Text of Plan #953
  WEEK 18  

  Monday  


The Story of Doctor Dolittle  by Hugh Lofting

The Leader of the Lions

dropcap image OHN DOLITTLE now became dreadfully, awfully busy. He found hundreds and thousands of monkeys sick—gorillas, orang-outangs, chimpanzees, dog-faced baboons, marmosettes, gray monkeys, red ones—all kinds. And many had died.

The first thing he did was to separate the sick ones from the well ones. Then he got Chee-Chee and his cousin to build him a little house of grass. The next thing: he made all the monkeys who were still well come and be vaccinated.


[Illustration]

He made all the monkeys who were still well come and be vaccinated.

And for three days and three nights the monkeys kept coming from the jungles and the valleys and the hills to the little house of grass, where the Doctor sat all day and all night, vaccinating and vaccinating.

Then he had another house made—a big one, with a lot of beds in it; and he put all the sick ones in this house.

But so many were sick, there were not enough well ones to do the nursing. So he sent messages to the other animals, like the lions and the leopards and the antelopes, to come and help with the nursing.

But the Leader of the Lions was a very proud creature. And when he came to the Doctor's big house full of beds he seemed angry and scornful.

"Do you dare to ask me, Sir?" he said, glaring at the Doctor. "Do you dare to ask me—ME, the king of beasts,  to wait on a lot of dirty monkeys? Why, I wouldn't even eat them between meals!"


[Illustration]

"ME, the King of Beasts,  to wait on a lot of dirty monkeys?"

Although the lion looked very terrible, the Doctor tried hard not to seem afraid of him.

"I didn't ask you to eat them," he said quietly. "And besides, they're not dirty. They've all had a bath this morning. Your  coat looks as though it needed brushing—badly. Now listen, and I'll tell you something: the day may come when the lions get sick. And if you don't help the other animals now, the lions may find themselves left all alone when they  are in trouble. That often happens to proud people."

"The lions are never in  trouble—they only make  trouble," said the Leader, turning up his nose. And he stalked away into the jungle, feeling he had been rather smart and clever.

Then the leopards got proud too and said they wouldn't help. And then of course the antelopes—although they were too shy and timid to be rude to the Doctor like the lion—they  pawed the ground, and smiled foolishly, and said they had never been nurses before.

And now the poor Doctor was worried frantic, wondering where he could get help enough to take care of all these thousands of monkeys in bed.

But the Leader of the Lions, when he got back to his den, saw his wife, the Queen Lioness, come running out to meet him with her hair untidy.

"One of the cubs won't eat," she said. "I don't know what  to do with him. He hasn't taken a thing since last night."

And she began to cry and shake with nervousness—for she was a good mother, even though she was a lioness.

So the Leader went into his den and looked at his children—two very cunning little cubs, lying on the floor. And one of them seemed quite poorly.

Then the lion told his wife, quite proudly, just what he had said to the Doctor. And she got so angry she nearly drove him out of the den. "You never did  have a grain of sense!" she screamed. "All the animals from here to the Indian Ocean are talking about this wonderful man, and how he can cure any kind of sickness, and how kind he is—the only man in the whole world who can talk the language of the animals! And now, now—when we have a sick baby on our hands, you must go and offend him! You great booby! Nobody but a fool is ever rude to a good  doctor. You—," and she started pulling her husband's hair.

"Go back to that white man at once," she yelled, "and tell him you're sorry. And take all the other empty-headed lions with you—and those stupid leopards and antelopes. Then do everything the Doctor tells you. Work hard! And perhaps he will be kind enough to come and see the cub later. Now be off!—Hurry,  I tell you! You're not fit to be a father!"

And she went into the den next door, where another mother-lion lived, and told her all about it.

So the Leader of the Lions went back to the Doctor and said, "I happened to be passing this way and thought I'd look in. Got any help yet?"

"No," said the Doctor. "I haven't. And I'm dreadfully worried."

"Help's pretty hard to get these days," said the lion. "Animals don't seem to want to work any more. You can't blame them—in a way . . . Well, seeing you're in difficulties, I don't mind doing what I can—just to oblige you—so long as I don't have to wash the creatures. And I have told all the other hunting animals to come and do their share. The leopards should be here any minute now. . . . Oh, and by the way, we've got a sick cub at home. I don't think there's much the matter with him myself. But the wife is anxious. If you are around that way this evening, you might take a look at him, will you?"

Then the Doctor was very happy; for all the lions and the leopards and the antelopes and the giraffes and the zebras—all the animals of the forests and the mountains and the plains—came to help him in his work. There were so many of them that he had to send some away, and only kept the cleverest.

And now very soon the monkeys began to get better. At the end of a week the big house full of beds was half empty. And at the end of the second week the last monkey had got well.

Then the Doctor's work was done; and he was so tired he went to bed and slept for three days without even turning over.

 



The Story of Doctor Dolittle  by Hugh Lofting

The Monkeys' Council

dropcap image HEE-CHEE stood outside the Doctor's door, keeping everybody away till he woke up. Then John Dolittle told the monkeys that he must now go back to Puddleby.

They were very surprised at this; for they had thought that he was going to stay with them forever. And that night all the monkeys got together in the jungle to talk it over.

And the Chief Chimpanzee rose up and said,

"Why is it the good man is going away? Is he not happy here with us?"

But none of them could answer him.


[Illustration]

Then the Grand Gorilla got up.

Then the Grand Gorilla got up and said,

"I think we all should go to him and ask him to stay. Perhaps if we make him a new house and a bigger bed, and promise him plenty of monkey-servants to work for him and to make life pleasant for him—perhaps then he will not wish to go."

Then Chee-Chee got up; and all the others whispered, "Sh! Look! Chee-Chee, the great Traveler, is about to speak!"

And Chee-Chee said to the other monkeys,

"My friends, I am afraid it is useless to ask the Doctor to stay. He owes money in Puddleby; and he says he must go back and pay it."

And the monkeys asked him, "What is money?"

Then Chee-Chee told them that in the Land of the White Men you could get nothing without money; you could do  nothing without money—that it was almost impossible to live  without money.

And some of them asked, "But can you not even eat and drink without paying?"

But Chee-Chee shook his head. And then he told them that even he, when he was with the organ-grinder, had been made to ask the children for money.

And the Chief Chimpanzee turned to the Oldest Orang-outang and said, "Cousin, surely these Men be strange creatures! Who would wish to live in such a land? My gracious, how paltry!"

Then Chee-Chee said,

"When we were coming to you we had no boat to cross the sea in and no money to buy food to eat on our journey. So a man lent us some biscuits; and we said we would pay him when we came back. And we borrowed a boat from a sailor; but it was broken on the rocks when we reached the shores of Africa. Now the Doctor says he must go back and get the sailor another boat—because the man was poor and his ship was all he had."

And the monkeys were all silent for a while, sitting quite still upon the ground and thinking hard.

At last the Biggest Baboon got up and said,

"I do not think we ought to let this good man leave our land till we have given him a fine present to take with him, so that he may know we are grateful for all that he has done for us."

And a little, tiny red monkey who was sitting up in a tree shouted down,

"I think that too!"

And then they all cried out, making a great noise, "Yes, yes. Let us give him the finest present a White Man ever had!"

Now they began to wonder and ask one another what would be the best thing to give him. And one said, "Fifty bags of cocoanuts!" And another—"A hundred bunches of bananas!—At least he shall not have to buy his fruit in the Land Where You Pay to Eat!"

But Chee-Chee told them that all these things would be too heavy to carry so far and would go bad before half was eaten.

"If you want to please him," he said, "give him an animal. You may be sure he will be kind to it. Give him some rare animal they have not got in the menageries."

And the monkeys asked him, "What are menageries?"

Then Chee-Chee explained to them that menageries were places in the Land of the White Men, where animals were put in cages for people to come and look at. And the monkeys were very shocked and said to one another,

"These Men are like thoughtless young ones—stupid and easily amused. Sh! It is a prison he means."

So then they asked Chee-Chee what rare animal it could be that they should give the Doctor—one the White Men had not seen before. And the Major of the Marmosettes asked,

"Have they an iguana over there?"

But Chee-Chee said, "Yes, there is one in the London Zoo."

And another asked, "Have they an okapi?"

But Chee-Chee said, "Yes. In Belgium, where my organ-grinder took me five years ago, they had an okapi in a big city they call Antwerp."

And another asked, "Have they a pushmi-pullyu?"

Then Chee-Chee said, "No. No White Man has ever seen a pushmi-pullyu. Let us give him that."

 



Robert Louis Stevenson

The Rain

The rain is raining all around,

It falls on field and tree,

It rains on the umbrellas here,

And on the ships at sea.

 


  WEEK 18  

  Tuesday  


Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans  by Edward Eggleston

How Washington Got Out of a Trap

A FTER the battle of Trenton, Washington went back across the Delaware River. He had not men enough to fight the whole British army.

But the Americans were glad when they heard that he had beaten the Hessians. They sent him more soldiers. Then he went back across the river to Trenton again.

There was a British general named Cornwallis. He marched to Trenton. He fought against Washington. Cornwallis had more men than Washington had. Night came, and they could not see to fight. There was a little creek between the two armies.

Washington had not boats enough to carry his men across the river. Cornwallis was sure to beat him if they should fight a battle the next morning.

Cornwallis said, "I will catch the fox in the morning."

He called Washington a fox. He thought he had him in a trap. Cornwallis sent for some more soldiers to come from Princeton in the morning. He wanted them to help him catch the fox.

But foxes sometimes get out of traps.

When it was dark, Washington had all his camp fires lighted. He put men to digging where the British could hear them. He made Cornwallis think that he was throwing up banks of earth and getting ready to fight in the morning.

But Washington did not stay in Trenton. He did not wish to be caught like a fox in a trap. He could not get across the river. But he knew a road that went round the place where Cornwallis and his army were. He took that road and got behind the British army.

It was just like John waiting to catch James. James is in the house. John is waiting at the front door to catch James when he comes out. But James slips out by the back way. John hears him call "Hello!" James has gone round behind him and got away.

Washington went out of Trenton in the darkness. You might say that he marched out by the back door. He left Cornwallis watching the front door. The Americans went away quietly. They left a few men to keep up the fires, and make a noise like digging. Before morning these slipped away too.


[Illustration]

When morning came, Cornwallis went to catch his fox. But the fox was not there.

He looked for the Americans. There was the place where they had been digging. Their camp fires were still burning. But where had they gone?

Cornwallis thought that Washington had crossed the river by some means. But soon he heard guns firing away back toward Princeton. He thought that it must be thunder. But he found that it was a battle. Then he knew that Washington had gone to Princeton.

Washington had marched all night. When he got to Princeton, he met the British coming out to go to Trenton. They were going to help Cornwallis to catch Washington. But Washington had come to Princeton to catch them. He had a hard fight with the British at Princeton. But at last he beat them.

When Cornwallis knew that the Americans had gone to Princeton, he hurried there to help his men. But it was too late. Washington had beaten the British at Princeton, and had gone on into the hills, where he was safe.

The fox had got out of the trap.

 



A. A. Milne

The Three Foxes

Once upon a time there were three little foxes

Who didn't wear stockings, and they didn't wear sockses,

But they all had handkerchiefs to blow their noses,

And they kept their handkerchiefs in cardboard boxes.


They lived in the forest in three little houses,

And they didn't wear coats, and they didn't wear trousies.

They ran through the woods on their little bare tootsies,

And they played "Touch last" with a family of mouses.


They didn't go shopping in the High Street shopses,

But caught what they wanted in the woods and copses.

They all went fishing, and they caught three wormses,

They went out hunting, and they caught three wopses.


They went to a Fair, and they all won prizes—

Three plum-puddingses and three mince-pieses.

They rode on elephants and swang on swingses,

And hit three coco-nuts at coco-nut shieses.


That's all that I know of the three little foxes

Who kept their handkerchiefs in cardboard boxes.

They lived in the forest in three little houses,

But they didn't wear coats and they didn't wear trousies,

And they didn't wear stockings and they didn't wear sockses.

 


  WEEK 18  

  Wednesday  


Among the Pond People  by Clara Dillingham Pierson

The Oldest Dragon-Fly Nymph

W HEN the Oldest Dragon-Fly Nymph felt that the wings under her skin were large enough, she said good-bye to her water friends, and crawled slowly up the stem of a tall cat-tail. All the other Dragon-Fly Nymphs crowded around her and wished that their wings were more nearly ready, and the larvæ talked about the time when they should become Nymphs. The Oldest Nymph, the one who was going away, told them that if they would be good little larvæ, and eat a great deal of plain food and take care not to break any of their legs, or to hurt either of their short, stiff little feelers, they would some day be fine great Nymphs like her. Then she crawled slowly up the cat-tail stem, and when she drew the tenth and last joint of her body out of the water, her friends turned to each other and said, "She is really gone." They felt so badly about it that they had to eat something at once to keep from crying.

The Oldest Nymph now stopped breathing water and began to breathe air. She waited to look at the pond before she went any farther. She had never seen it from above, and it looked very queer to her. It was beautiful and shining, and, because the sky above it was cloudless, the water was a most wonderful blue. There was no wind stirring, so there were no tiny waves to sparkle and send dancing bits of light here and there. It was one of the very hot and still summer days, which Dragon-Flies like best.

A sad look came into the Nymph's great eyes as she stood there. "The pond is beautiful," she said; "but when one looks at it from above, it does not seem at all homelike." She shook her three-cornered head sadly, and rubbed her eyes with her forelegs. She thought she should miss the happy times in the mud with the other children.

A Virgin Dragon-Fly lighted on the cat-tail next to hers. She knew it was a Virgin Dragon-Fly because he had black wings folded over his back, and there were shimmering green and blue lights all over his body and wings. He was very slender and smaller than she. "Good morning," said he. "Are you just up?"

"Yes," said she, looking bashfully down at her forefeet. She did not know how to behave in the air, it was so different from the water.

"Couldn't have a finer day," said he. "Very glad you've come. Excuse me. There is a friend to whom I must speak." Then he flew away with another Virgin Dragon-Fly.

"Hurry up and get your skin changed," said a voice above her, and there was a fine great fellow floating in the air over her head. "I'll tell you a secret when you do."

Dragon-Flies care a great deal for secrets, so she quickly hooked her twelve sharp claws into the cat-tail stem, and unfastened her old skin down the back, and wriggled and twisted and pulled until she had all her six legs and the upper part of her body out. This made her very tired and she had to rest for a while. The old skin would only open down for a little way by her shoulders, and it was hard to get out through such a small place. Next she folded her legs close to her body, and bent over backward, and swayed this way and that, until she had drawn her long, slender body from its outgrown covering.


[Illustration]

She swayed this way and that.

She crawled away from the empty skin and looked it over. It kept the shape of her body, but she was surprised to find how fast she was growing slender. Even then, and she had been out only a short time, she was much longer and thinner than she had been, and her old skin looked much too short for her. "How styles do change," she said. "I remember how proud I was of that skin when I first got it, and now I wouldn't be seen in it."

Her beautiful gauzy wings with their dark veinings, were drying and growing in the sunshine. She was weak now, and had them folded over her back like those of the Virgin Dragon-Fly, but, as soon as she felt rested and strong, she meant to spread them out flat.

The fine Big Dragon-Fly lighted beside her. "How are your wings?" said he.

"Almost dry," she answered joyfully, and she quivered them a little to show him how handsome they were.

"Well," said he. "I'll tell you the secret now, and of course you will never speak of it. I saw you talking with a Virgin Dragon-Fly. He may be all right, but he isn't really in our set, you know, and you'd better not have anything to do with him."

"Thank you," she said. "I won't." She thought it very kind in him to tell her.

He soon flew away, and, as she took her first flight into the air, a second Big Dragon-Fly overtook her. "I'll tell you a secret," said he, "if you will never tell."

"I won't," said she.

"I saw you talking to a Virgin Dragon-Fly a while ago. You may have noticed that he folded his wings over his back. The Big Dragon-Flies never do this, and you must never be seen with yours so."

"Thank you," she said. "I won't. But when they were drying I had to hold them in that way."

"Of course," said he. "We all do things then that we wouldn't afterward."

Before long she began egg-laying, flying low enough to touch her body to the water now and then and drop a single egg. This egg always sank at once to the bottom, and she took no more care of it.

A third Big Dragon-Fly came up to her. "I want to tell you something," he said. "Put your head close to mine."

She put her head close to his, and he whispered, "I saw you flying with my cousin a few minutes ago. I dislike to say it, but he is not a good friend for you. Whatever you do, don't go with him again. Go with me."

"Thank you," said she, yet she began to wonder what was the matter. She saw that just as soon as she visited with anybody, somebody else told her that she must not do so again. Down in the pond they had all been friends. She wondered if it could not be so in the air. She rubbed her head with her right foreleg, and frowned as much as she could. You know she couldn't frown very much, because her eyes were so large and close together that there was only a small frowning-place left.

She turned her head to see if any one else was coming to tell her a secret. Her neck was very, very slender and did not show much, because the back side of her head was hollow and fitted over her shoulders. No other Dragon-Fly was near. Instead, she saw a Swallow swooping down on her. She sprang lightly into the air and the Swallow chased her. When he had his beak open to catch her as he flew, she would go backward or sidewise without turning around. This happened many times, and it was well for her that it was so, for the Swallow was very hungry, and if he had caught her—well, she certainly would never have told any of the secrets she knew.

The Swallow quite lost his patience and flew away grumbling. "I won't waste any more time," he said, "on trying to catch somebody who can fly backward without turning around. Ridiculous way to fly!"

The Dragon-Fly thought it an exceedingly good way, however, and was even more proud of her wings than she had been. "Legs are all very well," she said to herself, "as far as they go, and one's feet would be of very little use without them; but I like wings better. Now that I think of it," she added, "I haven't walked a step since I began to fly. I understand better the old saying, 'Make your wings save your legs.' They certainly are very good things to stand on when one doesn't care to fly."

Night came, and she was glad to sleep on the under side of a broad leaf of pickerel-weed. She awakened feeling stupid and lazy. She could not think what was the matter, until she heard her friends talking about the weather. Then she knew that Dragon-Flies are certain to feel so on dark and wet days. "I don't see what difference that should make," she said. "I'm not afraid of rain. I've always been careless about getting my feet wet and it never hurt me any."

"Ugh!" said one of her friends. "You've never been wet in spots, or hit on one wing by a great rain-drop that has fallen clear down from a cloud. I had a rain-drop hit my second right knee once, and it has hurt me ever since. I have only five good knees left, and I have to be very careful about lighting on slippery leaves."

It was very dull. Nobody seemed to care about anybody or anything. The fine Big Dragon-Flies, who had been so polite to her the day before, hardly said "Good morning" to her now. When she asked them questions, they would say nothing but "Yes" or "No" or "I don't know," and one of them yawned in her face. "Oh dear!" she said. "How I wish myself back in the pond where the rain couldn't wet me. I'd like to see my old friends and some of the dear little larvæ. I wish more of the Nymphs would come up."

She looked all around for them, and as she did so she saw the shining back-shell of the Snapping Turtle, showing above the shallow water. "I believe I'll call on him," she said. "He may tell me something about my old friends, and anyway it will cheer me up." She lighted very carefully on the middle of his back-shell and found it very comfortable. "Good morning," said she. "Have you—"

"No," snapped he. "I haven't and I don't mean to!"

"Dear me," said she. "That is too bad."

"I don't see why," said he. "Is there any particular reason why I should?"

"I thought you might have just happened to," said she, "and I should like to know how they are."

"What are you talking about?" snapped he.

"I was going to ask if you had seen the Dragon-Fly children lately," she said. And as she spoke she made sure that she could not slip. She felt perfectly safe where she was, because she knew that, no matter how cross he might be, he could not reach above the edges of his back-shell.

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place," he snapped, "instead of sitting there and talking nonsense! They are all right. A lot of the Nymphs are going into the air to-day!" Now that he had said a few ugly things, he began to feel better natured. "You've changed a good deal since the last time I saw you."

"When was that?" asked she.

"It was one day when I came remarkably near sitting down on a lot of you Dragon-Fly children," he chuckled. "You were a homely young Nymph then, and you stuck out your lower lip at me."

"Oh!" said she. "Then you did see us?"

"Of course I did," answered he. "Haven't I eyes? I'd have sat down on you, too, if I hadn't wanted to see you scramble away. The larvæ always are full of mischief, but then they are young. You Nymphs were old enough to know better."

"I suppose we were," she said. "I didn't think you saw us. Why didn't you tell us?"

"Oh," said the Snapping Turtle, "I thought I'd have a secret. If I can't keep a secret for myself, I know that nobody can keep it for me. Secrets can swim faster than any fish in the pond if you once let them get away from you. I thought I'd better not tell. I might want to sit on you some other time, you know."

"You'll never have the chance," said she, with a twinkle in her big eyes. "It is my turn to sit on you." And after that they were very good friends—as long as she sat on the middle of his shell.

 



Laurence Alma-Tadema

The Robin

When father takes his spade to dig,

Then Robin comes along.

He sits upon a little twig

And sings a little song.


Or, if the trees are rather far,

He does not stay alone,

But comes up close to where we are

And bobs upon a stone.

 


  WEEK 18  

  Thursday  


Fairy Tales Too Good To Miss—Around the Fire  by Lisa M. Ripperton

Snow-white and Rose-red

A POOR widow once lived in a little cottage with a garden in front of it, in which grew two rose trees, one bearing white roses and the other red. She had two children, who were just like the two rose trees; one was called Snow-white and the other Rose-red, and they were the sweetest and best children in the world, always diligent and always cheerful; but Snow-white was quieter and more gentle than Rose-red. Rose-red loved to run about the fields and meadows and to pick flowers and catch butterflies; but Snow-white sat at home with her mother and helped her in the household, or read aloud to her when there was no work to do.


[Illustration]

The two children loved each other so dearly that they always walked about, hand in hand, whenever they went out together, and when Snow-white said, "We will never desert each other," Rose-red answered, "No, not as long as we live"; and the mother added: "Whatever one gets she shall share with the other." They often roamed about in the woods gathering berries, and no beast offered to hurt them; on the contrary, they came up to them in the most confiding manner; the little hare would eat a cabbage leaf from their hands, the deer grazed beside them, the stag would bound past them merrily, and the birds remained on the branches and sang to them with all their might.


[Illustration]

No evil ever befell them; if they tarried late in the wood and night overtook them, they lay down together on the moss and slept till morning, and their mother knew they were quite safe and never felt anxious about them. Once, when they had slept the night in the wood and had been wakened by the morning sun, they perceived a beautiful child in a shining white robe sitting close to their resting place. The figure rose up, looked at them kindly, but said nothing and vanished into the wood. And when they looked round about them they became aware that they had slept quite close to a precipice, over which they would certainly have fallen had they gone on a few steps farther in the darkness. And when they told their mother of their adventure, she said what they had seen must have been the angel that guards good children.

Snow-white and Rose-red kept their mother's cottage so beautifully clean and neat that it was a pleasure to go into it. In summer Rose-red looked after the house, and every morning before her mother awoke she placed a bunch of flowers before the bed, and a rose from each tree. In winter Snow-white lit the fire and put on the kettle, which was made of brass, but so beautifully polished that it shone like gold. In the evening when the snowflakes fell, their mother said, "Snow-white, go and close the shutters"; and they drew round the fire, while the mother put on her spectacles and read aloud from a big book, and the two girls listened and sat and spun. Beside them on the ground lay a little lamb, and behind them perched a little white dove with its head tucked under its wings.

One evening as they sat thus cozily together some one knocked at the door as though he desired admittance. The mother said: "Rose-red, open the door quickly! it must be some traveler seeking shelter." Rose-red hastened to unbar the door, and thought she saw a poor man standing in the darkness outside; but it was no such thing, only a bear, who poked his thick black head through the door.


[Illustration]

Rose-red screamed aloud and sprang back in terror, the lamb began to bleat, the dove flapped its wings, and Snow-white ran and hid behind her mother's bed. But the bear began to speak, and said: "Don't be afraid; I won't hurt you. I am half frozen, and only wish to warm myself a little."  "My poor bear," said the mother, "lie down by the fire, only take care you don't burn your fur." Then she called out: "Snow-white and Rose-red, come out; the bear will do you no harm; he is a good, honest creature." So they both came out of their hiding places, and gradually the lamb and dove drew near too, and they all forgot their fear. The bear asked the children to beat the snow a little out of his fur, and they fetched a brush and scrubbed him till he was dry. Then the beast stretched himself in front of the fire and growled quite happily and comfortably. The children soon grew quite at their ease with him and led their hapless guest a fearful life. They tugged his fur with their hands, put their small feet on his back, and rolled him about here and there, or took a hazel wand and beat him with it; and if he growled they only laughed. The bear submitted to everything with the best possible good nature, only when they went too far he cried; "O children, spare my life!

" 'Snow-white and Rose-red,

Don't beat your lover dead.' "

When it was time to retire for the night and the others went to bed, the mother said to the bear: "You can lie there on the hearth, in Heaven's name; it will be shelter for you from the cold and wet." As soon as day dawned the children let him out, and he trotted over the snow into the wood. From this time on the bear came every evening at the same hour, and lay down by the hearth and let the children play what pranks they liked with him; and they grew so accustomed to him that the door was never shut till their black friend had made his appearance.

When spring came and all outside was green, the bear said one morning to Snow-white: "Now I must go away and not return again the whole summer."  "Where are you going to, dear bear?" asked Snow-white. "I must go to the wood and protect my treasure from the wicked dwarfs. In winter, when the earth is frozen hard, they are obliged to remain underground, for they can't work their way through; but now, when the sun has thawed and warmed the ground, they break through and come up above to spy the land and steal what they can. What once falls into their hands and into their caves is not easily brought back to light." Snow-white was quite sad over their friend's departure, and when she unbarred the door for him the bear, stepping out, caught a piece of his fur in the door knocker, and Snow-white thought she caught sight of glittering gold beneath it, but she couldn't be certain of it; and the bear ran hastily away and soon disappeared behind the trees.

A short time after this the mother sent the children into the wood to collect fagots. They came in their wanderings upon a big tree which lay felled on the ground, and on the trunk among the long grass they noticed something jumping up and down, but what it was they couldn't distinguish.

When they approached nearer they perceived a dwarf with a wizened face and a beard a yard long. The end of the beard was jammed into a cleft of the tree, and the little man sprang about like a dog on a chain, and didn't seem to know what he was to do. He glared at the girls with his fiery red eyes and screamed out: "What are you standing there for? Can't you come and help me?"  "What were you doing, little man?" asked Rose-red. "You stupid, inquisitive goose!" replied the dwarf; "I wanted to split the tree in order to get little chips of wood for our kitchen fire; those thick logs that serve to make fires for coarse, greedy people like yourselves quite burn up all the little food we need. I had successfully driven in the wedge and all was going well, but the horrid wood was so slippery that it suddenly sprang out, and the tree closed up so rapidly that I had no time to take my beautiful white beard out, so here I am stuck fast and I can't get away; and you silly, smooth-faced, milk-and-water girls just stand and laugh. Ugh, what wretches you are!"


[Illustration]

The children did all in their power, but they couldn't get the beard out; it was wedged in far too firmly. "I will run and fetch somebody," said Rose-red. "Crazy blockheads!" snapped the dwarf; "what's the good of calling anyone else? You're already two too many for me. Does nothing better occur to you than that?"  "Don't be so impatient," said Snow-white. "I'll see you get help." And taking her scissors out of her pocket she cut the end off his beard. As soon as the dwarf felt himself free he seized a bagful of gold which was hidden among the roots of the tree, lifted it up, and muttered aloud: "Curse these rude wretches, cutting off a piece of my splendid beard!" With these words he swung the bag over his back and disappeared without as much as looking at the children again.

Shortly after this Snow-white and Rose-red went out to get a dish of fish. As they approached the stream they saw something which looked like an enormous grasshopper springing toward the water as if it were going to jump in. They ran forward and recognized their old friend, the dwarf. "Where are you going to?" asked Rose-red. "You're surely not going to jump into the water?"  "I'm not such a fool," screamed the dwarf. "Don't you see that horrid fish is trying to drag me in?" The little man had been sitting on the bank fishing, when unfortunately the wind had entangled his beard in the line; and when immediately afterwards a big fish bit, the feeble little creature had no strength to pull it out. The fish had the upper fin and dragged the dwarf toward him. He clung on with all his might to every rush and blade of grass, but it didn't help him much. He had to follow every movement of the fish and was in great danger of being drawn into the water. The girls came up just at the right moment, held him firm, and did all they could to disentangle his beard from the line; but in vain—beard and line were in a hopeless muddle. Nothing remained but to produce the scissors and cut the beard, by which a small part of it was sacrificed.

When the dwarf perceived what they were about, he yelled to them: "Do you call that manners, you toadstools! to disfigure a fellow's face? It wasn't enough that you shortened my beard before, but you must now needs cut off the best of it. I can't appear like this before my own people. I wish you'd been at Jericho first." Then he fetched a sack of pearls that lay among the rushes, and without saying another word he dragged it away and disappeared behind a stone.

It happened that soon after this the mother sent the two girls to the town to buy needles, thread, laces, and ribbons. Their road led over a heath where huge bowlders of rock lay scattered here and there. While trudging along they saw a big bird hovering in the air, circling slowly above them, but always descending lower, till at last it settled on a rock not far from them. Immediately afterwards they heard a sharp, piercing cry. They ran forward and saw with horror that the eagle had pounced on their old friend the dwarf and was about to carry him off. The tender-hearted children seized hold of the little man, and struggled so long with the bird that at last he let go his prey. When the dwarf had recovered from the first shock he screamed in his squeaking voice: "Couldn't you have treated me more carefully? You have torn my thin little coat all to shreds, useless, awkward hussies that you are!" Then he took a bag of precious stones and vanished under the rocks into his cave. The girls were accustomed to his ingratitude, and went on their way and did their business in town. On their way home, as they were again passing the heath, they surprised the dwarf pouring out his precious stones on an open space, for he had thought no one would pass by at so late an hour. The evening sun shone on the glittering stones, and they glanced and gleamed so beautifully that the children stood still and gazed on them. "What are you standing there gaping for?" screamed the dwarf, and his ashen-gray face became scarlet with rage. He was about to go off with these angry words, when a sudden growl was heard and a black bear trotted out of the wood. The dwarf jumped up in a great fright, but he hadn't time to reach his place of retreat, for the bear was already close to him. Then he cried in terror: "Dear Mr. Bear, spare me! I'll give you all my treasure. Look at these beautiful precious stones lying there. Spare my life! What pleasure would you get from a poor, feeble little fellow like me? You won't feel me between your teeth. There, lay hold of these two wicked girls—they will be a tender morsel for you, as fat as young quails; eat them up, for Heaven's sake." But the bear, paying no attention to his words, gave the evil little creature one blow with his paw and he never moved again.

The girls had run away, but the bear called after them: "Snow-white and Rose-red, don't be afraid. Wait, and I'll come with you." Then they recognized his voice and stood still, and when the bear was quite close to them his skin suddenly fell off, and a beautiful man stood beside them, all dressed in gold. "I am a king's son," he said, "and have been doomed by that unholy little dwarf, who had stolen my treasure, to roam about the woods as a wild bear till his death should set me free. Now he has received his well-merited punishment."


[Illustration]

Snow-white married him and Rose-red his brother, and they divided the great treasure the dwarf had collected in his cave between them. The old mother lived for many years peacefully with her children; and she carried the two rose trees with her, and they stood in front of her window, and every year they bore the finest red and white roses.


[Illustration]

 



Robert Louis Stevenson

From a Railway Carriage

Faster than fairies, faster than witches,

Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;

And charging along like troops in a battle

All through the meadows the horses and cattle:

All of the sights of the hill and the plain

Fly as thick as driving rain;

And ever again, in the wink of an eye,

Painted stations whistle by.


Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,

All by himself and gathering brambles;

Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;

And there is the green for stringing the daisies!

Here is a cart run away in the road

Lumping along with man and load;

And here is a mill and there is a river:

Each a glimpse and gone for ever!

 


  WEEK 18  

  Friday  


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

The Adventures of Ulysses

"Come, my friends,

'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

Push off, and sitting well in order, smite

The sounding furrows."

—Tennyson.

W HEN the great city of Troy was taken, all the chiefs who had fought against it, set sail for their homes, though few of them returned in safety. One, who wandered farthest and suffered most, was Ulysses. He had brought twelve ships to Troy, and in each ship were fifty men; but that was ten years ago, and half his men slept their last sleep on the plains of Troy. This is some of his story as the Greek poet Homer tells it:

"Now Zeus, gatherer of the clouds, aroused the North Wind against our ships with a terrible tempest, and covered land and sea alike with clouds, and down sped night from heaven. Thus the ships were driven headlong, and their sails were torn to shreds by the might of the wind. So we lowered the sails into the hold, in fear of death, but rowed the ships landward, apace. There for two nights and two days, we lay continually, consuming our hearts with weariness and sorrow. But when the fair-tressed dawn had, at last, brought the full light of the third day, we set up the masts and hoisted the white sails and sat us down, while the wind and the helmsman guided the ships.

"And now I should have come to mine own country all unhurt, but the waves and the stream of the sea and the North Wind swept me from my course as I was doubling Cape Malea and drave me wandering past Cythera. Thence for nine whole days, was I borne by ruinous winds, over the teeming deep; but on the tenth day, we set foot on the land of the lotus-eaters, who eat a flowery food. So we stepped ashore and drew water, and when we had tasted meat and drink, I chose out two of my fellows to go and make search, what manner of men they were, who here live upon the earth, by bread. Then straightway they went and mixed with the men of the lotus-eaters, and the lotus-eaters gave them of the lotus to taste.

"Now whosoever of them did eat the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus had no more wish to bring tidings nor to come back, but there he chose to abide with the lotus-eating men, ever feeding on the lotus and forgetful of his homeward way. Therefore I led them back to the ships, weeping and sore, against their will, and dragged them beneath the benches and bound them in the hollow barks. So they embarked and sat upon the benches, and sitting orderly, they smote the grey sea with their oars.

"Thence we sailed onward, stricken at heart. And we came to the land of the Cyclopes (Sicily). These lawless folk dwell in hollow caves on the crests of the hills. Now, there is a waste isle stretching without the harbour of the land of the Cyclopes, wherein are wild goats unnumbered, for no path of man scares them, nor do hunters resort thither. Moreover, the soil lies evermore unsown and untilled, desolate of men, and feeds the bleating goats. Yet it is in nowise a sorry land, but would bear all things in their season; for therein, are soft water meadows by the shores of the grey salt sea, and there the vines know no decay, and the land is level to plough. Also there is a fair haven, where is no need of moorings, but men may run the ship on the beach, and tarry until such time, as the sailors are minded to be gone and favourable breezes blow."

Leaving Sicily, Ulysses came to the Isle of the Winds, which floated about in the ocean, and still he wandered on and on in the unknown seas. Here is his account of how his ship was struck by lightning: "But now, when we left that isle, nor any other land appeared but sea and sky, even then a dark cloud stayed above the hollow ship, and beneath it, the deep darkened. And the ship ran on her way for no long while, for, of a sudden, came the shrilling West, with the rushing of a great tempest, and the blast of wind snapped the two forestays of the mast, and the mast fell backward, and all the gear dropped into the bottom of the ship. And behold the mast struck the head of the pilot and brake all the bones of his skull together, and, like a diver he dropped down from the deck, and his brave spirit left his bones. In that same hour Zeus thundered and cast his bolt upon the ship, and she reeled all over, being stricken by the bolt of Zeus, and was filled with sulphur, and lo, my company fell out of the vessel.

"Like seagulls, they were borne round the black ship upon the billows and never returned. I kept pacing through my ship till the surge loosened the sides from the keel, and the waves swept her along, stript of her tackle, and brake her mast clean off at the keel. Then I lashed together both keel and mast, and sitting thereon, I was borne by the ruinous winds."

All night he drifted, rowing with his hands, until he was cast on to an island where he had to remain for the next eight years. Homer, the blind old poet, gives a touching account of his home-coming at last. Ulysses returned as a beggar, broken down, weary, and footsore. None knew him again, neither his old father, nor his son Telemachus, nor his wife Penelope, only his poor old dog Argus knew him, and he just licked his tired feet and died of joy.

 



Anonymous

What Every One Knows

Cocks crow in the morn

To tell us to rise,

And he who lies late

Will never be wise;

For early to bed

And early to rise

Is the way to be healthy,

And wealthy, and wise.

 


  WEEK 18  

  Saturday  


The Filipino Twins  by Lucy Fitch Perkins

After the Storm

T HE steamer steadily plowed its course through the choppy sea, and in an hour more was threading its way through the crowded shipping of the harbor of Manila. When at last after steaming slowly up the Pasig River it had reached the dock, Felix thanked the Captain for his kindness and led his family and Dingo down the gang-plank and on to the pier. It was a busy place. Men were unloading fish and vegetables from other boats as well as from the one which had rescued them. Other men were piling the produce on carts drawn by carabaos and hurrying away to the markets. Scores of boats were tied along the banks, and in and out and up and down the waterway busy tugs plied back and forth, filling the air with the screams of their whistles and with smoke from their stacks.

The children had never been in any place larger than their own little village before, and they gazed in bewilderment at all the new and wonderful scenes of a big city. There were ocean steamers from all parts of the world which had brought cargoes of iron, steel, and machinery to the islands. There were great warehouses where all these things and many more were stored until they could be sent to other destinations. There were also ships just sailing away loaded with sugar, tobacco, lumber, hemp, and coconuts. It was so interesting and new to Petra and the children that for a time they almost forgot their desperate situation in watching the strange new life about them.

Felix, however, did not forget, even for a moment. They must find a way to get home, and they must eat. He had been to Manila before and knew his way about.

"Come with me," he said to Petra and the children. "We are in every one's way here." He led them away from the waterfront to a grass-covered plaza with fine buildings fronting upon it and driveways swarming with carriages and automobiles, and stopped in front of a high stone monument.

"Stay here," he said, "until I come for you." Then he disappeared in the direction of the wharves.

Glad to rest, Petra and the children sat down upon the grass and gazed about them. For a long time they waited, and at last, just as they were beginning to grow uneasy, Felix appeared with a bag of food in his hands and a cheerful smile on his face.


[Illustration]

"Where did you get it, my angel," cried Petra, seizing the bag.

"I worked on the docks helping to unload a cargo and earned enough to buy a little food," Felix answered; "and I have more news. The Rosita is just about to leave the harbor and go northward. I have no fish for her to take to market as I thought I should have, but the Captain says that if I help load his boat with produce at the landing-places, we may sail with him."

At first Petra shuddered at the thought of going out again upon the treacherous waters, but Felix said: "Come, they are waiting for us; there is no other way." So she and the children rose at once and followed him, as he plunged again into the noise and confusion of the busy harbor. It was not until they were on board the Rosita and were slowly making their way down the Pasig through the crowded shipping to the open waters of the bay that they had a chance to eat the food that Felix had brought.

The direction of the wind had changed after the storm, and though the water was still rough, the boat traffic of the bay was already going on as usual. Even Petra forgot her fears, as the light breeze filled the sails of the Rosita and they skimmed away over the blue waters in the direction of their home. There was nothing she could do; so, while Felix sorted fish into baskets, she and her children found a spot as far out of the way as they could in one corner of the deck and went sound asleep. The boat stopped at several little towns along the shore to take on loads of dried coconut meat, vegetables, and fish, but the weary travelers slept on, with Dingo beside them sleeping too.

They were aroused at last by Felix. "Wake up, wake up," he shouted in their ears. "We are almost home."

Joyfully they sprang to their feet, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, and, making their way around fish-baskets and over coils of rope, leaned over the deck-rail in a row.

"See," cried Felix, pointing toward the shore, "don't you see the river, and the coconut tree where we tied the raft? And look, the roof! The roof shows among the trees!"

"Thanks be to God, it is still on the house," Petra exclaimed, fervently crossing herself. "I thought it might be blown away.

Soon a small boat was lowered from the Rosita, and the shipwrecked mariners were let down into it one by one. Felix was the first to go. Dingo was the second, for when he saw Felix in the small boat, he gave a yelp, leaped over the rail, and landed with a thump which nearly overturned it. In a few moments Petra and the children had also made a safe descent and were waving farewells as the little boat turned its prow toward the shore.

"One of the biggest banana trees is down," cried Ramon, pointing to a fallen heap of green near the kitchen as they drew near land.

"So is the bamboo clump," said Felix. "There is hardly one stem left standing."

"Anyway the house is still there," said Petra.

"And there is the goat, looking out of the kitchen door!" screamed Rita.

"Santa Maria! How did she get there?" groaned Petra. "Ramon, you must have left the door open, when you went for the matches."

"I never did," said Ramon stoutly. "I remember shutting it. At least I almost remember shutting it."

They were so happy to get home that Felix even joked a little. "I don't see old Bobtail anywhere. Maybe he is in the kitchen, too," he said. Petra smiled at this, and the children shouted with laughter at the idea of old Bobtail climbing the kitchen steps.

The moment the keel of the boat ground into the soft mud of the river-bank, Petra and the children sprang ashore, and, leaving Felix to say good-bye to the boatman, ran for the house.

Dingo tore up the slope ahead of them as if he had been shot out of a gun, for he too saw the goat and meant to teach her a lesson as soon as possible.

When the family reached the door, they didn't dare to go in, for Dingo had scrambled up the steps and was having it out with the goat. He barked at her and tore frantically about the kitchen, nipping at her legs, while the goat backed round, butting at him whenever she got a chance.

"There go the water-tubes," groaned Petra, as a crash and a splash warned them of fresh disaster. The water must have doused Dingo, for the next moment he came yelping down the steps, dripping wet. By the time Felix reached the house, the war was over. Dingo was out of sight, the goat and her kid were on their way to the pasture down by the river, and Rita and her mother were cleaning up the kitchen.

When the goat was taken care of, Ramon began to search for his hen and her brood. There was no sign of her in her place by the kitchen door. Even the coop was gone. Feeling very guilty for his neglect of her, he ran along the river-bank, hoping every moment to hear her cluck. Then he heard Dingo barking as if he had found one of the big lizards he was always hunting for, and, dashing across the pasture, found him up to his knees in a pool of water. On the bank stepping anxiously about and clucking as industriously as ever, was the little brown hen, followed by just one of her brood, the young rooster of whose tail-feathers Ramon was so proud.


[Illustration]

Near the pool lay the coop, and floating upon its surface were two dead chickens. There were no others of the brood to be seen. Ramon mournfully picked up the coop, which, in spite of having been blown so far by the wind, was still whole, and started for the house, driving the hen and her one chick before him.

"If I had only just put her under the house, this would never have happened," he mourned. "Now the whole brood is blown away, all but that one little rooster, and there is no chance at all of my taking a prize at the festival. Oh, dear I wish there were no such things as typhoons in the whole world."

When he came into the house, he found his father studying a hole in the roof where the thatch had been torn away. Rita was examining the chest to see if her precious basket had been injured by the storm, and Petra was trying to get something for the family to eat. It was a sad group, even though a thankful one, that knelt that night before the household shrine, for even the children knew that with the loss of the raft they were poorer than they had ever been before in their lives.

In the night Ramon was awakened by the murmur of voices. His father and mother were talking together in low tones.

"It is a hard blow to us," he heard Felix say. "I cannot fish without a raft and baskets and nets, and without fish to sell I don't know how it will be possible for us to pull through until harvest. The field was swept by the storm, too. It may come up again, but at best the crop is not likely to be as good as I hoped."

For a moment there was silence. Petra could not seem to find anything hopeful to say. When she spoke, there was the sound of tears in her voice.

"At least we are all alive," she said. "When we were on the raft in the storm, I thought nothing would ever again seem hard if only we were alive and together,—but" (and this was the place where her voice choked) "maybe we have been saved from drowning only to be starved at last."

"It is not so bad as that," said Felix comfortingly, "but we may have to sell old Bobtail; he's about the only valuable thing we have left that we could sell."

"Oh! we cannot sell old Bobtail," sobbed Petra. "Then we could not plow or carry our rice to market, or the fish, if we should ever be able to fish again."

"Yes," admitted Felix. "It would set us back years to part with old Bobtail. Without Bobtail we cannot raise rice, and without rice, we cannot keep Bobtail. We are in a fix either way."

"Couldn't you make another raft?" asked Petra.

"Yes," answered Felix, "I mean to do that. I can use the bamboos that were blown down, but without nets and baskets, and such things, the raft isn't of any use."

Again there was silence, and Ramon lay perfectly still listening with all his ears. He caught the sound of a little sob.

Then Felix said: "Crying won't do any good, Petra. We shall get along somehow. We can get fish enough for ourselves, and there are vegetables growing in the garden. We shall not starve even if we have no money and no way of getting any."

"There's the goat," said Petra. "We shall have milk."

"Yes," said Felix. "And there are the chickens and the pigs."

His voice already sounded a little more cheerful. "If only we could get new nets and pulleys," he exclaimed, "but I cannot make a living without fishing, and I cannot fish without these things, and there is no money, and no prospect of any to buy them with. I had counted on the fishing for most of our living until harvest, and now if we have a poor crop again—" he broke off with a sigh.

Then Petra said soothingly: "It's night now. Things always seem much worse in the dark. When morning comes, we shall think of something. Now go to sleep."

Ramon knew his father and mother had not meant that he should hear what they said, because they did not wish to make their children unhappy. He could not bear to have his mother cry. So, for a long time he lay wide awake on his mat, thinking over ways of helping them. He thought first of discovering a gold-mine in the pasture.

"I'm almost sure there must be gold there," he thought to himself. "If I could find where it is, I would dig it up and bring it home and give every bit of it to mother. Then she could buy the nets for father and some fine clothes for herself. Maybe we could buy a big boat like the Rosita. I could be the Captain." And then, just as he saw himself heroically saving his family from all their troubles, he fell asleep.

 



Frank Dempster Sherman

A Dewdrop

Little drop of dew,

Like a gem you are;

I believe that you

Must have been a star.


When the day is bright,

On the grass you lie;

Tell me then, at night

Are you in the sky?

 


  WEEK 18  

  Sunday  


Hurlbut's Story of the Bible  by Jesse Lyman Hurlbut

A Midnight Wrestling Match

Genesis xxx: 25, to xxxiii: 20.

dropcap image ACOB stayed a long time in the land of Haran, much longer than he had expected to stay. And in that land Jacob became rich. As wages for his work with Laban, Jacob took a share of the sheep, and oxen, and camels. And since Jacob was very wise and careful in his work, his share grew larger, until Jacob owned a great flock and much cattle. At last, after twenty years, Jacob decided to go back to the land of Canaan, and to his father Isaac, who was still living, though now very old and feeble.

Jacob did not tell his uncle Laban that he was going away; but while Laban was absent from home, Jacob gathered together his wives, and children, and all his sheep and cattle, and camels, and he stole away quietly. When Laban found that Jacob had left him, he was not at all pleased; for he wished Jacob still to care for the things that he owned, for Jacob managed them better than Laban himself, and God blessed everything that Jacob undertook. Then, too, Laban did not like to have his two daughters, the wives of Jacob, taken so far away from him.

So Laban and the men who were with him followed after Jacob; but that night God spoke to Laban in a dream and said:

"Do no harm to Jacob, when you meet him."

Therefore, when Laban came to where Jacob was in his camp on Mount Gilead, on the east of the river Jordan, Laban spoke kindly to Jacob. And Jacob and Laban made a covenant, that is a promise between them. They piled up a heap of stones, and on it they set up a large rock like a pillar; and beside the heap of stones they ate a meal together; and Jacob said to Laban:

"I promise not to go past this heap of stones, and this pillar to do you any harm. The God of your grandfather, Nahor, and the God of my grandfather, Abraham, be the judge between us."

And Laban made the same promise to Jacob; and then he kissed his daughters, Jacob's two wives, and all of Jacob's children, and bade them good-by; and Laban went back to Haran, and Jacob went on to Canaan.

And Jacob gave two names to the heap of stones where they had made the covenant. One name was "Galeed," a word which means, "The heap of Witness." The other was "Mizpah," which means "Watch-tower." For Jacob said, "The Lord watch between you and me, when we are absent from each other."

While Jacob was going back to Canaan, he heard news that filled him with fear. He heard that Esau, his brother, was coming to meet him, leading an army of four hundred men. He knew how angry Esau had been long before, and how he had threatened to kill him. And Jacob feared that Esau would now come upon him, and kill, not only Jacob himself, but his wives and his children. If Jacob had acted rightly toward his brother, he need not have feared Esau's coming; but he knew how he had wronged Esau, and he was terribly afraid to meet him.

That night Jacob divided his company into two parts; so that if one part were taken the other part might escape. And he sent onward before him, as a present to his brother, a great drove of oxen and cows, and sheep and goats, and camels and asses; hoping that by the present his brother might be made more kind toward him. And then Jacob prayed earnestly to the Lord God to help him. After that he sent all his family across a brook that was in his path, called the brook Jabbok, while he stayed alone on the other side of the brook to pray again.

And while Jacob was alone, he felt that a man had taken hold of him, and Jacob wrestled with this strange man all the night. And the man was an angel from God. They wrestled so hard, that Jacob's thigh was strained in the struggle. And the angel said:

"Let me go, for the day is breaking."

And Jacob said:

"I will not let thee go until thou dost bless me." And the angel said:

"What is your name?"

And Jacob answered, "Jacob is my name."

Then the angel said:

"Your name shall no more be called Jacob, but Israel, that is 'He who wrestles with God.' For you have wrestled with God and have won the victory."


[Illustration]

Jacob and the Angel.

And the angel blessed him there. And the sun rose as the angel left him; and Jacob gave a name to that place. He called it Peniel, or Penuel, words which in the language that Jacob spoke mean "The Face of God." "For," said Jacob, "I have met God face to face." And after this Jacob was lame, for in the wrestle he had strained his thigh.

And as Jacob went across the brook Jabbok, early in the morning, he looked up, and there was Esau right before him. He bowed with his face to the ground, over and over again, as people do in those lands when they meet some one of higher rank than their own. But Esau ran to meet him, and placed his arms around his neck, and kissed him; and the two brothers wept together. Esau was kind and generous to forgive his brother all the wrong that he had done; and at first he would not receive Jacob's present, for he said: "I have enough, my brother." But Jacob urged him, until at last he took the present. And so the quarrel was ended, and the two brothers were at peace.

Jacob came to Shechem, in the middle of the land of Canaan, and there he set up his tents; and at the foot of the mountain, although there were streams of water all around, he dug his own well, great and deep; the well where Jesus sat and talked with a woman many ages after that time; and the well that may be still seen. Even now the traveler who visits that place may drink water from Jacob's well.

After this Jacob had a new name, Israel, which means, as we have seen, "The one who wrestles with God." Sometimes he was called Jacob, and sometimes Israel. And all those who come from Israel, his descendants, were called Israelites.

After this Isaac died, very old, and was buried by his sons Jacob and Esau, in the cave at Hebron where Abraham and Sarah were buried already. Esau with his children and his cattle went away to a land on the southeast of Canaan, which was called Edom. And Jacob, or Israel, and his family lived in the land of Canaan dwelling in tents, and moving from place to place, where they could find good pasture, or grass upon which to feed their flocks.

 



Christina Georgina Rossetti

Brownie

Brownie, Brownie, let down your milk

White as swansdown and smooth as silk,

Fresh as dew and pure as snow:

For I know where the cowslips blow,

And you shall have a cowslip wreath

No sweeter scented than your breath.