The Story of Doctor Dolittle  by Hugh Lofting

The Bridge of the Apes

UEEN ERMINTRUDE had never in her life seen her husband so terrible as he got that night. He gnashed his teeth with rage. He called everybody a fool. He threw his tooth-brush at the palace cat. He rushed round in his night-shirt and woke up all his army and sent them into the jungle to catch the Doctor. Then he made all his servants go too—his cooks and his gardeners and his barber and Prince Bumpo's tutor—even the Queen, who was tired from dancing in a pair of tight shoes, was packed off to help the soldiers in their search.

All this time the Doctor and his animals were running through the forest towards the Land of the Monkeys as fast as they could go.

Gub-Gub, with his short legs, soon got tired; and the Doctor had to carry him—which made it pretty hard when they had the trunk and the hand-bag with them as well.

The King of the Jolliginki thought it would be easy for his army to find them, because the Doctor was in a strange land and would not know his way. But he was wrong; because the monkey, Chee-Chee, knew all the paths through the jungle—better even than the King's men did. And he led the Doctor and his pets to the very thickest part of the forest—a place where no man had ever been before—and hid them all in a big hollow tree between high rocks.

"We had better wait here," said Chee-Chee, "till the soldiers have gone back to bed. Then we can go on into the Land of the Monkeys."

So there they stayed the whole night through.

They often heard the King's men searching and talking in the jungle round about. But they were quite safe, for no one knew of that hiding-place but Chee-Chee—not even the other monkeys.

At last, when daylight began to come through the thick leaves overhead, they heard Queen Ermintrude saying in a very tired voice that it was no use looking any more—that they might as well go back and get some sleep.

As soon as the soldiers had all gone home, Chee-Chee brought the Doctor and his animals out of the hiding-place and they set off for the Land of the Monkeys.

It was a long, long way; and they often got very tired—especially Gub-Gub. But when he cried they gave him milk out of the cocoanuts which he was very fond of.

They always had plenty to eat and drink; because Chee-Chee and Polynesia knew all the different kinds of fruits and vegetables that grow in the jungle, and where to find them—like dates and figs and ground-nuts and ginger and yams. They used to make their lemonade out of the juice of wild oranges, sweetened with honey which they got from the bees' nests in hollow trees. No matter what it was they asked for, Chee-Chee and Polynesia always seemed to be able to get it for them—or something like it. They even got the Doctor some tobacco one day, when he had finished what he had brought with him and wanted to smoke.

At night they slept in tents made of palm-leaves, on thick, soft beds of dried grass. And after a while they got used to walking such a lot and did not get so tired and enjoyed the life of travel very much.

But they were always glad when the night came and they stopped for their resting-time. Then the Doctor used to make a little fire of sticks; and after they had had their supper, they would sit round it in a ring, listening to Polynesia singing songs about the sea, or to Chee-Chee telling stories of the jungle.

And many of the tales that Chee-Chee told were very interesting. Because although the monkeys had no history-books of their own before Doctor Dolittle came to write them for them, they remember everything that happens by telling stories to their children. And Chee-Chee spoke of many things his grandmother had told him—tales of long, long, long ago, before Noah and the Flood,—of the days when men dressed in bear-skins and lived in holes in the rock and ate their mutton raw, because they did not know what cooking was—having never seen a fire. And he told them of the Great Mammoths and Lizards, as long as a train, that wandered over the mountains in those times, nibbling from the tree-tops. And often they got so interested listening, that when he had finished they found their fire had gone right out; and they had to scurry round to get more sticks and build a new one.

Now when the King's army had gone back and told the King that they couldn't find the Doctor, the King sent them out again and told them they must stay in the jungle till they caught him. So all this time, while the Doctor and his animals were going along towards the Land of the Monkeys, thinking themselves quite safe, they were still being followed by the King's men. If Chee-Chee had known this, he would most likely have hidden them again. But he didn't know it.

One day Chee-Chee climbed up a high rock and looked out over the tree-tops. And when he came down he said they were now quite close to the Land of the Monkeys and would soon be there.

And that same evening, sure enough, they saw Chee-Chee's cousin and a lot of other monkeys, who had not yet got sick, sitting in the trees by the edge of a swamp, looking and waiting for them. And when they saw the famous doctor really come, these monkeys made a tremendous noise, cheering and waving leaves and swinging out of the branches to greet him.

Cheering and waving leaves and swinging out of the branches to greet him . . .

They wanted to carry his bag and his trunk and everything he had—and one of the bigger ones even carried Gub-Gub who had got tired again. Then two of them rushed on in front to tell the sick monkeys that the great doctor had come at last.

But the King's men, who were still following, had heard the noise of the monkeys cheering; and they at last knew where the Doctor was, and hastened on to catch him.

The big monkey carrying Gub-Gub was coming along behind slowly, and he saw the Captain of the army sneaking through the trees. So he hurried after the Doctor and told him to run.

Then they all ran harder than they had ever run in their lives; and the King's men, coming after them, began to run too; and the Captain ran hardest of all.

Then the Doctor tripped over his medicine-bag and fell down in the mud, and the Captain thought he would surely catch him this time.

But the Captain had very long ears—though his hair was very short. And as he sprang forward to take hold of the Doctor, one of his ears caught fast in a tree; and the rest of the army had to stop and help him.

By this time the Doctor had picked himself up, and on they went again, running and running. And Chee-Chee shouted,

"It's all right! We haven't far to go now!"

But before they could get into the Land of the Monkeys, they came to a steep cliff with a river flowing below. This was the end of the Kingdom of Jolliginki; and the Land of the Monkeys was on the other side—across the river.

And Jip, the dog, looked down over the edge of the steep, steep cliff and said,

"Golly! How are we ever going to get across?"

"Oh, dear!" said Gub-Gub. "The King's men are quite close now—Look at them! I am afraid we are going to be taken back to prison again." And he began to weep.

But the big monkey who was carrying the pig dropped him on the ground and cried out to the other monkeys.

"Boys—a bridge! Quick!—Make a bridge! We've only a minute to do it. They've got the Captain loose, and he's coming on like a deer. Get lively! A bridge! A bridge!"

The Doctor began to wonder what they were going to make a bridge out of, and he gazed around to see if they had any boards hidden any place.

But when he looked back at the cliff, there, hanging across the river, was a bridge all ready for him—made of living monkeys! For while his back was turned, the monkeys—quick as a flash—had made themselves into a bridge, just by holding hands and feet.

And the big one shouted to the Doctor, "Walk over! Walk over—all of you—hurry!"

Gub-Gub was a bit scared, walking on such a narrow bridge at that dizzy height above the river. But he got over all right; and so did all of them.

John Dolittle was the last to cross. And just as he was getting to the other side, the King's men came rushing up to the edge of the cliff.

John Dolittle was the last to cross.

Then they shook their fists and yelled with rage. For they saw they were too late. The Doctor and all his animals were safe in the Land of the Monkeys and the bridge was pulled across to the other side.

Then Chee-Chee turned to the Doctor and said,

"Many great explorers and gray-bearded naturalists have lain long weeks hidden in the jungle waiting to see the monkeys do that trick. But we never let a white man get a glimpse of it before. You are the first to see the famous 'Bridge of Apes.' "

And the Doctor felt very pleased.

 

Anonymous

Sing, Little Bird

Sing, little bird, when the skies are blue, Sing, for the world has need of you, Sing when the skies are overcast, Sing when the rain is falling fast. Sing, happy heart, when the sun is warm, Sing in the winter's coldest storm, Sing little songs, O heart so true, Sing, for the world has need of you.

 

Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans  by Edward Eggleston

Washington's Christmas Gift

W ASHINGTON was fighting to set this country free. But the army that the King of England sent to fight him was stronger than Washington's army. Washington was beaten and driven out of Brooklyn. Then he had to leave New York. After that, he marched away into New Jersey to save his army from being taken. At last he crossed the Delaware River. Here he was safe for a while.

Some of the Hessian soldiers that the king had hired to fight against the Americans came to Trenton. Trenton is on the Delaware River.

Washington and his men were on the other side of the Delaware River from the Hessians. Washington's men were discouraged. They had been driven back all the way from Brooklyn. It was winter, and they had no warm houses to stay in. They had not even warm clothes. They were dressed in old clothes that people had given them. Some of them were barefooted in this cold weather.

The Hessians and other soldiers of the king were waiting for the river to freeze over. Then they would march across on the ice. They meant to fight Washington once more, and break up his army.

But Washington was thinking about something too.

He was waiting for Christmas. He knew that the Hessian soldiers on the other side of the river would eat and drink a great deal on Christmas Day.

Marching to Trenton

The afternoon of Christmas came. The Hessians were singing and drinking in Trenton. But Washington was marching up the river bank. Some of his barefoot men left blood marks on the snow as they marched.

The men and cannons were put into flat boats. These boats were pushed across the river with poles. There were many great pieces of ice in the river. But all night long the flat boats were pushed across and then back again for more men.

It was three o'clock on the morning after Christmas when the last Americans crossed the river. It was hailing and snowing, and it was very cold. Two or three of the soldiers were frozen to death.

It was eight o'clock in the morning when Washington got to Trenton. The Hessians were sleeping soundly. The sound of the American drums waked them. They jumped out of their beds. They ran into the streets. They tried to fight the Americans.

But it was too late. Washington had already taken their cannons. His men were firing these at the Hessians. The Hessians ran into the fields to get away. But the Americans caught them.

The battle was soon over. Washington had taken nine hundred prisoners.

This was called the battle of Trenton. It gave great joy to all the Americans. It was Washington's Christmas gift to the country.

 

A. A. Milne

The Island

If I had a ship, I'd sail my ship, I'd sail my ship Through Eastern seas; Down to a beach where the slow waves thunder— The green curls over and the white falls under— Boom! Boom! Boom! On the sun-bright sand. Then I'd leave my ship and I'd land, And climb the steep white sand, And climb to the trees, The six dark trees, The coco-nut trees on the cliff's green crown— Hands and knees To the coco-nut trees, Face to the cliff as the stones patter down, Up, up, up, staggering, stumbling, Round the corner where the rock is crumbling, Round this shoulder, Over this boulder, Up to the top where the six trees stand. . . . And there would I rest, and lie, My chin in my hands, and gaze At the dazzle of sand below, And the green waves curling slow, And the grey-blue distant haze Where the sea goes up to the sky. . . . And I'd say to myself as I looked so lazily down at the sea: "There's nobody else in the world, and the world was made for me."

 

Among the Pond People  by Clara Dillingham Pierson

The Good Little Cranes Who Were Bad

W HEN the Sand-Hill Cranes were married, they began to work for a home of their own. To be sure, they had chosen a place for it beforehand, yet there were other things to think about, and some of their friends told them it would be very foolish to build on the ground. "There are so many accidents to ground nests," these friends said. "There are Snakes, you know, and Rats, and a great many other people whom you would not want to have look in on your children. Besides, something might fall on it."

The young couple talked this all over and decided to build in a tree. "We are not afraid of Snakes and Rats," they said, "but we would fear something falling on the nest." They were talking to quite an old Crane when they said this.

"Do you mean to build in a tree?" said he. "My dear young friends, don't do that. Just think, a high wind might blow the nest down and spoil everything. Do whatever you wish, but don't build in a tree." Then he flew away.

"Dear me!" exclaimed young Mrs. Crane, "one tells me to do this and never to do that. Another tells me to do that and never to do this. I shall just please myself since I cannot please my friends."

"And which place do you choose?" asked her husband, who always liked whatever she did.

"I shall build on the ground," she said decidedly. "If the tree falls, it may hit the nest and it may not, but if we build in the tree and it falls, we are sure to hit the ground."

"How wise you are!" exclaimed her husband. "I believe people get in a way of building just so, and come to think that no other way can be right." Which shows that Mr. Sand-Hill Crane was also wise.

Both worked on the nest, bringing roots and dried grasses with which to build it up. Sometimes they went to dance with their friends, and when they did they bowed most of the time to each other. They did not really care very much about going, because they were so interested in the nest. This they had to build quite high from the ground, on account of their long legs. "If I were a Duck," said Mrs. Sand-Hill Crane, "it would do very well for me to sit on the nest, but with my legs? Never! I would as soon sit on two bare branches as to have them doubled under me." So she tried the nest until it was just as high as her legs were long.

When it was high enough, she laid in it two gray eggs with brown spots. After that she did no more dancing, but stood with a leg on either side of the nest, and her soft body just over the eggs to keep them warm. It was very tiresome work, and sometimes Mr. Crane covered the eggs while she went fishing. The Cranes are always very kind to their wives.

This, you know, was the first time that either had had a nest, and it was all new and wonderful to them. They thought that there never had been such a beautiful home. They often stood on the ground beside it, and poked it this way and that with their bills, and said to each other, "Just look at this fine root that I wove in," or, "Have you noticed how well that tuft of dried grass looks where I put it?" As it came near the time for their eggs to hatch, they could hardly bear to be away long enough to find food.

One day young Mr. Sand-Hill Crane came home much excited. "Our neighbors, the Cranes who live across the pond," said he, "had two children hatched this morning."

"Oh, how glad I am!" cried his wife. "How glad I am! Those eggs were laid just before ours, which must hatch very soon now."

"That is what I thought," said he. "I feel so sorry for them, though, for I saw their children, and they are dreadfully homely,—not at all like their parents, who are quite good-looking."

"I must see them myself," said his wife, "and if you will cover the eggs while I go for food, I will just peep in on them. I will hurry back." She flew steadily across the pond, which was not very wide, and asked to see the babies. She had never seen any Crane children, you know, since she herself was little. She thought them very ugly to look at, and wondered how their mother could seem bright and cheerful with two such disappointing children. She said all the polite things that she honestly could, then got something to eat, and flew home. "They are very, very homely," she said to her husband, "and I think it queer. All their older children are good-looking."

She had hardly said this when she heard a faint tapping sound in the nest. She looked, and there was the tip of a tiny beak showing through the shell of one egg. She stood on one side of the nest, watching, and her husband stood on the other while their oldest child slowly made his way out. They dared not help for fear of hurting him, and besides, all the other Cranes had told them that they must not.

"Oh, look!" cried the young mother. "What a dear little bill!"

"Ah!" said the young father. "Did you ever see such a neck?"

"Look at those legs," cried she. "What a beautiful child he is!"

"He looks just like you," said the father, "and I am glad of it."

"Ah, no," said she. "He is exactly like you." And she began to clear away the broken egg-shell.

Soon the other Crane baby poked her bill out, and again the young parents stood around and admired their child. They could not decide which was the handsomer, but they were sure that both were remarkable babies. They felt more sorry than ever for their neighbors across the pond, who had such homely children. They took turns in covering their own damp little Cranes, and were very, very happy.

Before this, it had been easy to get what food they wanted, for there had been two to work for two. Now there were two to work for four, and that made it much harder. There was not time for dancing, and both father and mother worked steadily, yet they were happier than ever, and neither would have gone back to the careless old days for all the food in the pond or all the dances on the beach.

The little Cranes grew finely. They changed their down for pin-feathers, and then these grew into fine brownish gray feathers, like those which their parents wore. They were good children, too, and very well brought up. They ate whatever food was given to them, and never found fault with it. When they left the nest for the first time, they fluttered and tumbled and had trouble in learning to walk. A Mud Turtle Father who was near, told them that this was because their legs were too long and too few.

"Well," said the brother, as he picked himself up and tried to stand on one leg while he drew the other foot out of the tangled grass, "they may be too long, but I'm sure there are enough of them. When I'm thinking about one, I never can tell what the other will do."

Still, it was not long before they could walk and wade and even fly. Then they met the other pond people, and learned to tell a Stickleback from a Minnow. They did not have many playmates. The saucy little Kingfishers sat on branches over their heads, the Wild Ducks waddled or swam under their very bills, the Fish Hawks floated in air above them, and the Gulls screamed hoarsely to them as they circled over the pond, yet none of them were long-legged and stately. The things that the other birds enjoyed most, they could not do, and sometimes they did not like it very well. One night they were talking about the Gulls, when they should have been asleep, and their father told them to tuck their heads right under their wings and not let him hear another word from them. They did tuck their head under their wings, but they peeped out between the feathers, and when they were sure their father and mother were asleep, they walked softly away and planned to do something naughty.

"I'm tired of being good," said the brother. "The Gulls never are good. They scream, and snatch, and contradict, and have lots of fun. Let's be bad just for fun."

"All right," said his sister. "What shall we do?"

"That's the trouble," said he. "I can't think of anything naughty that I really care for."

Each stood on one leg and thought for a while. "We might run away," said she.

"Where would we go?" asked he.

"We might go to the meadow," said she. So they started off in the moonlight and went to the meadow, but all the people there were asleep, except the Tree Frog, and he scrambled out of the way as soon as he saw them coming, because he thought they might want a late supper.

"This isn't any fun!" said the brother. "Let's go to the forest."

They went to the forest, and saw the Bats flitting in and out among the trees, and the Bats flew close to the Cranes and scared them. The Great Horned Owl stood on a branch near them, and stared at them with his big round eyes, and said, "Who? Who? Waugh-ho-oo!" Then the brother and sister stood closer together and answered, "If you please, sir, we are the Crane children."

But the Great Horned Owl kept on staring at them and saying "Who? Who? Waugh-ho-oo!" until they were sure he was deaf, and answered louder and louder still.

The Screech Owls came also, and looked at them, and bent their bodies over as if they were laughing, and nodded their heads, and shook themselves. Then the Crane children were sure that they were being made fun of, so they stalked away very stiffly, and when they were out of sight of the Owls, they flew over toward the farmhouse. They were not having any fun at all yet, and they meant to keep on trying, for what was the good of being naughty if they didn't?

They passed Horses and Cows asleep in the fields, and saw the Brown Hog lying in the pen with a great many little Brown Pigs and one White Pig sleeping beside her. Nobody was awake except Collie, the Shepherd Dog, who was sitting in the farmyard with his nose in the air, barking at the moon.

"Go away!" he said to the Crane children, who were walking around the yard. "Go away! I must bark at the moon, and I don't want anybody around." They did not start quite soon enough to please him, so he dashed at them, and ran around them and barked at them, instead of at the moon, until they were glad enough to fly straight home to the place where their father and mother were sleeping with their heads under their wings.

"Are you going to tell them?" asked the brother.

"I don't know," answered the sister. When morning came, they looked tired, and their father and mother seemed so worried about them that they told the whole story.

"We didn't care so very much about what we did," they said, "but we thought it would be fun to be naughty."

The father and mother looked at each other in a very knowing way. "A great many people think that," said the mother gently. "They are mistaken after all. It is really more fun to be good."

"Well, I wish the Gulls wouldn't scream, 'Goody-goody' at us," said the brother.

"What difference does that make?" asked his father. "Why should a Crane care what a Gull says?"

"Why, I—I don't know," stammered the brother. "I guess it doesn't make any difference after all."

The next day when the Crane children were standing in the edge of the pond, a pair of young Gulls flew down near them and screamed out, "Goody-goody!"

Then the Crane brother and sister lifted their heads and necks and opened their long bills, and trumpeted back, "Baddy-baddy!"

"There!" they said to each other. "Now we are even."

 

Judge Parry

I Would Like You for a Comrade

I would like you for a comrade, for I love you, that I do, I never met a little calf as amiable as you; I would teach you how to dance and sing and how to talk and laugh, If I were not a little girl and you were not a calf. I would like you for a comrade; you should share my barley meal, And butt me with your little horns just hard enough to feel; We would lie beneath the chestnut trees and watch the leaves uncurl, If I were not a clumsy calf and you a little girl.

 

Fairy Tales Too Good To Miss—Up the Stairs  by Lisa M. Ripperton

The Tongue-Cut Sparrow

I N a little old house in a little old village in Japan lived a little old man and his little old wife.

One morning when the old woman slid open the screens which form the sides of all Japanese houses, she saw, on the doorstep, a poor little sparrow. She took him up gently and fed him. Then she held him in the bright morning sunshine until the cold dew was dried from his wings. Afterward she let him go, so that he might fly home to his nest, but he stayed to thank her with his songs.

Each morning, when the pink on the mountain tops told that the sun was near, the sparrow perched on the roof of the house and sang out his joy.

The old man and woman thanked the sparrow for this, for they liked to be up early and at work. But near them there lived a cross old woman who did not like to be awakened so early. At last she became so angry that she caught the sparrow and cut his tongue. Then the poor little sparrow flew away to his home, but he could never sing again.

When the kind woman knew what had happened to her pet she was very sad. She said to her husband: "Let us go and find our poor little sparrow." So they started together, and asked of each bird by the wayside: "Do you know where the Tongue-Cut Sparrow lives? Do you know where the Tongue-Cut Sparrow went?"

In this way they followed until they came to a bridge. They did not know which way to turn, and at first could see no one to ask.

At last they saw a Bat hanging head downward, taking his daytime nap. "Oh, friend Bat, do you know where the Tongue-Cut Sparrow went?" they asked.

"Yes. Over the bridge and up the mountain," said the Bat. Then he blinked his sleepy eyes and was fast asleep again.

They went over the bridge and up the mountain, but again they found two roads and did not know which one to take. A little Field Mouse peeped through the leaves and grass, so they asked him: "Do you know where the Tongue-Cut Sparrow went?"

"Yes. Down the mountain and through the woods," said the Field Mouse.

Down the mountain and through the woods they went, and at last came to the home of their little friend.

When he saw them coming the poor little Sparrow was very happy indeed. He and his wife and children all came and bowed their heads down to the ground to show their respect. Then the Sparrow rose and led the old man and the old woman into his house, while his wife and children hastened to bring them boiled rice, fish, cress, and saké.

After they had feasted, the Sparrow wished to please them still more, so he danced for them what is called the "sparrow-dance."

When the sun began to sink, the old man and woman started for home. The Sparrow brought out two baskets. "I would like to give you one of these," he said. "Which will you take?" One basket was large and looked very full, while the other one seemed very small and light. The old people thought they would not take the large basket, for that might have all the Sparrow's treasure in it, so they said: "The way is long and we are very old, so please let us take the smaller one."

They took it and walked home over the mountain and across the bridge, happy and contented.

When they reached their own home they decided to open the basket and see what the Sparrow had given them. Within the basket they found many rolls of silk and piles of gold, enough to make them rich, so they were more grateful than ever to the Sparrow.

The cross old woman who had cut the Sparrow's tongue was peering in through the screen when they opened their basket. She saw the rolls of silk and the piles of gold, and planned how she might get some for herself.

The next morning she went to the kind woman and said: "I am so sorry that I cut the tongue of your Sparrow. Please tell me the way to his home so that I may go to him and tell him I am sorry."

The kind woman told her the way and she set out. She went across the bridge, over the mountain, and through the woods. At last she came to the home of the little Sparrow.

He was not so glad to see this old woman, yet he was very kind to her and did everything to make her feel welcome. They made a feast for her, and when she started home the Sparrow brought out two baskets as before. Of course the woman chose the large basket, for she thought that would have even more wealth than the other one.

It was very heavy, and caught on the trees as she was going through the wood. She could hardly pull it up the mountain with her, and she was all out of breath when she reached the top. She did not get to the bridge until it was dark. Then she was so afraid of dropping the basket into the river that she scarcely dared to step.

When at last she reached home she was so tired that she was half dead, but she pulled the screens close shut, so that no one could look in, and opened her treasure.

Treasure indeed! A whole swarm of horrible creatures burst from the basket the moment she opened it. They stung her and bit her, they pushed her and pulled her, they scratched her and laughed at her screams.

At last she crawled to the edge of the room and slid aside the screen to get away from the pests. The moment the door was opened they swooped down upon her, picked her up, and flew away with her. Since then nothing has ever been heard of the old woman.

 

Robert Louis Stevenson

Nest Eggs

Birds all the sunny day Flutter and quarrel Here in the arbour-like Tent of the laurel. Here in the fork The brown nest is seated; Four little blue eggs The mother keeps heated. While we stand watching her Staring like gabies, Safe in each egg are the Bird's little babies. Soon the frail eggs they shall Chip, and upspringing Make all the April woods Merry with singing. Younger than we are, O children, and frailer, Soon in the blue air they'll be, Singer and sailor. We, so much older, Taller and stronger, We shall look down on the Birdies no longer. They shall go flying With musical speeches High overhead in the Tops of the beeches. In spite of our wisdom And sensible talking, We on our feet must go Plodding and walking.

 

On the Shores of the Great Sea  by M. B. Synge

The Siege of Troy

"Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy." —Tennyson.

H ERE is another story of these old heroic days before the dawn of history in Greece. And yet there is some truth in it, as there is in all these old stories. The city of Troy stood in the north-west corner of the land we now know as Asia Minor. It was therefore quite close to Greece.

This siege of Troy is supposed to have taken place, about the time that the children of Israel were settling down, under their first king, Saul.

Long, long ago, then, so the story runs, there was a King of Troy, called Priam. He had nineteen children, of whom Paris was the second. When Paris was old enough, he built a ship, and sailed away to visit the Greek kings. He made great friends with the King of Sparta, but he repaid his kindness, by stealing away his wife, the beautiful Helen.

As soon as the King of Sparta found how his hospitality had been misused, he called upon all the Greek heroes to help him to recover his wife and to revenge himself on Paris. Every one replied to the call, and for many years, the Greeks collected their forces together. At last they were ready, and the King of Sparta's brother, Agamemnon, took command of them all.

With over a thousand ships and a hundred thousand men, the Greeks landed on the Trojan coast. They hauled their ships on shore, fastened them with ropes to large stones, which served as anchors, and surrounded the fleet with fortifications to protect it against the enemy. They fought the Trojans, with swords and spears. The chiefs generally, went to battle in a chariot, which was an open car drawn by two horses and driven by some trusty friend, who held the horses, while the chief stood up, and sent spear after spear, among the enemy.

The Greeks soon showed themselves to be superior to the Trojans, who shut themselves up within the huge walls of their city, leaving an opening on one side only, from which they might receive corn, cattle, and other supplies.

Nine summers and nine winters went by, and still the siege of Troy went on. The Greek heroes lost many of their finest men, but neither side would give in. The great hero among the Greeks was Achilles, among the men of Troy, Hector, the eldest son of old Priam. Both these were killed at last, and not very long after Paris himself was slain.

Still the King of Sparta could not get Helen back. Priam used to make her come and sit beside him on the battlements, over the gateway at Troy, to tell him the names of all the Greek chiefs.

But the King of Sparta grew desperate at last, and a means was devised for getting into Troy. Together with a number of Greek heroes, he hid himself in a monstrous wooden horse which was found on the sea-shore. Some one told the Trojans, if they would drag this wooden horse into Troy, their luck would turn, and it would bring them good fortune. So the Trojans harnessed themselves to the horse, and began to drag it into Troy, little thinking it was full of the enemy. Night came on, and suddenly at a given signal, the wooden horse was opened, and out tumbled the King of Sparta and his men, while outside, the other Greeks had seen the signal and rushed in.

Troy was set on fire, the King of Sparta rescued his beautiful wife and carried her down to his ship. Old Priam tried to put on his armour and defend his wife and daughters, but he was killed in the court of his palace. And all the rest of the men of Troy were either killed, or made slaves.

Only one great man of Troy escaped. That was Æneas, who, seeing that all was lost, took his old father on his back, and leading his little son by the hand, while his wife followed, escaped from the burning city. He found a ship on the coast and sailed away in safety.

After long years and marvellous adventures, he arrived on the shores of Italy, landing near the spot, where Rome now stands. It is said, that on the side of one of the mountains, he built a city, known as the Long White city; and here for three hundred years the descendants of Troy reigned.

So ended the great siege of Troy. It was first sung of, by the great poet Homer, in his wonderful poem called the 'Iliad'; but the acts of the heroes, have inspired many and many a poet since that time, until it has become one of the best known scenes, of the world's great history.

 

Emily Huntington Miller

Little May

Have you heard the waters singing, Little May, Where the willows green are bending O'er their way? Do you know how low and sweet, O'er the pebbles at their feet, Are the words the waves repeat, Night and day? Have you heard the robins singing, Little one, When the rosy dawn is breaking, When 't is done? Have you heard the wooing breeze, In the blossomed orchard trees, And the drowsy hum of bees In the sun? All the earth is full of music, Little May,— Bird, and bee, and water singing On its way. Let their silver voices fall On thy heart with happy call: "Praise the Lord, who loveth all," Night and day, Little May.

 

The Filipino Twins  by Lucy Fitch Perkins

The Typhoon

T HE raft was now just a little island of dim light in the midst of the soft velvety darkness of the night. As they looked out over the bay their eyes were blinded by the flares and they could see little but the lights of other fishing craft and their sparkling reflections in the dark water. There was no moon, and the clouds' hid the stars.

At last Felix shaded his eyes with his hand and, peering out into the darkness, tried to get his bearings.

"I can't tell just where we are," he said. "But the fish are still coming in well. They follow the lights." He had scarcely finished speaking, when a sudden gust of wind slapped the pulley-lines and swung the net out of reach of his hand. When it swung back again, he dropped it into the water, and then moistened a finger and held it up to feel the direction of the wind. The gust of wind had passed as quickly as it had come, and there was now a light, shifty breeze, blowing from the northwest. Before it was time to pull up his net again there came still another gust and then another.

"I don't like the looks of this," said Felix. "The wind is blowing in from the China Sea."

Even the Twins knew that the terrible typhoons which sometimes sweep over the Islands were apt to come from that direction and they shivered with fear. Almost at once the sea was churned to foam, and white-tipped waves rose out of the blackness about them. The children huddled together and gazed in frightened silence at Petra as she crawled on her hands and knees and brought the baskets to the middle of the raft. They were now plunging wildly about on the tossing waves, and the flare, swinging back and forth on the bamboo pole, swept strange, grotesque shadows across the raft as Felix struggled in vain to bring it to shore. When she had made everything as secure as she could, Petra crept back to the children and sat between them with an arm around each.

Then came a flash of lightning and a fearful crash of thunder, and Dingo crawled under the shelter with his tail curled so far under him that his hind legs curled with it.

Now the rain began, and the children and their mother followed Dingo into the tiny tent-like space. They lay on their stomachs, clinging to one another and to the supports of the nipa-thatched hut. The flash of lightning had shown Felix that his frantic efforts to bring the raft to shore were useless, for wind and waves were both against him and it was far more likely that he would be swept away into the sea, so he, too, crawled back to the shelter. There was not room for him inside. In fact, it was not even big enough for Petra and the children. They tried to push Dingo out, hoping to make room for Felix, but Dingo refused to budge, and the raft was now plunging about so wildly that they dared not move.

Felix sank down at their feet, threw an arm over the six legs sticking out from under the thatch, and with his other hand clung to the frail support of the hut.

The rain came down in torrents, and the wretched family could do nothing but hold to the raft as best they could and pray with all their might. They could not even speak to one another, and, indeed, what was there to say? They knew very well that at any moment they might be swept away into the raging sea. For some time they lay quivering with terror and with cold, for they were now wet to the skin, and the wind blew on them in chilling blasts. The flares sputtered and went out, and they felt the shudder of the raft as the baskets slid about bumping into each other and into their shelter. Then the baskets tipped over, and Felix, with despair, felt his wonderful catch of fish slide past him in a slimy stream into the sea. The crabs crawled over him and he could not move. The little stove shot by and was gone, and the next wave carried away the thatch of the hut, leaving only the upright supports to which they clung.

It seemed they could endure no more, for there is a limit even to terror, yet the next moment the raft itself seemed to sink beneath them and for an instant they were afloat upon a wave which swept every movable thing, except themselves, before it into the sea. They felt the raft rise up under them again and then once more the waters surged over them. They clung together in a desperate heap, and each time when the wave had passed, were surprised to find themselves still clinging to their frail support. They knew that bamboo would never sink but the raft might at any moment be dashed to pieces by the waves and there was no possibility of swimming in such angry waters.

For three terrible hours the storm raged. They learned to hold their breath when a wave broke over them and breathe again when it had passed. Otherwise they might have been drowned even though they still clung to the raft.

At last the wind quieted a little, and the rain slackened, but it made little difference to them, for the waves still threw them about as if the raft were no more than a floating chip.

For three hours more they plunged and dipped and rolled with the heaving waters, and it was not until a long red streak in the eastern sky proclaimed the dawn that even Felix could lift his head enough to look about them.

The long red streak like a crack in the sky showed the rugged line of a range of hills far away on the horizon to the eastward. In the west Felix could trace the hills of Bataan showing faintly against the dark sky, and he knew that they were floating about in the middle of Manila Bay.

Felix gave Petra's ankle a pull, and a mass of wet, soggy clothes heaved a little, and she, too, raised herself on one elbow.

"The children," gasped Felix, "they are alive?"

Petra nodded. She was almost too spent to speak.

"They clutched my hands all night," she whispered. She rose to her knees with difficulty, and bent her head close to the heads of Ramon and Rita to be sure they were really breathing.

"Let them be," she whispered. "They are either asleep or unconscious." She looked out over the wastes of water and shivered.

"If we are to drown after all, it will be as well not to rouse them," she said. She crossed herself, murmuring a prayer, and sank down again.

"Hold fast to the children and to the raft," said Felix to his wife. "It doesn't pitch quite so much now, and I am going to let go of you."

Petra clutched him. "Let us all die together if need be," she moaned. "If you try to move about you will be dashed into the sea."

Felix did not answer. He was already on his hands and knees, and, in spite of her efforts to hold him back, he began to crawl toward the bamboo net poles, which were still standing. Petra shuddered and covered her eyes. She could not bear to see him swept away. Felix reached the front of the raft and, seizing the bamboo poles with both hands, managed to pull himself to his feet. He hoped that possibly some boat might see their plight and rescue them, but there was no boat in sight. He looked about on the raft. There was not a thing left upon it but themselves and Dingo. Fish-baskets, nets, even his long pole—all were gone. For a moment he was in despair. Then he stripped off his white shirt and managed to tie it to the rope and pull it up by means of a pulley.

If some fishing-boat which had weathered the storm would but see his signal of distress, they might yet be saved. He sat down by the poles to watch. The gray dawn grew to full morning light, and the sun beat down upon the wretched group on the raft. They suffered with heat and thirst, but though the water was now more quiet, there was no sign of help anywhere on the horizon. Too spent to move, Petra and the children lay still and waited for death. Dingo roused himself and crawled feebly to Felix and lay down beside him.

On the pole the white signal hung limp in the sultry air. One hour passed, two, three; still Felix sat grimly watching, watching, and saw no sign. Petra and the children still lay in a stupor.

In the east, far away across the waste of waters, he now saw a cloud of smoke. "That must be Manila," he said to himself.

Again he searched the whole horizon, and this time—oh, joy!—in the west, like an echo from the clouds above the city, a thin wisp of smoke rose against the sky. He gave a great shout, and Petra roused herself.

"Look, look," cried Felix, pointing to the wisp of smoke. "It's a steamer going from Bataan to Manila. There are steamers that cross the bay every day loaded with fish. We are right in its course. If only we can make them see us!"

He pulled the rope frantically up and down, and his shirt flapped up and down with it. Hope put new life into Petra. She roused the children. Dingo sat up, too, and barked.

The water was now quiet enough so they ventured to crawl about a little, and they sat up in the middle of the raft, clinging together.

"They are too far away to see us yet, but I'll keep moving the shirt up and down, anyway," cried Felix. "Sit up as tall as you can, so it will be easier for them to see us."

The steamer came nearer. They could see its black hull grow larger and larger as it approached. It seemed to them that they watched it for hours, and still there was no sign that they were seen. The suspense grew unbearable.

"If they don't see us they may run over us," cried Felix. "We are right in their path."

"They must see us," moaned Petra, and she and the children waved their arms frantically, while Felix flew his white signal and Dingo barked.

On and on came the boat. Then, suddenly, there was a fearful blast from the whistle, the beating of the engine slowed down and a row of heads appeared above the deck-rail. In a few moments the steamer was close alongside, a rope with a great loop in the end was thrown over, and one by one the shipwrecked family were lifted on board. Dingo was a great problem, and for a time it looked as if he would have to be left to his fate, but at last a basket was let down, Felix fastened him into it with the pulley-lines, and, whimpering with fright, he also was drawn on board.

Felix was the last to leave the wreck, and when he, too, stood on the deck with his family safe about him, his heart was so filled with thankfulness that there was no room in it for grief over the loss of his raft. They watched it tossing about on the waves, as the engines started up and the steamer went on its way to Manila and the terrible night was left behind them like a bad dream. The Captain was a little man with a yellow skin, thick black hair, and a wide mouth which cracked wider still in a friendly grin as he looked at the forlorn group.

"Well," he said, "I've often fished in Manila Bay, but never have had such a haul as this in my life. What in the world did you think you were doing so far out on that raft?"

Felix told him their story. "Hum," said the Captain. "It's lucky that this boat is loaded with fruit and vegetables." He turned to one of the deck hands.

"Go bring them anything that can be eaten raw," he said, "and be quick about it."

"And oh, please, some water," said Petra.

The man disappeared and in a few moments returned with a basket of mangoes, pineapples, and bananas, which he placed before them on the deck. He also brought water in a large gourd. When they had eaten and drunk, and their clothes were dried in the sun, they began to feel much more cheerful. They were alive, well, and together. That was much to be thankful for, but their plight was still serious. They were a long way from home, without money or means of getting any. How in the world were they to get back to the little farm-house by the river, and what would they find when they got there? The typhoon which wrecked their raft must have done damage on shore as well. Felix thought about his rice-field, about the animals which had not been fed, and hoped the wind had not blown the house away, as well as the raft. Petra sat with her head in her hands and thought about these things, too.

 

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Boats Sail on the Rivers

Boats sail on the rivers, And ships sail on the seas; But clouds that sail across the sky Are prettier far than these. There are bridges on the rivers, As pretty as you please; But the bow that bridges heaven, And overtops the trees, And builds a road from earth to sky, Is prettier far than these.

 

Hurlbut's Story of the Bible  by Jesse Lyman Hurlbut

Jacob's Wonderful Dream

Genesis xxvii: 46, to xxx: 24.

FTER Esau found that he had lost his birthright and his blessing, he was very angry against his brother Jacob; and he said to himself, and told others, "My father Isaac is very old, and cannot live long. As soon as he is dead, then I shall kill Jacob for having robbed me of my right."

When Rebekah heard this, she said to Jacob, "Before it is too late, do you go away from home, and get out of Esau's sight. Perhaps when Esau sees you no longer, he will forget his anger; and then you can come home again. Go and visit my brother Laban, your uncle, in Haran, and stay with him for a little while, until Esau's anger is past."

You remember that Rebekah came from the family of Nahor, Abraham's younger brother, who lived in Haran, a long distance to the northeast of Canaan; and that Laban was Rebekah's brother, as was told in Story Eleven.

So Jacob went out of Beersheba, on the border of the desert, and walked alone toward a land far to the north, carrying his staff in his hand. One evening, just about sunset, he came to a place among the mountains, more than sixty miles distant from his home. And as he had no bed to lie down upon, he took a stone and rested his head upon it for a pillow, and lay down to sleep. We would think that a hard pillow, but Jacob was tired, and soon feel asleep.

And on that night Jacob had a wonderful dream. In his dream he saw stairs leading up to heaven from the earth where he lay; and angels were coming down and going up upon the stairs. And above the stairs, he saw the Lord God standing. And God said to Jacob:

"I am the Lord, the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac your father; and I will be your God, too. The land where you are lying all alone, shall belong to you and to your children after you; and your children shall spread abroad over the lands, east, and west, and north, and south, like the dust of the earth: and in your family all the world shall receive a blessing. And I am with you in your journey, and I will keep you where you are going, and will bring you back to this land. I will never leave you, and I will surely keep my promise to you."

Jacob's wonderful dream.

And in the morning Jacob awaked from his sleep, and he said, "Surely the Lord is in this place and I did not know it! I thought that I was all alone, but God has been with me. This place is the house of God; it is the gate of heaven!"

And Jacob took the stone on which his head had rested, and he set it up as a pillar, and poured oil on it as an offering to God. And Jacob named that place Bethel, which in the language that Jacob spoke means "The House of God."

And Jacob made a promise to God at that time, and said:

"If God really will go with me, and will keep me in the way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and will bring me to my father's house in peace, then the Lord shall be my God; and this stone shall be the house of God; and of all that God gives me, I will give back to God one-tenth as an offering."

Then Jacob went onward in his long journey. He waded across the river Jordan in a shallow place, feeling the way with his staff; he climbed mountains, and journeyed beside the great desert on the east, and at last he came to the city of Haran. Beside the city was the well, where Abraham's servant had met Jacob's mother, Rebekah (see Story Eleven); and there, after Jacob had waited for a time, he saw a young woman coming with her sheep, to give them water.

Then Jacob took off the flat stone that was over the mouth of the well, and drew water, and gave it to the sheep. And when he found that this young woman was his own cousin Rachel, the daughter of Laban, he was so glad that he wept for joy. And at that moment he began to love Rachel, and longed to have her for his wife.

Rachel's father, Laban, who was Jacob's uncle, the brother of Rebekah, Jacob's mother, gave a welcome to Jacob, and took him into his home.

And Jacob asked Laban if he would give his daughter Rachel to him as his wife; and Jacob said, "If you will give me Rachel, I will work for you seven years." And Laban said, "It is better that you should have her than that a stranger should marry her."

So Jacob lived seven years in Laban's house, caring for his sheep and oxen and camels; and such was his love for Rachel that the seven years seemed like a few days.

At last the day came for the marriage; and they brought in the bride, who after the manner of that land was covered with a thick veil, so that her face could not be seen. And she was married to Jacob; and when Jacob lifted up her veil, he found that he had married, not Rachel whom he loved, but her older sister Leah, who was not beautiful, and whom Jacob did not love at all.

Jacob was very angry that he had been deceived, though that was just the way in which Jacob himself had deceived his father and cheated his brother Esau (see Story Twelve). But his uncle Laban said:

"In our land we never allow the younger daughter to be married before the older daughter. Keep Leah for your wife, and work for me seven years longer, and you shall have Rachel also."

For in those times, as we have seen, men often had two wives or even more than two. No one thought that it was wrong then to have more than one wife, although now it is considered very wicked. So Jacob stayed seven years more, fourteen years in all, before he received Rachel as his wife.

While Jacob was living at Haran, eleven sons were born to him. But only one of these was the child of Rachel, whom Jacob loved. This son was Joseph, who was dearer to Jacob than any other of his children, partly because he was the youngest, and also because he was the child of his beloved Rachel.

 

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Hurt No Living Thing

Hurt no living thing: Ladybird, nor butterfly, Nor moth with dusty wing, Nor cricket chirping cheerily, Nor grasshopper so light of leap, Nor dancing gnat, nor beetle fat, Nor harmless worms that creep.