they gradually recovered from their terror and approached the Spaniards
with great awe, frequently prostrating themselves on the earth and
making signs of adoration. During the ceremonies of taking possession,
they remained gazing in timid admiration at the complexion, the beards,
the shining armor and splendid dress of the Spaniards. The admiral
particularly attracted their attention, from his commanding height, his
air of authority, his dress of scarlet, and the deference which was paid
him by his companions; all which pointed him out to be the commander.
When they had still further recovered from their fears, they approached
the Spaniards, touched their beards and examined their hands and faces,
admiring their whiteness. Columbus was pleased with their gentleness and
confiding simplicity, and soon won them by his kindly bearing. They now
supposed that the ships had sailed out of the crystal firmament which
bounded their horizon, or had descended from above on their ample wings,
and that these marvelous beings were inhabitants of the skies.
The natives of the island were no less objects of curiosity to the
Spaniards, differing as they did from any race of men they had ever
seen. Their appearance gave no promise of either wealth or civilization,
for they were entirely naked and painted with a variety of colors. With
some it was confined merely to a part of the face, the nose, or around
the eyes; with others it extended to the whole body and gave them a wild
and fantastic appearance.
Their complexion was of a tawny, or copper hue, and they were entirely
destitute of beards. Their hair was not crisped, like the recently
discovered tribes of the African coast, under the same latitude, but
straight and coarse, partly cut short above the ears, but some locks
were left long behind and falling upon their shoulders. Their features,
though obscured and disfigured by paint, were agreeable; they had lofty
foreheads and remarkably fine eyes. They were of moderate stature and
well shaped.
As Columbus supposed himself to have landed on an island at the
extremity of India, he called the natives by the general name of
Indians, which was universally adopted before the true nature of his
discovery was known, and has since been extended to all the aboriginals
of the New World.
The islanders were friendly and gentle. Their only arms were lances,
hardened at the end by fire, or pointed with a flint, or the teeth or
bone of a fish. There was no iron to be seen, nor did they appear
acquainted with its properties; for, when a drawn sword was presented to
them, they unguardedly took it by the edge.
Columbus distributed among them colored caps, glass beads, hawks' bells
and other trifles, such as the Portuguese were accustomed to trade with
among the nations of the gold coast of Africa. They received them
eagerly, hung the beads round their necks, and were wonderfully pleased
with their finery, and with the sound of the bells. The Spaniards
remained all day on shore refreshing themselves, after their anxious
voyage, amid the beautiful groves of the island, and returned on board
late in the evening, delighted with all they had seen.
The island where Columbus had thus, for the first time, set his foot
upon the New World, was called by the natives Guanahane. It still
retains the name of San Salvador, which he gave to it, though called by
the English Cat Island.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 6: From "The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus," by
Washington Irving.]
THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS[7]
King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport,
And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court;
The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in their pride,
And 'mong them sat the Count de Lorge with one for whom he sighed:
And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,
Valor, and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.
Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;
They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their
paws;
With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another,
Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thundrous smother;
The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the air;
Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there."
[Illustration: The Glove and the Lions.]
De Lorge's love o'erheard the King,--a beauteous lively dame
With smiling lips and sharp, bright eyes, which always seemed the same:
She thought, "The Count, my lover, is brave as brave can be;
He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me;
King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine;
I'll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glory will be mine."
She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled;
He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild:
His leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place,
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face.
"Well done!" cried Francis, "bravely done!" and he rose from where he
sat:
"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that."
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 7: By Leigh Hunt, an English essayist and poet (1784-1859).]
EXPRESSION: Read this poem silently, trying to understand fully the
circumstances of the story: (1) the time; (2) the place; (3) the
character of the leading actors. Then read aloud each stanza with
feeling and expression.
ST. FRANCIS, THE GENTLE[8]
Seven hundred years ago, Francis the gentlest of the saints was born in
Assisi, the quaint Umbrian town among the rocks; and for twenty years
and more he cherished but one thought, and one desire, and one hope; and
these were that he might lead the beautiful and holy and sorrowful life
which our Master lived on earth, and that in every way he might resemble
Him in the purity and loveliness of his humanity.
Not to men alone but to all living things on earth and air and water was
St. Francis most gracious and loving. They were all his little brothers
and sisters, and he forgot them not, still less scorned or slighted
them, but spoke to them often and blessed them, and in return they
showed him great love and sought to be of his fellowship. He bade his
companions keep plots of ground for their little sisters the flowers,
and to these lovely and speechless creatures he spoke, with no great
fear that they would not understand his words. And all this was a
marvelous thing in a cruel time, when human life was accounted of slight
worth by fierce barons and ruffling marauders.
For the bees he set honey and wine in the winter, lest they should feel
the nip of the cold too keenly; and bread for the birds, that they all,
but especially "my brother Lark," should have joy of Christmastide, and
at Rieti a brood of redbreasts were the guests of the house and raided
the tables while the brethren were at meals; and when a youth gave St.
Francis the turtledoves he had snared, the Saint had nests made for
them, and there they laid their eggs and hatched them, and fed from the
hands of the brethren.
Out of affection a fisherman once gave him a great tench, but he put it
back into the clear water of the lake, bidding it love God; and the fish
played about the boat till St. Francis blessed it and bade it go.
"Why dost thou torment my little brothers the Lambs," he asked of a
shepherd, "carrying them bound thus and hanging from a staff, so that
they cry piteously?" And in exchange for the lambs he gave the shepherd
his cloak. And at another time seeing amid a flock of goats one white
lamb feeding, he was concerned that he had nothing but his brown robe to
offer for it (for it reminded him of our Lord among the Pharisees); but
a merchant came up and paid for it and gave it him, and he took it with
him to the city and preached about it so that the hearts of those
hearing him were melted. Afterwards the lamb was left in the care of a
convent of holy women, and to the Saint's great delight, these wove him
a gown of the lamb's innocent wool.
Fain would I tell of the coneys that took refuge in the folds of his
habit, and of the swifts which flew screaming in their glee while he was
preaching; but now it is time to speak of the sermon which he preached
to a great multitude of birds in a field by the roadside, when he was on
his way to Bevagno. Down from the trees flew the birds to hear him, and
they nestled in the grassy bosom of the field, and listened till he had
done. And these were the words he spoke to them:--
"Little birds, little sisters mine, much are you holden to God your
Creator; and at all times and in every place you ought to praise Him.
Freedom He has given you to fly everywhere; and raiment He has given
you, double and threefold. More than this, He preserved your kind in the
Ark, so that your race might not come to an end. Still more do you owe
Him for the element of air, which He has made your portion. Over and
above, you sow not, neither do you reap; but God feeds you, and gives
you streams and springs for your thirst; the mountains He gives you, and
the valleys for your refuge, and the tall trees wherein to build your
nests. And because you cannot sew or spin, God takes thought to clothe
you, you and your little ones. It must be, then, that your Creator loves
you much, since He has granted you so many benefits. Be on your guard
then against the sin of ingratitude, and strive always to give God
praise."
And when the Saint ceased speaking, the birds made such signs as they
might, by spreading their wings and opening their beaks, to show their
love and pleasure; and when he had blessed them with the sign of the
cross, they sprang up, and singing songs of unspeakable sweetness, away
they streamed in a great cross to the four quarters of heaven.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 8: By William Canton, an English journalist and poet (1845- ).]
THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS[9]
Up soared the lark into the air,
A shaft of song, a winged prayer,
As if a soul, released from pain,
Were flying back to heaven again.
St. Francis heard; it was to him
An emblem of the Seraphim;
The upward motion of the fire,
The light, the heat, the heart's desire.
Around Assisi's convent gate
The birds, God's poor who cannot wait,
From moor and mere and darksome wood,
Came flocking for their dole of food.
"O brother birds," St. Francis said,
"Ye come to me and ask for bread,
But not with bread alone to-day
Shall ye be fed and sent away.
"Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds,
With manna of celestial words;
Not mine, though mine they seem to be,
Not mine, though they be spoken through me.
"Oh, doubly are ye bound to praise
The great creator in your lays;
He giveth you your plumes of down,
Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.
"He giveth you your wings to fly
And breathe a purer air on high,
And careth for you everywhere
Who for yourselves so little care."
With flutter of swift wings and songs
Together rose the feathered throngs
And, singing, scattered far apart;
Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart.
He knew not if the brotherhood
His homily had understood;
He only knew that to one ear
The meaning of his words was clear.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 9: By Henry W. Longfellow.]
EXPRESSION: Talk with your teacher about the life, work, and
influence of St. Francis. Refer to cyclopedias for information.
Read aloud the prose version of his sermon to the birds; the
poetical version. Compare the two versions. What is said in one
that is not said in the other?
IN THE WOODS[10]
Years ago, when quite a youth, I was rambling in the woods one day with
my brothers, gathering black birch and wintergreens.
As we lay upon the ground, gazing vaguely up into the trees, I caught
sight of a bird, the like of which I had never before seen or heard of.
It was the blue yellow-backed warbler, which I have found since; but to
my young fancy it seemed like some fairy bird, so curiously marked was
it, and so new and unexpected. I saw it a moment as the flickering
leaves parted, noted the white spot on its wing, and it was gone.
It was a revelation. It was the first intimation I had had that the
woods we knew so well held birds that we knew not at all. Were our eyes
and ears so dull? Did we pass by the beautiful things in nature without
seeing them? Had we been blind then? There were the robin, the bluejay,
the yellowbird, and others familiar to every one; but who ever dreamed
that there were still others that not even the hunters saw, and whose
names few had ever heard?
The surprise that awaits every close observer of birds, the thrill of
delight that accompanies it, and the feeling of fresh eager inquiry that
follows can hardly be awakened by any other pursuit.
There is a fascination about it quite overpowering.
It fits so well with other things--with fishing, hunting, farming,
walking, camping out--with all that takes one to the fields and the
woods. One may go blackberrying and make some rare discovery; or, while
driving his cow to pasture, hear a new song, or make a new observation.
Secrets lurk on all sides. There is news in every bush. Expectation is
ever on tiptoe. What no man ever saw may the next moment be revealed to
you.
What a new interest this gives to the woods! How you long to explore
every nook and corner of them! One must taste it to understand. The
looker-on sees nothing to make such a fuss about. Only a little glimpse
of feathers and a half-musical note or two--why all this ado? It is not
the mere knowledge of birds that you get, but a new interest in the
fields and woods, the air, the sunshine, the healing fragrance and
coolness, and the getting away from the worry of life.
Yesterday was an October day of rare brightness and warmth. I spent the
most of it in a wild, wooded gorge of Rock Creek. A tree which stood
upon the bank had dropped some of its fruit in the water. As I stood
there, half-leg deep, a wood duck came flying down the creek.
Presently it returned, flying up; then it came back again, and sweeping
low around a bend, prepared to alight in a still, dark reach in the
creek which was hidden from my view. As I passed that way about half an
hour afterward, the duck started up, uttering its wild alarm note. In
the stillness I could hear the whistle of its wings and the splash of
the water when it took flight. Near by I saw where a raccoon had come
down to the water for fresh clams, leaving its long, sharp track in the
mud and sand. Before I had passed this hidden stretch of water, a pair
of strange thrushes flew up from the ground and perched on a low branch.
Who can tell how much this duck, this footprint on the sand, and these
strange thrushes from the far North enhanced the interest and charm of
the autumn woods?
Birds cannot be learned satisfactorily from books. The satisfaction is
in learning them from nature. One must have an original experience with
the birds. The books are only the guide, the invitation. But let me say
in the same breath that the books can by no manner of means be dispensed
with.
In the beginning one finds it very difficult to identify a bird in any
verbal description. First find your bird; observe its ways, its song,
its calls, its flight, its haunts. Then compare with your book. In this
way the feathered kingdom may soon be conquered.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 10: By John Burroughs, an American writer on nature (1837- ).]
EXPRESSION: This and the selection which follows are fine examples
of descriptive writing. Read them so that your hearers will
understand every statement clearly and without special effort on
their part. Talk about the various objects that are mentioned, and
tell what you have learned about them from other sources.
BEES AND FLOWERS[11]
Fancy yourself to be in a pretty country garden on a hot summer's
morning. Perhaps you have been walking, or reading, or playing, but it
is getting too hot now to do anything. So you have chosen the shadiest
nook under the walnut tree, close to some pretty flower bed.
As you lie there you notice a gentle buzzing near you, and you see that
on the flower bed close by several bees are working busily among the
flowers. They do not seem to mind the heat, nor do they wish to rest;
and they fly so lightly, and look so happy over their work, that it is
pleasant to watch them.
That great bumblebee takes it leisurely enough as she goes lumbering
along, poking her head into the larkspurs; she remains so long in each
that you might almost think she had fallen asleep. The brown hive-bee,
on the other hand, moves busily and quickly among the stocks, sweet
peas, and mignonette. She is evidently out on active duty, and means to
get all she can from each flower, so as to carry a good load back to the
hive. In some blossoms she does not stay a moment, but draws her head
back almost as soon as she has popped it in, as if to say, "No honey
there." But over other flowers she lingers a little, and then scrambles
out again with her drop of honey, and goes off to seek more.
Let us watch her a little more closely. There are many different plants
growing in the flower bed, but, curiously enough, she does not go first
to one kind and then to another, but keeps to one the whole time.
Now she flies away. Rouse yourself to follow her, and you will see she
takes her way back to the hive. We all know why she makes so many
journeys between the garden and the hive, and that she is collecting
drops of nectar from the flowers and carrying it to the hive to be
stored up in the honeycomb for the winter's food. When she comes back
again to the garden, we will follow her in her work among the flowers,
and see what she is doing for them in return for their gifts to her.
No doubt you have already learned that plants can make better and
stronger seeds when they can get the pollen dust from other plants. But
I am sure that you will be very much surprised to hear that the colors,
the scent, and the curious shapes of the flowers are all so many baits
to attract insects. And for what reason? In order that the insects may
come and carry the pollen dust from one plant to another.
So far as we know, it is entirely for this purpose that the plants form
honey in different parts of the flower. This food they prepare for the
insects, and then they have all sorts of contrivances to entice the
little creatures to come and get it. The plants hang out gay-colored
signs, as much as to say:--
"Come to me, and I will give you honey, if you will bring me pollen dust
in exchange."
If you watch the different kinds of grasses, sedges, and rushes, which
have such tiny flowers that you can scarcely see them, you will find
that no insects visit them. Neither will you ever find bees buzzing
round oak trees, elms, or birches. But on the pretty and sweet-smelling
apple blossoms you will find bees, wasps, and other insects.
The reason of this is that grasses, sedges, rushes, and oak trees have a
great deal of pollen dust. As the wind blows them to and fro it wafts
the dust from one flower to another. And so these plants do not need to
give out honey, or to have gaudy or sweet-scented flowers to attract
insects.
But the brilliant poppy, the large-flowered hollyhock, the flaunting
dandelion, and the bright blue forget-me-not,--all these are visited by
insects, which easily catch sight of them and hasten to sip their honey.
We must not forget what the fragrance of the flowers can do. Have you
ever noticed the delicious odor which comes from beds of mignonette,
mint, or sweet alyssum? These plants have found another way of
attracting the insects; they have no need of bright colors, for their
fragrance is quite as true and certain a guide. You will be surprised if
you once begin to count them up, how many dull-looking flowers are
sweet-scented, while some gaudy flowers have little or no scent. Still
we find some flowers, like the beautiful lily, the lovely rose, and the
delicate hyacinth, which have color and fragrance and graceful shapes
all combined.
But there are still other ways by which flowers secure the visits of
insects. Have you not observed that different flowers open and close at
different times? The daisy receives its name "day's eye" because it
opens at sunrise and closes at sunset, while the evening primrose
spreads out its flowers just as the daisy is going to bed.
What do you think is the reason of this? If you go near a bed of evening
primroses just when the sun is setting, you will soon be able to guess.
They will then give out such a sweet odor that you will not doubt for a
moment that they are calling the evening moths to come and visit them.
The daisy, however, opens by day and is therefore visited by day
insects.
Again, some flowers close whenever rain is coming. Look at the daisies
when a storm is threatening. As the sky grows dark and heavy, you will
see them shrink and close till the sun shines again. They do this
because in the center of the flower there is a drop of honey which would
be spoiled if it were washed by the rain.
And now you will see why the cup-shaped flowers so often droop their
heads,--think of the snowdrop, the lily-of-the-valley, and a host of
others. How pretty they look with their bells hanging so modestly from
the slender stalk! They are bending down to protect the honey within
their cups.
We are gradually learning that everything which a plant does has its
meaning, if we can only find it out. And when we are aware of this, a
flower garden may become a new world to us if we open our eyes to all
that is going on in it. And so we learn that even among insects and
flowers, those who do most for others receive most in return. The bee
and the flower do not reason about the matter; they only live their
little lives as nature guides them, helping and improving each other.
I have been able to tell you but very little about the hidden work that
is going on around us, and you must not for a moment imagine that we
have fully explored the fairy land of nature. But at least we have
passed through the gates, and have learned that there is a world of
wonder which we may visit if we will. And it lies quite close to us,
hidden in every dewdrop and gust of wind, in every brook and valley, in
every little plant and animal.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 11: From "The Fairy Land of Nature," by Arabella B. Buckley.]
EXPRESSION: Make a list of all the natural objects that are
mentioned in this selection. Read what is said of each. Describe as
many of them as you can in your own words. Tell what you have
observed about bees and flowers. The daisy that is referred to is
the true European daisy. The daisy, or whiteweed, of the United
States does not open and close in the manner here described.
SONG OF THE RIVER[12]
A river went singing a-down to the sea,
A-singing--low--singing--
And the dim rippling river said softly to me,
"I'm bringing, a-bringing--
While floating along--
A beautiful song
To the shores that are white where the waves are so weary,
To the beach that is burdened with wrecks that are dreary.
"A song sweet and calm
As the peacefullest psalm;
And the shore that was sad
Will be grateful and glad,
And the weariest wave from its dreariest dream
Will wake to the sound of the song of the stream;
And the tempests shall cease
And there shall be peace."
From the fairest of fountains
And farthest of mountains,
From the stillness of snow
Came the stream in its flow.
Down the slopes where the rocks are gray,
Through the vales where the flowers are fair--
Where the sunlight flashed--where the shadows lay
Like stories that cloud a face of care,
The river ran on--and on--and on,
Day and night, and night and day.
Going and going, and never gone,
Longing to flow to the "far away."
Staying and staying, and never still,--
Going and staying, as if one will
Said, "Beautiful river, go to the sea,"
And another will whispered, "Stay with me"--
And the river made answer, soft and low,
"I go and stay--I stay and go."
"But what is the song?" I said at last
To the passing river that never passed;
And a white, white wave whispered, "List to me,
I'm a note in the song for the beautiful sea,
A song whose grand accents no earth din may sever,
And the river flows on in the same mystic key
That blends in one chord the 'forever and never.'"
[Footnote 12: By Abram J. Ryan, an American clergyman and poet.]
EXPRESSION: Read aloud the three lines which introduce the song of
the river. Read them in such a manner as to call up a mental
picture of the river on its way to the sea. Read the first five
lines of the third stanza in a similar way, and tell what picture
is now called up in your mind. Now read the river's song. Read what
the white wave said. Read the whole poem with spirit and feeling.
Notice the words "a-down," "a-singing," "a-bringing." What effect
is produced by the use of these unusual forms?
SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE[13]