DE LA SALLE SERIES
(REVISED EDITION, 1922)
BY THE BROTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS, ST. JOSEPH'S NORMAL INSTITUTE, POCANTICO HILLS, N.Y. LA SALLE INSTITUTE, GLENCOE, MO.
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5 GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
7 HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE. Mercedes
8 COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT. J.T. Trowbridge
9 THE LITTLE FERN. Mara L. Pratt
10 HELPING MOTHER.
11 A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
12 TWO LABORERS. Thomas Carlyle
13 THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
14 THE BROOK SONG. James Whitcomb Riley
15 THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN. Rydingsvard
16 THE USE OF FLOWERS. Mary Howitt
17 PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
18 SEPTEMBER. Helen Hunt Jackson
19 "MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME." Mrs. T.A. Sherrard
20 THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
21 MY BEADS. Father Ryan
22 THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS. Thomas Moore
23 A LITTLE LADY. Louisa M. Alcott
24 WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE. Anon.
25 A SONG OF DUTY. Denis A. McCarthy
26 AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
27 MY GUARDIAN ANGEL. Cardinal Newman
28 LITTLE BELL. Thomas Westwood
29 A MODEST WIT. Selleck Osborne
30 WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. George P. Morris
31 THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
32 THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. Samuel Woodworth
33 THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS. Pierre J. Hetzel
34 OUR HEROES. Phoebe Cary
35 THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS. Jean Ingelow
36 THE BROOK. Tennyson
37 LEARNING TO THINK.
38 ONE BY ONE. Adelaide A. Procter
39 THE BIRCH CANOE. Longfellow
40 PETER OF CORTONA.
41 To MY DOG BLANCO. J.G. Holland
42 A STORY OF A MONK.
43 THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS. Longfellow
44 GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. Father Ryan
45 THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE. Eugene Field
46 THE HOLY CITY.
47 THE FEAST OF TONGUES. Aesop
48 THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM. William Cowper
49 JACK FROST. Hannah F. Gould
50 "GOING! GOING! GONE!" Helen Hunt Jackson
51 SEVEN TIMES TWO. Jean Ingelow
52 MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
53 THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. Eliza Cook
54 BREAK, BREAK, BREAK! Tennyson
55 GOD IS OUR FATHER.
56 HAPPY OLD AGE. Robert Southey
57 KIND WORDS. Father Faber
58 KINDNESS IS THE WORD. John Boyle O'Reilly
59 DAFFODILS. William Wordsworth
60 THE STORY OF TARCISIUS. Cardinal Wiseman
61 LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM. Eleanor C. Donnelly
62 LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY. Nathaniel Hawthorne
63 IN SCHOOL DAYS Whittier
64 THE SUN'S FAMILY
65 WILL AND I Paul H. Hayne
66 CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'. Charles Dickens
67 WHICH SHALL IT BE? Anon
68 ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR.
69 TO A BUTTERFLY. William Wordsworth
70 THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND. Hans Christian Andersen
71 THE WIND AND THE MOON. George MacDonald
72 ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
73 THE WATER LILY. Jean Ingelow
74 A BUILDER'S LESSON. John Boyle O'Reilly
75 WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.
76 WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. Margaret E. Sangster
77 THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL. William R. Wallace
78 THE MARTYR'S BOY. Cardinal Wiseman
79 THE ANGEL'S STORY. Adelaide A. Procter
80 GLUCK'S VISITOR. John Ruskin
81 A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS. Clement C. Moore
82 COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.
83 THE BOY OF THE HOUSE. Jean Blewett
(Transcriber's Note: Although "ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. Leigh Hunt" and "A SIMPLE RECIPE. James Whitcomb Riley" were originally shown in the list above, neither work appears in the text.)
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The object of the Christian Brothers in issuing a new series of Readers is to place in the hands of the teachers and pupils of our Catholic schools a set of books embodying the matter and methods best suited to their needs. The matter has been written or chosen with a view to interest and instruct, to cultivate a taste for the best literature, to build up a strong moral character and to imbue our children with an intelligent love of Faith and Country. The methods are those approved by the most experienced and progressive teachers of reading in Europe and America.
These Readers have also been specially designed to elicit thought and facilitate literary composition. In furtherance of this idea, class talks, word study, the structure of sentences, drills on certain correct forms of expression, the proper arrangement of ideas, explanation of phrases and literary expressions, oral and written reproductions of narrations and descriptions, and exercises in original composition, all receive the attention which their importance demands. Thus will the pupils, while learning to read and from their earliest years, acquire that readiness in grasping the thoughts of others and that fluency in expressing their own, which are so essential to a good English education.
In teaching the art of Reading as well as that of Composition, the principle of order should in a great measure determine the value of the methods to be employed. In the acquisition of knowledge, the child instinctively follows the order of nature. This order is first, observation; second, thought; third, expression. It becomes the duty of the teacher, consequently, to lead the child to observe accurately, to think clearly, and to express his thoughts correctly. And text-books are useful only in so far as they supply the teacher with the material and the system best calculated to accomplish such results.
It is therefore hoped that the present new series of Readers, having been planned in accordance with the principle just enunciated, will prove a valuable adjunct in our Catholic schools.
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In this Fifth Reader of the De La Salle Series the plan of the preceding numbers has been continued. The pupil has now mastered the mechanical difficulties of learning to read, and has acquired a fairly good working vocabulary. Hence he is prepared to read intelligently and with some degree of fluency and pleasure. Now is the time to lead him to acquire a taste for good reading. The selections have been drawn mainly from authors whose writings are distinguished for their moral and literary value, and whose style is sure to excite a lasting interest.
In addition to giving the pupil practice in reading and forming a basis for oral and written composition work, these selections will raise his ideas of right living, will quicken his imagination, will give him his first knowledge of many things, stimulate his powers of observation, enlarge his vocabulary, and correct and refine his mode of expression. A wholesome reading habit, so important to-day, will thus be easily, pleasantly and unconsciously formed.
The following are some of the features of the book:
GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION.—This Guide is to be referred to again and again, and the diacritical marks carefully taught. Instruction in the vowel sounds is an excellent drill in articulation, while a knowledge of the diacritical marks enables the pupil to master these sounds for himself when consulting the dictionary.
VARIETY OF MATTER.—In the volume will be found the best sentiments of the best writers. The pupil will find fables, nature studies, tales of travel and adventure, brave deeds from history and fiction, stories of loyalty and heroism, examples of sublime Christian self-sacrifice, and selections that teach industry, contentment, respect for authority, reverence for all things sacred, attachment to home, and fidelity to faith and Country.
LANGUAGE STUDY.—If reading is to hold its proper place in the class room, the teaching of it must not be confined to the mere reading of the text. In its truest sense, reading is far more comprehensive. The teacher will question the pupil on what he has read, point out to him the beauties of thought and language, find out what hold the reading has taken upon his memory, how it has aroused his imagination, assisted his judgment, directed his will, and contributed to his fund of general information. To assist in this most important work is the object aimed at in the matter given for Language Study. Such study will also give fuller powers of interpretation and corresponding appreciation of the selection considered simply as literature.
RECITATIONS.—There are some selections marked for recitation. The public recitation of these extracts will banish awkwardness of manner, beget self-confidence, and lay the foundation for subsequent elocutionary work. Besides, experience teaches that a single poem or address based upon some heroic or historic event, recited before a class or a school, will often do more to build up a noble character and foster a love of history, than a full term of instruction by question and answer.
POETRY.—The numerous poetic selections, some of which are partly analyzed by way of suggestion, will create a love for the highest and purest forms of literature, will broaden the field of knowledge, and emphasize the teachings of some of the prose selections. Many of them have been written by American authors. Every American boy and girl should be acquainted with the works of poets who have done so much for the development of American literature and nationality.
MEMORY GEMS.—"The memorizing of choice bits of prose and poetry enriches the vocabulary of the pupils, adorns their memory, suggests delicate and noble thoughts, and puts them in possession of sentences of the best construction. The recitation of these expressive texts accustoms the children to speak with ease, grace and elegance." ("Elements of Practical Pedagogy.")
BIOGRAPHIES.—Young children enjoy literature for its own sake, and take little interest in the personality of the writer; but as they grow older, pleasure in the work of an author arouses an interest in the writer himself. Brief biographical sketches are given at the close of the volume as helps in the study of the authors from whom selections are drawn, and to induce the pupils to read further.
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WORD STUDY.—The pupil should know how to spell and pronounce correctly all the words of the selection he is preparing to read. He should know their ordinary meanings and the special meanings they may have in the text. He should be able to write them correctly from dictation and to use them in sentences of his own. He should examine if they are primitive, derivative, or compound; he should be able to name the prefixes and suffixes and show how the meanings of the original words are modified by their use. He should cultivate the habit of word mastery. What is read will not otherwise be understood. Without it there can be no good reading, speaking or writing.
EXPRESSIVE READING.—There should be constant drill to secure correct pronunciation, distinct articulation, proper emphasis, and an agreeable tone of voice, without which there can be no expressive reading. This is a difficult task, and will take much time, trouble and practice; but it has far-reaching results. It enlarges the sympathy of the pupil and lays the foundation for a genuine love of literature. Do not, then, let the reading lesson drift into a dull and monotonous calling of words. On the contrary, let it be intelligent, spirited, enthusiastic. Emotion comes largely from the imagination. The pupil himself must be taught not only to feel what he reads, but to make its meaning clear to others. It is important that children be taught to acquire thought through the ear.
CONCERT READING.—Reading in concert is generally of little value, and the time given to it ill-spent. It does not aid the children in getting thought, or in expressing it fluently. As an exercise in teaching reading it is ineffective and often positively harmful. A concert recitation to which special training has been given partakes of the nature of a hymn or a song, and then becomes an element of value. If occasionally there must be concert reading in the class room, it should always be preceded by individual mastery of the selection.
POEMS.—In the first lesson, a poem, like a picture, should be presented as a whole, and never dissected. The teacher should first read it through, not stopping for note or comment. He should then read it again, part by part, stopping, for question, explanation and discussion. Lastly, the whole poem, should be read with suitable emotion, so that the final impression may be made by the author's own words. It is important that the pupil get the message which the author intended to give. In teaching a descriptive poem, make the pictures as vivid as possible, and thus awaken the imagination. In dealing with a narrative poem, the sequence of events must first be made clear. When this is done, the aim should be to give fuller meaning to the story by bringing out clearly the causes, motives and results of acts. All this will take time. Be it so. One poem well read, well studied, is worth more than a volume carelessly read over. In reading poetry, be careful that the pupils, while giving the rhythm of the lines, do not fall into the singsong tone so common and so disagreeable.
EXPLANATIONS.—Explanations should accompany every reading lesson, without which there can be no serious teaching of the vernacular. By their means the teacher enters into communication with his pupils; he gets them to speak, he corrects their errors, trains their reason, and forms their taste. It has been said that a teacher able to explain selections in prose and poetry "holds his class in the hollow of his hand." The teacher should insist that the pupil express himself clearly and correctly, not only during the reading lesson, but on every subject he has occasion to deal with, either orally or in writing, throughout the day's recitations.
REVIEWS.—As the memory of children, though prompt, is weak, frequent reviews should be held. They are necessary for the backward pupils and advantageous for the others. Have an informal talk with the children on what they have read, what they have learned, what they have liked, and what has interested them. Some important parts of the prose and poetry previously studied might, during this exercise, be re-read with profit.
COMPOSITION.—Continue oral and written composition. The correct use of written language is best taught by selecting for compositions subject-matter that deeply interests the children. If persevered in, this will secure a good, strong, idiomatic use of English. If the words of a selection that has been studied appear now and then in the children's conversation or writing, it should be a matter for praise; for this means that new words have been added to their vocabulary, and that the children have a new conception of beauty of thought and speech.
See that all written work be done neatly and legibly. Slovenly or careless habits should never be allowed in any written work.
MEMORY GEMS.—Do not lose sight of the memory gems. Familiarize the pupil with them. Their value to the child lies more in future good resulting from them than in present good. These treasures of thought will live in the memory and influence the daily lives of the children who learn them by heart.
THE DICTIONARY.—The use of the dictionary is a necessary part of education. It is a powerful aid in self-education. Its use will double the value of study in connection with reading and language. Every Grammar School, High School and College should be supplied with several copies of a good unabridged dictionary, and every pupil taught how to consult it, and encouraged to do so. The dictionary should be the book of first and last and constant resort.
USE OF THE LIBRARY.—The teacher should endeavor to create an interest in those books from which the selections in the Reader are taken, and in others of equal grade and quality. Encourage the children to take books from the library. Direct them in their choice. Encourage home reading. The reading of good books should be a part of regular school work; otherwise little or no true progress can be made in speaking and writing. The best way to learn to speak and write good English is to read good English.
For additional suggestions as to the best means of teaching Reading and Language, teachers are referred to Chapters II and IV, Part IV, of "Elements of Practical Pedagogy," by the Christian Brothers, and published by the La Salle Bureau of Supplies, 50 Second Street, New York.
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Acknowledgments are gratefully made to the following authors, publishers, and owners of copyright, who have courteously granted permission to use the selections which bear their names:
"Mercedes," Miss Eleanor C. Donnelly, Miss Mary Boyle O'Reilly, Miss Kate Putnam Osgood, Miss P.C. Donnelly, Mrs. Margaret E. Sangster, Mr. Denis A. McCarthy, Mr. James Whitcomb Riley, Mr. George Cooper, Mr. J.T. Trowbridge, "Rev. Richard W. Alexander;" University of Notre Dame; The Ladies' Home Journal; Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.; The Educational Publishing Co.; Little, Brown & Co.; The Bobbs-Merrill Co.; P.J. Kenedy & Sons; The Hinds & Noble Co.; Charles Scribner's Sons.
The selections from Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Hawthorne, Fields, Trowbridge, Phoebe Cary, Charles Dudley Warner, are used by permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers of the works of these authors, and to these gentlemen are tendered expressions of sincere thanks.
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GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
NOTE.—This Guide is given to aid the pupil in the use of the dictionary, and will be found to cover all ordinary cases. In the diacritical marking, as in accentuation and syllabication, Webster's International Dictionary has been taken as authority.
(Transcriber's Note: Equivalent sound shown within round brackets.)
ā as in gate—gāte
â as in care—câre
ă as in cat—căt
ȧ as in ask—ȧsk
ạ (ŏ) as in what—whạt
ä as in car—cär
a as in all—all
ai (â) as in air—âir
ai (ā) as in aim—āim
au (ä) as in aunt—äunt
ē as in eve—ēve
ĕ as in end—ĕnd
ẽ as in her—hẽr
ê as in there—thêre
e (ā) as in they—they
ea (ē) as in ear—ēar
ei (ē) as in receive—recēive
ī as in ice—īce
ĭ as in pin—pĭn
ĩ (ẽ) as in bird—bĩrd
ï (ē) as in police—polïce
ie (ē) as in chief—chiēf
ō as in old—ōld
ô as in lord—lôrd
ŏ as in not—nŏt
ȯ (ŭ) as in son—sȯn
ọ (ụ) as in wolf—wọlf
o ([=oo]) as in do—do
oa (ō) as in boat—bōat
[=oo] (o) as in moon—m[=oo]n
[)oo] (ọ) as in foot—f[)oo]t
ū as in pure—pūre
ŭ as in cup—cŭp
û as in burn—bûrn
ụ (ọ) as in full—fụll
u as in rude—rude
ew (ū) as in new
ȳ (ī as in fly—flȳ
y (ĭ) as in hymn—hymn
ỹ (ẽ) as in myrrh—mỹrrh
c (s) as in cent
c (k) as in cat
ce (sh) as in ocean
ch (k) as in school
ch (sh) as in machine
ci (sh) as in gracious
dg (j) as in edge
ed (d) as in burned
ed (t) as in baked
f (v) as in of
g (hard) as in get
g (j) as in gem
gh (f) as in laugh
n (ng) as in ink
ph (f) as in sulphur
qu (kw) as in queen
s (z) as in has
s (sh) as in sure
s (zh) as in pleasure
ssi (sh) as in passion
si (zh) as in occasion
ti (sh) as in nation
wh (hw) as in when
x (z) as in Xavier
x (ks) as in tax
x (gz) as in exist
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LANGUAGE is the expression of thought by means of words.
WORDS, with respect to their origin, are divided into primitive and derivative; and with respect to their composition, into simple and compound.
A PRIMITIVE word is one that is not derived from another word.
A DERIVATIVE word is one that is formed from another word by means of prefixes or suffixes, or by some other change.
A SIMPLE word is one that consists of a single significant term.
A COMPOUND word is one made up of two or more simple words.
A SENTENCE is a combination of words which make complete sense.
A SYLLABLE is a word or a part of a word pronounced by one effort of the voice.
The DIAERESIS is the mark [..] placed over the second of two adjacent vowels, to denote that they are to be pronounced as distinct letters; as REECHO.
RULES FOR THE USE OF CAPITAL LETTERS
The first word of every SENTENCE should begin with a capital.
PROPER NAMES, and words derived from them, should begin with capitals.
The first word of every LINE OF POETRY should begin with a capital.
All names of God and all titles of the DEITY, as well as all pronouns referring to the Deity, should begin with capitals.
The words I and O should always be capitals.
The first word of a DIRECT QUOTATION should begin with a capital.
The names of the DAYS and of the MONTHS should begin with capitals; but not the names of the seasons.
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HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE.
Glorious Patron! low before thee Kneel thy sons, with hearts a-flame! And our voices blend in music, Singing praises to thy name. Saint John Baptist! glorious Patron! Saint La Salle! we sound thy fame.
Lover of our Queen and Mother, At her feet didst vow thy heart, Earth, and all its joys, forsaking, Thou didst choose the better part. Saint La Salle, our glorious Father, Pierce our souls with love's own dart.
Model of the Christian Teacher! Patron of the Christian youth! Lead us all to heights of glory, As we strive in earnest ruth. Saint La Salle! oh, guard and guide us, As we spread afar the Truth!
In this life of sin and sorrow, Saint La Salle, oh, guide our way, In the hour of dark temptation, Father! be our spirit's stay! Take our hand and lead us homeward, Saint La Salle, to Heaven's bright Day!
Founder of the Brothers of the Christian Schools, pointing out the way of salvation to the children of all nations.
"Christian Teachers are the sculptors of living angels, moulding and shaping the souls of youth for heaven." Most Reverend Archbishop Keane, of Dubuque.
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due mien fri'ar pri'or Pa'los por'ter con'vent pre'cious grat'i tude
COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT.
Dreary and brown the night comes down, Gloomy, without a star. On Palos town the night comes down; The day departs with stormy frown; The sad sea moans afar.
A convent gate is near; 'tis late; Tin-gling! the bell they ring. They ring the bell, they ask for bread— "Just for my child," the father said. Kind hands the bread will bring.
White was his hair, his mien was fair, His look was calm and great. The porter ran and called a friar; The friar made haste and told the prior; The prior came to the gate.
He took them in, he gave them food; The traveler's dreams he heard; And fast the midnight moments flew. And fast the good man's wonder grew, And all his heart was stirred.
The child the while, with soft, sweet smile, Forgetful of all sorrow, Lay soundly sleeping in his bed. The good man kissed him there, and said: "You leave us not to-morrow!
"I pray you, rest the convent's guest; This child shall be our own— A precious care, while you prepare Your business with the court, and bear Your message to the throne."
And so his guest he comforted. O wise, good prior! to you, Who cheered the stranger's darkest days, And helped him on his way, what praise And gratitude are due!
By permission of the author.
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Where is Palos? What is it noted for?
Who was the "good man" spoken of in the poem?
In the line "The traveler's dreams he heard," who was the traveler? Relate the story of his dreams. Why are they called dreams? Did the dreams become facts? In what way?
How did the monks of this convent assist Columbus?
How did the Queen of Spain assist him?
Why is it that in the geography of our country we meet with so many Catholic names?
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Press on! There's no such word as fail! Push nobly on! The goal is near! Ascend the mountain! Breast the gale! Look upward, onward,—never fear!
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THE LITTLE FERN.
A great many centuries ago, when the earth was even more beautiful than it is now, there grew in one of the many valleys a dainty little fern leaf. All around the tiny plant were many others, but none of them so graceful and delicate as this one I tell you of. Every day the cheery breezes sought out their playmate, and the merry sunbeams darted in and out, playing hide-and-seek among reeds and rushes; and when the twilight shadows deepened, and the sunbeams had all gone away, the little fern curled itself up for the night with only the dewdrops for company.
So day after day went by: and no one knew of, or found the sweet wild fern, or the beautiful valley it grew in. But—for this was a very long time ago—a great change took place in the earth; and rocks and soil were upturned, and the rivers found new channels to flow in.
Now, when all this happened, the little fern was quite covered up with the soft moist clay, and perhaps you think it might as well never have lived as to have been hidden away where none could see it.
But after all, it was not really lost; for hundreds of years afterwards, when all that clay had become stone, and had broken into many fragments, a very wise and learned man found the bit of rock upon which was all the delicate tracery of the little fern leaf, with outline just as perfect and lovely as when, long, long ago it had swayed to the breezes in its own beautiful valley.
And so wonderful did it seem to the wise man, that he took the fern leaf home with him and placed it in his cabinet where all could admire it; and where, if they were thoughtful and clever enough, they could think out the story for themselves and find the lesson which was hidden away with the fern in the bit of rock.
Lesson! did I say? Well, let's not call it a lesson, but only a truth which it will do every one of us good to remember; and that is, that none of the beauty in this fair world around us, nor anything that is sweet and lovely in our own hearts, and lives, will ever be useless and lost. For, as the little fern leaf lay hidden away for years and years, and yet finally was found by the wise man and given a place with his other rare and precious possessions where it could still, though silently, aid those who looked upon it; so we, as boys and girls, men and women who are to be, can now, day by day, cultivate all lovely traits of character, making ourselves ready to take our place in the world's work. And when that time comes we shall not only be able to aid others silently, as did the little fern, but may also, by word and deed, lend a hand to each and every one around us.
Mara L. Pratt.
From "Fairyland of Flowers." The Educational Publishing Co.
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Break up the following words into their syllables, and place the accent mark where it belongs in each:
outline, tracery, cabinet, delicate, finally, character, hundreds, centuries, remember, beautiful, possessions. Show the correct use of the words in original sentences. The dictionary will help you in the work.
Name some of the traits of character that will help a boy or a girl to be truly successful in life.
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The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Truth alone makes life rich and great.
There is a tongue in every leaf— A voice in every rill— A voice that speaketh everywhere— In flood and fire, through earth and air, A tongue that's never still.
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blithe whistler mellow replied cheery skylark
As I went down the street to-day, I saw a little lad Whose face was just the kind of face To make a person glad. It was so plump and rosy-cheeked, So cheerful and so bright, It made me think of apple-time. And filled me with delight.
I saw him busy at his work, While blithe as skylark's song His merry, mellow whistle rang The pleasant street along. "Oh, that's the kind of lad I like!" I thought as I passed by; "These busy, cheery, whistling boys Make grand men by and by."
Just then a playmate came along, And leaned across the gate— A plan that promised lots of fun And frolic to relate. "The boys are waiting for us now, So hurry up!" he cried; My little whistler shook his head, And "Can't come," he replied.
"Can't come? Why not, I'd like to know? What hinders?" asked the other. "Why, don't you see," came the reply, "I'm busy helping mother? She's lots to do, and so I like To help her all I can; So I've no time for fun just now," Said this dear little man.
"I like to hear you talk like that," I told the little lad; "Help mother all you can, and make Her kind heart light and glad." It does me good to think of him, And know that there are others Who, like this manly little boy, Take hold and help their mothers.
Describe the little lad spoken of in the poem. Do you know any boy like him?
Tell what this "little man" said to his playmate.
When night came, was the boy sorry that he had missed so much fun? What kind of man did he very likely grow up to be?
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rid' dle brand'-new mys' ter y un rav' el like' ness es
A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
Once upon a time, Frederick, King of Prussia, surnamed "Old Fritz," took a ride, and saw an old laborer plowing his land by the wayside cheerily singing his song.
"You must be well off, old man," said the king. "Does this land on which you are working so hard belong to you?"
"No, sir," replied the laborer, who knew not that it was the king; "I am not so rich as that; I plow for wages."
"How much do you get a day?" asked the king.
"Two dollars," said the laborer.
"That is not much," replied the king; "can you get along with that?"
"Yes; and have something left."
"How is that?"
The laborer smiled, and said, "Well, if I must tell you, fifty cents are for myself and wife; with fifty I pay my old debts, fifty I lend, and fifty I give away for the Lord's sake."
"That is a mystery which I cannot solve," replied the king.
"Then I will solve it for you," said the laborer. "I have two old parents at home, who kept me when I was weak and needed help; and now, that they are weak and need help, I keep them. This is my debt, towards which I pay fifty cents a day. The third fifty cents, which I lend, I spend for my children, that they may receive Christian instruction. This will come handy to me and my wife when we get old. With the last fifty I maintain two sick sisters. This I give for the Lord's sake."
The king, well pleased with his answer, said, "Bravely spoken, old man. Now I will also give you something to guess. Have you ever seen me before?"
"Never," said the laborer.
"In less than five minutes you shall see me fifty times, and carry in your pocket fifty of my likenesses."
"That is a riddle which I cannot unravel," said the laborer.
"Then I will do it for you," replied the king. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, and counting fifty brand-new gold pieces into his hand, stamped with his royal likeness, he said to the astonished laborer, who knew not what was coming, "The coin is good, for it also comes from our Lord God, and I am his paymaster. I bid you good-day."
* * * * *
The working men, whatever their task, Who carve the stone, or bear the hod, They wear upon their honest brows The royal stamp and seal of God; And worthier are their drops of sweat Than diamonds in a coronet.
Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall; Who sows a field, or trains a flower, Or plants a tree, is more than all.
* * * * *
con' script in dis pen' sa ble im' ple ment in de fea' si bly
Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil worn craftsman, that with earth-made implement laboriously conquers the earth, and makes her man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand, crooked, coarse, wherein, notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the scepter of this planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all weather tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence; for it is the face of a man living manlike.
Oh, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even because I must pity as well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For us was thy back so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed. Thou wert our conscript on whom the lot fell and, fighting our battles, wert so marred. Yet toil on, toil on; ... thou toilest for the altogether indispensable,—for daily bread.
A second man I honor, and still more highly; him who is seen toiling for the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of life. Is not he, too, in his duty; endeavoring towards inward harmony; revealing this, by act or word, through all his outward endeavors, be they high or low? Highest of all, when his outward and his inward endeavor are one; when we can name him artist; not earthly craftsman only, but inspired thinker, that with heaven-made implement conquers heaven for us!
If the poor and humble toil that we may have food, must not the high and glorious toil for him, in return, that he may have light and guidance, freedom, immortality?—these two, in all their degrees, I honor; all else is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth.
Unspeakably touching it is, however, when I find both dignities united; and he, that must toil outwardly for the lowest of man's wants, is also toiling inwardly for the highest. Sublimer in this world know I nothing than a peasant saint. Such a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself; thou wilt see the splendor of heaven spring forth from the humblest depths of earth like a light shining in great darkness.
* * * * *
Laws are like cobwebs, where the small flies are caught, and the great break through.
* * * * *
gust thief mop' ing awk' ward pet' tish ly in dig' nant un bear' a ble med' dle some en light' ened in quis' i tive
THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
"What's the matter?" said Growler to the gray cat, as she sat moping on the top of the garden wall.
"Matter enough," said the cat, turning her head another way, "Our cook is very fond of talking of hanging me. I wish heartily some one would hang her."
"Why, what is the matter?" repeated Growler.
"Hasn't she beaten me, and called me a thief, and threatened to be the death of me?"
"Dear, dear!" said Growler; "pray what has brought it about?"
"Oh, nothing at all; it is her temper. All the servants complain of it. I wonder they haven't hanged her long ago."
"Well, you see," said Growler, "cooks are awkward things to hang; you and I might be managed much more easily."
"Not a drop of milk have I had this day!" said the gray cat; "and such a pain in my side!"
"But what," said Growler, "what is the cause?"
"Haven't I told you?" said the gray cat, pettishly; "it's her temper:—oh, what I have had to suffer from it! Everything she breaks she lays to me; everything that is stolen she lays to me. Really, it is quite unbearable!"
Growler was quite indignant; but, being of a reflective turn, after the first gust of wrath had passed, he asked: "But was there no particular cause this morning?"
"She chose to be very angry because I—I offended her," said the cat.
"How, may I ask?" gently inquired Growler.
"Oh, nothing worth telling,—a mere mistake of mine."
Growler looked at her with such a questioning expression, that she was compelled to say, "I took the wrong thing for my breakfast."
"Oh!" said Growler, much enlightened.
"Why, the fact is," said the gray cat, "I was springing at a mouse, and knocked down a dish, and, not knowing exactly what it was, I smelt it, and it was rather nice, and—"
"You finished it," hinted Growler.
"Well, I believe I should have done so, if that meddlesome cook hadn't come in. As it was, I left the head."
"The head of what?" said Growler.
"How inquisitive you are!" said the gray cat.
"Nay, but I should like to know," said Growler.
"Well, then, of a certain fine fish that was meant for dinner."
"Then," said Growler, "say what you please; but, now that I've heard the whole story, I only wonder she did not hang you."
* * * * *
Fill the following blanks with words that will make complete sentences:
Mary — here, and Susan and Agnes — coming. They — delayed on the road. Mother — to come with them, but she and father — obliged to wait till to-morrow.
Puss said to Growler, "I — not — a drop of milk to-day, and — not — any yesterday."
I — my work well now. Yesterday I — it fairly well. To-morrow I shall — it perfectly.
The boys — their best, though they — the game.
John—now the boys he — last week. He — not — them before.
NOTE.—Let two pupils read or recite the conversational parts of this selection, omitting the explanatory matter, while the other pupils simply listen. If done with expressive feeling and in a perfectly natural tone, it will prove quite an interesting exercise. To play or act the story of a selection helps to develop the imagination.
* * * * *
scared swerve gur' gle rip' ples cur' rent mum' bling ly
THE BROOK SONG.
Little brook! Little brook! You have such a happy look— Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook— And your ripples, one and one, Reach each other's hands and run Like laughing little children in the sun!
Little brook, sing to me; Sing about the bumblebee That tumbled from a lily bell and grumbled mumblingly, Because he wet the film Of his wings, and had to swim, While the water bugs raced round and laughed at him.
Little brook—sing a song Of a leaf that sailed along Down the golden-hearted center of your current swift and strong, And a dragon fly that lit On the tilting rim of it, And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.
And sing—how oft in glee Came a truant boy like me, Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody, Till the gurgle and refrain Of your music in his brain Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain.
Little brook—laugh and leap! Do not let the dreamer weep: Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep; And then sing soft and low Through his dreams of long ago— Sing back to him the rest he used to know!
James Whitcomb Riley.
From "Rhymes of Childhood." Used by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. Copyright, 1900.
* * * * *
RIPPLES, little curling waves FILM, a thin skin or slight covering.
CURRENT, the swiftest part of a stream; also applied to air, electricity, etc.
What do the following expressions mean: tilting rim, lilting melody, softest sleep, gurgle and refrain, a happiness as keen to him as pain?
What is a lullaby? Recite a stanza of one.
Insert may or can properly where you see a dash in the following: The boy said, "—I leave the room?" "Mother, I—climb the ladder;—I?"—a dog climb a tree?—I ask a favor?
Copy the following words—they are often misspelled: loving, using, till, until, queer, fulfil, speech, muscle, quite, scheme, success, barely, college, villain, salary, visitor, remedy, hurried, forty-four, enemies, twelfth, marriage, immense, exhaust.
By means of the suffixes, er, est, ness, form three new words from each of the following words: happy, sleepy, lively, greedy, steady, lovely, gloomy.
Example: From happy,—happier, happiest, happiness. Note the change of y to i.
* * * * *
rag'ged crin'kly rub'bish fil'tered protect'ed disor'derly disturbed' imme'diately
THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN.
High above the earth, over land and sea, floated the seed-down, borne on the autumn wind's strong arms.
"Here shall you lie, little seed-down," said he at last, and put it down on the ground, and laid a fallen leaf over it. Then he flew away immediately, because he had much to look after.
That was in the dark evening, and the seed could not see where it was placed, and besides, the leaf covered it.
Something heavy came now, and pressed so hard that the seed came near being destroyed; but the leaf, weak though it was, protected it.
It was a human foot which walked along over the ground, and pressed the downy seed into the earth. When the foot was withdrawn, the earth fell, and filled the little pit it had made.
The cold came, and the snow fell several feet deep; but the seed lay quietly down there, waiting for warmth and light. When the spring came, and the snow melted away, the plant shot up out of the earth.
There was a little gray cottage beside which it grew up. The tiny plant could not see very far around, because rubbish and brush-heaps lay near it, and the little window was so gray and dusty that it could not peep into the cottage either.
"Who lives here?" asked the little thing.
"Don't you know that?" asked the ragged shoe, which lay near. "Why, the smith who drinks so much lives here, and his wife who wore me out."
And then she told how it looked inside, how life went on there, and it was not cheering; no, but fearfully sad. The shoe knew it all well, and told a whole lot in a few minutes, because she had such a well-hung tongue.
Now there came a pair of ragged children, running—the smith's boy and girl; he was six years old and the girl eight, so the shoe said, after they were gone.
"Oh, see, what a pretty little plant!" said the girl. "So now, I shall pull it up," said the boy, and the plant trembled to the root's heart.
"No, do not do it!" said the girl. "We must let it grow. Do you not see what pretty crinkly leaves it has? It will have lovely flowers, I know, when it grows bigger."
And it was allowed to stay there. The children took a stick and dug up the earth round about, so it looked like a plowed field. Then they threw the shoe and the sweepings a little way off, because they thought to make the place look better.
"You cannot think," said the shoe, after the children had gone, "you cannot think how in the way folks are!"
"The children have to give themselves airs, and pretend to be very orderly," said the half of a coffee-cup; and she broke in another place she was so disturbed.
But the sun shone warmly and the rain filtered down in the upturned earth. Then leaf after leaf unfolded, and in a few days the plant was several inches high.
"Oh, see!" said the children, who came again; "see how beautiful it is getting!"
"Come, father, come! brother and I have discovered such a pretty plant! Come and see it!" begged the girl.
The father glanced at it. The plant looked so lovely on the little rough bit of soil which lay between the piles of sweepings.
The smith nodded to the children.
"It looks very disorderly here," he said to himself, and stopped an instant. "Yes, indeed, it does!" He went along, but thought of the little green spot, with the lovely plant in the midst of it.
* * * * *
pet' als in' mates scrubbed fra' grant
The children ran into the house.
"Mother," said they, "there is such a rare plant growing right by the window!"
The mother wished to glance out, but the window was so thick with dust that she could not do so. She wiped off a little spot.
"My! My!" said she, when she noticed how dirty the window looked beside the cleaned spot; so she wiped the whole window.
"That is an odd plant," said she, looking at it. "But how dreadfully dirty it is out in the yard!"
Now that the sun shone in through the window it became very light in the cottage. The mother looked at the ragged children and at the rubbish in the room, and the blood rushed over her pale cheeks.
"It is a perfect shame!" she murmured. "I have never noticed that it was so untidy here."
She hurried around, and set the room to rights, and, when that was done, she washed the dirty floor. She scrubbed it so hard that her hands smarted as if she had burned them in the fire; she did not stop until every spot was white.
It was evening; the husband came home from work. The wife sat mending the girl's ragged dress. The man stopped in the door. It looked so strange to him within, and the look his wife gave him was brighter than ever before, he thought.
"Go—God's peace!" he stammered. It was a long time since such a greeting had been heard in here.
"God's peace!" answered she; "wel—welcome home!" She had not said this for many years.
The smith stepped forward to the window; on the bed beside it the two children lay sleeping. He looked at them, then he looked out on the mound where the little plant stood. After a few minutes he went out.
A deep sigh rose from the woman's breast. She had hoped that he would stay home that evening. Two great tears fell on the little dress.
In a few minutes she heard a noise outside. She went to the window to see what it could be. Her husband had not gone away! He was out in the yard clearing up the brush-heaps and rubbish.
She became more happy than she had been for a long time. He glanced in through the window and saw her. Then she nodded, he nodded back, and they both smiled.
"Be careful, above all, of the little plant!" said she.
Warm and sunny days came. The smith stayed at home now every evening. It was green and lovely round the little cottage, and outside the window there was a whole flower-bed, with many blossoms; but in the midst stood the little plant the autumn wind had brought thither.
The smith's family stood around the flower-bed, and talked about the flowers.
"But the plant that brother and I found is the most beautiful of all," said the girl.
"Yes, indeed it is," said the parents.
The smith bent down and took one of the leaves in his hand, but very carefully, because he was afraid he might hurt it with his thick, coarse fingers.
Then a bell was heard ringing in the distance. The sound floated out over field and lake, and rang so peacefully in the eventide, just as the sun sank behind the tree-tops in the forest. And every one bowed the head, because it was Saturday evening, and it was a sacred voice that sounded.
In a little while all was silent in the cottage; the inmates slumbered, more tired, perhaps, than before, after the week's toils, but also much, much happier. And round about, all was calm and peaceful.
But when Sunday's sun came up, the plant opened its bud,—and it bore but a single one. When the cottage folks passed the little flower-garden, they all stopped and looked at the beautiful, fragrant blossom.
"It shall go with us to the house of God," said the wife, turning to her husband. He nodded, and then she broke off the flower. The wife looked at the husband, and he looked at her, and then their eyes rested on both children; then their eyes grew dim, but became immediately bright again, for the tears were not of sorrow, but of happiness.
When the organ's tones swelled and the people sang in the temple, the flower folded its petals, for it had fulfilled its mission; but on the waves of song its perfume floated upwards. And in the sweet fragrance lay a warm thanksgiving from the little seed-down.
From "My Lady Legend," translated from the Swedish by Miss Rydingsvaerd.
Used by the special permission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.
* * * * *
I want it to be said of me by those who know me best that I have always plucked a thistle and planted a flower in its place wherever a flower would grow.
* * * * *
lux'u ry med'i cine a bun'dant wil'der ness
THE USE OF FLOWERS.
God might have bade the earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak tree, and the cedar tree, Without a flower at all.
He might have made enough, enough, For every want of ours; For luxury, medicine, and toil, And yet have made no flowers.
The ore within the mountain mine Requireth none to grow, Nor doth it need the lotus flower To make the river flow.
The clouds might give abundant rain, The nightly dews might fall, And the herb that keepeth life in man Might yet have drunk them all.
Then wherefore, wherefore were they made All dyed with rainbow light, All fashioned with supremest grace, Upspringing day and night—
Springing in valleys green and low, And on the mountains high, And in the silent wilderness, Where no man passeth by?
Our outward life requires them not, Then wherefore had they birth? To minister delight to man, To beautify the earth;
To whisper hope—to comfort man Whene'er his faith is dim; For whoso careth for the flowers Will care much more for Him!
* * * * *
Give the plural forms of the following name-words: tree, leaf, copy, foot, shoe, calf, life, child, tooth, valley.
Insert the proper punctuation marks in the following stanza:
In the country on every side Where far and wide Like a leopard's tawny hide Stretches the plain To the dry grass and drier grain How welcome is the rain.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Stanza from Gray's "Elegy."
* * * * *
deigned in' va lid lone' li ness smoothed med'i cine be wil'dered gen' ius riv' et ed soul-sub du' ing
PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
In a humble room, in one of the poorer streets of London, little Pierre, a fatherless French boy, sat humming by the bedside of his sick mother. There was no bread in the house; and he had not tasted food all day. Yet he sat humming to keep up his spirits.
Still, at times, he thought of his loneliness and hunger, and he could scarcely keep the tears from his eyes; for he knew that nothing would be so welcome to his poor invalid mother as a good sweet orange; and yet he had not a penny in the world.
The little song he was singing was his own,—one he had composed, both air and words; for the child was a genius. He went to the window, and, looking out, saw a man putting up a great poster with yellow letters, announcing that Madame Malibran would sing that night in public.
"Oh, if I could only go!" thought little Pierre; and then, pausing a moment, he clasped his hands; his eyes sparkled with a new hope. Running to the looking-glass, he smoothed his yellow curls, and, taking from a little box an old, stained paper, he gave one eager glance at his mother, who slept, and ran speedily from the house.
* * * * *
"Who, do you say, is waiting for me?" said the lady to her servant. "I am already worn out with company."
"Only a very pretty little boy, with yellow curls, who says that if he can just see you, he is sure you will not be sorry, and he will not keep you a moment."
"Oh, well, let him come!" said the beautiful singer, with a smile; "I can never refuse children."
Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm; and in his hand a little roll of paper. With a manliness unusual in a child, he walked straight up to the lady, and, bowing, said: "I have come to see you, because my mother is very sick, and we are too poor to get food and medicine. I thought that, perhaps, if you would only sing my little song at one of your grand concerts, some publisher might buy it, for a small sum; and so I could get food and medicine for my mother."
The beautiful woman rose from her seat; very tall and stately she was;—she took the little roll from his hand, and lightly hummed the air.
"Did you compose it?" she asked,—"you, a child! And the words?—Would you like to come to my concert?" she asked, after a few moments of thought.
"Oh, yes!" and the boy's eyes grew bright with happiness; "but I couldn't leave my mother."
"I will send somebody to take care of your mother for the evening; and here is a crown, with which you may go and get food and medicine. Here is also one of my tickets; come to-night; and that will admit you to a seat near me."
Almost beside himself with joy, Pierre bought some oranges, and many a little luxury besides, and carried them home to the poor invalid, telling her, not without tears, of his good fortune.
* * * * *
When evening came, and Pierre was admitted to the concert hall, he felt that never in his life had he been in so grand a place. The music, the glare of lights, the beauty, the flashing of diamonds and the rustling of silks, completely bewildered him. At last she came; and the child sat with his eyes riveted on her face. Could it be that the grand lady, glittering with jewels, and whom everybody seemed to worship, would really sing his little song?
Breathless he waited:—the band, the whole band, struck up a little plaintive melody: he knew it, and clapped his hands for joy! And oh, how she sang it! It was so simple, so mournful, so soul-subduing. Many a bright eye was dimmed with tears, many a heart was moved, by the touching words of that little song.
Pierre walked home as if he were moving on the air. What cared he for money now? The greatest singer in Europe had sung his little song, and thousands had wept at his grief.
The next day he was frightened by a visit from Madame Malibran. She laid her hand on his yellow curls, and, turning to the sick woman, said: "Your little boy, madam, has brought you a fortune. I was offered, this morning, by the first publisher in London, a large sum for his little song. Madam, thank God that your son has a gift from heaven."
The noble-hearted singer and the poor woman wept together. As for Pierre, always mindful of Him who watches over the tried and the tempted, he knelt down by his mother's bedside and uttered a simple prayer, asking God's blessing on the kind lady who had deigned to notice their affliction.
The memory of that prayer made the singer even more tender-hearted; and she now went about doing good. And on her early death, he who stood by her bed, and smoothed her pillow, and lightened her last moments by his affection, was the little Pierre of former days,—now rich, accomplished, and one of the most talented composers of the day.
All honor to those great hearts who, from their high stations, send down bounty to the widow and the fatherless!
* * * * *
PIERRE (pe âr'), Peter.
MALIBRAN, a French singer and actress. She died in 1836, when only 28 years old.
What does "he walked as if moving on air" mean?
BREATHLESS = breath+less, without breath, out of breath; holding the breath on account of great interest.
BREATHLESSLY, in a breathless manner. Use breath, breathless, breathlessly, in sentences of your own.
Pronounce separately the two similar consonant sounds coming together in the following words and phrases:
humming; meanness; is sure; his spirit; send down; this shows; eyes sparkled; wept together; frequent trials.
A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.
St. Francis of Assisi.
Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
* * * * *
The golden-rod is yellow; The corn is turning brown; The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.
The gentian's bluest fringes Are curling in the sun; In dusty pods the milkweed Its hidden silk has spun.
The sedges flaunt their harvest In every meadow nook; And asters by the brookside Make asters in the brook.
From dewy lanes at morning The grapes' sweet odors rise; At noon the roads all flutter With yellow butterflies.
By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather, And autumn's best of cheer.
Helen Hunt Jackson.
[Footnote: Copyright, Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.]
* * * * *
sedges, coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.
Tell what the following expressions mean: dewy lanes; best of cheer; sedges flaunt their harvest.
How do "Asters by the brookside make asters in the brook"?
Give in your own words the tokens of September mentioned in the poem. Can you name any others?
Memorize the poem. What do you know of the author?
* * * * *
tat'ter wreathed Ken tuck' y de scend'ed re cess' home' stead en rap' tured Penn syl va' ni a
"MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME."
"My Old Kentucky Home" was written by Stephen Collins Foster, a resident of Pittsburg, Pa., while he and his sister were on a visit to his relative, Judge John Rowan, a short distance east of Bardstown, Ky. One beautiful morning while the slaves were at work in the cornfield and the sun was shining with a mighty splendor on the waving grass, first giving it a light red, then changing it to a golden hue, there were seated upon a bench in front of the Rowan homestead two young people, a brother and a sister.
High up in the top of a tree was a mocking bird warbling its sweet notes. Over in a hidden recess of a small brush, the thrush's mellow song could be heard. A number of small negro children were playing not far away. When Foster had finished the first verse of the song his sister took it from his hand and sang in a sweet, mellow voice:
The sun shines bright on the old Kentucky home; 'Tis summer, the darkies are gay; The corn top's ripe and the meadows in the bloom, While the birds make music all the day.
The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, All merry, all happy, all bright; By'n by hard times comes a-knockin' at the door— Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
On her finishing the first verse the mocking bird descended to a lower branch. The feathery songster drew his head to one side and appeared to be completely enraptured at the wonderful voice of the young singer. When the last note died away upon the air, her fond brother sang in deep bass voice:
Weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day, Well sing one song for the old Kentucky home, For our old Kentucky home far away.
A few more days for to tote the weary load, No matter, 'twill never be light; A few more days till we totter on the road— Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
The negroes had laid down their hoes and rakes; the little tots had placed themselves behind the large, sheltering trees, while the old black women were peeping around the corner of the house. The faithful old house dog never took his eyes off the young singers. Everything was still; not even the stirring of the leaves seemed to break the wonderful silence.
Again the brother and sister took hold of the remaining notes, and sang in sweet accents:
They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon On the meadow, the hill and the shore; They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon, On the bench by the old cabin door.
The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart, With sorrow where all was delight: The time has come when the darkies have to part— Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
The head must bow and the back will have to bend Wherever the darkies may go; A few more days and the trouble all will end In the fields where the sugar cane grow.
Then weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day, We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky home, For our old Kentucky home far away.
As the song was finished tears flowed down the old people's cheeks; the children crept from their hiding place behind the trees, their faces wreathed in smiles. The mocking bird and the thrush sought their home in the thicket, while the old house dog still lay basking in the sun.
Mrs. T.A. Sherrard
* * * * *
stew' ard se'quel Gal'i lee ab lu' tions in ter ces' sion
THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
In the first year of our Lord's public life, St. John tells us in his gospel that "there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee, and the Mother of Jesus was there. And Jesus also was invited to the marriage." Mary was invited to be one of the honored guests because she was, no doubt, an intimate friend of the family. She preceded her Son to the wedding in order to lend her aid in the necessary preparations.
Jesus also was asked, and He did not refuse the invitation. He went as freely to this house of feasting as He afterwards went pityingly to so many houses of mourning. Though worn and weary with his long fast and struggle in the desert, He was pleased to attend this merry wedding feast, and by this loving and kindly act to sanctify the bond of Marriage, which was to become in His Church one of the seven Sacraments.
The feast went gayly onward until an incident occurred that greatly disturbed the host. The wine failed. The host had not calculated rightly, or perhaps he had not counted on so many guests.
Mary, with her motherly heart, was the first to notice the confusion of the servants when they discovered that the wine vessels had become empty; and leaning towards her Son, whispered, "They have no wine." "My hour is not yet come," He answered her, meaning that His time for working miracles had not yet arrived. He knew on the instant what the gentle heart of His Mother desired. His words sounded like a refusal of the request which Mary made rather with her eyes than with her tongue; but the sequel shows that the Blessed Mother fully believed that her prayer would be granted.
She quietly said to the servants, "Whatsoever He shall say to you, do ye." They had not long to wait. There were standing close at hand six great urns of stone, covered with branches, as is the custom in the East, in order to keep the water cool and fresh. These vessels "containing two or three measures apiece," were kept in readiness for the guests, who were required not only to wash their feet before touching the linen and drapery of the couches, but even during the meal frequently to purify their hands. Already there had been many of these ablutions performed, and the urns were being rapidly emptied.
"Fill the waterpots with water," said Jesus to the servants.
They filled them up to the brim with clear, fresh water.
"Draw out now, and carry to the chief steward of the feast."
And they carried it.
When the chief steward had tasted the water made wine, and knew not whence it was, he called the bridegroom and said to him: "Every man at first setteth forth good wine, and when men have well drunk then that which is worse; but thou hast kept the good wine until now."
The steward had supposed at first that the host had wished to give an agreeable surprise to the company assembled at his table; but the latter, to his amazement, was at once made aware that a wondrous deed had been accomplished—that water had been changed into wine!
Jesus had performed His first Miracle.
From this beautiful story of the first miracle of Jesus, we learn that Jesus Christ is God, and that Mary, the Mother of God, whose intercession is all-powerful with her Divine Son, has a loving and motherly care over the smallest of our life's concerns.
* * * * *
PRECEDED, went before in order of time. The prefix pre- means before. Tell what the following words mean:
prefix, predict, prepare, prejudge, prescribe, predestine, precaution, precursor, prefigure, prearrange.
Read the sentences of the Lesson that express commands.
The conscious water saw its God and blushed.
But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing you may have life in His Name.
Gospel of St. John.
* * * * *
dec' ades (dek' ads) di' a dem
Sweet blessed beads! I would not part With one of you for richest gem That gleams in kingly diadem: Ye know the history of my heart.
For I have told you every grief In all the days of twenty years, And I have moistened you with tears, And in your decades found relief.
Ah! time has fled, and friends have failed, And joys have died; but in my needs Ye were my friends, my blessed beads! And ye consoled me when I wailed.
For many and many a time, in grief, My weary fingers wandered round Thy circled chain, and always found In some Hail Mary sweet relief.
How many a story you might tell Of inner life, to all unknown; I trusted you and you alone, But ah! ye keep my secrets well.
Ye are the only chain I wear— A sign that I am but the slave, In life, in death, beyond the grave, Of Jesus and His Mother fair.
"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P. J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.
* * * * *
From the following words make new words by means of the suffix -ous: joy, grace, grief, glory, desire, virtue, beauty, courage, disaster, harmony.
(Consult the dictionary.)
Mary,—our comfort and our hope,— O, may that name be given To be the last we sigh on earth,— The first we breathe in heaven.
Adelaide A. Procter.
* * * * *
THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS.
The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more.
No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells; The chord alone that breaks at night Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still She lives.
* * * * *
ma'am dis suade' re spect'a ble shuf' fled dan' ger ous grate' ful wist' ful ly mit' tens outstretched' res' cue un daunt' ed an' ti qua ted
A LITTLE LADY.
Going down a very steep street, where the pavement was covered with ice, I saw before me an old woman, slowly and timidly picking her way. She was one of the poor but respectable old ladies who dress in rusty black, wear old-fashioned bonnets, and carry big bags.
Some young folks laugh at these antiquated figures; but those who are better bred treat them with respect. They find something touching in the faded suits, the withered faces, and the knowledge that these lonely old ladies have lost youth, friends, and often fortune, and are patiently waiting to be called away from a world that seems to have passed by and forgotten them.
Well, as I slipped and shuffled along, I watched the little black bonnet in front, expecting every minute to see it go down, and trying to hurry, that I might offer my help.
At the corner, I passed three little school-girls, and heard one say to another, "O, I wouldn't; she will do well enough, and we shall lose our coasting, unless we hurry."
"But if she should tumble and break her poor old bones, I should feel so bad," returned the second, a pleasant-faced child, whose eyes, full of a sweet, pitiful expression, followed the old lady.
"She's such a funny-looking woman, I shouldn't like to be seen walking with her," said the third, as if she thought it a kind thing to do, but had not the courage to try it.
"Well, I don't care; she's old, and ought to be helped, and I'm going to do it," cried the pleasant-faced girl; and, running by me, I saw her overtake the old lady, who stood at a crossing, looking wistfully over the dangerous sheet of ice before her.
"Please, ma'am, may I help you, it's so bad here?" said the kind little voice, as the hands in the red mittens were helpfully out-stretched.
"O, thank you, dear. I'd no idea the walking was so bad; but I must get home." And the old face lighted up with a grateful smile, which was worth a dozen of the best coasts in Boston.
"Take my arm then; I'll help you down the street, for I'm afraid you might fall," said the child, offering her arm.
"Yes, dear, so I will. Now we shall get on beautifully. I've been having a dreadful time, for my over-socks are all holes, and I slip at every step."
"Keep hold, ma'am, I won't fall. I have rubber boots, and can't tumble."
So chatting, the two went safely across, leaving me and the other girls to look after them and wish that we had done the little act of kindness, which now looked so lovely in another.
"I think Katy is a very good girl, don't you?" said one child to the other.
"Yes, I do; let's wait till she comes back. No matter if we do lose some coasts," answered the child who had tried to dissuade her playmate from going to the rescue.
Then I left them; but I think they learned a lesson that day in real politeness; for, as they watched little Katy dutifully supporting the old lady, undaunted by the rusty dress, the big bag, the old socks, and the queer bonnet, both their faces lighted up with new respect and affection for their playmate.
Louisa M. Alcott.
From "Little Women." Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.
* * * * *
DISSUADE, to advise against; to turn from a purpose by reasons given.
ANTIQUATED, grown old; old-fashioned.
Tell what each contraction met with in the selection stands for.
Use their or there properly in place of the blanks in the following sentences: The girls were on — way to the Park. — was an old lady at the crossing. Our home is —. Katy and Mary said — mother lived —.
Count that day lost Whose low descending sun, Views from thy hands No worthy action done.
What I must do concerns me, not what people will think.
[Footnote 001: Copyrighted by Little, Brown & Company.]
* * * * *
WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE.
Some love the glow of outward show, Some love mere wealth and try to win it; The house to me may lowly be If I but like the people in it.
What's all the gold that glitters cold, When linked to hard or haughty feeling? Whate'er we're told, the noble gold Is truth of heart and manly dealing.
A lowly roof may give us proof That lowly flowers are often fairest; And trees whose bark is hard and dark May yield us fruit and bloom the rarest.
There's worth as sure 'neath garments poor As e'er adorned a loftier station; And minds as just as those, we trust, Whose claim is but of wealth's creation.
Then let them seek, whose minds are weak, Mere fashion's smile, and try to win it; The house to me may lowly be If I but like the people in it.
* * * * *
What is meant by "haughty feeling"?
What does the author say "the noble gold" is?
Is "bloom" in the third stanza an action-word or a name-word? Why?
Give in your own words the thought of the fourth stanza.
Use to, too, two, properly before each of the following words:
hard, win, people, minds, dark, yield.
What virtues does the poem recommend?
What "lowly flowers are often fairest"?
What "lowly" virtue does the following stanza suggest?
The bird that sings on highest wing, Builds on the ground her lowly nest; And she that doth most sweetly sing, Sings in the shade when all things rest.
Name the two birds referred to.
* * * * *
sears flecked de signed' strait'ened il lu'mined
A SONG OF DUTY.
Sorrow comes and sorrow goes; Life is flecked with shine and shower; Now the tear of grieving flows, Now we smile in happy hour; Death awaits us, every one— Toiler, dreamer, preacher, writer— Let us then, ere life be done, Make the world a little brighter!
Burdens that our neighbors bear, Easier let us try to make them; Chains perhaps our neighbors wear, Let us do our best to break them. From the straitened hand and mind, Let us loose the binding fetter, Let us, as the Lord designed, Make the world a little better!
Selfish brooding sears the soul, Fills the mind with clouds of sorrow, Darkens all the shining goal Of the sun-illumined morrow; Wherefore should our lives be spent Daily growing blind and blinder— Let us, as the Master meant, Make the world a little kinder!
Denis A. McCarthy.
From "Voices from Erin."
Angel Guardian Press, Boston, Mass.
* * * * *
Sod' om spright' ly the o lo' gi an his' to ry To bi' as cre at' ed pro ceed' ed sep' a ra ted min' is ter Au gus' tine crit' i cise cat' e ehism de ter' mined As cen' sion Res ur rec' tion
AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
"Well, James," said a kind-voiced mother, "you promised to tell Maggie all about the Catechism you heard this afternoon at school."
"All right, mother," answered sprightly James, "anything at all to make Maggie happy. Let's begin right away."
"Maggie, you said," continued James, "that you never could find out when the angels were created. Neither could our teacher tell me. And I'm told St. Augustine could only make a guess when they were created.
"He thought the angels were created when God separated the light from the darkness. But that's no matter, anyhow. We're sure there are angels; that's the chief point."
"Are you quite certain?" asked Maggie.
"To be sure I am," said James. "If I met a man in the street I would know he must have a father and a mother, although I had never heard when he was born."
"That's so," chimed in the proud mother.
"Well, then, mother, many angels have been seen on earth, and they must have been created some time. Let me tell you some of the places where it is said in the Bible that angels have been seen, and where they spoke, too."
"Now, James," said the father, "let Maggie see if she can find out some of those places herself. Here is the Bible."
With the help of mother and James, Maggie soon found the history of Adam and Eve, where it is recorded that an angel with a flaming sword was placed at the gate of Paradise.
"Poor Adam and Eve," said Maggie, "they must have felt very sad."
"Yes," answered Father Kennedy, who dropped in just then, and beheld his young theologians with the holy Book before them. "They felt very sorry, indeed, but they were consoled when told that a Savior would come to redeem them."
"So you told us last Sunday," chimed in James. "Then you spoke about the angels at Bethlehem who sang glory to God in the highest."
"And there was an angel in the desert when our Lord was tempted," proceeded the father.
"Oh! did you hear papa say the devil was an angel?" exclaimed James.
"Of course the devil is an angel," said Maggie, glad to trip up her big brother, "but he is a bad one."
"I say yet that there were angels with our Lord after His forty days' fast," insisted James.
"So I say, too," retorted Maggie; "but while only one bad angel tempted our Lord, many good angels came to minister unto Him."
"Very well, indeed," said Father Kennedy. "But let's hurry over some other points about the angels. Your turn; Master James, and give only the place and person in each case."
"Well, let me see; there were Abraham and the three angels who went to Sodom, and the angels who beat the man that wanted to steal money from the temple, and the angel who took Tobias on a long journey."
"Please, Father Kennedy, wasn't it an Archangel?" inquired Maggie, still determined to surpass her brother.
"Never mind that," said the priest. "Go on, James; 'twill be Maggie's turn soon."
"Well, there was an angel in the Garden of Olives, and angels at the Resurrection of our Lord, and angels at His Ascension."
Here Maggie exclaimed, "Please, Father Kennedy, may I have till next Sunday to search out some angels? James has taken all mine."
"No," mildly said the delighted clergyman, "your angel is always with you, and James has his, too."
"Father Kennedy, there's a man dying in the block behind the church," said the servant from the half-open parlor door. "Excuse my coming in without knocking. They're in a great hurry."
"Good night, children," said the devoted priest, "till next Sunday. May your angels watch over you in the meantime."
* * * * *
ARCHANGEL (ärk ān' jĕl), a chief angel.
ARCHBISHOP (ärch bish' ŭp), a chief bishop.
ARCH, as a prefix, means chief, and in nearly every case the ch is soft, as in archbishop. In archangel, architect, and in one or two other words, the ch = k.
ARCH, as a suffix, is pronounced ärk, and means ruler; as monarch, a sole ruler; one who rules alone.
Make a list of all the words of the Lesson that are contractions. Write after each what it is a contraction of.
EARTHWARD = earth + ward (wẽrd). ward is here a suffix meaning course, direction to, motion towards. Add this SUFFIX to the end of each of the following words, and tell the meaning of each new word formed:
up, sea, back, down, east, west, land, earth.
WHAT word is the opposite in meaning of each of these new words?
The generous heart Should scorn a pleasure which gives others pain.
* * * * *
ebb' ing spon' sor judg' ments el' e ments tu' te lage
MY GUARDIAN ANGEL.
My oldest friend, mine from the hour When first I drew my breath; My faithful friend, that shall be mine, Unfailing, till my death.
Thou hast been ever at my side; My Maker to thy trust Consign'd my soul, what time He framed The infant child of dust.
No beating heart in holy prayer, No faith, inform'd aright, Gave me to Joseph's tutelage, Or Michael's conquering might.
Nor patron saint, nor Mary's love,— The dearest and the best,— Has known my being as thou hast known, And blest as thou hast blest.
Thou wast my sponsor at the font; And thou, each budding year, Didst whisper elements of truth Into my childish ear.
And when, ere boyhood yet was gone, My rebel spirit fell, Ah! thou didst see, and shudder too, Yet bear each deed of Hell.
And then in turn, when judgments came. And scared me back again, Thy quick soft breath was near to soothe And hallow every pain.
Oh! who of all thy toils and cares Can tell the tale complete, To place me under Mary's smile, And Peter's royal feet!
And thou wilt hang above my bed, When life is ebbing low; Of doubt, impatience, and of gloom, The jealous, sleepless foe.
Mine, when I stand before my Judge; And mine, if spared to stay Within the golden furnace till My sin is burn'd away.
And mine, O Brother of my soul, When my release shall come; Thy gentle arms shall lift me then, Thy wings shall waft me home.
* * * * *
Explain the following expressions:
Joseph's tutelage; Michael's conquering might; my sponsor at the font; each budding year; my rebel spirit fell; Peter's royal feet. Describe the picture.
* * * * *
quoth crooned frisked beech'-wood twain se'rene frol'icked wan'dering
Piped the blackbird on the beech-wood spray: "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way, What's your name?" quoth he,— "What's your name? Oh, stop, and straight unfold, Pretty maid, with showery curls of gold!" "Little Bell," said she.
Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks, Tossed aside her gleaming, golden locks. "Bonny bird," quoth she, "Sing me your best song before I go," "Here's the very finest song I know, Little Bell," said he.
And the blackbird piped: you never heard Half so gay a song from any bird,— Full of quips and wiles, Now so round and rich, now soft and slow, All for love of that sweet face below, Dimpled o'er with smiles.
And the while the bonny bird did pour His full heart out freely, o'er and o'er, 'Neath the morning skies, In the little childish heart below All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow, And shine forth in happy overflow From the blue, bright eyes.
Down the dell she tripped; and through the glade Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade, And from out the tree Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear, While bold blackbird piped, that all might hear: "Little Bell!" piped he.
Little Bell sat down amid the fern: "Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return; Bring me nuts," quoth she. Up, away, the frisky squirrel hies,— Golden woodlights glancing in his eyes,— And adown the tree Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun, In the little lap dropped, one by one. Hark! how blackbird pipes to see the fun! "Happy Bell!" pipes he.
Little Bell looked up and down the glade: "Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid, Come and share with me!" Down came squirrel, eager for his fare, Down came bonny blackbird, I declare! Little Bell gave each his honest share; Ah! the merry three!
And the while these woodland playmates twain Piped and frisked from bough to bough again, 'Neath the morning skies, In the little childish heart below All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow, And shine out in happy overflow From her blue, bright eyes.
By her snow-white cot at close of day Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms, to pray: Very calm and clear Rose the praying voice to where, unseen, In blue heaven, an angel shape serene Paused awhile to hear.
"What good child is this," the angel said, "That, with happy heart, beside her bed Prays so lovingly?" Low and soft, oh! very low and soft, Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft, "Bell, dear Bell!" crooned he.
"Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair Whispered, "God doth bless with angels' care; Child, thy bed shall be Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind, Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind, Little Bell, for thee."
A STUDY OF LITTLE BELL
croft, a small inclosed field, near a house.
croon, to sing in a low tone.
quips, quick, smart turns.
piping, making a shrill sound like that of a pipe or flute.
In the first stanza what are the marks called that enclose Little Bell? Why are these marks used here?
Name the words of the poem in which the apostrophe is used. Tell what it denotes in each case.
Where does the poem first take us? What do we see there?
In what words does the blackbird address the "pretty maid, slowly wandering" his way? Who is she?
Seated beneath the rocks, what does Little Bell ask the blackbird to do?
Read the lines that describe the blackbird's song. Why did the bird sing so sweetly? What were the effects of his song on "the little childish heart below?"
Seated amid the fern, what did Little Bell ask the squirrel to do? Read the lines that tell what the squirrel did. What invitation did the squirrel receive from Little Bell?
Where does the poem bring us "at the close of day?" Tell what you see there.
Read the lines that tell what the angel asked.
Read the angel's words in the first two lines of the last stanza. What is their meaning?
What promises did the angel make to this good child? Why did he make such beautiful promises?
Tell what the following words and expressions of the poem mean: quoth he; straight unfold; dell; glade; hies; showery curls of gold; bonny bird; hazel shade; void of fear; golden woodlights; adown the tree; playmates twain; with folded palms; an angel shape; with angels' care; the bird did pour his full heart out freely; the sweetness did shine forth in happy overflow.
Select a stanza of the poem, and express in your own words the thought it contains.
Describe some of the pictures the poem brings to mind.
What is the lesson the poet wishes us to learn from this poem?
Show how the couplet of the English poet, Coleridge,—
"He prayeth best who loveth best, All things both great and small,"—
is illustrated in the story of Little Bell.
Write a composition on the story from the following hints: Where did Little Bell go? In what season of the year? At what time of day? How old was she? How did she look? What companions did she meet? What did the three friends do? How did the little girl close the day?
In your composition, use as many words and phrases of the poem as you can.
* * * * *
Prayer is the dew of faith, Its raindrop, night and day, That guards its vital power from death When cherished hopes decay, And keeps it mid this changeful scene, A bright, perennial evergreen.
Good works, of faith the fruit, Should ripen year by year, Of health and soundness at the root And evidence sincere. Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free And make our faith no barren tree.
Lydia H. Sigourney.
* * * * *
na'bob ap plaud'ed un as sum'ing sad' dler dif' fi dence sec' re ta ry ob scured' live' li hood su per cil' i ous
A MODEST WIT.
A supercilious nabob of the East— Haughty, being great—purse-proud, being rich— A governor, or general, at the least, I have forgotten which— Had in his family a humble youth, Who went from England in his patron's suit, An unassuming boy, in truth A lad of decent parts, and good repute.
This youth had sense and spirit; But yet with all his sense, Excessive diffidence Obscured his merit.
One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine, His honor, proudly free, severely merry, Conceived it would be vastly fine To crack a joke upon his secretary.
"Young man," said he, "by what art, craft, or trade, Did your good father gain a livelihood?"— "He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said, "And in his line was reckoned good."
"A saddler, eh? and taught you Greek, Instead of teaching you to sew! Pray, why did not your father make A saddler, sir, of you?"
Each flatterer, then, as in duty bound, The joke applauded, and the laugh went round. At length, Modestus, bowing low, Said (craving pardon, if too free he made), "Sir, by your leave, I fain would know Your father's trade!"
"My father's trade? Heavens! that's too bad! My father's trade! Why, blockhead, are you mad? My father, sir, did never stoop so low. He was a gentleman, I'd have you know."
"Excuse the liberty I take," Modestus said, with archness on his brow, "Pray, why did not your father make A gentleman of you?"
* * * * *
archness, sly humor free from malice.
suit (sūt), the people who attend upon a person of distinction; often written suite (swēt).
Write the plural forms of boy, man, duty, youth, family, secretary.
Copy these sentences, using other words instead of those in italics:
He was an unassuming boy, of decent parts and good repute. His diffidence obscured his merit. Excuse the liberty I take.
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,— The man's the gold for a' that!
One cannot always be a hero, but one can always be a man.
Goethe (gû' tē).
* * * * *
WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.
Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy ax shall harm it not!
That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea— And wouldst thou hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth-bound ties; Oh! spare that aged oak, Now towering to the skies.
When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; In all their gushing joy Here, too, my sisters played. My mother kissed me here; My father pressed my hand;— Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand.
My heartstrings round thee cling, Close as thy bark, old friend! Here shall the wild bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree! the storm still brave! And, Woodman, leave the spot! While I've a hand to save, Thy ax shall harm it not.
George P. Morris,
[Footnote 002: NOTE.—Many trees in our country are landmarks, and are valued highly. The early settlers were accustomed to plant trees and dedicate them to liberty. One of these was planted at Cambridge, Mass., and it was under the shade of this venerable Elm that George Washington took command of the Continental army, July 3rd, 1775.
There are other trees around whose trunks and under whose boughs whole families of children passed much of their childhood. When one of these falls or is destroyed, it is like the death of some honored citizen.
Judge Harris of Georgia, a scholar, and a gentleman of extensive literary culture, regarded "Woodman, Spare that Tree" as one of the truest lyrics of the age. He never heard it sung or recited without being deeply moved.]
* * * * *
car' goes em bar' go im mor' tal ized prin' ci ple col' o nists rep re sen ta' tion de ri' sion pa' tri ot ism Phil a del' phi a
THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
Shortly before the War of the Revolution broke out, George III, King of England, claimed the right to tax the people of this country, though he did not permit them to take any part in framing the laws under which they lived.
He placed a light tax on tea, just to teach Americans that they could not escape taxation altogether. But the colonists were fighting for a principle,—that of no taxation without representation, and would not buy the tea. In New York and Philadelphia the people would not allow the vessels to land their cargoes.
The women of America held meetings in many towns, and declared they would drink no tea until the hated tax was removed. The ladies had a hard time of it without their consoling cup of tea, but they stood out nobly.
Three shiploads of tea were sent to Boston. On the night of December 16, 1773, a party of young Americans, painted and dressed like Indians, boarded the three vessels lying in the harbor, opened the chests, and emptied all the tea into the water. They then slipped away to their homes, and were never found out by the British. One of the leaders of these daring young men was Paul Revere, whose famous midnight ride has been immortalized by Longfellow.
When the news of the Boston Tea Party was carried across the ocean, the anger of the King was aroused, and he sent a strong force of soldiers to Boston to bring the rebels to terms. This act only increased the spirit of patriotism that burned in the breasts of all Americans.
George P. Morris, the poet, describes this Tea Party, and the origin of the tune "Yankee Doodle," in the following verses, which our American boys and girls of to-day will gladly read and sing:
Once on a time old Johnny Bull flew in a raging fury, And swore that Jonathan should have no trials, sir, by jury; That no elections should be held, across the briny waters; "And now," said he, "I'll tax the tea of all his sons and daughters." Then down he sate in burly state, and blustered like a grandee, And in derision made a tune called "Yankee doodle dandy." "Yankee doodle"—these are facts—"Yankee doodle dandy;" My son of wax, your tea I'll tax; you Yankee doodle dandy!"
John sent the tea from o'er the sea, with heavy duties rated; But whether hyson or bohea, I never heard it stated. Then Jonathan to pout began—he laid a strong embargo— "I'll drink no tea, by Jove!" so he threw overboard the cargo. Then Johnny sent a regiment, big words and looks to bandy, Whose martial band, when near the land, played "Yankee doodle dandy." "Yankee doodle—keep it up—Yankee doodle dandy— I'll poison with a tax your cup, you Yankee doodle dandy."