[Illustration:
The
ROLLO BOOKS
by
JACOB ABBOTT.
[Illustration]
New York: T.Y. CROWELL & CO.]
[Illustration: YOU CAN SEE THE RAFT, &c.--Page 121.]
ROLLO LEARNING TO READ.
THE ROLLO SERIES
IS COMPOSED OF FOURTEEN VOLUMES, VIZ.:
Rollo Learning to Talk.
Rollo Learning to Read.
Rollo at Work.
Rollo at Play.
Rollo at School.
Rollo’s Vacation.
Rollo’s Experiments.
Rollo’s Museum.
Rollo’s Travels.
Rollo’s Correspondence.
Rollo’s Philosophy--Water.
Rollo’s Philosophy--Air.
Rollo’s Philosophy--Fire.
Rollo’s Philosophy--Sky.
A NEW EDITION, REVISED BY THE AUTHOR.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
PUBLISHERS
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO.,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
NOTICE TO PARENTS.
In those intervals of rest which the serious cares and labors of life
imperiously demand, a man may find the best amusement for himself
in efforts for the amusement of children. This little work and its
predecessor, “ROLLO LEARNING TO TALK,” have been written on this
principle.
Parents find it very difficult to _employ_ little children. “Mother,
what shall I do?” and sometimes even, “Mother, what shall I do after I
have done this?” are heard so often that they sometimes exhaust even
maternal patience. These little volumes will, we hope, in some cases,
provide an answer to the questions. The writer has endeavored to make
them such that children would take an interest in reading them to
themselves, and to their younger brothers and sisters, and in repeating
them to one another.
The difficulty with most books intended for children just learning to
read, is that the writers make so much effort to confine themselves to
_words of one syllable_, that the style is quaint and uninteresting,
and often far more unintelligible than the usual language would be. The
author’s design here has been, first to interest the little reader,
hoping, by this interest, to allure him on to the encounter of the
difficulties in the language, and to the conquest of them. Hence, the
more difficult words and phrases, in common use, are not _avoided_,
for the very object of such a reading book should be to teach the use
of them. They are freely introduced and rendered intelligible by being
placed in striking connections, and familiar, by being frequently
repeated. By a wonderful provision in the structure of the mind,
children thirst for repetition,--the very thing essential to give
security and permanence to the knowledge they acquire.
The subjects of the articles, accordingly, and the method of treating
them, are in the highest degree juvenile. But the language is mature.
For it is language which we wish to teach them, and consequently we
must keep, in language, a little above them, advancing continually
ourselves, as _they_ advance.
J. A.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
How Rollo learned to Read 9
The First Lessons in Looking 22
Tick,--Tick,--Tick 26
Jonas 31
A Little Letter 41
Rollo’s Dream 44
The Cold Morning 59
How to Read Right 64
Climbing up a Mountain 77
Rollo getting Ready for his Father 80
The Way to Obey 84
Rollo’s Breakfast 88
Fictitious Stories 95
The Fly’s Morning Walk 98
Waking Up 101
Rollo’s Prayer 109
Bunny 111
The Raft 116
Contrary Charles 122
Frost on the Windows 132
Shooting a Bear 135
Jack Hildigo 145
How to Treat a Kitten 152
Overboard 166
Old Things and New Things 171
Selling a Boy 174
ROLLO LEARNING TO READ.
HOW ROLLO LEARNED TO READ.
Should you like to know how Rollo learned to read? I will tell you. It
is very hard work to learn to read, and it takes a great while to do
it. I will tell you how Rollo did it.
One evening Rollo was sitting on the floor by the side of the fire,
playing with his blocks. He was trying to build a meeting-house. He
could make the meeting-house very well, all except the steeple, but the
steeple _would_ tumble down.
Presently his father said,
“Rollo, you may put your blocks into the basket, and put the basket in
its place, in the closet, and then come to me.”
Rollo obeyed.
Then Rollo’s father took him up into his lap, and took a little book
out of his pocket. Rollo was glad. He thought he was going to look at
some pictures. But he was disappointed.
He was disappointed; that is, he found there were no pictures in the
book, and was sorry.
His father said,
“I suppose you thought there were pictures in this book.”
“Yes, sir,” said Rollo.
“There are none,” said his father; “I have not got this book to amuse
you. I am going to have you learn to read out of it, and learning to
read is hard work.”
Rollo was very glad when he heard this. He wanted to learn to read,
so that he could read story books himself alone, and he thought that
learning to read was very pleasant, easy work.
His father knew that he thought so, and therefore he said,
“I suppose you are glad that you are going to learn to read, but it is
harder work, and will take longer time than you think. You will get
tired very often, before you have learned, and you will want to stop.
But you must not stop.”
“What,” said Rollo, “must not I stop once--at all--all the time, till I
have learned to read?”
“Oh yes,” said his father; “I do not mean that you must be learning to
read all the time;--you will only read a little while every day. What I
mean is that you must read every day, when the time comes, although you
will very often think that you are tired of reading so much, and had
rather play. But no matter if you are tired of it. It is your duty to
learn to read, and you must do it, if it is hard.”
“I do not think I shall be tired,” said Rollo.
“Very well,--you can see. Only remember if you should be tired, you
must not say so, and ask not to read.”
Rollo’s father then opened the book and showed Rollo that it was full
of letters,--large letters, and small letters, and a great many little
words in columns. Do you know what a column is? There was also some
very easy reading in large print, but no pictures.
Then Rollo’s father explained the plan by which he was to learn to
read. His sister Mary was to teach him. Mary was to call him to her
every morning at nine o’clock, and teach him his letters for a quarter
of an hour. She was to do the same at eleven, and at three, and at
five. The rest of the time Rollo was to have for play. Mary was to
take three or four of the letters at a time, and tell Rollo the names
of them, and make them on the slate, and let him try to make them, and
let him try to find them in books, until he should know them perfectly.
She was to keep an account of every day, marking the days when, for any
reasons, she did not hear him, and putting down, each day, the letters
he learned that day, and as soon as he had learned all his letters she
was to tell his father.
If he should at any time refuse to come when she called him, or come
sullenly or in ill humor,--or if he disobeyed her, or made her any
trouble, wilfully, she was to put the book away at once, and not teach
him any more that day, but at night tell his father.
When Rollo’s father had thus explained the whole plan, he said,
“Now, Mary and Rollo, this is a hard task for both of you, I know. I
hope you will both be patient and persevering,--and be kind to one
another. Mary, you must remember that Rollo is a small boy, and cannot
learn as fast as you might expect or wish,--you must be kind to him and
patient. Be sure also to be punctual and regular in calling him at the
exact hour. And Rollo you must be patient too, and obedient, and you
must remember that though it is hard work to learn to read, you will
be very glad when you shall have learned. You will then enjoy a great
many happy hours in sitting down by the fire in your little chair, and
reading story books.”
Soon after this Rollo went to bed thinking a great deal of his first
lesson, which he was going to take the next day.
Do you not think now that it would have been better if Rollo’s father
had tried to make learning to read more amusing to his little boy?
He might have got a book with letters and pictures too,--or he might
have bought some blocks and cards with letters on them, and let Rollo
learn by playing with them. That would have been more amusing. Do you
think that would have been a better way? I think it would not. For if
Rollo had begun to learn to read, expecting to find it play, he would
have been disappointed and discouraged a great deal sooner. He might
have looked at the pictures in his book, or played with the cards or
the blocks, but that would not have taught him the letters on them. It
was better that he should understand distinctly at the beginning that
learning to read was hard work, and that he must attend to it _as a
duty_; thus he would be prepared for it as it was, and find it more and
more pleasant as he went along. But if he had expected that it would be
play, he would only have been disappointed, and that would have made it
harder, and made it take a great deal longer time.
Rollo liked reading very well for a day or two, but he soon became
tired. He thought the quarter of an hour was very long, and that Mary
always called him too soon. He was mistaken however in this, for Mary
was always very exact and punctual. He found too that he got along
very slowly. It was a good many days before he could say the first few
letters, and he thought it would take a great while before he should
have learned them all. One pleasant morning, when he was digging with
his little hoe, in the yard, Mary called him, and for a minute or two
he had a great mind not to come. But then he recollected that if he did
not, she would immediately put the book away and tell his father at
night, so he threw down the hoe and ran. But it was very hard for him
to do it.
In a few days one thing surprised both Mary and Rollo. It was that he
learned the second four or five letters a great deal sooner than he did
the first. They did not understand the reason of this. The third lesson
was learned sooner still, and so on, the farther they went down the
alphabet the faster Rollo learned.
One evening when Rollo had learned about half his letters, his father
took him up in his lap, and took a small round box out of his pocket,
with a pretty picture on the top. Besides the picture there were
three letters; they were these, A, B, C. Rollo looked a moment at the
picture, but he was more pleased with the letters than the picture. He
was very much pleased to see those letters,--the very letters which he
had learned, on the top of such a pretty box.
“Oh there is A,” said he, “and B, and C, on the top of this pretty box.
How funny!”
Then his father opened the box and poured out a great many beautiful
round cards into Rollo’s lap. There were beautiful, painted pictures on
one side and letters on the other. Rollo was most interested in looking
at the letters.
“Oh, father,” said he, “what beautiful cards! Why did you not buy them
at first, and let me learn my letters with them?”
“Because,” said his father, “if I had bought them at first, when you
did not know any of your letters, you would have not been pleased with
any thing but the pictures, and rolling the cards about the floor. Or
if I had given them to Mary to teach you your letters from them, then
you would not have liked them any better than your book. But by letting
you learn for a time from your book, till you know a good many letters,
you can understand the cards, and you _notice_ the letters on them; and
when you play with them you will remember a great many letters on them,
and thus you will become more familiar with them.”
“With what?” said Rollo.
“With the letters,” said his father.
“What is _familiar with them_?” asked Rollo.
“Why you will know them better, and remember them longer,--and you
will know them quicker when you see them again in books. That is being
familiar with them. Do you not think you will like this box of cards a
great deal better now, to play with, than before you knew any letters?”
“Yes, sir, I was very glad to see the A B C on it.”
After this Rollo played a great deal with his cards, and though he
did not learn any new letters from them, they helped him to become
_familiar_ with the letters as fast as he learned them from his book.
The last part of the alphabet Rollo learned very fast, and at length
one evening Mary and Rollo came together to their father, telling him
with smiling faces that he had learned them all.
Then Rollo’s father gave him a long lesson in reading little words--he
gave him a great many columns, so many, that it would take a good many
weeks to read them all. Mary was to hear him four times every day. Then
he read the easy sentences over in the end of his book, and a good many
others in another book, until at last he could read very well alone.
It took a long time, however, to do all this reading. When he finished
learning to read he was more than a year older than he was when he
began. The stories in this book are for him to read, so that he may
learn to read better. You can read them too. Farther on in this book I
shall tell you more about Rollo.
In reading these stories Rollo found a great many words which he could
not understand. He always asked some one what these words meant, for he
wanted to understand what he read perfectly. His father advised him to
read his story book aloud too, unless when it would disturb some one,
because by reading aloud he would learn faster.
THE FIRST LESSONS IN LOOKING.
When the baby was very little indeed, and first began to open his eyes,
his mother saw that the bright light of the windows dazzled them, and
gave him pain; so she shut the blinds and put down the curtains.
When the baby was so very little, he did not know how to look about
at the things which were around him. He had not learned to move his
eyes steadily from one thing to another. He could not take hold of any
thing, either, with his hands. He did not know that his hands were
made to take hold of things with. His mother held a handsome ivory ring
before him, and endeavored to make him see it and take it. She put it
in his hand, but he did not know how to hold it, and it dropped upon
the floor.
The baby was very weak too. He could not walk nor sit up, nor even hold
up his head. Unless his mother held his head for him, it would drop
down and hang upon his shoulder. Once she laid him down upon the bed,
and she went away a minute or two. While she was gone he rolled over on
his face, and was so weak that he could not get back again. I do not
think he knew how to try. His mother came back and lifted him up, or
perhaps he would have been stifled.
One day his mother said, “Oh, how many things I have got to teach my
little child. I must teach him to look, and to hold up his head, and to
take things in his hands, and I must do all these things while he is
quite a little baby.”
She thought she would first teach him _to look_. So she let in a little
light, and when he was quiet and still, she held him so that he could
see it. But he did not seem to notice it, and pretty soon he went to
sleep.
The next day she tried it again; and again on the following day; and
soon she found that he would look very steadily at the white curtain,
or at the place where the sun shone upon the wall. She did not yet try
to make him look at _little things_, for she knew she could not hope
to make him see little things till he had learned to notice something
large and bright.
When Samuel was lying in his mother’s lap, looking steadily at
something; she was always careful not to move him, or to make any
noise, or to do any thing which would distract his attention. She knew
that children were always puzzled with having two things to think of at
a time, and she was afraid that if while he was thinking of the light
and trying to look at it, he should hear voices around him, he would
stop thinking of the light, and begin to wonder what that noise could
be.
In about a week, Samuel had learned his lesson very well. He could look
pretty steadily at a large bright spot when it was still. Then his
mother thought she would try to teach him to look at something smaller.
She therefore asked his father to buy her a large bright orange, and
one day when he was lying quietly in her lap, she held it up before
him. But he would not notice it; he seemed to be looking at the window
beyond.
Then his mother turned her chair gently round, and sat with her back
towards the window so that he could not see the window, and then he
looked at the orange. Presently she moved the orange slowly,--very
slowly,--backwards and forwards, to teach him to follow it with his
eyes. Thus the baby took his first lessons in looking.
TICK,--TICK,--TICK.
One morning I was going to take a journey. I was going in the stage. I
expected that the sleigh bells would come jingling up to the door for
me at seven o’clock. So I thought that if I wished to be ready, I must
get up at _six_.
I went into my little room where I was to sleep. There was a clock on
the wall, by the side of my bed. It said tick,--tick,--tick. “I am
glad,” said I to myself, “for now I can see what o’clock it is.” So I
put my lamp down on the floor, and put my spectacles behind my pillow,
and then laid down and went to sleep.
By and by I woke and thought I heard a little noise. I listened. It was
the clock, saying tick,--tick,--tick; and I said to myself, “I wonder
what o’clock it is?” So I sat up, and took my spectacles from behind
my pillow, and put them on my nose, and looked up at the clock. The
lamp which was on the floor shone upon the clock so that I could see,
and I saw that it was only _three_ o’clock, and I said, “Oh, it is
only three o’clock. It is not time for me to get up yet.” So I took my
spectacles off of my nose, and put them behind my pillow, and laid me
down again. The clock kept saying, tick,--tick,--tick.
Pretty soon I went to sleep, and I slept an hour. Then I awoke and said
to myself, “I wonder what o’clock it is?” So I sat up, and took my
spectacles from behind my pillow, and put them on my nose, and looked
up at the clock. The lamp which was upon the floor shone upon the
clock, so that I could see, and I saw that it was only _four_ o’clock,
and I said, “Oh, it is only four o’clock; it is not time for me to get
up yet.” So I took my spectacles off of my nose, and put them behind my
pillow, and laid me down again. The clock kept saying all the while,
tick,--tick,--tick.
Pretty soon, I went to sleep, and slept some time. Then I woke, and
said to myself, “I wonder what o’clock it is?” So I sat up, and took
my spectacles from behind my pillow, and put them on my nose, and
looked up at the clock. The lamp which was upon the floor shone upon
the clock, so that I could see, and I saw that it was only _five_
o’clock, and I said, “Oh, it is only five o’clock. It is not time for
me to get up yet.” So I took my spectacles off of my nose, and put them
behind my pillow, and laid me down again. The clock kept saying all the
while, tick,--tick,--tick.
Pretty soon I went to sleep, and slept some time. When I woke, I said
to myself, “I wonder what o’clock it is?” So I sat up, and took my
spectacles from behind my pillow, and put them on my nose, and looked
up at the clock. The lamp which was upon the floor shone upon the
clock, so that I could see, and I saw that it was _six_ o’clock. Then
I said _now_ it is time for me to get up. So I jumped up and dressed
me, and looked out of the window, and there was a beautiful, bright
star shining in the sky. The star was up before me.
When I was ready I opened the door to go out; but the clock still kept
saying tick,--tick,--tick. I wondered what made the clock keep going so
all the night and all the day, and I went back and opened the door to
see. And what do you think I found? Why, I found a great heavy weight
hung to a string, and the string was fastened to some of the little
wheels up in the clock. The weight kept pulling down and pulling down
all the time, slowly, and it pulled the string down slowly, and the
string made the wheels go round, and the wheels made the hands go, and
some of the little wheels made that noise I heard,--tick,--tick,--tick.
What do you think happens when the weights which make the clock go get
down, down, to the very bottom of the clock? Why, then they have to
wind them up to the top again, and they begin anew.
JONAS.
One fine summer evening a gentleman came riding down a hill in a
country covered with pleasant farm houses, green fields, and little
groups of trees. He had a small boy in the wagon with him.
There was a brook at the bottom of the hill. A bridge was built over
the brook, and the road passed over the bridge. The horse and waggon,
with the gentleman and his boy in it, went swiftly over the bridge and
up the hill; but just as they began to ascend, one of the _traces_
broke.
One of the _traces_? What is a trace? Do you know my boy? The traces
are those long, stout straps of leather which pass along the sides of
the horse, and are fastened to the waggon. The horse draws a waggon,
or a chaise, by means of the traces. Therefore they are always made
very strong. You can see a picture of some traces in “Rollo learning
to Talk,” a book about as large as this, at the story of a Goat for
a Horse. The next time you take a ride, I advise you to look at the
traces on the horse, and see how strong they are. See too how they are
fastened to the horse, and how they are fastened to the chaise.
If one of the traces should give way, that is, should break, in going
up a hill, what do you think would be the consequence? Why, the waggon
would go back, partly held by the other trace. That was the way with
this waggon; it went back, the horse was frightened, the gentleman
jumped out, the boy called out, “whoa,--_whoa_,--WHOA.”
It did not do any good. Boys had better be still when there is any
difficulty.
The waggon backed until, just as it was going off the bank, a boy ran
up and put a stone behind the wheel. That stopped it.
This was not the boy who was in the waggon. It was another boy. The
gentleman had not seen him before. He had on light colored clothes, a
patched jacket, and an old straw hat; one side of the brim was almost
worn out with catching butterflies; the knees of his trousers were
stained with the grass. The gentleman looked at him a minute, and
said “thank you, my boy.” Then he began to look at the harness. When
the gentleman had examined the traces, he found that the leather was
not broken; it was only the tongue of a buckle by which the trace was
fastened that was gone; for the harness was new, and the waggon was a
handsome one.
“I wish I had a piece of twine to fasten it with, till we get home,”
said he to his son, as he felt in his pockets. He then looked around
to see where the little fellow was who had _trigged_ the wheel. Do you
know what I mean by trigging the wheel? The boy was sitting on the
trunk of a tree, by the side of the road, and as the gentleman turned
around to see him, he was just pulling out a long piece of twine from
his pocket.
“Here is a string, sir,” said he; and he got up and came to the
gentleman. He seemed tired however, for he went back and sat down
again immediately.
“I thank you,” said he, “but I am afraid it is not strong enough.”
“You can double and twist it,” said the boy.
They twisted the string, and then doubled it and twisted it again, and
so tied the harness. The gentleman and his son then got into the waggon
again, and were going to ride up the hill. The gentleman hesitated a
moment whether he ought to offer to pay the boy for his string or not.
Do you think he ought to?
“I _would_ pay him,” whispered his little son; “he looks like a poor
boy.”
“Yes,” replied his father,“but perhaps he would make a bad use of the
money. Perhaps his father and mother would not like to have him have
any money.”
“Why cannot you ask him?”
The gentleman then turned to the boy who was still sitting on the log,
and said,
“What is your name, my little fellow?”
“Jonas.”
“Where do you live?”
“Sir?”
“Where do you live?”
The boy hesitated a moment as if he did not understand him. Then he
said,
“I don’t know sir.--I don’t live any where.”
The little boy in the waggon laughed.
“Don’t know where you live?” said the gentleman. “Well, what are you
doing out here?”
“I have been catching butterflies.”
“Where did you come from?”
“I don’t know sir.--I came from the city.”
“The city! What city?”
“I don’t know sir,--the city back there. I don’t know what the name of
it is.”
[Illustration: JONAS SITTING ON A LOG.--Page 86.]
“Do you live in the city?”
“No, sir, I am not going to live there any more?”
“Do your father and mother live there?”
“My father is dead; and I have not got any mother.”
“What has become of your mother?”
“I never had any, sir.”
The gentleman smiled a moment when he heard this answer, and then he
looked serious and concerned and paused a moment. He seemed not to know
what to do.
“But, Jonas,” said he again, “you say you do not live any where; where
do you get your food and sleep?”
“Sir!”
“Where do you sleep at night?”
“I slept in Mr. Williams’ shed last night.”
“And where do you expect to sleep to-night?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Where did you get your breakfast this morning?”
“A man gave me some.”
“And where did you get your dinner?”
“I have not had any dinner, sir.”
“No dinner!--I should think you would be too tired and hungry to chase
butterflies, without any dinner.”
“I was too tired, and so I stopped.”
The gentleman, after talking with the boy a little longer, concluded to
take him into his waggon, and carry him home.
“Jump up behind into my waggon, Jonas,” said he, “and I will give you
some supper.”
So Jonas jumped up behind and rode home with them. You will hear
more about him hereafter, for who do you think this gentleman was?
Why it was Rollo’s father, and the boy who was riding with him was
Rollo himself. Jonas lived with Rollo a long time, and became a very
industrious, useful boy. He used to take care of Rollo, and play with
him.
A LITTLE LETTER.
This is a letter written to a little boy about as large as you. James
is the name of the boy. James’ uncle wrote it.
The letter.
“Dear James,
Do you want me to write you a little letter about a robin? I think
you do. Well; I will write it. Now I will begin. A robin is a bird.
A robin has two wings and two legs; he flies in the air; it is his
wings make him go. When he comes down to the ground, he hops along on
his two legs. When he sees a worm he picks it up with his bill. Do
you know what his _bill_ is? It is a mouth. Then he picks it up just
as the hen does, and eats it. Now for the story.
Near the house where I live, there is a field; and in the field there
is a tree. I was walking in the field, and went near the tree; as I
went near it, a bird darted out of the tree, and sung out very loud;
it made me start. When I saw it was a bird, I looked among the leaves
and branches of the tree, and found there a pretty robin’s nest, and
three eggs. Only think, a beautiful nest, with three eggs. I looked
at them for a minute, and then went away and left them there. The
next day, I walked down to the tree again, to see the nest and the
pretty eggs. I pulled away the leaves, but the nest was not there. I
stooped down on the ground, looked into the grass, and there I saw
the robin. The poor robin was dead, the nest was torn in pieces, and
the eggs were broken. I would send you one of the eggs, but it is
broken so much, that I think it will not do. When the little robin
was alive, he sung pleasantly, he made him a nest, and handsome eggs;
but now the robin is dead, the nest is torn in pieces, and the eggs
are broken. Poor robin; poor robin.
I have written this story of the robin for little James. I am very
sorry that any boy should kill the poor robin and spoil its nest.
This is from your affectionate,
Uncle.”
ROLLO’S DREAM.
One day Rollo’s mother wanted him to do some errands for her. He went
on one, reluctantly, but when she gave him another he murmured aloud.
“Oh,” said he, “I wish I did not have so many errands to do. What a
hard life I lead!”
This gave his mother pain, and he saw it. When he got back from this
errand she told him there was nothing more for him to do. Rollo went
and stood at the door a few minutes to see if there were any boys out
there. But there were none, so he took a story-book in his hand and
went down into the garden, and took his seat in the little arbor which
his father had made for him, and began to read.
[Illustration: ROLLO ASLEEP IN THE ARBOR.--Page 46.]
The arbor reminded him of his parents’ kindness, and this made him
feel unhappy to think of his unwillingness to help his mother.
These thoughts troubled him, and so he could not attend to his book.
Presently he got lost in a reverie,--his book dropped over upon his
lap. His head gradually sunk down,--and here you see Rollo fast asleep.
While he slept he dreamed. Rollo dreamed that he lived in a small
house, a great many miles away, and that his mother was there alone
with him. She asked him one day to go and get a pail of water. “Oh,”
said he, “I wish I did not have so much water to bring,--what a hard
life I lead!”
He dreamed that just then he saw a cat lying down in the sun by the
door. She seemed to have nothing to do. “Oh,” thought Rollo, “how I
wish I were a cat. It would be such a _fine thing_ to be a cat.”
No sooner had he said this than he felt some how or other a strong
desire to get down on his hands and knees,--he found himself growing
smaller and smaller,--his fingers became sharp claws, and in short
Rollo dreamed that he was turning into a cat.
He walked about, a minute or two, stretched himself, mewed and purred
to ascertain that he was really a cat, and then laid down again in the
sun to go to sleep. As he shut his eyes he said to himself, purring,
“How glad I am that I have no more water to bring! What a fine thing it
is to be a cat!”
Pretty soon he waked up and was hungry. His first thought was to go to
his mother as usual, for some bread and butter. He went in and looked
piteously up into his mother’s face and mewed. She did not mind him. He
mewed louder. She paid no attention. Then he went to making a louder
noise, as cats can, when necessary. His mother went and opened the
door, and took the brush and drove him out, saying as he went, “_scat_.”
Rollo then thought he must go and catch some mice or starve. So he went
down cellar, and posted himself before a little hole in the wall. He
waited here an hour, and at length a little mouse peeped out. Rollo
darted his paw out at him, but he missed him, and the mouse drew back
into his hole where he was safe. Rollo waited many hours longer, but no
mouse came. “This is worse than bringing water,” thought he. “I wish I
_could_ get something to eat. What a hard life I lead!”
Just then he heard, that is, he dreamed he heard, a loud noise,
moo-o-o, in the yard. He scampered up, hungry as he was, to see what
was the matter. It was the cow lowing to be milked. She looked full
and large, as if she had had as much as she could eat.
“In the green fields all day,” thought hungry Rollo, “with nothing to
do but eat and drink and then lie down under the trees. Oh, how I wish
I were a cow!”
He had no sooner said these words than he found himself growing very
large. He felt something coming out of his forehead,--he put his paw
up, though with difficulty, for his paw was growing into a large, stiff
leg, and he found that horns were coming. By the time his leg was down
again, it was changed entirely, and had a hoof at the end. He was
becoming a cow. He lashed his sides with his tail, and walked about
eating the grass in the yard, till he had satisfied his hunger, and
then he said to himself, “How much better this is than watching for
mice all day in a dark cellar. Oh, it is a fine thing to be a cow.”
After milking, they led Rollo into the barn, put a halter round his
neck, and tied him in a dark, unpleasant stall. “Have I got to stay
tied up here till morning?” thought Rollo. It was even so.
The next morning they drove him off to pasture. The boy beat him with a
stick on the way, but he was so great and clumsy that he could neither
escape nor defend himself. In the field, the flies bit and stung him,
and though he could brush off some of them with his tail, yet the
largest and worst of them always seemed to get upon places he could not
reach. At night when he was coming home, some boys set a dog upon him
and worried him till he was weary of his life. “Ah,” said he, “it is a
terrible thing to be a cow,--what a hard life I lead!”
Just then the dog became tired of barking at him, and trotted away.
“Oh,” said Rollo, “if I was only a dog. A dog can defend himself.
Then a dog has plenty to eat and nothing to do. What a fine thing it
would be to be a dog!” No sooner said than done. Rollo began to grow
slender and small, his horns dropped off,--his hoofs turned back into
claws again, his back became sleek and shining, and he found himself
a beautiful, black dog, with hanging ears and a curled tail, and an
elegant brass collar about his neck.
Rollo ran about the streets very happily for half an hour, and then
went home. The dream seemed to change its scene here, and Rollo found
himself in a beautiful yard belonging to the house where his master
lived. He went home hungry, and they gave him a bone to eat. “What,”
said Rollo to himself, “nothing but a bone!” He gnawed it for a
while, thinking, however, that it was rather hard fare, and then began
to think of going to bed. There was no bed for him, however; for his
master came and took hold of his collar, and led him along towards a
post in the yard, where he chained him, and throwing his bone down by
his side, left him to watch for the thieves.
Rollo had a bad night. ’Tis true no thieves came, but he was all the
time afraid they would come, and at every little noise he woke up and
growled. Thus disturbed, and chilled by the cool air of the night, he
passed his hours restlessly and miserably. “Ah!” said he, “dogs do not
have so pleasant a life as I supposed. What a hard way this is to get a
living!”
At this moment he heard a great many persons coming along; he started
up and barked, for it was very early, though beginning to be light.
A number of men were leading a huge animal along. It was an elephant.
They were taking him into town for a show, and they came in early, so
that nobody should see him without paying.
“That’s the life for me,” said Rollo. “What a gentleman of an animal
the elephant is; he has a dozen men to wait upon him. Ha! Old Longnose,
what a happy fellow you must be. Oh, if I was only an elephant!”
As soon as he had said this, he could feel his nose lengthening into a
slender trunk,--his body swelled out to a great size,--his feet grew
large, and his black, shining skin turned into a coarse, rough, grey
hide,--and he found himself walking along the road, with a man on his
head.
He arrived at the great stable where he was to be exhibited, thinking
that it was an admirable thing to be an elephant. They gave him
something to eat, and soon the men and boys came in to see him. For
half an hour he had a fine time, walking around, carrying boys about
on his tusks,--taking his keeper’s head into his mouth,--picking up
nuts and pieces of gingerbread with the finger and thumb at the end of
his proboscis,--laying down and rising again at the keeper’s command.
Pretty soon, however, he got tired, and when the keeper ordered him
to lay down, he concluded that he would not get up again. But the
keeper taught him by blows that he was not his own master, if he was a
gentleman. New troops of starers kept coming in, and Rollo got tired
out completely with going over and over again the same evolutions. He
could hardly stand at last, and when they left him for the night,
and he lay down to try to rest, and he reflected that it must be just
so to-morrow, and the next day, and so on as long as he lived, he was
almost in despair. “Oh!” said he, how foolish I was to wish to be an
elephant! I had rather be any thing else. What a hard life I lead!
“And then such a window as this to look out of, after my hard day’s
work,” said he, as he turned his eye upward towards a little square
hole in the stable wall. “What a window for an elephant’s residence!”
As he looked out this hole, his eye rested upon a green tree growing in
a garden behind the wall. A bird was perched upon a branch, singing an
evening song.
“Ah, you little bird, what a happy time you must have there,--free as
air, and full of happiness. You find plenty to eat, you have your own
pleasant home upon a lofty tree, out of the reach of any danger. You go
where you please with your swift wings. Oh, if I only had wings, how
easily I could escape from all my troubles.”
As he said this, his long proboscis which was lying over his leg
as he was reclining upon the stable floor, began to straighten out
and stiffen,--turning into a huge bill,--feathers began to come out
all over him--his immense body dwindled down to the size of an ox,
then to that of a sheep, and finally he became smaller than a dove.
Beautiful wings covered his sides. He hopped along upon the floor, and
finding that he was really a bird, he leaped up and flew out of the
window,--away from the ugly stable forever.
He spent a pleasant night among the trees, and early the next morning
was singing blithely upon a branch. A man came into the field with
something in his hand. Rollo looked at him, happy to think that no man
could catch him or hurt him, now that he had such a pair of wings. In
a minute the man held up the thing he had in his hands and pointed at
him. Rollo had just time to see that it was a gun, and to stretch his
wings in terrible fear, when,--_flash_,--BANG,--went the gun, and down
came the poor bird to the ground, with his wing and leg torn away, and
a dozen leaden shot lodged in his red breast,--for he was a robin.
The terror and pain waked him up, and he found himself sitting in his
arbor, with his book on the ground, where it had fallen from his hand.
He got up, and went to the house, thinking that a discontented mind
would find trouble enough in any situation, and that a boy with kind
parents, a pleasant home, and plenty of food and clothing, ought not
to complain of his lot, even if he was called upon sometimes to help
his mother.
THE COLD MORNING.
One pleasant morning in the fall of the year, little Charles, who had
been sleeping on the trundle-bed in his mother’s chamber, waked up and
opened his eyes. He looked around him, and saw that his father was
dressing himself.
“Father,” said he, “may I get up too?”
“It is pretty cold this morning; can you bear the cold long enough to
dress yourself?”
“But, father, I need not stay here; I can take up my clothes and run
down into the parlor, and dress me there by the fire.”
“No, it is not proper for any body to go to the parlor till they are
dressed. Besides, perhaps the fire is not built yet.”
By this time, Charles’ nose had become pretty cold; so he said, “Well,
I believe I will wait;” and he drew his head under the bedclothes again.
In a few minutes he became warm again, and thought that it would not be
very cold if he should get up, and that if it was, he should not mind
it. He looked out a second time, and said,
“Father, do you think I should have time to dress me before you get
ready to go down stairs?”
“I think you will, if you are quick.”
“Do you think I could help you any in building the fire?”
“Yes, you might hand me the wood and carry out the ashes, and after the
fire is built, you might sweep up the hearth.”
“Then I will get up,” said Charles; and he sprang out of bed, and began
to dress himself.
In a few minutes, however, he began to be cold, and to shiver, and his
fingers grew numb, and he began to wish he had waited a little longer.
At last he stopped dressing himself.
“Father,” said he, “it is colder than I thought it was. I have a great
mind to get into bed again.”
“Well,” said his father, “you can do as you please; but how far have
you got, in dressing yourself?”
“I am about half dressed.”
“Then it will take you about as long to undress again as it would to
finish dressing, and be ready to go down.”
Charles stood a moment shivering and thinking.
“So it will,” said he; “I wish I had not put on my jacket.”
After a moment’s pause, he concluded to finish dressing, and he went on
resolutely through it; and just as his father opened the door, he took
hold of his hand, saying that he was ready.
“Father,” said he, as they were going down stairs, “I think that
when any body means to do any thing, he ought to think of all the
difficulties before he begins, and then go through it quickly without
stopping.”
“Why?” said his father.
“Because I grew colder while I was standing still, not knowing what to
do, than all the time while I was dressing me. And now I shall be very
cold before we get the fire built. Father, I don’t see what makes it
cold. I wish it was always warm as it is in summer.”
“While we are building the fire, I will explain it to you,” said his
father. So they went down stairs.
* * * * *
When Rollo read this story he said he was sorry it left off without
telling why it is colder in the winter than in the summer, because he
thought he should like to know. So at breakfast that morning, he asked
his father to explain it to him.
“Yes,” said his father, “I will explain it to you. It is because in the
winter the sun moves through such a part of the sky that he does not
shine so well upon the part of the world which we live in, as he does
in the summer.”
Rollo listened attentively to what his father said, but he thought he
did not understand it very well. So he said he meant always to dress
himself quick in the cold morning, and not keep beginning and leaving
off as Charles did.
HOW TO READ RIGHT.
I wish all the boys and girls who may read this book to learn by it
to read right, and now I shall tell you how to read right. But first
I must explain some things to you about the way in which books are
printed. What I am going to tell you now, is what Rollo’s father
explained to him, after he had learned to read in easy reading,
and had learned all the stops,--the comma, and the period, and the
interrogation mark, and all the stops. I shall explain them to you by
the help of a story, which I am going to put in here. I shall stop
telling the story every few minutes to explain some things about the
way of printing it. Here is the beginning of the story:--
Once there was a man who thought he would go up upon a mountain.
That is the beginning of the story; but I wish to stop a moment to ask
you to look at the letters which it is printed with, and see whether
they are as large as the reading before it. Is it printed in just as
large letters, or larger, or smaller? Yes, it is smaller. I am going to
have all the story printed in smaller print. The reason is because the
principal thing I wish to do now, is to explain to you how to read, and
I only wish for the story to help me,--so I put it in smaller print, or
as they generally call it smaller _type_. It is very often so in books.
One part is printed in larger, and the other part in smaller type. The
most important is in large type. The least important is in small type.
If you will ask your father or mother, or your brother or sister, if
you have one old enough, they will show you books with large and small
print in them. Whenever you see any thing printed in smaller print than
the rest of the book, you ought not to read right on without thinking
any thing of it; but you ought to pause a minute, and observe it, and
think what the reason is. Now I will begin my story again in small
print.
Once there was a man who thought he would go up upon a mountain; so
he rode along on his horse till he came as near to the mountain as
he could, in the road,--and then he turned off into the woods and
rode on until he came to the foot of the mountain. He could ride no
farther; so he tied his horse to a tree.
Then he began to walk up the mountain.
Do you see that when we come to the word _tree_, just above there,
that we leave off printing in that line. There is a period, and then
the rest of the line has nothing in it. It is blank, as they call it,
that is white, all white paper. The next part of the story begins in
the next line. The next part of the story is, these words, “Then he
began,” and that is printed in the next line. And if you look at it,
you will see that it is not exactly at the beginning of the line. The
word “Then” is not printed as near the side of the page as the other
lines above it are. There is a little space left blank. Do you see the
little space left blank before the “Then”? Now what do you suppose is
the reason why we left off in the middle of the line and began again in
the next line, leaving a little blank space? Why, it is because I had
finished telling you all about the man’s _coming to_ the mountain, and
was now going to tell you about his _going up_ the mountain, and so I
thought it would be best to leave off for that line, and begin again
in the next. Should you like to know what such a place is called? It
is called a new paragraph. A new paragraph is made whenever we come to
any new part of the story. If you look back over the leaves of this
book you will find a great many new paragraphs on all the pages. If any
person says any thing in the story, we put what he says in a paragraph
by itself. See if you can find some new paragraphs.
Now, when you come to any new paragraph in your reading, you ought
not to read right forward without stopping or noticing it at all. You
should pause a little when one paragraph ends, and then begin again
when the new paragraph begins, so that those who hear you read, and who
are not looking over, may know by the sound of your voice, that you
have come to a new paragraph.
Now I will go on with the story, again, beginning at the new paragraph.
Then he began to walk up. He scrambled through the bushes for some
time, and at last came out into a smooth, but muddy path. Here,
however, he was in no little difficulty, for the path was so slippery
that notwithstanding all he could do, he seemed rather to be sliding
_down_, than climbing up.
Here we come to the end of another paragraph. And I wish you to look at
the word “_down_” in the last line. Do you see any thing strange about
it? Is it printed like the other words?
Once I asked some children to look at a word printed so, and to tell
me what the difference was between it and other words. One said it
looked fainter. Another said it looked smaller. A third said it was not
printed with good ink. But the true explanation is, the letters of the
word are slanting. That is all. It makes the word look a little fainter.
You will see that the letters are different by looking first at the
d in “sliding,” which comes before “_down_,” and then looking at the
_d_ in “_down_.” The d in “sliding” is straight. The _d_ in “_down_”
is slanting; all the other letters in _down_ are slanting. Do you know
what this kind of printing is called? It is called Italic.
The word “_down_” in the story is printed in Italics. The reason
why it is printed in Italics is because I wanted you to notice it
particularly. It is remarkable that while the man was trying to get
_up_, he should, instead of that, slide _down_. So I had the word
printed differently, that you might notice it particularly. Whenever
you are reading and come to any word printed in Italics, you must
notice it, and speak it very distinctly, for it is an important word.
Look back in this book and see if you can find some words printed in
Italics. When you find one, read the sentence it is in aloud, and speak
the word which is in Italics very plain and distinct, and see if you do
not understand the sentence better.
You must always read such words very distinctly in all books except
the Bible. In the Bible, the words are put in Italics for a different
reason, which I cannot explain to you now. Now I will go on with the
story.
He at last got over this slippery part of the path, and then came to
a place where it was very rocky. Trees and bushes hung over his head,
and grew thick all around him, and he began to be afraid that he
might meet some wild beast. Presently he looked through the bushes,
and saw at a distance among the rocks, some large black thing, and
he thought it was a bear. He was very much frightened, and began to
scream out as loud as he could, HELP, HELP, HELP.
Do you notice any thing remarkable in those three last words? Are they
printed like the other words? Are they printed in Italics? How do they
differ from common printing? Can you tell? Do you often see words
printed so?
They are printed in Capitals. Capitals are letters shaped differently
from other letters. They are generally larger than other letters, but
not always. These words are printed in capitals, because they are
very important indeed. The man cried, Help, Help, Help, very loud. So
we print them in Capitals. If a word is very important, we generally
print it in Italics, but if it is _very_ important _indeed_ we print
it in Capitals. When you come to a word printed in Capitals, you must
generally read it very plain and distinctly indeed. I should like to
have you look back to the story of Jonas, and see how the words are
printed where the boy said “Whoa.” Can you tell the reason why they
are printed so? and can you read them right? But let us go on with the
story.
At the same time that he shouted for help so loud, he grasped hold
of a tree close by, and began to climb it, by the branches, to get
out of the bear’s way. When he got up a little way, he could see over
the bushes to the very place where the bear was; he looked there, and
saw--what do you think it was?