting, the butler was
in despair, and the perspiration poured down the farmer’s face; but
that mattered not to Bob; he had promised himself to take them for a
dance all round the village, and he did it. At length, when he had
completed the tour, he stopped for just one moment, and asked Mr.
Gregor whether he would beg Ralph Ruddy’s pardon; and Mr. Gregor said
he would, if only Bob would leave off playing.
[Illustration]
Then Bob asked the farmer if he would take his father back and pay him
his wages, and the farmer said he would; and, finally, he made the
butler promise to tell the squire that his mother had nothing to do
with stealing the silver spoon.
Then Bob left off playing. The three poor men went home in a terrible
plight; and Mr. Gregor begged little Ralph’s pardon; and the butler
cleared the stain from Bob’s mother’s character; and Bob’s father went
back to work; and Farmer Thornycroft soon afterwards took Bob on too,
and he made the best farm-boy that ever lived.
--_Adapted from the story in Little Folks
By Hartley Richards._
QUESTIONS
Did a little voice ever say “Better not” to you?
Did you listen?
Were you glad afterwards?
MEMORY GEMS
Boys flying kites haul in their white-winged birds;
You can’t do that way when you’re flying words.
“Careful with fire,” is good advice we know;
“Careful with words,” is ten times doubly so.
Thoughts unexpressed may sometimes fall back dead;
But God himself can’t kill them when they’re said.
--_Will Carleton._
* * * * *
Help the weak if you are strong;
Love the old if you are young;
Own a fault if you are wrong;
If you’re angry, hold your tongue.
THE KNIGHTS OF THE SILVER SHIELD
I
Once upon a time, a long while ago, in a big dark forest there was a
great gray castle. It had high stone walls and tall turrets that you
could see a long way off over the tree-tops.
Perhaps you are wondering who lived in this castle far off in the woods.
Well, you see there were cruel giants in the forest--so cruel that the
king kept a company of knights in the castle to help travelers.
These knights wore the most wonderful suits of armor you ever saw. They
had tall helmets on their heads, with long red plumes floating behind.
They carried long spears, too; but the most wonderful thing about them
was their shields. These had been made by a great magician, and when
the knights first got them they were all cloudy; but as their owners
did more and more brave deeds, the shields grew brighter and brighter.
Once in a long while, when a knight had fought a terribly hard battle
or had done a great many very, very brave deeds, a beautiful golden
star would appear in the center of the shield.
One day a messenger came riding up to the castle in great haste. He was
terribly excited and he shouted, “The giants are coming! They are all
gathered together to fight you!”
You can imagine the commotion that took place in the castle! There
was a great hurrying and scurrying to bolt and bar all the doors and
windows, to polish armor, and to get everything ready.
The youngest knight of all, Sir Roland, was so happy that he did not
know what to do! You see, he had done many brave deeds already, and he
was thinking how much brighter his shield would be now that he had a
chance to go into a real battle. He could hardly wait!
By and by, all the knights were ready and the lord of the castle said:
“Somebody must stay here to guard the gate. Sir Roland, you are the
youngest; suppose you stay; and remember--don’t let any one in.”
Poor Sir Roland! I wonder if you can imagine how he felt. Why, he just
felt as if he wanted to die! To think that he had to stay at home when
he wanted to go more than anyone else. But he was a real knight, so he
made no reply.
He even tried to smile as he stood at the gate and watched all the
other knights ride away with their banners flying and their armor
flashing in the sunshine and their red plumes waving in the wind. Oh,
how he did want to go! He watched till they had galloped out of sight,
and then he went back into the lonely castle.
II
After a long while, one of the knights came limping back from the
battle.
“Oh, it’s a dreadful fight,” he said. “I think you ought to go and
help. I’ve been wounded; but I’ll guard the gate while you go.”
You see, he wasn’t a brave knight and he was glad to get away from the
battle. Sir Roland’s face became all happy again, for he thought, “Here
is my chance!” And he was just about to go; when, suddenly, he seemed
to hear a voice, “You stay to guard the gate; and remember--don’t let
any one in.” So instead of going, he said, “I can’t let any one in, not
even you. I must stay and guard the gate. Your place is at the battle.”
That sounds easy to say, doesn’t it? But it was very hard to do, when
he wanted to go more than anything else in the world.
After the knight had gone, there was nothing for him to do but to
wonder how the fight was going and to wish that he was right in the
midst of it.
III
By and by, he saw a little bent old woman coming along the road. Oh,
I almost forgot to tell you that all around the castle there was a
moat--a sort of ditch, filled with water--and the only way to get to
the castle was over a little narrow drawbridge that led to the gate.
When the knights didn’t want any one to come in, they could pull the
bridge up against the wall.
Well, the little old woman came up and asked Sir Roland if she might
come in to get something to eat. Sir Roland said, “Nobody may come in
today; but I’ll get you some food.”
So he called one of the servants; and while she waited the old woman
began to talk.
“My, there is a terrible fight in the forest,” she said.
“How is it going?” Sir Roland asked.
“Badly for the knights,” she replied. “It is a wonder to me that you
are not out there fighting, instead of standing here doing nothing.”
“I have to stay to guard the gate,” said Sir Roland.
“Hm-m-m,” said the old woman. “I guess you are one of those knights who
don’t like to fight. I guess you are glad of an excuse to stay home.”
And she laughed at him and made fun of him.
Sir Roland was so angry that he opened his lips to answer; and then he
remembered that she was old. So he closed them again, and gave her the
food. Then she went away.
Now, he wanted to go more than ever since he knew that the knights were
losing the battle. It was pretty hard to be laughed at and called a
coward! Oh, how he did want to go!
IV
Soon a queer little old man came up the road. He wore a long black
cloak and he called out to Sir Roland, “My, what a lazy knight! Why
aren’t you at the fight? See, I have brought you a magic sword.”
He pulled out from under his cloak the most wonderful sword you ever
saw. It flashed like diamonds in the sun.
[Illustration: SEE, I HAVE BROUGHT YOU A MAGIC SWORD]
“If you take this to the fight you will win for your lord. Nothing can
stand before it.”
Sir Roland reached for it, and the little old man stepped on the
drawbridge. Suddenly, the knight remembered, and said, “No!” so loudly
that the old man stepped back. But still he called out, “Take it! It is
the sword of all swords! It is for you!”
Sir Roland wanted it so badly that, for fear he might take it, he
called the porters to pull up the drawbridge.
Then, as he watched from the gate, what do you think happened? It was
the most wonderful thing you could imagine! The little old man began to
grow and grow till he was one of the giants! Then Sir Roland knew that
he had almost let one of the enemy into the castle.
V
For a while, everything was very quiet. Suddenly, he heard a sound,
and soon he saw the knights riding toward the castle so happily that
he knew that they had won. Soon they were inside, and were talking
together about all the brave deeds they had done.
The lord of the castle sat down on his high seat in the main hall with
all his knights around him. Sir Roland stepped up to give him the key
of the gate. All at once, one of the knights cried, “The shield! Sir
Roland’s shield!”
And there, shining in the center, was a beautiful golden star. Sir
Roland was holding his shield in front of him, so he could not see it.
But the others looked and wondered; and the lord of the castle asked,
“What happened? Did the giants come? Did you fight any alone?”
“No,” said Sir Roland. “Only one came, and soon he went away again.”
Then he told all about the little old woman and the little old man, and
the knights still wondered about the star. But the lord of the castle
said, “Men make mistakes, but our shields never do. Sir Roland has
fought and won the greatest battle of all today.”
--_Raymond M. Alden--Adapted._
QUESTIONS
It was much harder for Sir Roland to stay and guard the gate than
it would have been for him to go to the fight, wasn’t it?
How many times was he tempted?
What might have happened if he had not guarded the gate?
Which knight gained the greatest victory of all?
Over whom did he gain it?
Can you remember a time when you did the right thing even though
you felt very much like doing something else?
MEMORY GEMS
He that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a
city.--_Bible._
A strong heart may be ruined in fortune, but not in
spirit.--_Victor Hugo._
Be sure to put your feet in the right place; then stand
firm.--_Lincoln._
He who cannot control himself cannot control others.
[Illustration]
THE PRINCE AND THE CRUMBS OF DOUGH
Once upon a time, so an old story says, a certain king was anxious that
his son, the prince, should marry the most thrifty maiden to be found
in his kingdom.
So he invited to the palace on a certain date all the young women of
the country, for that was the custom when a new princess was to be
chosen.
On every side were arranged long tables, at which each girl was given a
place.
Upon the tables were the materials and bowls and pans needed in making
bread. In the center of the room on a small platform sat the king and
queen, the prince, and several courtiers.
When they had all taken their places, the king announced that there
would be a contest in bread-mixing; and that a handsome prize would be
given to the young woman who, in the judgment of the king and queen,
made bread in the best way.
You can imagine how excited all the young women were, and how each one
set about her task trembling with nervousness, yet in her secret heart
hoping to win the prize.
You can imagine, too, how difficult it was to act as judge; for the
king and queen knew there must be several young women there who could
make bread equally well.
Every once in a while, the king whispered to the queen, and the queen
smiled and shook her head doubtfully, as if to say, “We shall have a
hard task to judge with fairness.”
In one corner of the room, working very quietly, was a very pretty
young girl. She was so far away from the king and queen, who were a
little near-sighted, that they had not observed her as carefully as
they had some of the others. But when the prince leaned forward and
spoke to them, they raised their hand glasses and turned their eyes in
her direction, to watch her every motion.
“We will examine the loaves as soon as they are placed in the pans,”
announced the king presently; and soon he led the queen and the prince
around the tables.
They came last to the place where the fair young girl was standing. The
king and queen looked not only at the beautiful white loaves in the
pans, but at the empty bowl in which the dough had been mixed. They
looked at each other, and nodded and smiled; then at the prince, and
nodded and smiled.
“What is your name, my dear?” asked the king, turning toward the table
once more.
“Hildegarde,” replied the maiden, blushing with shyness.
“Come with us,” said the king and the queen leading the way; and the
prince bowed low before her.
“May I escort you, Miss Hildegarde?” he asked, offering his arm, on
which she hesitated to place her hand, fearing lest the flour might
mark his velvet coat.
Upon this, the prince drew her hand through his arm, and they followed
the king and queen.
When they reached the platform, the king took Hildegarde’s hand in his.
“We, the king and queen, judge that this young lady has won the prize
because she has made bread in the best way,” he announced. “All of you
have made beautiful loaves; but Hildegarde is the only one who has
_scraped all the dough from the bowl and paddle, wasting nothing_. Let
the prince present the prize. Kneel, Hildegarde.”
As the maiden knelt on the cushion at the feet of the king and queen,
the prince came forward and placed a sparkling diamond ring on her
finger, and raised her to her feet.
“Will you accept it as a betrothal ring, and become my princess?” he
whispered; and Hildegarde answered, “Yes.”
“The prince goes with the prize,” said the king; “for he wants to have
for his princess the most thrifty maiden in the land.”
All the young women were invited to the wedding of the prince and
Hildegarde, and each received as a souvenir a beautiful little gold
purse in the form of a loaf of bread.
QUESTIONS
Did the king and queen and prince need the crumbs of dough?
Then why do you think Hildegarde was chosen?
Why does it pay to save little things?
Do you know that the gold dust in the sweepings at the mint amounts
to many dollars in a year?
Can you think of something you could save at your house?
* * * * *
We shape ourselves the joy or fear
Of which the coming life is made;
And fill our future atmosphere
With sunshine or with shade.
--_Whittier._
THE TRAMP
I
“Oh, mother, I saw such a funny old tramp up the street,” said Stella,
as she came running into the house. “The boys were calling him names.
‘Look at old red nose,’ they called. He was so angry; you ought to have
seen him shake his stick at them.”
“That was very wrong--to make fun of an old man, even if he was a
tramp,” replied Mrs. Clark, looking serious.
“Yes, that is what I thought, mother. He seemed so poor and old. His
clothes were shabby, his shoes were full of holes, and his hat was too
big for him. He had such a bristly beard and such a red nose, and was
so dirty!”
“Poor old man, one can not help feeling sorry for him,” sighed Mrs.
Clark.
“But what makes him so poor, mother?”
“It may be misfortune, my dear; but usually tramps will not work, nor
will they stay in one place. They prefer to wander from place to place
and beg for food. But come, dinner is ready.”
Just as they were seated at the table, they heard a heavy step on the
back porch; and a moment later there came a rap on the kitchen door.
The little girl went to open the door. In a moment, she came running
back with a frightened look on her face.
“Quick, mother,” she cried, “here is the tramp at our back door.”
[Illustration]
“Don’t be frightened, dear. I’ll go to the door,” said Mrs. Clark.
“Please, ma’am, will you give me a bite to eat? I’m hungry. I haven’t
had anything to eat to-day,” begged the tramp, touching his old
battered hat.
Mrs. Clark was about to shut the door, but seeing the discouraged look
in the tramp’s face, she quickly changed her mind.
“Yes, I’ll give you something,” she said. “Sit down on the porch.”
With a look of grateful relief, the tramp sank down on the step.
In a minute, Mrs. Clark brought him a big bowl of the warm soup she had
prepared for dinner, and two thick slices of bread.
Clinging close to her mother, Stella watched the tramp devour the food
greedily.
“My, he must have been hungry!” she thought.
II
After the tramp had eaten most of the food, Mrs. Clark asked, “Where is
your home?”
“I have no home, lady.”
“But where do you live?”
“Oh, anywhere I happen to be.”
“Yes, but where do you sleep?”
“Sometimes in the station house; sometimes in barns; anywhere I can.”
“Where are your friends?”
“I haven’t any friends, lady, except kind-hearted people like you, who
sometimes take pity on me and give me something to eat.”
“What will become of you?”
“I don’t know, lady; I don’t know, and sometimes I don’t care.”
“I do not mean to be curious, but would you mind telling me how you
came to be in such a plight?” said the kind woman.
“It is a long story,” said the tramp wearily. “I had a good home and
was well brought up; but somehow I never seemed to prosper for long. I
guess I was slack and careless; everything seemed to come so hard and
go so easily. I worked on and off. When I got anything I ate it up,
drank it up, or let it get away--didn’t know how to save--and now I am
old and have no home and nobody to respect me.” A tear trickled down
the old man’s red nose.
Then he stood up and handed back the empty bowl. “But I must not
bother you with my troubles,” he said. “Thank you for the food and for
speaking kindly to me.” With that, he tipped his hat and hobbled off.
They watched him out of the window as he went down the street. Soon
they saw a police officer come around the corner.
He stopped the tramp, spoke to him, and pointed up the road leading out
of town.
“What did the officer tell him, mother?” asked the little girl.
“I think he told him to move on,” replied Mrs. Clark sadly. “Come,
dear, dinner will be cold.”
A few days later, Aunt Anne came from the next town to visit the family.
Stella eagerly told her about the tramp.
“Why, that must be the poor old man the police found one morning in our
park. He was lying on a bench, sick; he had completely given out,” said
Aunt Anne.
“What did they do with him?” asked Stella.
“They put him in the ambulance and took him off to the county poor
farm.”
“The poor farm?”
“Yes, that is where tramps and shiftless people generally land.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” exclaimed the little girl. “Aunty, I don’t see why
tramps don’t work?”
“Neither do I,” said Aunt Anne, shaking her head.
QUESTIONS
Why is it that no one respects a tramp?
Does a man who works hard often become a tramp?
Name some of the things a tramp wastes that he should save.
What must we do in order to have plenty to eat and wear, and to
have a comfortable home to live in?
What must we do with part of the money we earn?
Does a tramp ever have a bank account?
Can a tramp be of help to others? Why not?
* * * * *
I have a gift to use,
Entrusted to my care;
It’s not a costly gift,
And neither is it rare.
It must be used at once,
So quickly tell me how--
You have it; I have it;
Its name is--Right Now.
UNCLE SAM’S MONEY
I
There is one thing that Uncle Sam likes to do for his people himself,
and that he forbids any one else to do under penalty of the law. He
likes to make their money.
One of his first acts when setting up in business was to start a
factory, the United States Mint, for the coining of money. There are
several mints now, and in them is made all the money that circulates in
the United States.
Uncle Sam makes five kinds of money: gold money, silver money, nickel
money, copper money, and paper money; and places on each piece the
United States stamp.
One peculiar thing about money is that you cannot eat it when hungry,
drink it when thirsty, wear it for clothing, or build a house out of
it. What kind of cake, or coat, or house would pennies or nickels or
silver dollars make?
King Midas--in the story of the Golden Touch--found this out to his
sorrow.
II
There is one thing, however, that money will do a little better than
anything else; and it is because it will do this thing that Uncle Sam
makes it.
Money enables us to buy food to eat, clothing to wear, and houses to
live in. It is of little value in itself, except as it enables us to
purchase the things we need.
Just imagine what would happen if there were no such thing as money.
Suppose you are working for a baker. At the end of each week, pay day
comes; but there is no money, so the baker offers you three hundred
loaves of bread for your week’s work. These loaves of bread you would
have to exchange for clothing or other needs. This would be a very
troublesome thing to do.
To overcome this trouble, therefore, money was invented. Money
represents labor or goods. You are paid for your labor or your goods,
not in other labor or goods, but in money, which you can carry in your
pocket or keep in the bank. And with this money you can buy whatever
you need.
Money enables you to leave in the bakery the three hundred loaves of
bread you earned, and to buy a loaf as you need it.
Money, then, takes the place of goods, because it can be exchanged for
them. To lose or waste money is the same as losing or wasting the goods
that money will buy.
A family would be considered foolish to throw enough money to buy a
loaf of bread into the river. Yet what difference is there between this
family and the one that wastes a loaf of bread, a slice at a time? To
waste money or goods is just as bad as to throw them away.
[Illustration]
THREE WAYS TO USE MONEY
When we earn money, there are just three ways in which we can use it
rightly: save part, spend part, give part away. All three uses are very
important.
Money saved should be put in the bank. There it grows by what you add
to it from time to time. It also grows by the addition of the interest
which the bank pays for the use of money. Money saved is always ready
for a rainy day. People who save money always have money to spend.
The spending of money is quite as important as the saving of it. Money
should be spent for food to nourish our bodies, for garments to clothe
them, and for houses to protect them.
When buying by the pound, see that you get full weight; when buying by
the yard or peck, see that you get full measure. The principal thing in
buying is to get all that you pay for. In selling, the principal thing
is to give full value for the money that you receive.
Money should also be spent for education. Money spent in educating the
mind is money well spent. The great successes in life are made by boys
and girls who go to school and learn all they can. Many stories could
be told about children who have earned and saved money to go to school,
and of parents who have sacrificed many pleasures and comforts to help
their children gain an education.
To give money away wisely is quite as important as saving or spending
it. Money should be saved, not only to spend, but to give away. Else
what will you do when Christmas comes and when birthdays come?
Besides, there are the churches, hospitals, orphanages, the Red Cross,
and many other good causes that need our gifts. We give our money to
these, not with the idea of what we can get out of them, but for the
pleasure of helping to make the world a pleasanter and better place in
which to live.
QUESTIONS
Do you know that many people start in life without money, and by
saving little sums become prosperous?
When you go to the library, will you ask for books that tell about
successful men, and read about how each of them started in life?
Do you know anyone who has earned or saved money in order to go to
school?
THRIFT DAY
I
“Spend, but do not waste;
Save, but do not be a miser.”
February third has recently been set aside in many places as Thrift Day.
Thrift means wise management.
A thrifty person never wastes what could be saved by thoughtfulness.
A thrifty person is one who does not waste anything, but gets the full
value of everything.
A thrifty person sets traps to catch the waste, and changes it into
things worth having.
Those who know, say that American people are the most wasteful of all
people in the world.
They tell us that we waste money, food, forests, time, energy, and
thousands of the little daily supplies which we might save.
If we all save what we can, it will be a very large amount when added
together.
It seems like a little thing to throw away one sheet of paper, doesn’t
it?
Suppose you count the number of sheets of paper in your writing pad
at school. Let us say there are one hundred sheets, and that each pad
costs the Board of Education five cents. If there are forty thousand
children who waste one sheet of paper a day, the wasted sheets will
amount to four hundred pads a day. At five cents a pad, four hundred
pads will cost twenty dollars a day. There are about two hundred
school days a year. Multiply twenty dollars by two hundred and you
will find that the wasted sheets would cost four thousand dollars in a
school year!
You would never have imagined that, would you? See how much the school
boys and girls can save for the taxpayers, and for the children who
will come to school later. That is being thrifty.
If there were but ten thousand boxes of matches in our country, think
how careful we would be not to waste one match. But few people think
about so simple a matter. Yet matches are made from wood; and forests
have to be cut down to make the matches we use.
Old rags and old rubber do not seem to be of any value; yet in every
city there are men who grow rich by collecting them.
In some schools the children bring old newspapers on a certain day, and
you would be surprised to learn how much money one school made in this
way for new playground games. That was thrift.
It seems to be a very little thing to play or idle away an evening; yet
it was in odd moments that some of our greatest men studied until they
were well educated.
Abraham Lincoln never “lost sixty golden minutes somewhere between
sunrise and sunset.”
II
You all know the story of Benjamin Franklin--how he began life as a
poor boy, and how by thrift, he became later in life one of the most
useful and wealthy citizens of America.
Benjamin Franklin learned great wisdom through his experiences, and
he was anxious that other people might learn the same lessons; so he
printed an almanac and put into it many wise sayings, which he hoped
would be remembered.
He called his almanac “Poor Richard’s Almanac.” Here are a few of its
wise sayings:
“For age and want, save while you may;
No morning sun lasts all the day.”
“But dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is
the stuff life is made of.”
“A small leak will sink a ship.”
“Be ashamed to catch yourself idle.”
“Always taking out of a meal-tub and never putting in soon comes to
the bottom.”
“One to-day is worth two to-morrows.”
“Many a little makes a mickle.”
“Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; that is,
waste nothing.”
“No pains, no gains.”
[Illustration]
QUESTIONS
Can you think of some ways in which you can save your clothing?
Have you ever tried forming a Thrift Club in your class to see what
and how much you can save?
What might you do with the money?
[Illustration: HOW DOES THE KEEPING OF A GARDEN HELP IN FEEDING THE
HUNGRY WORLD?]
[Illustration: I HAVE EATEN EVERYTHING ON MY PLATE AND WASTED NOTHING.
HOW DOES THIS HELP TO]
[Illustration: FEED THE HUNGRY WORLD?]
[Illustration]
HOW RICHARD PLANTED A DOLLAR
I
When vacation time came, Richard went to visit his Uncle Dick on the
farm.
He fed the chickens regularly, and he drove the cows and sheep to
pasture. Indeed, he worked so hard and helped so much that his uncle
promised to pay him.
So one day Uncle Dick handed him a silver dollar. Richard was delighted
to think he had earned so much money. He put the dollar first into one
pocket, then into another. This seemed to amuse Uncle Dick.
“What are you going to do with your money?” he asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” Richard replied. “What would you do with it,
uncle?”
“I think that I should plant it,” said Uncle Dick.
“Plant it!” exclaimed Richard. “Why, will it grow?”
“Yes,” said Uncle Dick, “it will, if it is planted in the right place.”
Just then some one called him away, and he forgot about Richard and his
dollar.
But Richard did not forget. The next morning bright and early, he was
out digging in the garden.
“What are you going to plant?” asked Uncle Dick when he saw him.
“My dollar,” answered Richard, pulling the money proudly out of his
pocket. Then seeing the smile in his uncle’s face he added, “You know
you said it would grow, uncle, if I planted it in the right place.
Isn’t this the right place?”
“Did you think I meant that pennies would grow on bushes?” said
Uncle Dick. “I didn’t mean that, boy. I’m going to drive over to
Bernardsville after breakfast. If you will go with me, I will show you
the right place to plant a dollar to make it grow.”
Richard hurried with his breakfast because he was greatly excited by
the thought of his ride.
As they drove toward the town, every now and then he put his hand in
his pocket to see if his dollar was safe.
II
Finally, they reached Bernardsville, and Uncle Dick drew up before a
large stone building. “This is a bank, a place where dollars grow,” he
explained. “Come inside with me and, if you wish, we will plant your
dollar.”
He led the way to a window over a high counter.
“How do you do, Mr. Cashier?” he said. “This young man is my nephew,
and he wishes to plant a dollar so that it may start to grow. Will you
please show him the right place to plant it?”
“Indeed I shall be glad to,” said the man behind the window. “If your
nephew will hand me his dollar, I will plant it for him.”
Richard gravely pulled the money from his pocket and handed it through
the window. The man gave him a card and asked him to write his name.
When Richard returned the card, Mr. Cashier took up a neat little book,
wrote Richard’s name on the cover and made a note inside the book,
which said that Richard had one dollar in the bank. Then he gave him
the book, together with a pretty nickel home-safe, such as savings
banks keep for children who save pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters,
and, sometimes, even dollars.
“This is a home-savings bank,” explained Mr. Cashier. “Your dollar
which you handed through the window will grow in two ways. We will make
it grow by paying you interest. You may make it grow by adding more
money to it. You take this little nickel safe, and put your pennies and
other money into it; when you come again to our bank, bring it with
you. See, here is the key I shall use for unlocking it. I will add what
is in it to the dollar you already have.”
“Don’t we get the key?” asked Richard in a whisper, as other people
came up to the window, and he and his uncle passed on.
“No,” answered his uncle. “If we had it, we might be tempted to open
the safe and use the money; then your dollar wouldn’t grow.”
“What did Mr. Cashier mean by saying, ‘we will make your money grow?’”
asked Richard when they were once more driving toward home.
“He meant that the bank people will pay you three cents for every
dollar you let them use for a year.”
“Isn’t that fine!” exclaimed Richard. Then he opened the box that held
his pretty home-safe.
“The next time we take this to bank,” he said, “when I shake it, it
will jingle.”
“I believe it will!” said Uncle Dick laughing; “and I believe it will
make your first dollar grow big.”
And it did; for Richard worked hard and saved almost all of his money.
When the cashier opened it with the key the next time Richard and Uncle
Dick went to the bank, even he seemed surprised as he counted the money.
“Well, young man,” he said, “I see you know one way to plant a dollar
and make it grow.”
HOW TO START A BANK ACCOUNT
I
EVERY BOY AND GIRL SHOULD HAVE A BANK ACCOUNT
The first dollar is the hardest to save, but not so hard as it seems.
If you save five cents a week you will have your first dollar in twenty
weeks.
If you save ten cents a week you will have your first dollar in half
the time, or in ten weeks.
If you are able to save twenty-five cents a week you will have your
first dollar in one-fifth of the time, or in four weeks.
When you put this dollar in the savings bank you have started a bank
account, which is something to be proud of.
If you save regularly it will not be long before you have another
dollar to add to the one already in the bank.
Money is saved a little at a time.
A mile is walked one step at a time.
A house is built one brick at a time, one nail at a time.
If you save at the rate of five cents a week for a year, how much money
will you have in the bank?
If at the rate of ten cents a week for a year, how much will you have?
If at the rate of twenty-five cents a week for a year, how much?
Money in the bank keeps on growing because the bank adds interest for
the use of your money.
By and by, you will want a sum of money for some important thing. Then
you will be glad that you have a bank account to help you.
Why not begin saving for it today?
II
INTEREST TABLES
These tables show how money grows when placed at simple interest.
AT THREE PER CENT
------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------
| $1 | $2 | $3 | $4 | $5 | $6 | $7 | $8 | $9 | $10 | $100 | $1000
------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------
1 year| .03 | .06 | .09 | .12 | .15 | .18 | .21 | .24 | .27 | .30 | 3.00 | 30.00
6 mos | .01 | .03 | .04 | .06 | .07 | .09 | .10 | .12 | .13 | .15 | 1.50 | 15.00
3 mos | .00 | .01 | .02 | .03 | .03 | .04 | .05 | .06 | .06 | .07 | .75 | 7.50
------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------
AT FIVE PER CENT
------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------
| $1 | $2 | $3 | $4 | $5 | $6 | $7 | $8 | $9 | $10 | $100 | $1000
------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------
1 year| .05 | .10 | .15 | .20 | .25 | .30 | .35 | .40 | .45 | .50 | 5.00 | 50.00
6 mos.| .02 | .05 | .07 | .10 | .12 | .15 | .17 | .20 | .22 | .25 | 2.50 | 25.00
3 mos.| .01 | .02 | .03 | .05 | .06 | .07 | .08 | .10 | .11 | .12 | 1.25 | 12.50
------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------
QUESTIONS
How much will $1.00 amount to in six months? In one year?
How much will $10.00 amount to in six months? In one year?
[Illustration: SAVINGS BANK.]
[Illustration]
THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE
THE HARE (_talking to his neighbors_): Ho, ho, here comes that
slow-poke, Mr. Tortoise! Look at him crawling along! Why, he doesn’t
move faster than a snail! I will wish him good day. (_He goes toward
the tortoise._) Good morning, Mr. Tortoise; you must be tired to travel
so slowly!
THE TORTOISE: Good morning, neighbor. No, I am not tired, and I do move
slowly; but if I keep on moving, I get where I am going.
THE HARE: Oh, you do, do you? Well, if I moved as slowly as you, I
wouldn’t try to get to many places, I am sure.
THE TORTOISE: Oh, I don’t know about that. I guess if we started out
for the same place, I would be there as soon as you.
THE HARE: What a joke! I’ll take that up! Will you race me to the river?
THE TORTOISE: I will.
THE HARE: Are you in earnest! Come on; you will soon see my feet fly
when you race with me.
THE TORTOISE: Very well! I will start right away. (_He goes slowly on._)
THE HARE (_moving toward the neighbors_): Listen! Oh, such a joke! The
tortoise is going to race with me to the river.
NEIGHBORS: Oh, what fun! Let us be the judges. We will run over to the
river to mark a goal. (_They go._)
THE HARE (_yawning_): If it isn’t too funny to see the poor old
tortoise jogging along. It will not take me ten minutes to get to the
goal. I guess I will lie down and take a nap, for I am a little tired.
(_He lies down, stretches himself out, and goes to sleep._)
THE TORTOISE (_moving slowly_): Slow--and--steady--slow--and--steady.
One, two, three, four. It is hard work to race, but I will keep
on trying. I will keep on trying--just a little way at a time.
Just--a--little--at--a--time.
* * * * *
THE HARE (_waking up and looking about him_): Why, I must have
overslept! Dear me, I don’t see the tortoise! Why, if that slow
fellow should win the race, I should be the laughing-stock of all the
neighbors. Maybe I should be written down in a fable! But pshaw! I
shall overtake him just around the turn.
THE TORTOISE (_crossing the goal_):
Slow--and--steady--slow--and--steady.
GROUP OF NEIGHBORS (_clapping their hands_): Slow and steady wins the
race. You win, Mr. Perseverance.
THE HARE (_bounding over the goal just a minute too late_): Oh, if I
had only kept on! If I only had not stopped for a nap! Did the tortoise
win?
NEIGHBORS: Ha, ha, ha! just one minute too late! Mr. Tortoise wins!
(_The hare and the tortoise shake hands._)
THE HARE: You have taught me two lessons, Mr. Tortoise--never give up
trying; and, don’t be too sure. I congratulate you upon winning the
race.
THE TORTOISE: Thank you. Sometimes plodders do come out ahead.
NEIGHBORS: “Perseverance wins success.”
QUESTIONS
Why do you suppose the hare decided to take a little nap?
Was it easy for the tortoise to get to the goal?
Did you ever have something hard to do? Did you keep on until you
finished?
In your class there are some children like the slow and steady
tortoise, and some like the hare who think they can rest once in a
while.
Are you like either one?
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW
I
Once upon a time there was a little girl, named Letty, who had a little
crippled sister.
Letty loved her little sister very dearly and wished that she might be
cured.
But her father and mother were so poor that they could not afford to
send for the great doctor who could make their little girl well.
So, during the summer vacation Letty worked for a neighbor and saved
all the money she earned. She hoped that if she kept every penny she
would soon have enough to pay the doctor for curing her sister. But
her little hoard grew very slowly, because, you see, she earned only
fifteen cents a week.
One day there was a heavy thunder storm; and when the storm was over,
a beautiful rainbow appeared in the sky. Letty stood on the neighbor’s
porch and watched the rainbow.
“I wonder what is at the end of the rainbow,” she said to herself; but
Mrs. Harrison--for that was the neighbor’s name--overheard her.
“Why,” she exclaimed, “don’t you know? There is a pot of gold at the
end of the rainbow. I have always heard that. If anyone takes it away,
another pot of gold comes in its place. But no one is permitted to take
more than one pot of gold.”
Letty said nothing, but she began to think very hard. “If I could find
that pot of gold,” she thought, “I could use it to have my little
sister cured.”
And then and there Letty decided to do a very daring thing. So, early
the next morning, just as soon as she could see, she got out of bed and
went noiselessly downstairs. She packed a lunch and started out to find
the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
She remembered quite well where the rainbow had seemed to end--in
the forest half way up the distant mountain. In the bright morning
sunlight, it appeared to be much nearer than it really was. She was
sure she could find the way.
After she had walked a long time, however, she came to a place that she
had never seen before.
It was a swampy, marshy meadow; and her feet sank deep into the miry
mud as she splashed along.
“Oh, dear!” she thought. “I almost wish I hadn’t come! I shall have to
turn back!”
[Illustration: WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE MADE THAT NOISE?]
II
Then suddenly, she thought of the little lame sister who could not run
and play.
“I will go on,” Letty said; “I must!”
Just then, she saw in front of her a grassy little island, or hummock,
quite large enough for her two feet. She managed to step on it;
and--what do you think? She saw before her a whole row of hummocks all
the way across the meadow!
“How nice that will be for any one else who looks for the end of the
rainbow,” thought little Letty, as she sat down on the last hummock to
rest.
The next minute, she heard a loud Hiss-s-s!
What do you suppose made that noise? Yes, a big black snake.
My, but Letty was afraid of snakes!
There it lay, all coiled up, not five feet from her.
“Oh, dear!” she thought, shuddering. “Oh, I must run back! I cannot go
on! Snakes are too dreadful!”
Then again she thought of her little sister.
“I must go on!” she whispered. “I cannot go back! I will run on with
all my might.”
So she ran on with all her might; and what do you think happened?
When she turned around to see if she was far enough away from the
snake, she saw, instead of the big black snake, a little curly-haired
dog where the snake had been!
He bounded up to her and barked Boof! Boof! in the friendliest kind of
way.
“Dear little doggy!” exclaimed Letty, patting his head. “How do you do?
I believe you must be hungry! So am I. Let us eat breakfast.”
Boof! Boof! barked the little dog, as much as to say, “Thank you!”
“I haven’t very much,” said Letty, “but I will give you part of what I
have. We must save some for our supper, you know.”
III
They enjoyed their breakfast and started on again much refreshed.
Pretty soon they came to a place filled with thorny brambles. The
brambles tore Letty’s stockings and they scratched her legs and arms,
and they hurt her so very much that at last it seemed as though she
could go no farther.
“Oh, doggy,” she said with tears in her eyes, “I do believe we shall
have to go back!”
But once more came the thought of her little lame sister.
“We must go on!” she exclaimed. “I know what I can try! I will try to
cut the briers with the knife in our lunch box.”
And what do you think happened then? The little dog ran ahead, and the
brambles opened into a pathway before them. When Letty looked back, she
saw that they did not close again.
“I am so glad,” she thought, “for it will be easy for other people who
try to find the end of the rainbow, and it will be easy for us to come
back, too.”
After a while Letty and the little dog came to a deep dark river.
“Now,” sobbed Letty, “now, I am afraid we shall have to give up! Oh,
dear! Must I go back without the pot of gold for my poor little sister?”
[Illustration]
Then she saw a log near the water’s edge.
“Oh, I know what I can do!” she whispered. “I can roll the log into
the water and paddle my way across with my feet! Little doggy can swim
across.”
So she rolled the log into the water and sat upon it; and what do you
think happened?
The little dog caught a branch of the log in his mouth and towed her
safely to the other side!
And when she looked back, what else do you think had happened?
There was a narrow bridge across the river!
After Letty and the little dog had rested a while, they went on their
way once more.
It was getting quite dark in the forest, and a heavy storm was
gathering.
“Oh, little doggy, it is getting late,” said Letty; “and it is going to
rain. We must find shelter.”
IV
Boof! barked the little dog, and ran to the mouth of a cave near by.
Letty was afraid to enter.
“It might be the den of a wolf!” she thought. “I wish I could see
inside!”
“Come, little doggy,” she said, “let’s look in.” They peered into the
darkness and, suddenly, everything seemed light; for the little dog’s
eyes were so bright that they made the cave as light as a lamp would.
Letty had no sooner lain down on a pile of dry leaves in the corner of
the cave than she heard the growl of a wild animal.
My, she was frightened! She and the little dog ran to the mouth of the
cave, and they saw a big wolf not ten feet away.
And what do you think happened that time?
As soon as the little dog looked into the wolf’s eyes with his own
bright shining eyes the wolf was so scared that he ran away as fast as
he could scamper.
Then Letty and the little dog ate their supper and went to sleep.
Letty was dreaming of how lovely it would be to have her little sister
play with her like other children, when she was awakened by a sweet
voice. “Little Letty,” it said, “you have found the pot of gold at the
end of the rainbow!”
Letty sat up. There before her stood a beautiful lady.
“The pot of gold is in your own loving heart, dear child,” said the
lady. “I am the Lady of Golden Deeds. I have watched you all the way of
your journey, for I feared that you might stop trying; but when I saw
how you persevered, I went to your home and cured your little sister.”
Can you imagine how happy that made Letty?
[Illustration]
[Illustration: SHE WAS AWAKENED BY A SWEET VOICE]
At first she could scarcely speak, but after a moment, “Oh, thank you!
thank you!” she cried. “I want to go to her right away!”
“That you shall,” said the lady. “Just sit on the back of your little
dog and he will take you in five minutes.”
Then she lifted Letty on the back of the little dog, who trotted and
skipped out of the cave, through the woods, over the bridge, through
the bramble patch, over the hummocks, and up the roadway to Letty’s
home. And there Letty saw her little sister skipping toward them!
Jumping off the little dog’s back, she ran to meet her.
“Where have you been?” cried her little sister, hugging and kissing
her. “The most wonderful thing has happened! See, I can run and jump!”
“I know!” said Letty, laughing. “I know all about it, dear little
sister. I’ve just come from the end of the rainbow!”
[Illustration]
QUESTIONS
Little Letty had to be pretty brave to start out alone to find the
end of the rainbow, didn’t she?
Do you remember how many times she was discouraged?
Each trouble seemed harder than the last, didn’t it?
How many people were helped because she didn’t give up?
Can you remember some time when you had to try and try again?
Did you succeed at last? Tell about it.
MEMORY GEMS
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
--_Longfellow._
* * * * *
“I would if I could,” though much it’s in use,
Is but a mistaken and sluggish excuse;
And many a person who could if he would,
Is often heard saying, “I would if I could.”
--_Selected._
* * * * *
If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.
He has not learned the lesson of life who does not every day
surmount a fear.--_Emerson._
[Illustration]
THE CROW AND THE PITCHER
A crow who with thirst was ’most ready to die,
Looking upward in vain for clouds in the sky,
In the road spied a pitcher. Said he, “Well, I think
Perhaps in that jug is a very nice drink.”
And there was; but he found the water so low
His bill wouldn’t reach, though he stood on tip-toe;
After stooping and straining and trying in vain,
He stopped to consider the matter again.
“Surely,” said he, “it is better by far
To try my best to turn over that jar
Than to stand here in torture just dying of thirst--
If I don’t get a drink I am sure I shall burst!”
His strength insufficient he found it, of course,
To turn the jar over by using his force.
Then wise Mr. Crow sat him down for to think;
“I’ll _have_ to do something to get me a drink!”
He suddenly started, exclaiming, “How queer
It took me so long--the solution’s quite clear!”
Then wise Mr. Crow, in the jar, one by one,
Dropped stone after stone lying there in the sun.
Slowly the water rose brimmingly high,
And Mr. Crow drank till the pitcher was dry;
Then preening himself, before going to sleep,
He thought out some things which are surely quite deep.
Said wise Mr. Crow, “Truly never Intention,
But Need is the mother of every invention--
And now I have lived to tell the queer tale,
_Perseverance_ will win where force often will fail.”
MEMORY GEMS
Our greatest glory consists not in never falling, but in rising
every time we fall.--_Emerson._
My son, observe the postage stamp! Its usefulness depends upon its
ability to stick to one thing until it gets there.--_Josh Billings._
My idea is this: ever onward. If God had intended that man should
go backward, he would have given him an eye in the back of his
head.--_Victor Hugo._
Diving and finding no pearls in the sea,
Blame not the ocean: the fault is in thee.
--_Alice Cary._
DRIVE THE NAIL ARIGHT
Drive the nail aright, boys;
Hit it on the head;
Strike with all your might, boys,
Ere the time has fled.
Lessons you’ve to learn, boys;
Study with a will:
They who reach the top, boys,
First must climb the hill.
Standing at the foot, boys,
Gazing at the sky;
How can you get up, boys,
If you never try?
Though you stumble oft, boys,
Never be downcast;
Try and try again, boys:
You’ll succeed at last.
Always persevere, boys,
Though your task is hard;
Toil and happy trust, boys,
Bring their own reward.
Never give it up, boys,
Always say you’ll try;
You will gain the top, boys,
Surely, by and by.
--_Selected._
STORIES TEACHING KINDNESS TO ANIMALS
_Of all the 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.”_
--LONGFELLOW.
[Illustration: THE HORSE BORE HAMIDU ON AND ON.]
THE STORY OF AN ARABIAN HORSE
There lived once in Arabia a horse so noted for its great beauty that
its fame spread throughout the country.
When the ruler of the country heard of this wonderful creature, he was
filled with a desire to possess him; so he sent for Hamidu, the owner
of the horse.
“I am told that you have the most beautiful horse in all Arabia,” he
said to Hamidu. “It is only fitting that he should belong to the ruler
of this country, which is the home of the most perfect horses in all
the world.”
Poor Hamidu cast himself at the ruler’s feet and spoke in trembling
tones.
“Great ruler,” he implored, “spare my horse to me. I love him better
than my life. I raised him from a baby. Never a day has passed since he
was born that I have not caressed him. He follows me about as would a
dog. At night I sleep beside him. He would grieve so that he would die
if we were separated; and so would Hamidu.”
This speech angered the ruler greatly, and calling some of his
soldiers, he ordered them to go with Hamidu to his home and return with
the horse to the palace.
It was a two days’ journey to Hamidu’s home. When the horse saw his
master coming, he broke his halter and ran to meet him with every sign
of deep affection.
The ruler’s soldiers admired the horse greatly, and bade Hamidu mount
him and ride back to the palace with them.
When they stopped for the night they bound Hamidu, hands and feet, and
laid him down on a hillock.
The horse they fastened securely to a tree. Then going to a spot a
short distance away, they lay down to sleep.
Hamidu lay still and helpless, watching the bright stars as they
blinked and twinkled overhead. He tried to loose the bonds that held
his hands, but they were too strong for him.
“Alas,” he thought, “not only shall I lose my beloved horse but also my
life, I fear.”
He could hear the heavy breathing of the sleeping soldiers. Everything
else was quiet.
Suddenly, his ear caught the sound of gentle footsteps.
“I could almost believe it to be my beloved Beauty,” he thought, “if
that were not impossible.”
But it was Beauty, whose soft nose came feeling over Hamidu! and it was
Beauty’s teeth which grasped his girdle and lifted him from the ground.
Swift as a deer, the horse bore Hamidu on and on back to his home.
There a friend loosed his bonds and gave him and the horse food and
drink.
Then Hamidu mounted Beauty and rode away, away, away into the distant
hills of another country. And never did the ruler’s men find either
Hamidu or the horse that gnawed loose his own fetters and saved his
master’s life.
QUESTIONS
Have you ever seen a picture of an Arabian horse?
Are they large?
Why did the horse love his master so much?
[Illustration: BARRY
THE DOG WHO SAVED THE LIVES OF FORTY PERSONS AND WAS KILLED
BY THE FORTY-FIRST]
THE STORY OF BARRY
The Great St. Bernard is a famous mountain pass which crosses over the
Alps from Switzerland into Italy.
Away up on the highest point of the pass there stands a lonely dwelling
place. It is the hospice of St. Bernard.
A hospice, you must know, is a refuge for travelers on some difficult
road.
The hospice of St. Bernard is kept by a company of monks, who live the
year round shut in by lofty mountains covered with snow.
In the winter season the good monks lead a very busy life, for then it
is that they go forth to seek and rescue travelers who have lost their
way in the terrible mountain snow storms.
Every year many lives are saved through their efforts.
I said that many lives are saved through the efforts of the good monks,
but they would tell you that but few lives would be saved were it not
for the help of their great noble dogs.
These dogs are specially trained to accompany the monks, or are sent
out alone to search for people in danger.
You have heard of St. Bernard dogs, haven’t you?
Barry was one of these dogs--a big, intelligent St. Bernard. He was so
big and so intelligent that he was often sent out alone on some errand
of mercy. Up to the time of this story Barry had saved forty lives.
One day, in a blinding snow storm, two travelers, who had lost their
way, were struggling to reach the hospice.
It was frightfully cold, and their strength was almost spent. At
length, one of the men took out his brandy flask.
The other, knowing the great risk his companion ran, begged him not to
drink, and urged him to put forth one more effort.
But the man would not listen. He continued to drink heavily and soon
fell exhausted in the snow.
His friend struggled on, and at last reached the hospice, where he told
the story of his lost fellow traveler.
At once the monks called Barry and sent him forth to find the man.
Through the heavy storm the great dog made his way to where the
traveler lay unconscious in the snow.
Barry pulled and pushed and tugged, and at last aroused him from his
drunken stupor.
The man, dazed by cold and drink, thought that a wild beast had fallen
upon him.
With his little remaining strength, he drew his knife from his pocket
and plunged it into Barry’s neck.
But the faithful dog, undaunted, kept at his task. Too late, the
traveler realized that he had been found by one of the St. Bernard dogs
which had been sent to rescue him.
He struggled to his feet. Half leaning on the dog, whose blood stained
every step of the way, he reached the door of the hospice.
On its threshold Barry fell exhausted. He had given his life in
fidelity to the trust reposed in him.
* * * * *
Barry’s beautiful body was buried in a large cemetery in Paris; and
over it was placed a handsome monument. On the monument, in French, are
these words:
“He saved the lives of forty persons; he was killed by the forty-first.”
QUESTIONS
Did you ever stop to think that in the great animal kingdom, with
its thousands of creatures, just one, the dog, has left its kind
and attached itself to man?
More than that, have you realized that the dog has accepted man as
a master, a being to serve, to love, to caress, to suffer for, and,
if need be, to perish for?
So whether this dog of yours is big or little, fat or lean; whether
he looks like a majestic lion, or has a pug nose and curly tail--be
kind to him--be just to him, and to every other dog.
Doesn’t a dog when he buries his bone against a rainy day show more
intelligence than some people?
Did you ever think that a dog’s life is what his master makes it?
Do you realize that many other dogs would be just as noble and
brave as Barry, if they were trained, or had a chance to show their
bravery?
BANDS OF MERCY
“I will try to be kind to all living creatures, and will try to protect
them from cruel usage.”
This is the simple pledge taken by the more than three million members
of the many Bands of Mercy in the United States.
The object of the Band of Mercy is to awaken in the hearts of children
a feeling of kindness toward everything that lives.
The members promise to do all they can to relieve the suffering
around them, and to speak for the dumb animals that cannot speak for
themselves.
There are no dues. The members choose their own name and elect their
own officers.[A]
Mr. George T. Angell, who was a great lover of animals, formed
the first American Bands of Mercy in 1882. Mr. Angell lived to be
eighty-six years old, and spent almost the whole of his long life in
working for the kind treatment of every living creature.
SOME THINGS THAT MR. ANGELL TOLD BOYS AND GIRLS
Well, the fact is that horses and dogs do not have any money. They are
poorer than the poorest boy or girl here today. No matter how hard they
work, they cannot buy an apple or a stick of candy, or even a lump of
sugar; and so, because they have no money, I have been in the habit for
a good many years of talking for them.
Ever since I was a boy, I have been very fond of dumb animals. As a
lad, I hardly ever went by a kind, good-looking horse or dog without
stopping to have a talk with him.
Boys who are taught to feed birds, and to pat the horses, and to speak
kindly to all lower creatures become a good deal better fellows.
One English school makes its boast that out of the seven thousand boys
whom it has sent out, all carefully taught to be kind to animals, not
one has ever been proved guilty of any crime. Through an inquiry made
a few years ago, it was found that only twelve out of two thousand
convicts in our prisons had ever had a pet animal in their childhood.
Daniel Webster, the great American statesman, loved cattle. When at
Marshfield, knowing that he was about to die, he requested that all his
cattle should be driven to his window that he might see them for the
last time; and as they came past his window one by one he called each
by name.
Walter von der Vogelweide, a great lyric poet of the Middle Ages, so
loved birds that he gave by his will a large sum of money to the monks
of Wurzburg, on condition that they should feed the birds every day on
the tombstone over his grave.
And so with our modern great men. We find President Lincoln protecting
the little wild birds and their nests. We find President Garfield
taking a poor half-starved, half-frozen dog from the streets of
Washington to his comfortable home.
General Porter says that he never saw General Grant really angry but
twice in his life--and one of those times was when he saw an army
teamster beating a poor horse. He ordered the teamster to be tied up
and severely punished.
The great Duke of Wellington, who won the battle of Waterloo, was so
kind to the lower creatures that he ordered that special protection be
given a toad in his garden.
It may be worth a thousand dollars to you some day, if you remember
what I am now going to tell you.
It is this: if the time ever comes when you feel as though you hadn’t
a friend in the world and wish that you were dead, go and get some pet
that you can talk to and love and care for--if it is only a little
bird. You will be astonished to find the relief and happiness it will
bring into your life.
--_George T. Angell--Adapted._
* * * * *
Blessed are the merciful:
For they shall obtain mercy.--_Bible._
NELLIE’S DOG
I
He was a lonely looking little beggar with a wistful look in his eyes.
Shaggy-haired, with a limp in one leg, and the scars of many stones on
his small body, he was a miserable looking dog as he trotted down the
dusty road. His tongue lolled out and his sides heaved from panting.
But his rough looks hid a heart of gold. Any one could see that by
looking into his eyes, which were pleading and trustful.
But no one looked into his eyes; they looked only at his shaggy coat
and rough appearance, then shouted and threw stones and clubs at him.
The stones hurt cruelly, and it was a club that put the limp in his
leg, for he was a stray dog and unwelcome everywhere.
He was hungry for some one to love, to live for. His eyes told that
every time he met a stranger, or when, with drooping tail and with
fawning side-steps, he presented himself at some new farmhouse.
But rebuffs and kicks had brought a faint light of distrust and caution
to his eyes, and he began to crawl into the weeds along the roadside
when he saw any one approaching; and when he came to a farmhouse he
would stop at the gate, ready to run at the first hostile move.
Sometimes people set well-fed home dogs on him. When these were his
size, or smaller, he would back away with teeth half-bared defensively.
He made no move to fight. It was not in his nature to fight unless
he had some one to defend. When the dogs were larger than himself, he
would run as well as the limp in his leg would allow.
Twice he had been overtaken by dogs--huge, fierce fellows that mauled
him without mercy, while their owners encouraged them. But always they
had allowed the little dog to go with his life. Even dogs have codes of
honor.
[Illustration]
It was just at sunset one evening when he limped into the yard where
little Nellie was playing. He gazed into her eyes with a pleading,
homesick look, and she smiled. Then she threw her arms around his neck
and caressed him tenderly. He fawned on her in a very ecstasy of joy,
and his scarred, thin little body wagged from end to end. And so the
pact was sealed. He was Nellie’s dog and she was his mistress.
There was just a trace of Airedale blood in his veins, and an Airedale
dog always selects some one person as the idol of his undying love and
faithfulness. Nellie was to him the one person in the world.
II
Nellie’s father was a big man, and abrupt. He became excited when he
saw her playing with the little dog, and dragged her away. He declared
that she might have been bitten by the cur.
In spite of the little girl’s protests, he kicked the dog from the yard
and stoned him, sending him, a whimpering, heart-broken little piece of
misery, limping down the road.
Nellie cried and declared that she had always wanted a doggy and that
no doggy but the little stray dog would do. But her father was firm;
he would have no stray dogs about the place; there was no telling what
the dog was, or had been--he might be dangerous; for the father had not
looked into the little dog’s eyes as had Nellie.
One day Nellie was taken sick. A raging fever colored her face and sent
her pulses bounding. For many anxious hours her tearful father watched
by her bedside. Then Nellie began calling for her “doggy.”
The doctor, who was already grave, became graver. He told the father
that if Nellie’s doggy was not found he feared that she might not get
better.
[Illustration: THEN SHE LAY BACK ON HER PILLOW]
A great pain came to the father’s heart, and his face twitched in
misery. He would have given all he possessed to have back the little
stray cur to save her--the little dog that he had stoned and sent
whimpering down the road.
Evening came. The doctor, who had been holding little Nellie’s wrist in
his hand, laid it very gently on the bed, a misty look in his eyes.
Suddenly he turned toward the door. There, just within the threshold,
with drooping tail and a loving, pleading look fastened on the little
figure in the bed, stood a stray dog.
The doctor looked into the little dog’s eyes, and understood. He knew
it was Nellie’s doggy. Swiftly he caught the dog up in his arms and
placed him on the bed.
With a glad cry little Nellie half-raised herself from her pillow, as
her hands found the dog’s shaggy hair and felt the warm touch of his
tongue. Then she lay back on her pillow, a new color in her cheeks and
a new light in her eyes. She breathed easily and sighed contentedly.
The doctor smiled tenderly and her father cried tears of joy.
The little dog curled himself against Nellie and licked her hand
lovingly, for of all the people in the world she alone was his
mistress, and neither kicks nor stones could keep him away.
--_Robert E. Hewes._
* * * * *
There is joy in caring
For helpless little things.
WHO SAID RATS?
If every rat costs the public one dollar per year, what do you suppose
a kitten is worth?
Cats are nature’s destroyers of rats. Rats devour much good food and
carry dreadful diseases.
No trap or poison bait can do pussy’s work, because rats are very wise
and cunning, and after a few are caught they avoid coming near a trap.
As for poisons, it isn’t very pleasant to have a poisoned rat die in or
near a house.
Rats have very large families and become great-grandfathers in a short
time; so you see the cats have plenty of work.
It is foolish to think, though, that cats can live upon mice and rats.
They need other food, and the better fed cats are generally the best
“mousers.”
Cats are kept in large postoffices to protect the mail from the rats
and mice. They are so valuable for this purpose that Uncle Sam sets
money aside to be used in feeding them.
In a large city in China there is a law which says that in every house
one or more cats must be kept; for there the rats carry a dreadful
disease or plague, and the cats kill the rats.
--_H. H. Jacobs._
* * * * *
The idea that cats should be poorly fed, in order that they may be good
mousers and ratters, is a very cruel and ignorant one. A cat catches
rats and mice because instinct tells him to do so, and he will do his
work better if strong and well fed.
--_Mary Craige Yarrow._
[Illustration]
A BRAVE MOTHER
At the burning of an apartment house in Kansas City, early one morning,
the firemen and onlookers were astonished to see a cat leap in at the
door, though she must pass through fire and water to enter.
Some one called out, “Look at that cat--she must have gone crazy.”
While they watched she returned, bringing a kitten held up as high as
she could lift it by throwing back her head.
She hurried through the crowd, and after a few moments again appeared,
and dashed once more into the flames. Soon the brave creature came
back with another kitten in her mouth. By this time the people were
watching to see what she would do next, for she was giving a wonderful
exhibition of mother love.
When she tried to enter once more there were many cries of “Stop
her--don’t let her go in--it’s sure death!” But she would not be
stopped; she slipped through the crowd and went in again.
The firemen turned their attention now almost wholly to the part of
the building where she was; but the walls fell, and the noble little
self-forgetting mother was buried beneath them.
A search was made for her kittens; they were found in a place of
safety. There were four of them.
The janitor of the building remembered that there had been five. How
well the mother cat knew the number! and how bravely she had saved
them--all but one! Do you suppose she was with it, to cover it and
guard it to the last moment?
The motherless kittens were taken to the central fire station and
tenderly cared for. The firemen had been very eager to own an Angora
kitten; but when one was offered to them, they decided not to take it.
“It might put these little chaps out if we brought in another cat,”
they said; “and we feel that we ought to take care of them--for their
mother’s sake, you know.”
The little mother had been lifted up to a place of honor with these
men, who knew so well how to value true courage.
--_H. H. Jacobs._
* * * * *
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
--_Shakespeare._
QUESTIONS
Is the cat ever a brave animal?
Do animals know when people are kind? How can you be kind to cats?
Have cats any value?
How does it help birds for you to feed cats?
If you cannot find a home for a stray cat, what should you do?
Do you know where the S. P. C. A. office is?
If you were a cat would you like to be left to starve when the
family moved away?
How do you suppose a mother who loses all her children feels?
How do you suppose a mother dog who loses all her puppies feels? A
mother cat who loses all her kittens?
Wouldn’t it be better to keep one?
* * * * *
Oh, how dare we ask a just God to bestow
The mercy we grant not to creatures below!
[Illustration]
ABOUT THOREAU
Henry D. Thoreau, a famous man who lived for some time in a little
cabin in the woods near Concord, Massachusetts, was noted for his
kindness to all God’s harmless creatures.
It is said that even the fishes came into his hand when he dipped it
into the stream.
The little mice would come and playfully eat from his fingers, and the
very moles paid him friendly visits.
Sparrows alighted on his shoulders when he called them; phœbe birds
built their nests in his shed; and the wild partridge with her brood,
came and fed quietly beneath his window, as he sat and looked at them.
After he had been two or three months in the woods the wild birds
ceased to be afraid of him, and would come and perch on his shoulder,
and sometimes on his spade when he was digging.
--_George T. Angell._
FAIR PLAY FOR OUR WILD ANIMALS
Did you ever see a buffalo in the park?
Do you know that there are only a few of them in this country
because years ago people hunted them for sport, and killed them by
thousands?
Do you know that there is danger that the wild duck, reindeer, and
mountain sheep will disappear in the same way?
Do you think it is a fair game to hunt animals with a gun? Can they
take their part?
Don’t you think that boys and girls who live a hundred years from
now will be glad if we all try to protect our wild animals?
Will you bring some of your favorite pictures of animals to school?
THE TRUE STORY OF PEDRO
“Three balls for five cents, Mister. Have a shot at the monk.”
Young Mr. Williams wondered what the man meant as he held out three
hard balls painted in bright colors. Mr. Williams had gone to Woodlyn
Park with his little niece and nephew for an afternoon of pleasure.
“Oh, look, uncle!” cried the little boy; “don’t you see the monkey?
There! see his face through the hole in that sheet? The men throw the
balls at him.”
Mr. Williams did, indeed, see Pedro’s poor little scared face. Just as
he caught sight of it, bang! a man threw a ball that hit the monkey on
the head.
“Oh, I am afraid they will kill the poor little monkey,” cried the
little girl. “Can’t we make them stop, uncle?”
“There isn’t much use in talking to these men,” said Mr. Williams. “The
best thing to do is to notify the ‘cruelty lady.’ We will do that as
soon as we get home; shall we?”
“Oh, yes, indeed,” cried the children. “Let us go right away.”
The “cruelty lady” started immediately for the park. When she saw how
the little monkey was being abused, she had the two men who owned him
arrested. Although they were very angry, she was not afraid of them.
The poor monkey was taken away from his cruel masters and carried to
the home of a good woman, who cared for the sick little animal.
For days Pedro lay exhausted in the nice soft bed she made for him.
She bathed the many, many bruises on his poor little body, and fed him
good wholesome food.
In about ten days, Pedro began to feel better, and showed how much
he appreciated the kindness of his new mistress by following her
everywhere he could.
He got into mischief, too, by trying to do everything he saw people do.
One day, when his mistress had stepped out into the garden, he turned
the key on the inside of the door, and locked her out.
It was a good thing that one of the second-story windows was open, so
that a young man could climb up and get inside and unlock the door.
The last time I heard of Pedro, he was living happily with other
monkeys in the Zoological Garden.
* * * * *
Let us speak for those
That cannot speak for themselves.
* * * * *
Even the smallest kind act is never lost. It isn’t always the size of
the good deed that counts.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
WHAT CHILDREN CAN DO
They can speak pleasantly to boys or men who are whipping their horses
and ask them to stop.
They can ask men and boys to blanket their horses in cold weather, to
put them in the shade in warm weather, and to loosen the tight check
rein.
They can keep fresh water where their own horses, dogs, cats, and hens
can get it, not once, but at any time during the day or night.
They can feed their dog or cat morning and night, remembering that all
animals and fowls have as good appetites and suffer as much when hungry
and thirsty as boys and girls do.
They can see that all their animals are made comfortable at night and
never turned out in the cold.
They can feed homeless dogs and cats and try to find shelter for them.
They can be careful never to lose a pet animal, or to leave one behind
if they move away, unless they have arranged for some one to take care
of it.
Every kind act that children do, not only makes the world better, but
helps to make them better and happier men and women.
--_Animal Rescue League of Boston._
A HORSE’S PETITION TO HIS DRIVER
Up the hill whip me not,
Down the hill hurry me not,
In the stable forget me not,
Of hay and grain rob me not,
Of clean water stint me not,
With sponge and brush neglect me not,
Of soft, dry bed deprive me not,
When sick or cold chill me not,
With bit or rein jerk me not,
And, when angry, strike me not.
--_Selected._
[Illustration: PLEASE BE KIND TO US
WE WORK HARD FOR YOU]
THE HORSE’S POINT OF VIEW
If a horse could talk, he would have many things to say, especially
when winter comes.
He would tell his driver how a frosty bit stings and sears his lips and
tongue when it is thrust into his mouth without first being warmed.
He would tell how it feels to have nothing but ice-cold water to drink,
when he is already shivering from the cold.
He would tell of the bitter winds that frost his sides when he halts,
steaming from exertion, and is tied for hours in an exposed place
without a blanket.
He would talk of slippery streets, and the fear of falling on cruel
city paving-stones. He would tell of the bruised knees and wrenched
joints, the tightened straps and the pain of the driver’s lash, and the
horrible fright of it all.
Yes, the horse would say a good many things if he had the power of
speech. And having horse-sense, he would urge his driver to “play
fair,” not merely for the sake of kindness, but for the sake of keeping
a faithful servant in good condition.
--_The American Humane Education Society._
MEMORY GEM
They are slaves who fear to speak
For the helpless and the weak;
They are slaves who dare not be
In the right with two or three.
--_Lowell._
[Illustration: BE KIND TO ANIMALS
_Sketched from the seal of the Massachusetts S. P. C. A._]
A MAN WHO KNEW HOW
There was a big team, a mighty load, and a long hill, and we watched to
see what the driver would do.
He was brawny and strong, and he had a kind face. He did not use the
whip. He talked to his horses in a friendly way. He said: “Come on,
Jim,” and “Hi, there, Bill,” and when he reached a steep place he
jumped off the load and walked. Once he put on the brake and gave the
panting animals a much-needed rest. At the top of the hill he patted
the noses of his faithful friends, allowed them to breathe a bit, and
then the big load moved along as easily as you please.
--_Selected._
HOW TO TREAT A HORSE
The only charm I use, boys, is the Golden Rule. Treat a horse as you
would like to be treated yourself. There is never any need for any one
to beat or abuse a horse, for there is no creature living more faithful
and loving, if you are only kind and patient with him. Teach him to
love and have confidence in you, and give him time to find out what you
want, then he will serve you not only willingly but gladly and proudly.
The best charm any man can use with a horse is kindness. Be kind,
gentle, and considerate, and you will soon win his confidence and can
do anything you like with him.
--_Uncle Dan._
[Illustration]
THE HORSE’S PRAYER
To you, My Master, I offer my prayer: Feed, water, and care for me,
and, when the day’s work is done, provide me with shelter, a clean, dry
bed, and a stall wide enough for me to lie down in comfort.
Always be kind to me. Talk to me. Your voice often means as much to me
as do the reins. Pet me sometimes, that I may serve you the more gladly
and learn to love you.
Do not jerk the reins, and do not whip me when going up hill. Never
strike, beat, or kick me when I do not understand what you want, but
give me a chance to understand you.
Watch me, and if I fail to do your bidding, see if something is not
wrong with my harness or my feet.
Do not check me so that I cannot have the free use of my head. If you
insist that I wear blinders, so that I cannot see behind me as it was
intended that I should, I pray you be careful that the blinders stand
well out from my eyes.
Do not overload me, or hitch me where water will drip on me. Keep me
well shod.
Examine my teeth when I do not eat; I may have an ulcerated tooth, and
that, you know, is very painful.
Do not tie my head in an unnatural position, or take away my best
defense against flies and mosquitoes by cutting off my tail.
I cannot tell you when I am thirsty, so give me clean cool water often.
I cannot tell you in words when I am sick, so watch me, that by signs
you may know my condition.
Give me all possible shelter from the hot sun, and put a blanket on me,
not when I am working, but when I am standing in the cold. Never put a
frosty bit in my mouth; first warm it by holding it a moment in your
hands.
I try to carry you and your burdens without a murmur, and wait
patiently for you during long hours of the day and night. Without
the power to choose my shoes or path, I sometimes fall on the hard
pavements, and I must be ready at any moment to lose my life in your
service.
And finally, O My Master, when my useful strength is gone, do not turn
me out to starve or freeze, or sell me to some cruel owner, to be
slowly tortured and starved to death; but take my life in the kindest
way, and your God will reward you here and hereafter. Amen.
--_Issued by the Ohio Humane Society._
[Illustration: SUPPOSE THIS HORSE TAKES COLD AND SUFFERS AND DIES--WHO
IS TO BLAME?]
QUESTIONS
I
What animal has been one of mankind’s most faithful servants and
one of his very best friends?
Can you explain the difference between the work horse, the saddle
horse, the race horse, the fire horse?
Should we have as fine a city if there had never been any horses?
Can you think of some ways of repaying horses for the work they do
for us?
When you grow old, how do you want to be treated, especially if you
have worked hard all your life?
How do you think old horses should be treated?
Did you ever have a hard fall on the ice?
How did you walk afterward?
Could you have walked carefully if you had been going down hill
holding back a heavy load?
How can we help horses in slippery weather?
How can we help them up when they fall?
Why is it harder to _start_ to move a load than it is to keep it
moving after it is started?
Do you know that many horses are made blind by being over-driven?
Tell a story showing how intelligent horses are.
Have you ever seen the non-slip chains which drivers can put on
horses’ feet to keep them from slipping?
Have you ever read “Black Beauty,” or “Beautiful Joe,” or “Our
Goldmine at Hollyhurst,” or “The Strike at Shane’s”?
II
What are the names of some of the great societies founded to
protect animals?
How can children help in such work?
Do children who are kind to animals turn out better than those who
are cruel to them? Why?
If you had your choice as to what animal you would be, would you
choose to be a horse?
Does it make any difference to you whether any one else is cold and
hungry and tired and suffering? Whether an animal is suffering?
Will you tell your teacher the next time you help some animal?
Tell some of the things you think a horse would say if he could
talk. A dog. A cat. A monkey. A bird.
Where does a horse get his strength? Should he not be well fed?
* * * * *
Children should never feel that their hands are too small and weak to
help toward making the world a happier place for all to live in, for
the world needs their work quite as much as it does that of the older
people.
--_M. C. Yarrow._
[Illustration: A BIRD VILLAGE]
BIRDS AS THE FRIENDS OF PLANTS
I
“Just listen, Mary Frances!” said Billy, pulling a paper out of his
pocket.
“‘One robin has been known to feed his family five yards of worms a day.
“‘A chickadee will dispose of 5,500 eggs of the canker-worm moth in one
day.
“‘A flicker eats no less than 9,000 ants a day.
“‘A pair of wrens have been seen to carry one hundred insects to their
young in an hour. They are especially fond of plant-lice and cutworms.
“‘Little humming-birds lick plant-lice off foliage with lightning
rapidity.
“‘The yellow-billed cuckoo eats hundreds of tent caterpillars in a day.
“‘Seed-eating birds destroy millions of seeds of troublesome
weeds--actually eating hundreds of tons of seeds.’
“How do people know what the different birds eat?” asked Mary Frances.
“Did some one watch to see what each different bird took for a meal?”
“No;” Billy referred to his clipping. “Scientists have examined the
contents of the stomachs of the birds, and have learned what food each
kind of bird uses. There was a time when people imagined that robins
stole so many cherries and berries that it was a good deed to kill
them. Now they have found that they destroy so many injurious insects
that they do not begrudge them a few cherries. Besides, if mulberry
trees are planted nearby they will prefer their fruit to the cherries.”
“Oh, Billy,” cried Mary Frances, “isn’t it wonderful! Not only do
birds help us by destroying harmful insects and seeds, but they help
us by their beauty. I believe they are the most beautiful of living
things! They could have helped us just as much and have been as ugly
as--cutworms.”
“Yes,” replied Billy, “I believe that is so; but it takes a girl to
think such things out. The strangest thing to me, however, is that
without birds we should die of starvation. This paper says that if the
birds disappeared entirely, agriculture and farming would be impossible
within a few years.”
II
“Bees and birds,” said Mary Frances softly, “keep us from starving. How
wonderful it all seems. Why, Billy, it must have all been planned out
when God made the world!”
“I have thought of that myself, Mary Frances,” said Billy; “it’s one of
those thoughts a fellow doesn’t often speak out loud. I don’t know why.”
“Everybody ought to take care of birds,” went on Mary Frances. “Surely
the reason they don’t is because they do not understand how wonderfully
they help us. Birds and bees keep us from starving. Oh, Billy, let’s
have lots of birds in our garden!”
“Why, how?” asked Billy. “Perhaps we could put food out for them.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t thinking of that. I thought maybe we could put
houses where they would build their nests.”
“Of course,” replied Billy; “and we could keep a small bathtub full of
water for them.”
“What fun!” cried Mary Frances. “Billy, do you know how to build the
right kind of houses for each different kind of bird?”
“No, I do not,” answered Billy; “I know of only a few. They are the
ones our manual training teacher showed us. I have some pictures right
here in my book. It’s queer I didn’t think of them!”
“Let me see them,” cried Mary Frances. “Oh, will you make some later
on?”
“I am to make them in school next term,” explained Billy. “Let me show
you these pictures.”
A ROBIN’S SLEEPING PORCH
Robin Redbreast will not live in an enclosed house, but desires merely
a shelter where the family can have plenty of fresh air.
“I believe in living out-of-doors,” says Mrs. Robin Redbreast, “and I
shall not keep my children indoors, no matter how sanitary the house
may be. They shall be educated in the open air. There is as much to be
learned outdoors as indoors.”
[Illustration]
A BUNGALOW FOR WRENS
Jenny Wren and her husband like a little perch to rest upon before
entering their home. In order to keep the English sparrow from being
inquisitive and troublesome, make the entrance only one inch across so
that Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow cannot enter.
“Sparrows are not a bit nice neighbors,” fusses gentle Jenny Wren.
“They pick a quarrel over nothing, then peck our family to pieces if
they can.”
THE MARTINS’ HOTEL
Do not charge Mr. and Mrs. Martin for lodgings. Instead, be thankful
that they bring their friends and relatives with them, for martins come
in companies and love to linger where invited. They destroy millions of
insects.
[Illustration]
THE BLUEBIRD’S COTTAGE
These heavenly bluebirds, with pinkish plumage on their breasts, add
great beauty to our home gardens; and fortunate is the owner of the
bird house which they select “rent free.” They are terribly afraid of
English sparrows, or more of them would live in the houses around about
the home garden. Bluebirds eat up whole families of garden pests at a
meal.
--_From The Mary Frances Garden Book._
QUESTIONS
Have you ever built a bird house?
Do you know that if you place a basin upside down on the post
before putting the house on, cats cannot climb over it?
Will you keep an account of the birds you see every day?
Why are birds necessary to man?
Name some of the most useful birds?
How can we help birds?
Why is it not right to cage wild birds?
Why do many birds fly south in the fall?
Will you bring some pictures of birds to put on a chart?
If you build a bird house, will you bring it for the class to see?
* * * * *
The birds of one of our large cities are being provided with homes by
the pupils of the city’s public schools. These homes are bird houses,
made by the children in the manual training classes.
The president of the city’s Humane Society offers a prize every spring
to the child who first has a bird tenant in the houses newly set out.
The prize is a book about birds and their habits.
You can imagine how eagerly the boys and girls watch the houses to be
sure of noting the exact time when a bird family moves in.
--_National Humane Journal._
ANDROCLUS AND THE LION
I
Many years ago there lived in the city of Rome a rich man who owned a
great number of slaves.
One slave, named Androclus, grew very weary of the hard work he was
forced to do, and upon a dark night ran away from his home.
At first he did not know where to go, but ran blindly through the
streets until at length, when almost breathless, he found himself
outside of the city.
There he could travel more slowly; but he must, nevertheless, go
steadily on or he would be caught and fed to the lions. For this was
the law; a runaway slave was cast into the arena into which hungry
lions were driven.
Poor Androclus was very much frightened as he went on his way thinking
how dreadful it would be if he were found.
Just as the morning light broke gently over the hills, he came to the
edge of a thick woods.
“This is the very place to hide,” he thought; and plunged into the
dense thickets.
On and on he stumbled; on and on, even though he was so tired and
thirsty that he feared he would faint.
At last, just when he thought he could not take another step, he heard
the sound of running water, and in a minute or two, he came to a
beautiful little brook.
By its side he knelt and drank; but although the cool water refreshed
him, he found that he had not strength to go on.
“What shall I do?” he wondered.
Then he saw the mouth of a cave not far away.
“I will crawl into that cave and rest,” he thought.
It was very comfortable in the cave, for there was a bed of loose
leaves on which to lie.
So Androclus lay down and was soon fast asleep.
II
Suddenly he was awakened by the deep roar of a lion! Nearer and nearer
it came--nearer and nearer!
Androclus, terribly frightened, drew back as far as he could into the
darkest corner of the cave, hoping that the lion would not see him; but
on it came right into the cave!
Then Androclus saw that the lion was lame. It held up its front paw
very much as a kitten might have done had its paw been sore.
Androclus took courage.
He crept softly toward the great beast, which, seeming to know that the
man could help him, allowed him to take hold of his paw.
It required but a moment for Androclus to pull out the large thorn
which was causing the pain.
The lion was so pleased that he rubbed his head against the man’s
shoulder, and purred loudly.
After that, Androclus was never afraid of the lion; and the lion to
show his gratitude shared his food with him. In this way these strange
companions came to live together in the cave.
One day when the slave was walking in the forest, some soldiers spied
him. They knew that he must have escaped from his master, so they
bound him and took him back to Rome.
Poor Androclus knew that the thing which he had so dreaded was about to
happen. He would be fed to the hungry lions.
[Illustration]
The day came. Great crowds of people had gathered, as people gather
nowadays to see a ball game.
Androclus, weak with fear, was pushed into the arena. He could hear the
roar of the hungry lion as it came tearing from its cell.
Right toward Androclus rushed the great beast; the people expected to
see the slave torn into pieces. Imagine their surprise when the lion
suddenly stood still, and Androclus sprang toward him with a cry of
joy; for it was his friend, the lion of the forest!
[Illustration: HE TOLD ABOUT THE LION’S HURT PAW]
And the lion was just as glad as Androclus. He acted like a big pleased
kitten, purring and licking Androclus’s hands and feet lovingly.
The people wanted to know how such a strange thing could happen; and
Androclus, with his hand on the head of his pet, told about his flight;
about the lion’s hurt paw; about their life together in the cave; and
about the lion’s sharing his food with him.
Before he was through many voices cried, “Let them live! Let Androclus
and his lion live!” And they were both given their freedom.
For many years, Androclus and his pet were one of the most interesting
sights in the great city of Rome.
--_An Old Tale._
BOOKS AND STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS
Black Beauty Anna Sewell.
Our Gold Mine at Hollyhurst }
Beautiful Joe } American Humane Education Society,
Lessons about Animals } Boston, Mass.
The Strike at Shane’s A Prize Story of Indiana.
For Pity’s Sake Dedicated to my Horse, my Dog, my Cat.
--Sarah Nelson Carter.
Our Dumb Animals (Magazine) Norwood, Mass.
Mary Frances Garden Book Jane Eayre Fryer.
Concerning Cats Helen Winslow.
Dogs of All Nations Conrad J. Miller.
Stories of Brave Dogs M. H. Carter.
The Bell of Atri Henry W. Longfellow.