Text of Plan #970
  WEEK 6  

  Monday  


Pinocchio  by Carlo Collodi

Pinocchio Falls Asleep

Pinocchio falls asleep with his feet on the brazier, and wakes in the morning to find them burnt off.


I T was a wild and stormy winter's night. The thunder was tremendous and the lightning so vivid that the sky seemed on fire. A bitter blusterous wind whistled angrily, and raising clouds of dust swept over the country, causing the trees to creak and groan as it passed.

Pinocchio had a great fear of thunder, but hunger was stronger than fear. He therefore closed the house door and made a rush for the village, which he reached in a hundred bounds, with his tongue hanging out and panting for breath, like a dog after game.

But he found it all dark and deserted. The shops were closed, the windows shut, and there was not so much as a dog in the street. It seemed the land of the dead.

Pinocchio, urged by desperation and hunger, laid hold of the bell of a house and began to peal it with all his might, saying to himself:

"That will bring somebody."

And so it did. A little old man appeared at a window with a nightcap on his head, and called to him angrily:

"What do you want at such an hour?"


[Illustration]

"Would you be kind enough to give me a little bread?"

"Wait there, I will be back directly," said the little old man, thinking he had to do with one of those rascally boys who amuse themselves at night by ringing the house bells to rouse respectable people who are sleeping quietly.

After half a minute the window was again opened, and the voice of the same little old man shouted to Pinocchio:

"Come underneath and hold out your cap."

Pinocchio pulled off his cap; but just as he held it out an enormous basin of water was poured down on him, watering him from head to foot as if he had been a pot of dried-up geraniums.


[Illustration]

Watering him from head to foot.

He returned, home like a wet chicken quite exhausted with fatigue and hunger; and having no longer strength to stand, he sat down and rested his damp and muddy feet on a brazier full of burning embers.

And then he fell asleep; and whilst he slept his feet, which were wooden, took fire, and little by little they burnt away and became cinders.


[Illustration]

Whilst he slept his feet took fire.

Pinocchio continued to sleep and to snore as if his feet belonged to some one else. At last about daybreak he awoke because some one was knocking at the door.

"Who is there?" he asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"It is I!" answered a voice.

And the voice was Geppetto's voice.

 



Viking Tales  by Jennie Hall

Harald Is King


[Illustration]

N OW when Harald was ten years old his father, King Halfdan, died. An old book that tells about Harald says that then "he was the biggest of all men, the strongest, and the fairest to look upon." That about a boy ten years old! But boys grew fast in those days; for they were out of doors all the time, running, swimming, leaping on skees, and hunting in the forest. All that makes big, manly boys.

So now King Halfdan was dead and buried, and Harald was to be king. But first he must drink his father's funeral ale.

"Take down the gay tapestries that hang in the feast hall," he said to the thralls. "Put up black and gray ones. Strew the floor with pine branches. Brew twenty tubs of fresh ale and mead. Scour every dish until it shines."

Then Harald sent messengers all over that country to his kinsmen and friends.

"Bid them come in three months' time to drink my father's funeral ale," he said. "Tell them that no one shall go away empty-handed."

So in three months men came riding up at every hour. Some came in boats. But many had ridden far through mountains, swimming rivers; for there were few roads or bridges in Norway. On account of that hard ride no women came to the feast.

At nine o'clock in the night the feast began. The men came walking in at the west end of the hall. The great bonfires down the middle of the room were flashing light on everything. The clean smell of this wood-smoke and of the pine branches on the floor was pleasant to the guests. Down each side of the hall stretched long, backless benches, with room for three hundred men. In the middle of each side rose the high seat, a great carved chair on a platform. All along behind the benches were the black and gray draperies. Here hung the shields of the guests; for every man, when he was given his place, turned and hung his shield behind him and set his tall spear by it. So on each wall there was a long row of gay shields, red and green and yellow, and all shining with gold or bronze trimmings. And higher up there was another row of gleaming spear-points. Above the hall the rafters were carved and gaily painted, so that dragons seemed to be crawling across, or eagles seemed to be swooping down.

The guests walked in laughing and talking with their big voices so that the rafters rang. They made the hall look all the brighter with their clothes of scarlet and blue and green, with their flashing golden bracelets and head-bands and sword-scabbards, with their flying hair of red or yellow.

Across the east end of the hall was a bench. When the men were all in, the queen, Harald's mother, and the women who lived with her, walked in through the east door and sat upon this bench.

Then thralls came running in and set up the long tables before the benches. Other thralls ran in with large kettles of meat. They put big pieces of this meat into platters of wood and set it before the men. They had a few dishes of silver. These they put before the guests at the middle of the tables; for the great people sat here near the high seats.

When the meat came, the talking stopped; for Norsemen ate only twice a day, and these men had had long rides and were hungry. Three or four persons ate from one platter and drank from the same big bowl of milk. They had no forks, so they ate from their fingers and threw the bones under the table among the pine branches. Sometimes they took knives from their belts to cut the meat.

When the guests sat back satisfied, Harald called to the thralls:

"Carry out the tables."

So they did and brought in two great tubs of mead and set one at each end of the hall. Then the queen stood up and called some of her women. They went to the mead tubs. They took the horns, when the thralls had filled them, and carried them to the men with some merry word. Perhaps one woman said as she handed a man his horn:

"This horn has no feet to be set down upon. You must drink it at one draught."

Perhaps another said:

"Mead loves a merry face."

The women were beautiful, moving about the hall. The queen wore a trailing dress of blue velvet with long flowing sleeves. She had a short apron of striped Arabian silk with gold fringe along the bottom. From her shoulders hung a long train of scarlet wool embroidered in gold. White linen covered her head. Her long yellow hair was pulled around at the sides and over her breast and was fastened under the belt of her apron. As she walked, her train made a pleasant rustle among the pine branches. She was tall and straight and strong. Some of her younger women wore no linen on their heads and had their white arms bare, with bracelets shining on them. They, too, were tall and strong.

All the time men were calling across the fire to one another asking news or telling jokes and laughing.

An old man, Harald's uncle, sat in the high seat on the north side. That was the place of honor. But the high seat on the south side was empty; for that was the king's seat. Harald sat on the steps before it.

The feast went merrily until long after midnight. Then the thralls took some of the guests to the guest house to sleep, and some to the beds around the sides of the feast hall. But some men lay down on the benches and drew their cloaks over themselves.

On the next night there was another feast. Still Harald sat on the step before the high seat. But when the tables were gone and the horns were going around, he stood up and raised high a horn of ale and said loudly:

"This horn of memory I drink in honor of my father, Halfdan, son of Gudrod, who sits now in Valhalla. And I vow that I will grind my father's foes under my heel."


[Illustration]

"I vow that I will grind my father's foes under my heel."

Then he drank the ale and sat down in the king's high seat, while all the men stood and raised their horns and shouted:

"King Harald!"

And some cried:

"That was a brave vow."

And Harald's uncle called out:

"A health to King Harald!"

And they all drank it.

Then a man stood up and said:

"Hear my song of King Halfdan!" for this man was a skald.

"Yes, the song!" shouted the men, and Harald nodded his head.

So the skald took down his great harp from the wall behind him and went and stood before Harald. The bottom of the harp rested on the floor, but the top reached as high as the skald's shoulders. The brass frame shone in the light. The strings were some of gold and some of silver. The man struck them with his hand and sang of King Halfdan, of his battles, of his strong arm and good sword, of his death, and of how men loved him.

When he had finished, King Harald took a bracelet from his arm and gave it to him, saying:

"Take this as thanks for your good song."

The guests stayed the next day and at night there was another feast. When the mead horns were going around, King Harald stood up and spoke:

"I said that no man should go away empty-handed from drinking my father's funeral ale."

He beckoned the thralls, and they brought in a great treasure-chest and set it down by the high seat. King Harald opened it and took out rich gifts–capes and sword-belts and beautiful cloth and bracelets and gold cloak-pins. These he sent about the hall and gave something to every man. The guests wondered at the richness of his gifts.

"This young king has an open hand," they said, "and deep treasure-chests."

After breakfast the next morning the guests went out and stood by their horses ready to go, but before they mounted, thralls brought a horn of mead to each man. That was called the stirrup-horn, because after they drank it the men put their feet to the stirrups and sprang upon their horses and started. King Harald and his people rode a little way with them.

All men said that that was the richest funeral feast that ever was held.

 



Hugh Miller

The Babie

Nae shoon to hide her tiny taes,

Nae stockings on her feet;

Her supple ankles white as snow,

Or early blossoms sweet.


Her simple dress of sprinkled pink

Her double, dimpled chin;

Her pucker'd lip and bonny mou',

With nae ane tooth between.


Her een sae like her mither's een,

Twa gentle, liquid things;

Her face is like an angel's face—

We're glad she has nae wings.

 


  WEEK 6  

  Tuesday  


Fifty Famous Stories Retold  by James Baldwin

King John and the Abbott

I. THE THREE QUESTIONS


T HERE was once a king of England whose name was John. He was a bad king; for he was harsh and cruel to his people, and so long as he could have his own way, he did not care what became of other folks. He was the worst king that England ever had.

Now, there was in the town of Can´ter-bur-y a rich old abbot who lived in grand style in a great house called the Abbey. Every day a hundred noble men sat down with him to dine; and fifty brave knights, in fine velvet coats and gold chains, waited upon him at his table.

When King John heard of the way in which the abbot lived, he made up his mind to put a stop to it. So he sent for the old man to come and see him.

"How now, my good abbot?" he said. "I hear that you keep a far better house than I. How dare you do such a thing? Don't you know that no man in the land ought to live better than the king? And I tell you that no man shall."

"O king!" said the abbot, "I beg to say that I am spending nothing but what is my own. I hope that you will not think ill of me for making things pleasant for my friends and the brave knights who are with me."

"Think ill of you?" said the king. "How can I help but think ill of you? All that there is in this broad land is mine by right; and how do you dare to put me to shame by living in grander style than I? One would think that you were trying to be king in my place."

"Oh, do not say so!" said the abbot. "For I"—

"Not another word!" cried the king. "Your fault is plain, and unless you can answer me three questions, your head shall be cut off, and all your riches shall be mine."

"I will try to answer them, O king!" said the abbot.

"Well, then," said King John, "as I sit here with my crown of gold on my head, you must tell me to within a day just how long I shall live. Sec-ond-ly, you must tell me how soon I shall ride round the whole world; and lastly, you shall tell me what I think."

"O king!" said the abbot, "these are deep, hard questions, and I cannot answer them just now. But if you will give me two weeks to think about them, I will do the best that I can."

"Two weeks you shall have," said the king; "but if then you fail to answer me, you shall lose your head, and all your lands shall be mine."

The abbot went away very sad and in great fear. He first rode to Oxford. Here was a great school, called a u-ni-ver'si-ty, and he wanted to see if any of the wise pro-fess-ors could help him. But they shook their heads, and said that there was nothing about King John in any of their books.

Then the abbot rode down to Cam-bridge, where there was another u-ni-ver-si-ty. But not one of the teachers in that great school could help him.

At last, sad and sor-row-ful, he rode toward home to bid his friends and his brave knights good-by. For now he had not a week to live.


II. THE THREE ANSWERS

As the abbot was riding up the lane which led to his grand house, he met his shep-herd going to the fields.

"Welcome home, good master!" cried the shepherd. "What news do you bring us from great King John?"

"Sad news, sad news," said the abbot; and then he told him all that had happened.

"Cheer up, cheer up, good master," said the shepherd. "Have you never yet heard that a fool may teach a wise man wit? I think I can help you out of your trouble."

"You help me!" cried the abbot. "How? how?"

"Well," answered the shepherd, "you know that everybody says that I look just like you, and that I have some-times been mis-tak-en for you. So, lend me your servants and your horse and your gown, and I will go up to London and see the king. If nothing else can be done, I can at least die in your place."

"My good shepherd," said the abbot, "you are very, very kind; and I have a mind to let you try your plan. But if the worst comes to the worst, you shall not die for me. I will die for myself."

So the shepherd got ready to go at once. He dressed himself with great care. Over his shepherd's coat he threw the abbot's long gown, and he bor-rowed the abbot's cap and golden staff. When all was ready, no one in the world would have thought that he was not the great man himself. Then he mounted his horse, and with a great train of servants set out for London.

Of course the king did not know him.

"Welcome, Sir Abbot!" he said. "It is a good thing that you have come back. But, prompt as you are, if you fail to answer my three questions, you shall lose your head."

"I am ready to answer them, O king!" said the shepherd.

"Indeed, indeed!" said the king, and he laughed to himself. "Well, then, answer my first question: How long shall I live? Come, you must tell me to the very day."

"You shall live," said the shepherd, "until the day that you die, and not one day longer. And you shall die when you take your last breath, and not one moment before."


[Illustration]

"You shall live until the day that you die."

The king laughed.

"You are witty, I see," he said. "But we will let that pass, and say that your answer is right. And now tell me how soon I may ride round the world."

"You must rise with the sun," said the shepherd, "and you must ride with the sun until it rises again the next morning. As soon as you do that, you will find that you have ridden round the world in twenty-four hours."

The king laughed again. "Indeed," he said, "I did not think that it could be done so soon. You are not only witty, but you are wise, and we will let this answer pass. And now comes my third and last question: What do I think?"

"That is an easy question," said the shepherd. "You think that I am the Abbot of Can-ter-bur-y. But, to tell you the truth, I am only his poor shepherd, and I have come to beg your pardon for him and for me." And with that, he threw off his long gown.

The king laughed loud and long.

"A merry fellow you are," said he, "and you shall be the Abbot of Canterbury in your master's place."

"O king! that cannot be," said the shepherd; "for I can neither read nor write."

"Very well, then," said the king, "I will give you something else to pay you for this merry joke. I will give you four pieces of silver every week as long as you live. And when you get home, you may tell the old abbot that you have brought him a free pardon from King John."

 



Outdoor Visits  by Edith M. Patch

Tamarack

§ 3. Tamarack

"Come and look at all these little brown cones, Nan," said Don. "They are growing on a tree with no leaves on its branches in the winter time."

The cones were less than an inch long. They were all open. There were no seeds left in them.


[Illustration]

Don and Nan picked some cones and ran to the farm house.

Uncle Tom looked at the cones and asked, "Can you tell me how the leaves grow on this kind of tree?"

Don laughed and said, "The tree has no leaves at all in winter. So I do not know how they grow."

"It has cones but it is not an evergreen tree," said Nan.

"One name for the tree is Larch and another is Tamarack," Uncle Tom told them.

Tamarack leaves grow in clusters. There are many fine short leaves in each cluster. They are green in summer. They turn yellow in the fall and then drop to the ground.

The cones are red in summer and brown in the fall.


[Illustration]

 



Eugene Field

The Sugar-Plum Tree

Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree?

'Tis a marvel of great renown!

It blooms on the shore of the Lollipop sea

In the garden of Shut-Eye Town;

The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet

(As those who have tasted it say)

That good little children have only to eat

Of that fruit to be happy next day.


When you've got to the tree, you would have a hard time

To capture the fruit which I sing;

The tree is so tall that no person could climb

To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing!

But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat,

And a gingerbread dog prowls below—

And this is the way you contrive to get at

Those sugar-plums tempting you so:


You say but the word to that gingerbread dog

And he barks with such terrible zest

That the chocolate cat is at once all agog,

As her swelling proportions attest.

And the chocolate cat goes cavorting around

From this leafy limb unto that,

And the sugar-plums tumble, of course, to the ground—

Hurrah for that chocolate cat!


There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes,

With stripings of scarlet or gold,

And you carry away of the treasure that rains

As much as your apron can hold!

So come, little child, cuddle closer to me

In your dainty white nightcap and gown,

And I'll rock you away to that Sugar-Plum Tree

In the garden of Shut-Eye Town.

 


  WEEK 6  

  Wednesday  


The Seasons: Winter  by Jane Marcet

Tea Table Talk

One morning that Willy was in the parlour at breakfast-time, he enquired what was all that smoke which came up out of the tea-urn.

"It is not smoke," said his Mamma; "it is steam."

"It looks just like smoke," cried Willy.

"No, not exactly, for it is white, and smoke is more frequently black."

"Then what is steam, Mamma?"

"It is made of hot-water, my dear."

"I do think every thing is made of water!" cried Willy. "Snow is made of water, and ice is made of water, and steam is made of water."

"There is this difference," said his Mamma; "water is turned into snow and ice, when it is very cold; and water is turned into steam when it is very hot."

"But, Mamma, it is not very hot to-day, I am sure: look, there is snow falling as fast as it can fall."

"The weather is not hot, certainly," said his Mamma; "but the water in the urn is very hot, for it has been boiling over the fire for our breakfast, and the steam rises from that." Mamma then held a teaspoon over the steam, and the steam was stopped by the teaspoon, which in a short time was covered with it; and the steam was cooled by the cold teaspoon, and turned to water again,—small tiny drops of water; but Willy saw that it was water, and he not only saw it, but he felt it too, for he put his finger into the spoon, and felt that it was wet.

"This is not a cold teaspoon, Mamma," said he; "for it has almost burnt my finger, it is so hot."

"It was cold before I put it into the steam. What do you think has made it so hot now?"

"Oh, the hot steam, to be sure!"

"Then you see, Willy, the steam has warmed the spoon, and the spoon has cooled the steam, and turned it into water."

"Now, Mamma, let us catch a little of the smoke that is going up the chimney, and see if the spoon will not turn that into water."

Mamma took another spoon, and held it in the smoke, and after some little time the bright silver began to look dingy, and then it was covered with little blacks. Willy touched it, and said, "No, it is not wet; so smoke cannot be made of water." Then, looking at his fingers, he exclaimed, "Oh, Mamma! how I have dirtied my fingers with these nasty blacks!"

"No wonder," answered his Mother; "for these little blacks are very small bits of black coal, that fly up from the coal while it is burning: it is the heat of the fire which changes them into smoke."

"Then, Mamma," said Willy, "though smoke is not made of water, it is like steam in one thing, for it rises up because it is so hot."

"Very true," said his Mamma; "coal is turned into smoke by heat, just as water is turned into steam by heat."

Mamma then began pouring out the tea, and Willy observed that the water she poured out of the teapot was of a yellow colour, and the water she poured into the teapot was quite clear and without any colour.

"I wonder what happens inside the teapot, Mamma," said he; "for the water goes in white and it comes out yellow. I think you must have some yellow paint in the teapot to change its colour so."

"No," said Mamma, laughing; "I should not like tea if it were made of paint. You know, Willy, that paint is not good to eat or to drink."

"Oh yes, Mamma; for when you are painting you will not allow me to put the paint to my mouth; no, nor even my fingers, if I have daubed them with paint."

"Well," said Mamma, "I will show you what it is that makes the water yellow." She opened the tea-caddy, and showed him the tea within it. "You know, Willy, that when I make tea, I take out a few teaspoons full of this tea, and put it into the teapot; then I pour water from the urn upon it; and it is the tea that makes the water yellow."

"But the tea is black, Mamma, so it ought to make the water black instead of yellow?"

"The colour of the tea leaves, it is true, is dark, rather of a greenish-brown colour, but the juice within the leaves is of a yellow colour; and it is that which colours the water."

"Leaves, Mamma! What do you mean by leaves? I see none. The tea in the caddy looks like little bits of dry—I don't know what—dirt, I think."

"But let us see, Willy, what it looks like, after it has been in the teapot." So she opened the lid, and took out some of the tea with a spoon, and she spread some of the little bits of dry dirt, as Willy called them, upon a plate; and he was quite surprised to see that they were leaves, or rather pieces of leaves, for there were half leaves and quarters of leaves; but they could scarcely find one whole leaf. He saw clearly, however, by their shape that they were leaves, and by their colour, for they were green. Then he compared them with some of the tea in the caddy, and exclaimed, "They do not look like the same thing!" He tried to unroll some of the dry tea, and spread it out upon the plate, as Mamma had done the tea she had taken out of the teapot, but it broke all to pieces, it was so brittle.

"How can there be any juice in this dry tea, Mamma?" asked Willy. "I am sure there is nothing wet or even sticky in it."

"The juice is dried up in it," replied his Mother; "but the hot water melts it, and when it is melted it comes out of the leaves into the water and colours it; and then we call the water tea."

Willy wondered that the green tea leaves should make yellow tea.—"Then I dare say, Mamma, strong tea is when there is a great deal of the juice melted and mixed with the water, and weak tea when there is only a little."

"Just so," said his Mamma. "And how do you think I contrive to make it strong or weak?"

"Why, you pour it out first for me, I know, Mamma, before there is much juice melted, and then you let it wait longer in the teapot for you and Papa, for more juice to melt, and then it looks stronger."

"Yes," said Mamma; "the more juice is melted the stronger it tastes of tea; but strong tea is not good for little boys: so when I treat you with a little tea, I pour it out before much juice is melted."

"Do, pray Mamma, give me a little of the dry tea out of the caddy."

Mamma enquired what he wanted it for.

"Oh, that is a secret, Mamma I cannot tell you now, but I will by-and-by."

Then his mamma gave him a teaspoon full of tea, and he ran away with it into the nursery. His Grandmamma had given him a set of doll's tea-things, and he thought he should like very much to make some tea in his tiny teapot, and take a teacup of it to his Mamma. He begged Ann to get him a little sugar, and a little milk; and while she was gone to fetch some, he put the tea into the pot, and poured some water out of the water-jug over the tea; and as soon as Ann returned with the sugar and milk, he poured out the tea.—This will never do for Mamma," thought he; "it looks like plain water. I must let it wait longer in the pot, to melt more of the juice;" so he waited, and waited, and then tried again; but it would not do: he could not make the tea strong; and he was quite vexed, and began to feel cross, because he was disappointed in the pleasure he expected of surprising his Mamma by bringing her a cup of nice strong tea; so, instead of thanking Ann for the trouble she had taken to fetch him the milk and the sugar, he spoke to her quite out of temper.

"If you behave in that way, Willy," cried Ann, "do not ask me to go for what you want another time. I will fetch and carry willingly for good children, but not if they are cross."

Willy now found out that he really was cross: he did not know it before, because he was thinking of nothing but his disappointment. So he remembered what his Mamma had told him, and thought, "Now I will try to command myself not to be cross, and instead of being out of temper about the tea, will go and ask Mamma why I cannot make it strong; but then I cannot surprise her with my nice tiny cup of tea: that is a great pity; but being cross will do no good." So he went to his Mamma, and told her all about it; and she explained to him that the reason he could not make good strong tea was, because he had used cold water instead of hot water. "Now," said she, "cold water will not melt the juices, at least not nearly so well nor so quickly as hot water; and the water must not only be hot but boiling to make good tea."

The next morning, when Mamma was at breakfast, she called Willy to bring his little teapot, and make some tea with the hot water from the urn. Willy ran to fetch his teapot; but when he opened the lid to put in the tea, he found that it was full already.

"Oh, I forgot to empty the cold water tea," cried he; and he emptied it into the slop basin, and was surprised to see that the tea was of a strong yellow colour. "Look, Mamma!" he cried, "the cold water has melted the juices of the tea leaves at last."

"Yes, it has; but it has taken all day and all night to melt them, and now it has made cold tea; and I think hot tea this cold weather is much better."

Willy then made some tea with hot water in his little teapot, and it was as good as that which his Mamma made in the great teapot.

"You will not ask me for any tea from my teapot to-day, Willy; you have got enough in your own."

"Oh, but I shall, Mamma," cried Willy; "because I want you so much to drink a cup of my tea; that was the secret; and I meant to surprise you, and bring you one of my tiny cups on a little waiter: would not that have surprised you, Mamma? and when I could not make the tea strong, I was so sorry that I had very near—you know what, Mamma?" said he, looking down and blushing.

"Well, I am very glad it was only very near, Willy: I suppose you commanded yourself to be good."

"Yes, Mamma; and I obeyed so well, that the tears went back again into my eyes, and I did not cry."

"That is a good boy," said his Mamma, giving him a kiss.

 



The Aesop for Children  by Milo Winter

Belling the Cat

The mice once called a meeting to decide on a plan to free themselves of their enemy, the Cat. At least they wished to find some way of knowing when she was coming, so they might have time to run away. Indeed, something had to be done, for they lived in such constant fear of her claws that they hardly dared stir from their dens by night or day.

Many plans were discussed, but none of them was thought good enough. At last a very young Mouse got up and said:

"I have a plan that seems very simple, but I know it will be successful. All we have to do is to hang a bell about the Cat's neck. When we hear the bell ringing we will know immediately that our enemy is coming."

All the Mice were much surprised that they had not thought of such a plan before. But in the midst of the rejoicing over their good fortune, an old Mouse arose and said:

"I will say that the plan of the young Mouse is very good. But let me ask one question Who will bell the Cat?"

It is one thing to say that something should be done, but quite a different matter to do it.


[Illustration]

 



Edward Lear

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea

In a beautiful pea-green boat:

They took some honey, and plenty of money

Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,

And sang to a small guitar,

"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

You are,

You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!"


Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,

How charmingly sweet you sing!

Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried:

But what shall we do for a ring?"

They sailed away, for a year and a day,

To the land where the bong-tree grows;

And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,

With a ring at the end of his nose,

His nose,

His nose,

With a ring at the end of his nose.


"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."

So they took it away, and were married next day

By the Turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined on mince and slices of quince,

Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

They danced by the light of the moon,

The moon,

The moon,

They danced by the light of the moon.


 


  WEEK 6  

  Thursday  


The Girl Who Sat by the Ashes  by Padraic Colum

Crow-feather-Cloak Again


[Illustration]

Part 1 of 2


[Illustration]

H e came out of the woods holding her by the legs and carrying her slung across his shoulder. Then with great stride he went up the side of a mountain. He crossed the top and went down the other side so fast that the life was nearly shaken out of her body. But now the Giant lifted Girl-go-with-the-Goats up on his shoulder and his gait was easier for her then.

He went through a gate and into a yard where she heard the yelping and howling of beasts and the rattling of chains. He pushed open the door of a house. He left her down on the ground and closed the door as a boy might leave down and shut in the kitten of a wild-cat he had taken.

The Giant shut her into the terrible house that was all in darkness. "Don't try to get away, for I'll hear every sound you make," he said to her. Then she heard him cast off his heavy hunting-boots and throw down on the ground a chain he carried. She heard him get into his bed. For a while he talked to himself and then she heard him snore in his sleep.

She stayed in a corner all the night listening to beasts' feet running, running in the dark before the house. The light came and she saw the house big and empty. She saw the Giant's bed and she saw the Giant lying in it, with his grisly beard nearly covering his red face. She saw the doors of the house, on at the back and one at the front with bolts on each of them. It was surely a terrible house.

The Giant wakened up. He put his feet under him in the bed and he looked at her. "Ho," said he, "this is the thirtieth maid I have caught. I'll take her to the fastness where I have the other nine and twenty."


[Illustration]

He opened wide the front door and stood looking into his yard. She stole down and looked out too. A wolf, a wild-cat, a fox, a badger—all were running here and there with chains upon them and yelping and howling. The Giant took up the chain he had brought and shook it before the beasts, and they howled and yelped the more angrily.

And then Girl-go-with-the-Goats heard a little twittering in the window-opening above her. She looked up and there she saw her two starlings. "Oh, my birds," said she to them softly, "show me, show me some way of escaping from the Giant."

Then the two starlings flew down on the low bench that was by the wall and they shrugged their wings and twisted their heads and went through all the ways of washing themselves. And then they flew up to the window-opening, and there again they shrugged their wings and twisted their heads and went through all the ways of washing themselves. Girl-go-with-the-Goats thought she knew what the starlings would have her do: they would have her try to wash herself.

 



Robinson Crusoe Written Anew for Children  by James Baldwin

I Am Cast upon a Strange Shore

THE next thing I knew I was lying on the beach and the breakers were rolling over me.

Some wave, kinder than others, must have carried me there.

I got upon my feet and ran as fast as I could.

I saw another wave coming after me. It was high as a hill.

I held my breath and waited. In a moment the wave was upon me. I could feel myself carried farther and farther toward the dry land.

The water covered me. But I held my breath and tried to swim.

The wave became smaller and weaker as it rolled farther and farther up the long beach.

At last I could keep my head and shoulders above water. I could breathe again.

I felt the ground under my feet. I struck out with all my might for the dry land.


[Illustration]

But now the water was rushing back from the shore. I feared lest I should be carried out to sea again.

I swam, I ran. I held on to the rocks. Then another great wave came and lifted me high upon the shore.

In another moment I was safe on dry land.

I was worn out with the hard struggle, I lay down upon the green grass. I looked up at the sky and thanked God that I was alive and safe.

After I had rested a little while I arose and looked around me.

Far out from the shore I could see the ship. It was still lying where it had stuck in the sand. The waves were dashing over it.

"How was it possible for me to swim so far?" I asked myself.

Then I began to think of the men that were with me. Had any of them been saved?

I walked along the shore for a mile or more. I looked in every spot for some signs of my friends.

In one place I found a hat; in another, a cap; And in still another, two shoes that were not mates.

But of the men themselves I saw nothing. All were drowned in the deep sea.

 



Celia Thaxter

Chanticleer

I wake! I feel the day is near;

I hear the red cock crowing!

He cries " 'Tis dawn!" How sweet and clear

His cheerful call comes to my ear,

While light is slowly growing.


The white snow gathers, flake on flake;

I hear the red cock crowing!

Is anybody else awake

To see the winter morning break,

While thick and fast 'tis snowing?


I think the world is all asleep;

I hear the red cock crowing!

Out of the frosty pane I peep;

The drifts are piled so wide and deep,

And the wild wind is blowing!


Nothing I see has shape or form;

I hear the red cock crowing!

But that dear voice comes through the storm

To greet me in my nest so warm,

As if the sky were glowing!


A happy little child, I lie

And hear the red cock crowing.

The day is dark. I wonder why

His voice rings out so brave and high,

With gladness overflowing.

 


  WEEK 6  

  Friday  


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

Pax Romana

"And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Cæsar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. . . . And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city."

—St Luke ii.

S O there was peace from end to end of the great Roman Empire under Cæsar Augustus. From the great Atlantic Ocean, that washes the western coasts of France and Spain, to the river Euphrates, crossed by Abraham nearly two thousand years before, there was peace. From the German Rhine, to the burning African deserts, there was peace too. Greece, Asia Minor, Egypt—all were quietly resting under the mighty sway of Rome, under the wise rule of the Emperor Cæsar Augustus.

It was time to make a regular division of this great empire, to divide it into provinces, to prepare for a census or numbering of the people. In order to carry out this plan, each family had to go to their own home, however far away that home might be. Herod had made known this command from Rome, and the whole country of Judæa was astir.

Living away in distant Nazareth, some eighty miles, from his native town, was one Joseph. He too must journey across the country to obey the command of Cæsar Augustus. Taking his wife Mary, he started off on the eighty-mile journey. The story is familiar to every child.

When Joseph and Mary reached Bethlehem, after a long and weary climb to the hill-city, the town was full of strangers, and there was no room for them in the inn; so they had to be satisfied with sleeping in a manger. And in this manger at Bethlehem, Jesus Christ was born.

The event made no stir, in the great world beyond quiet Judæa. Cæsar Augustus continued to reign over the Roman Empire, ships sailed to and fro over the blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea, men bought and sold as usual, and the news of Mary's little Son was not known outside the country of the East.

But, though as yet unknown to the world at large, the event was one which was destined to throw over the history of the great world the widest, deepest, mightiest influence, that has ever been known.

The birth of Christ passed by unnoticed. His death, thirty years later, was of world-wide interest. The love of Him, has lasted true, throughout two thousand years, and to-day men are ready to live, ready to die, for that love.

 



A Child's Book of Myths and Enchantment Tales  by Margaret Evans Price

Apollo and Diana

O NE day, on an island in the sea of the dawn, twins, a boy and a girl, were born. Their mother, Latona, named them Apollo and Diana.

Jupiter, the ruler of the gods, was fond of beautiful children, but Juno, his wife, was hard-hearted and liked much better to pet her peacock than to fondle the dearest baby that ever lived.

Jupiter sent many blessings and gifts to Apollo and Diana and often went down to earth to visit them. This made Juno very angry.

The island on which Apollo and Diana were born was small and rocky, so, aided by Jupiter, their mother crossed the sea of the dawn to another country where there was a fair garden with fruit and wild honey and many other pleasant things for Latona and her children.

Juno, looking down from Olympus, was angry and said, "Jupiter is visiting Apollo and Diana again."

She waited until Jupiter had returned to Mount Olympus, and then hurried down to earth. Changing herself into fierce and dreadful forms, she frightened Latona so that she ran from the beautiful garden which Jupiter had found for her. Carrying the twins in her arms, she wandered far away through cold and desolate lands.


[Illustration]

Latona wandered far away through desolate lands.

Juno followed and tormented Latona in many ways. Apollo and Diana were large and heavy to carry. But when Latona grew tired and tried to rest, Juno sent wild animals to howl horribly behind her and insects to sting her, so the poor mother, the twins pressed closely to her bosom, stumbled on, although she was ready to fall from weariness.

At last, footsore and thirsty, she came to a little pond of clear water and thought she might stop to rest and drink. On the shores of the pond a band of country people were cutting willows to make baskets. At once Juno filled their hearts with unkindness, and, throwing down their knives and willows, they shouted rudely at Latona and bade her be gone.

"Go away from our lake," they said, and threatened to harm her if she did not leave.

"But I am so thirsty," begged Latona.

"Ha, ha," cried the rustics, "then you may drink mud." And as they spoke they waded into the pond, stirring up the mud with sticks and with their feet until the cool waters of the little pond were no longer clear, but brown and dirty.


[Illustration]

The rustics waded into the pond, stirring up the mud with sticks and with their feet.

Latona stood up and, holding her head high in anger, said to the rustics, "Since you like this lake so well you shall stay here forever."

As Latona spoke, the sky grew dark, the lightning flashed, and the thunder rumbled loudly overhead. The men and boys vanished, and their empty tunics floated on the muddy waters of the pond. Here and there above the water peeped the green head of a bullfrog. Latona in her anger had changed the rustics into frogs.

When Jupiter learned that Latona, with Apollo and Diana, had been driven from the garden, he led them to a lovely mountain on the island of Delos. There Latona dwelt happily in peace and quiet and cared for her children.

Before Apollo was ten years old he left his mother and his twin sister Diana and traveled to a fair and distant land, the home of the Hyperboreans, where spring lasted one half of the year and summer the other half.

When Apollo returned to Delos to see his mother and Diana he came riding over the water in a chariot drawn by white swans.


[Illustration]

Apollo came riding over the water in a chariot drawn by white swans.

Latona and Diana were glad to see him and were greatly interested in the chariot, which was wreathed with flowers. Apollo told them that Jupiter had given it to him so that he might return to visit them.

Jupiter saw Apollo as he unharnessed the swans from his chariot. His heart was full of pride in the beautiful boy.

"The swan chariot will do for Apollo now," said the ruler of the gods, "but when he is grown, Helios shall rest, and Apollo shall drive the chariot of the sun.

"Instead of white swans I will give him the swift horses of the day. The flowers of the Hyperboreans may wreathe his chariot now, but I will give him a chariot wreathed in fire."

Long ago, Vulcan had made the chariot of the sun and bathed it in fire from his magic forge. Ever after the chariot flamed and glowed with a light that could not be put out. Hyperion was the first one to drive this wonderful chariot, and the next was Helios, his son. Helios had driven it for so many years that now he was weary and ready to rest.

When Apollo was grown, Jupiter sent for him and showed him the golden chariot.

"You shall harness your white swans no more!" said Jupiter. "Take the sun into your keeping, and drive the chariot of the sun and the four horses of the day!"

Apollo sprang into the chariot, amazed and delighted at its wonderful beauty. Helios showed him the way he must go, and watched the sun rise in the sky and journey toward the west, glad indeed that Apollo was old enough to drive, so that he might give up his journeyings and rest.

That evening, when Apollo had returned his horses to their stables and had hidden his chariot behind banks of purple clouds, he hurried back to his mother and his sister Diana and told them of Jupiter's gift and of his journey across the heavens.

When Diana heard of the honor that had fallen to her brother, she was both proud and vexed.

"You have journeyed to the land of the Hyperboreans and visited many other places that I have not seen," she said. "While I stayed with our mother and cheered her, you rode in your swan-drawn chariot wherever you wished, and now Jupiter gives you the sun to drive and gives nothing at all to me.

"Tomorrow before dawn, when you go to Mount Olympus, I am going with you. I shall remind Jupiter that I am your twin, and if you light the sky by day with the chariot of Helios, then I must have Thea's silver fire to light the heavens when you rest."

In the morning Apollo rose early to present himself to Jupiter before driving the chariot. Diana rose also and went with him to Mount Olympus.


[Illustration]

Apollo and Diana go to Mount Olympus.

Jupiter was much surprised to see the fair twin sister of Apollo, for he had not thought of Diana for a long time. He remembered how lovely she had been when a child, and he saw that now she was even more beautiful.

When Jupiter heard that Diana wished to light the sky at night, he gave the silver orb of the moon into her keeping.

When Apollo has finished his course and hides his lofty chariot behind the evening clouds, Diana enters her car and drives her milk-white steeds across the broad pathway of heaven. Then, while her brother sleeps, she lights the earth and sea and heavens with her soft, silvery light.

 



Walter de la Mare

Hide and Seek

Hide and seek, says the Wind,

In the shade of the woods;

Hide and seek, says the Moon,

To the hazel buds;

Hide and seek, says the Cloud,

Star on to star;

Hide and seek, says the Wave,

At the harbour bar;

Hide and seek, say I,

To myself, and step

Out of the dream of Wake

Into the dream of Sleep.

 


  WEEK 6  

  Saturday  


Understood Betsy  by Dorothy Canfield Fisher

Betsy Holds the Reins

Part 3 of 3

They still did not ask her how she had "stood the trip." They did not indeed ask her much of anything or pay very much attention to her beyond filling her plate as fast as she emptied it. In the middle of the meal Eleanor came, jumped into her lap, and curled down, purring. After this Elizabeth Ann kept one hand on the little soft ball, handling her fork with the other.

After supper—well, Elizabeth Ann never knew what did happen after supper until she felt somebody lifting her and carrying her upstairs. It was Cousin Ann, who carried her as lightly as though she were a baby, and who said, as she sat down on the floor in a slant-ceilinged bedroom, "You went right to sleep with your head on the table. I guess you're pretty tired."

Aunt Abigail was sitting on the edge of a great wide bed with four posts, and a curtain around the top. She was partly undressed, and was undoing her hair and brushing it out. It was very curly and all fluffed out in a shining white fuzz around her fat, pink face, full of soft wrinkles; but in a moment she was braiding it up again and putting on a tight white nightcap, which she tied under her chin.

"We got the word about your coming so late," said Cousin Ann, "that we didn't have time to fix you up a bedroom that can be warmed. So you're going to sleep in here for a while. The bed's big enough for two, I guess, even if they are as big as you and Mother."

Elizabeth Ann stared again. What queer things they said here. She wasn't nearly  as big as Aunt Abigail!

"Mother, did you put Shep out?" asked Cousin Ann; and when Aunt Abigail said, "No! There! I forgot to!" Cousin Ann went away; and that was the last of her.  They certainly believed in being saving of their words at Putney Farm.

Elizabeth Ann began to undress. She was only half-awake; and that made her feel only about half her age, which wasn't very great, the whole of it, and she felt like just crooking her arm over her eyes and giving up! She was too forlorn! She had never slept with anybody before, and she had heard ever so many times how bad it was for children to sleep with grown-ups. An icy wind rattled the windows and puffed in around the loose old casings. On the window-sill lay a little wreath of snow. Elizabeth Ann shivered and shook on her thin legs, undressed in a hurry, and slipped into her night-dress. She felt just as cold inside as out, and never was more utterly miserable than in that strange, ugly little room with that strange, queer, fat old woman. She was even too miserable to cry, and that is saying a great deal for Elizabeth Ann!

She got into bed first, because Aunt Abigail said she was going to keep the candle lighted for a while and read. "And anyhow," she said, "I'd better sleep on the outside to keep you from rolling out."

Elizabeth Ann and Aunt Abigail lay very still for a long time, Aunt Abigail reading out of a small, worn old book. Elizabeth Ann could see its title, "Essays of Emerson." A book with that name had always laid on the center table in Aunt Harriet's house, but that copy was all new and shiny, and Elizabeth Ann had never seen anybody look inside it. It was a very dull-looking book, with no pictures and no conversation. The little girl lay on her back, looking up at the cracks in the plaster ceiling and watching the shadows sway and dance as the candle flickered in the gusts of cold air. She herself began to feel a soft, pervasive warmth. Aunt Abigail's great body was like a stove.

It was very, very quiet, quieter than any place Elizabeth Ann had ever known, except church, because a trolley-line ran past Aunt Harriet's house and even at night there were always more or less bangings and rattlings. Here there was not a single sound except the soft, whispery noise when Aunt Abigail turned over a page as she read steadily and silently forward in her book. Elizabeth Ann turned her head so that she could see the round, rosy old face, full of soft wrinkles, and the calm, steady old eyes which were fixed on the page. And as she lay there in the warm bed, watching that quiet face, something very queer began to happen to Elizabeth Ann. She felt as though a tight knot inside her were slowly being untied. She felt—what was it she felt? There are no words for it. From deep within her something rose up softly . . . she drew one or two long, half-sobbing breaths. . .

Aunt Abigail laid down her book and looked over at the child. "Do you know," she said, in a conversational tone, "do you know, I think it's going to be real nice, having a little girl in the house again."


[Illustration]

"Do you know," said Aunt Abigail, "I think it's going to be real nice, having a little girl in the house again."

Oh, then the tight knot in the little unwanted girl's heart was loosened indeed! It all gave way at once, and Elizabeth Ann burst suddenly into hot tears—yes, I know I said I would not tell you any more about her crying; but these tears were very different from any she had ever shed before. And they were the last, too, for a long, long time.

Aunt Abigail said "Well, well!" and moving over in bed took the little weeping girl into her arms. She did not say another word then, but she put her soft, withered old cheek close to Elizabeth Ann's, till the sobs began to grow less, and then she said: "I hear your kitty crying outside the door. Shall I let her in? I expect she'd like to sleep with you. I guess there's room for three of us."

She got out of bed as she spoke and walked across the room to the door. The floor shook under her great bulk, and the peak of her nightcap made a long, grotesque shadow. But as she came back with the kitten in her arms, Elizabeth Ann saw nothing funny in her looks. She gave Eleanor to the little girl and got into bed again. "There, now, I guess we're ready for the night," she said. "You put the kitty on the other side of you so she  won't fall out of bed."

She blew the light out and moved over a little closer to Elizabeth Ann, who immediately was enveloped in that delicious warmth. The kitten curled up under the little girl's chin. Between her and the terrors of the dark room loomed the rampart of Aunt Abigail's great body.

Elizabeth Ann drew a long, long breath . . . and when she opened her eyes the sun was shining in at the window.

 



The Adventures of Prickly Porky  by Thornton Burgess

Peter Has To Tell His Story Many Times

Once you start a story you cannot call it back;

It travels on and on and on and ever on, alack!

T HAT is the reason why you should always be sure that a story you repeat is a good story. Then you will be glad to have it travel on and on and on, and will never want to call it back. But if you tell a story that isn't true or nice, the time is almost sure to come when you will want to call it back and cannot. You see stories are just like rivers,—they run on and on forever. Little Mrs. Peter Rabbit knew this, and that is why she advised Peter not to tell any one else the strange story he had told her of the dreadful creature without legs or head or tail that had chased him in the Green Forest. Peter knew by that that she didn't believe a word of it, but he was too tired and sleepy to argue with her then, so he settled himself comfortably for a nice long nap.

When Peter awoke, the first thing he thought of was the terrible creature he had seen in the Green Forest. The more he thought about it, the more impossible it seemed, and he didn't wonder that Mrs. Peter had advised him not to repeat it.

"I won't," said Peter to himself. "I won't repeat it to a soul. No one will believe it. The truth is, I can hardly believe it myself. I'll just keep my tongue still."

But unfortunately for Peter, one of the Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind had heard Peter tell the story to Mrs. Peter, and it was such a wonderful and curious and unbelievable story that the Merry Little Breeze straightway repeated it to everybody he met, and soon Peter Rabbit began to receive callers who wanted to hear the story all over again from Peter himself. So Peter was obliged to repeat it ever so many times, and every time it sounded to him more foolish than before. He had to tell it to Jimmy Skunk and to Johnny Chuck and to Danny Meadow Mouse and to Digger the Badger and to Sammy Jay and to Blacky the Crow and to Striped Chipmunk and to Happy Jack Squirrel and to Bobby Coon and to Unc' Billy Possum and to Old Mr. Toad.

Now, strange to say, no one laughed at Peter, queer as the story sounded. You see, they all remembered how they had laughed at him and made fun of him when he told about the great footprints he had found deep in the Green Forest, and how later it had been proven that he really did see them, for they were made by Buster Bear who had come down from the Great Woods to live in the Green Forest. Then it had been Peter's turn to laugh at them. So now, impossible as this new story sounded, they didn't dare laugh at it.

"I never heard of such a creature," said Jimmy Skunk, "and I can't quite believe that there is such a one, but it is very clear to me that Peter has seen something strange. You know the old saying that he laughs best who laughs last, and I'm not going to give Peter another chance to have the last laugh and say, 'I told you so.' "

"That is very true," replied Old Mr. Toad solemnly. "Probably Peter has seen something out of the ordinary, and in his excitement he has exaggerated it. The thing to do is to make sure whether or not there is a stranger in the Green Forest. Peter says that it came down the hill where Prickly Porky the Porcupine lives. Some one ought to go ask him what he knows about it. If there is such a terrible creature up there, he ought to have seen it. Why don't you go up there and ask him, Jimmy Skunk? You're not afraid of anybody or anything."

"I will," replied Jimmy promptly, and off he started. You see, he felt very much flattered by Old Mr. Toad's remark, and he couldn't very well refuse, for that would look as if he were afraid, after all.

 



Ralph Waldo Emerson

A Fable

The mountain and the squirrel

Had a quarrel,

And the former called the latter "Little Prig."

Bun replied,

"You are doubtless very big;

But all sorts of things and weather

Must be taken in together,

To make up a year

And a sphere.

And I think it no disgrace

To occupy my place.

If I 'm not so large as you,

You are not so small as I,

And not half so spry.


I'll not deny you make

A very pretty squirrel track;

Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;

If I cannot carry forests on my back,

Neither can you crack a nut."

 


  WEEK 6  

  Sunday  


Hurlbut's Story of the Bible  by Jesse Lyman Hurlbut

The Avenger of Blood and the Cities of Refuge

Joshua xx: 1, to xxi: 45.

dropcap image HERE was among the Israelites one custom which seems so strange, and so different from our ways, that it will be interesting to hear about it. It was their rule with regard to any man who by accident killed another man. With us, whenever a man has been killed, the man who killed him, if he can be found, is taken by an officer before the judge, and he is tried. If he killed the man by accident, not wishing to do harm, he is set free. If he meant to kill him he is punished; he may be sentenced to die for the other man's death; and when he is put to death it is by the officer of the law.

But in the lands of the east, where the Israelites lived, it was very different. There, when a man was killed, his nearest relative always took it upon himself to kill the man who had killed him; and he undertook to kill this man without trial, without a judge, and by his own hand, whether the man deserved to die, or did not deserve it. Two men might be working in the forest together, and one man's axe might fly from his hand and kill the other; or one man hunting might kill another hunter by mistake. No matter whether the man was guilty or innocent, the nearest relative of the one who had lost his life must find the man who had killed him, and kill him in return, wherever he was. If he could not find him, sometimes he would kill any member of his family whom he could find. This man was called "the avenger of blood," because he took vengeance for the blood of his relative, whether the one whom he slew deserved to die or not. When Moses gave laws to the children of Israel he found this custom of having an "avenger of blood" rooted so deeply in the habits of the people, that it could not be broken up. In fact, it still remains, even to this day, among the village people in the land where the Israelites lived.

But Moses gave a law which was to take the place of the old custom, and to teach the people greater justice in their dealings with each other. And when they came into the land of Canaan, Joshua carried out the plan which Moses had commanded.

Joshua chose in the land six cities, three on one side of the river Jordan, and three on the other side. All of these were well-known places and easy to find. Most of them were on mountains, and could be seen far away. They were so chosen that from almost any part of the land a man could reach one of these cities in a day, or at the most in two days. These cities were called "Cities of Refuge," because in them a man who had killed another by mistake could find refuge from the avenger of blood.

When a man killed another by accident, wherever he was, he ran as quickly as possible to the nearest of these cities of refuge. The avenger of blood followed him, and might perhaps overtake him and kill him before he reached the city. But almost always the man, having some start before his enemy, would get to the city of refuge first.

There the elders of the city looked into the case. They learned all the facts; and if the man was really guilty, and deserved to die, they gave him up to be killed by the avenger. But if he was innocent, and did not mean to kill the man who was dead, they forbade the avenger to touch him, and kept him in safety.

A line was drawn around the city, at a distance from the wall, within which line the avenger could not come to do the man harm; and within this line were fields, where the man could work and raise crops, so that he could have food.

And there at the city of refuge the innocent man who had killed another without meaning to kill, lived until the high-priest died. After the high-priest died, and another high-priest took his place, the man could go back to his own home and live in peace.


[Illustration]

The Ark with the Golden Cherubim.

These were the cities of refuge in the land of Israel: On the north, Kedesh in the tribe of Naphtali; in the center, Shechem, at the foot of Mount Gerizim, in the tribe of Ephraim; and on the south, Hebron, Caleb's city, in the tribe of Judah. These were among the mountains, on the west of the river Jordan. On the east of the river Jordan, the cities were Golan of Bashan in Manasseh, Ramoth of Gilead, in the tribe of Gad, and Bezer in the highlands of the tribe of Reuben.

This law taught the Israelites to be patient, and to control themselves, to protect the innocent, and to seek for justice, and not yield to sudden anger.

Among the tribes there was one which had no land given to it in one place. This was the tribe of Levi, to which Moses and Aaron belonged. The men of this tribe were priests, who offered the sacrifices, and Levites, who cared for the Tabernacle and its worship. Moses and Joshua did not think it well to have all the Levites living in one part of the country, so he gave them cities, and in some places the fields around the cities, in many parts of the land. From these places they went up to the Tabernacle to serve, each for a certain part of the year; and the rest of the year stayed in their homes and cared for their fields.

When the war was over, and the land was divided, Joshua fixed the Tabernacle at a place called Shiloh, not far from the center of the land, so that from all the tribes the people could come up at least once a year for worship. They were told to come from their homes three times in each year, and to worship the Lord at Shiloh.

These three times were for the feast of the Passover in the spring, when the lamb was killed, and roasted, and eaten with unleavened bread, of which we read in Story 28; the feast of the Tabernacles in the fall, when for a week they slept out of doors in huts made of twigs and boughs, to keep in mind their life in the wilderness; and the feast of Pentecost, fifty days after the Passover, when they laid on the altar the first ripe fruits from the fields. All these three great feasts were kept at the place of the altar and the Tabernacle.

And at Shiloh, before the Tabernacle, they placed the altar, on which the offerings were laid twice every day. (See Stories 27 and 28.)

God had kept his promise, and had brought the Israelites into a land which was their own, and had given them rest from all their enemies.

 



The Sandman: His Ship Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The Far Country Story

O NCE upon a time there was a wide river that ran into the ocean, and beside it was a little city. And in that city was a wharf where great ships came from far countries. And a narrow road led down a very steep hill to that wharf, and anybody that wanted to go to the wharf had to go down the steep hill on the narrow road, for there wasn't any other way. And because ships had come there for a great many years, and all the sailors and all the captains and all the men who had business with the ships had to go on that narrow road, the flagstones that made the sidewalks were much worn. That was a great many years ago.

The river and the ocean are there yet, as they always have been and always will be; and the city is there, but it is a different kind of a city from what it used to be. And the wharf is slowly falling down, for it is not used now; and the narrow road down the steep hill is all grown up with weeds and grass.

One day, in the long ago, the brig Industry  was sailing down that river, on her first voyage, and on her were Captain Jacob and Lois, his wife, besides the sailors. And Captain Jacob and Lois had just been married, that very day. And on the wharf that they left behind them stood Captain Jonathan, and he was rather mournful because his daughter was married and was going away. And Lois was half mournful and half joyful; and she had watched, from the deck, until she couldn't see Captain Jonathan any longer. Captain Jacob was very busy, giving orders to the sailors; for even a wide river doesn't give much room to sail a ship, and Captain Jacob had to look out or the ship would go aground. So the sailors had to pull on the ropes to swing the yards around when Captain Jacob told them to, and they had to jump and be quick about it, too. And Lois went into her cabin.

After a little while, the vessel was out of the river and in the great ocean. And Lois watched, from the window of her cabin, and she saw the shores gradually get less distinct, until, at last, they were nothing but a dim blue line, very far away. And the Industry  kept on sailing, and the dim blue line disappeared, and all around was nothing but the water of the ocean. But the water was a deep blue and it sparkled in the sun, for it was a beautiful bright day, as every wedding day ought to be. Then the sailors fixed the sails the way they would stay for some time and they put the Industry  on her course. For the wind was fair, and it blew almost behind the vessel, but not quite; and it was not a great wind, so that the sailors put up every sail that there was: a sail on every yard, and all of her jibs and the spanker, and on some of the yards there were little sails that stuck out beyond the ends of the yards.

And pretty soon it was night, and the stars shone brightly all around. Lois liked to watch the stars, and she could see many more than she could see when she was on land, for there was nothing in the way. But the stars that were overhead were the brightest, and the stars that were far down near the water were dim. And she watched the stars for a long time, until Captain Jacob could leave some of the sailors to sail the vessel all night. For, on any ship, all the sailors are divided into what they call watches, a certain number of them in each watch, and they take turns at keeping awake, and in managing the sails; and while one watch is awake and on duty, the other sailors can sleep. And there are two mates, who take turns with the watch and take the captain's place in the command of the ship, so that the captain can sleep, too.

So the wind kept blowing briskly, but it was not a great wind, and the Industry  kept sailing along over the great ocean for many days. And, in all those many days, the sailors didn't have to change the sails once. And Captain Jacob was pleased that the Industry  sailed so well and so fast. But at last they came to that part of the ocean where it is most apt to be calm and where it rains a great deal. And, when they got to that part of the ocean, it was calm for a long time, and for days and days the Industry  just flapped her sails and rose and fell on the long waves, so that they didn't know whether they would ever get out of that calm place. And the sky wouldn't stay clear, but it rained a great deal from heavy, black clouds, and Lois was rather seasick and wished that she was at home.

And a great storm came, and the sailors took in all the sails but two, and the wind blew very hard for two days, and the waves were very high and steep. But Captain Jacob was glad, for he could get out of that calm place. And on the third day the sky cleared and the wind blew less strongly, and the sailors set more sails. And Captain Jacob was gladder than ever, but he didn't whistle, for that would have brought bad luck and less wind. The reason why Captain Jacob was so glad was because he had seen what a good ship the Industry  was and that she could go through any kind of a storm and not be hurt, just as the master of the shipyard had promised.

And no more storms came, and the Industry  sailed on her voyage over the great ocean, and Lois felt better. They sailed past the country where the monkeys lived and around the end of that country. But Captain Jacob was getting worried because they had been in that calm place so long that he was afraid that they wouldn't have water enough. Cows drink a good deal of water; and one day they had fresh beef for dinner, and after that they had fresh beef for dinner every day for a week, but they didn't have so much milk or cream or butter as they had been having. And then they had the last of the fresh mutton; and when that was gone, they had beef again for some days, but Lois couldn't have any cream in her tea nor on her oatmeal, nor any butter on her bread, but only molasses. And, though Captain Jacob was sorry for Lois, he was glad that there were no cows to drink up the water. Then he began to look carefully over the ocean and he kept a sailor up in the crosstrees, looking out, all the time. But it wasn't the same sailor all the time.

And, one day, the sailor who was up in the crosstrees saw something.

"Land, O!" he cried.

And Captain Jacob was glad when he heard that, and he made the ship go near that land. It was an island, the same island where Captain Solomon stopped, that it tells about in another story; and no people lived there, but there was a spring of beautiful clear water running out of a crack in the rock.

And the sailors fixed the sails so that the ship wouldn't go ahead, and they got one of the rowboats down from the place where it had been, and they let it down into the water. And they took all the hogsheads that had held water, and they found the water all gone from them, except that there was one that was nearly full. And they emptied out the water from that one, and they put in the bungs in all the hogsheads. Then they tied all the hogsheads together and threw them over the side of the ship into the water, and they towed them ashore and filled them.

When the sailors had brought back the hogsheads full of water and had hoisted them up into the ship, Captain Jacob felt better, for he knew that they would have enough of the good water to last them until they got to the far country. And he had the sailors fix the sails so that the ship would go ahead, and they sailed away for a great many days until they came to the far country.

Then the Industry  sailed into a wide river, and the sailors took in the sails and let the great anchor down to the bottom of the river. That was the first time that the anchor of the Industry  had been down to the bottom of the water. And a lot of men came out from the shore in little rowboats and took the things out of the ship and carried them to the city that was on the shore. But, all this time that the men were taking the things out of the Industry, Lois had to stay on board, for Captain Jacob was very busy and he wouldn't let her go ashore without him and he didn't have time to go with her. But at last Captain Jacob had attended to all the business he had to do and he had the ship all unloaded and the things sold, so that he wasn't very busy any more.

So he called Lois and told her that, if she cared to, they could go ashore and see what there was to see. And Lois was very glad and she got ready quickly, and the sailors let down Captain Jacob's rowboat and Captain Jacob and Lois got in and were rowed to the shore. And they went up some steps of stone and along some queer streets until they came where the shops were. And Lois was interested in seeing the queer shops and the queer people and the strange things that the people had to sell. Some of the things were just such as she had always been used to, for Captain Jonathan had many such things in his own house where Lois had grown up; things that had been brought from this very city. And some of the things that she was not used to she did not care for and some of them she did. And Lois and Captain Jacob wandered around all day among the shops, and when it was late in the afternoon they went to the stone steps that led down to the river and they were rowed back to the Industry.


[Illustration]

And Lois was interested in seeing the queer shops.

And so they did every day for a good many days, and Captain Jacob bought a good many things that Lois seemed to like very much. There was a whole set of china with a great many plates and vegetable dishes and platters and every kind of a thing that you could think of, that had houses and trees and birds painted on them in blue. And he bought another set, in case some of the first set should get broken. And there were tables of teak-wood and ebony, and little tables that had the tops inlaid with ivory, and trays that were shiny black with birds and flowers painted on them in red and silver and gold. And there were tea-sets of the most delicate china almost as thin as paper; and the tea-pots were of queer shapes, like dragons and turtles and other strange animals. And there were a few of the images carved out of ivory; but there weren't many of them, for Lois didn't care much for them. There was a procession of elephants, all carved out of an elephant's tusk, and they got smaller as they went along, until the last elephant was not more than an inch high. And there were two or three squatting idols, that were meant to be terrible and were very ugly. And when Lois had got all these things, she had almost enough to furnish Captain Jacob's house, that would be her house when she got back home again.

Captain Jacob bought a beautiful camel's hair shawl for Lois and a narrow piece made of camel's hair to go around her neck, but she wouldn't let him buy any more for her. So he bought, for the Industry's account, a lot more of the camel's hair shawls and a lot of the cloth made of goat's hair; and a great many chests of tea, of all kinds, and a lot of spices and some chests made of camphor-wood and some made of cedar; and more of the tables of ebony and ivory and teak-wood; and more of the images carved out of ivory; and a great many trays and little bits of tables that were shiny black with birds and flowers painted on them in red and silver and gold. And then he bought enough logs of teak-wood to fill up the ship.

All these things had to be brought out to the Industry  in small boats, and stowed away, the heaviest things first, because they would be nearest the bottom, and the heaviest things must always be put nearest the bottom of a ship. And it would take the men a long time to get the ship loaded properly, so Captain Jacob thought that he would leave the ship in the charge of the first mate, and take Lois on a little trip into the country. For the first mate had shown that he was a capable kind of a man and could take good care of the ship. And the first mate was the same man that had command of the Industry  afterwards, and then he was called Captain Solomon; but he wasn't Captain Solomon at that time, for he was only the mate.


[Illustration]

So Captain Jacob took three of the sailors, and he and Lois and the three sailors went off into the country in carts that were drawn by bullocks. These bullocks were a queer sort of oxen, and they had a great hump, like a camel's hump, over their shoulders, but they didn't go very fast. And, because they went so slowly, Captain Jacob couldn't go very far into the country, for he didn't want to be away any longer than it would take the men to load the ship. But Lois saw the villages and the women washing the clothes in the water of the river, and the crocodiles that looked like so many old logs. But the women who washed clothes in the river had to be very careful or the crocodiles would eat them up. And she saw the elephants piling teak-wood logs beside the water, and she thought that was very interesting and she would have liked to stay longer and watch the elephants. Some of the elephants had done that work so long that they knew how without any men going with them, and the elephants that knew how showed the others that didn't know how. And when these others were very stupid about piling the logs, the elephants that knew how would get angry with them and butt into them and punish them.


[Illustration]

The women who washed clothes.

But Captain Jacob thought that they had been away as long as they ought to be and he wouldn't stay there any longer. So they went back in the bullock carts. And when they had got back to the Industry  they found the sailors waiting for them, for Mate Solomon had finished loading the ship in two days' less time than Captain Jacob had expected. And he had got all the things that they would eat while the ship was sailing over the great ocean and all the water that they would drink. And when Captain Jacob learned this, he was pleased. Then the sailors pulled up the great anchor and hoisted the sails.

So the Industry  sailed out of the river into the great ocean, and Lois was glad, for she was going home. And they sailed over the ocean for a great many days, and when they came to the island where the nice water ran out of the crack in the rock, Captain Jacob had all the water barrels filled with fresh water again.

Then they sailed away for a great many days, around the end of the country where the monkeys live, into another big ocean. And they didn't have any storms worth mentioning, and they didn't have to stay in the calm place very long. And after a long time they came to the wide river that the little city was beside; and they sailed into the river and up to the wharf. And the sailors took down the sails and fastened the ship to the wharf with great ropes, and they were all glad to get home again.

It was just sunset when the Industry  sailed into the wide river and Captain Jonathan had gone from his office. And when he got home he had gone up the stairs into the cupola, and looked out through a telescope that was there to look through. For he knew that it was almost time for the Industry  to get home and he wanted to be the first one to see her when she came. And when he looked, there was a ship coming in over the ocean, and the ship was heading for the river; and he looked again and he knew it was the Industry.

So it happened that Captain Jonathan was the first person that Lois saw on the wharf. And she was very glad to see him, and he came on the ship as soon as the ship was fast to the wharf, and she put her arms around his neck and cried a little, she was so glad to see him. And Captain Jonathan shook hands with Captain Jacob as soon as he had a chance, and said that he was glad to see him back again. And then they all went up to Captain Jonathan's house.

And that's all.

 



Samuel Francis Smith

America

My country, 'tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing;

Land where my fathers died,

Land of the Pilgrims' pride,

From every mountain-side

Let freedom ring.


My native country, thee,

Land of the noble free,

Thy name I love;

I love thy rocks and rills,

Thy woods and templed hills,

My heart with rapture thrills

Like that above.


Let music swell the breeze,

And ring from all the trees,

Sweet freedom's song;

Let mortal tongues awake,

Let all that breathe partake,

Let rocks their silence break—

The sound prolong.


Our fathers' God, to Thee,

Author of liberty,

To Thee we sing,

Long may our land be bright

With freedom's holy light;

Protect us by Thy might,

Great God, our King.