Pinocchio  by Carlo Collodi

Pinocchio Is Thrown into the Sea

A FTER Pinocchio had been fifty minutes under the water, his purchaser said aloud to himself:

"My poor little lame donkey must by this time be quite drowned. I will therefore pull him out of the water; and I will make a fine drum of his skin."

And he began to haul in the rope that he had tied to the donkey's leg; and he hauled, and hauled, and hauled, until at last . . . what do you think appeared above the water? Instead of a little dead donkey he saw a live puppet, who was wriggling like an eel.

Seeing this wooden puppet the poor man thought he was dreaming, and, struck dumb with astonishment, he remained with his mouth open and his eyes starting out of his head.

The poor man thought he was dreaming.

Having somewhat recovered from his first stupefaction, he asked in a quavering voice:

"And the little donkey that I threw into the sea? What has become of him?"

"I am the little donkey!" said Pinocchio, laughing.

"You?"

"Ah, you young scamp! Do you dare to make game of me?"

"To make game of you? Quite the contrary, my dear master; I am speaking seriously."

"But how can you, who, but a short time ago, were a little donkey, have become a wooden puppet, only from having been left in the water?"

"It must have been the effect of sea-water. The sea makes extraordinary changes."

"Beware, puppet, beware! . . . Don't imagine that you can amuse yourself at my expense. Woe to you, if I lose patience! . . ."

"Well, master, do you wish to know the true story? If you will set my leg free I will tell it you."

The good man, who was curious to hear the true story, immediately untied the knot that kept him bound; and Pinocchio, finding himself as free as a bird in the air, commenced as follows:

"You must know that I was once a puppet as I am now, and I was on the point of becoming a boy like the many that there are in the world. But instead, induced by my dislike to study and the advice of bad companions, I ran away from home . . . and one fine day when I awoke I found myself changed into a donkey with long ears . . . and a long tail! . . . What a disgrace it was to me!—a disgrace, dear master, that the blessed St. Anthony would not inflict even upon you! Taken to the market to be sold I was bought by the director of an equestrian company, who took it into his head to make a famous dancer of me, and a famous leaper through hoops. But one night during a performance I had a bad fall in the circus and lamed both my legs. Then the director, not knowing what to do with a lame donkey, sent me to be sold, and you were the purchaser! . . ."

"Only too true! And I paid twenty pence for you. And now who will give me back my poor pennies?"

"And why did you buy me? You bought me to make a drum of my skin! . . . a drum! . . ."

"Only too true! And now where shall I find another skin? . . ."

"Don't despair, master. There are such a number of little donkeys in the world!"

"Tell me, you impertinent rascal, does your story end here?"

"No," answered the puppet; "I have another two words to say and then I shall have finished. After you had bought me you brought me to this place to kill me; but then, yielding to a feeling of compassion, you preferred to tie a stone round my neck and to throw me into the sea. This humane feeling does you great honour, and I shall always be grateful to you for it. But nevertheless, dear master, this time you made your calculations without considering the Fairy! . . ."

"And who is this Fairy?"

"She is my mamma, and she resembles all other good mammas who care for their children, and who never lose sight of them, but help them lovingly, even when, on account of their foolishness and evil conduct, they deserve to be abandoned and left to themselves. Well, then, the good Fairy, as soon as she saw that I was in danger of drowning, sent immediately an immense shoal of fish, who, believing me really to be a little dead donkey, began to eat me. And what mouthfuls they took! I should never have thought that fish were greedier than boys! . . . Some ate my ears, some my muzzle, others my neck and mane, some the skin of my legs, some my coat . . . and amongst them there was a little fish so polite that he even condescended to eat my tail."

"From this time forth," said his purchaser, horrified, "I swear that I will never touch fish. It would be too dreadful to open a mullet, or a fried whiting, and to find inside a donkey's tail!"

"I agree with you," said the puppet, laughing. "However, I must tell you that when the fish had finished eating the donkey's hide that covered me from head to foot, they naturally reached the bone . . . or rather the wood, for as you see I am made of the hardest wood. But after giving a few bites they soon discovered that I was not a morsel for their teeth, and, disgusted with such indigestible food, they went off, some in one direction and some in another, without so much as saying thank you to me. And now, at last, I have told you how it was that when you pulled up the rope you found a live puppet instead of a dead donkey."

"I laugh at your story," cried the man in a rage. "I know only that I spent twenty pence to buy you, and I will have my money back. Shall I tell you what I will do? I will take you back to the market and I will sell you by weight as seasoned wood for lighting fires."

"Sell me if you like; I am content," said Pinocchio.

But as he said it he made a spring and plunged into the water. Swimming gaily away from the shore he called to his poor owner:

"Good-bye, master; if you should be in want of a skin to make a drum, remember me."

And he laughed and went on swimming; and after a while he turned again and shouted louder:

"Good-bye, master; if you should be in want of a little well-seasoned wood for lighting the fire, remember me."

In the twinkling of an eye he had swum so far off that he was scarcely visible. All that could be seen of him was a little black speck on the surface of the sea that from time to time lifted its legs out of the water and leapt and capered like a dolphin enjoying himself.

Whilst Pinocchio was swimming he knew not whither he saw in the midst of the sea a rock that seemed to be made of white marble, and on the summit there stood a beautiful little goat who bleated lovingly and made signs to him to approach.

But the most singular thing was this. The little goat's hair, instead of being white or black, or a mixture of two colours as is usual with other goats, was blue, and of a very vivid blue, greatly resembling the hair of the beautiful Child.

I leave you to imagine how rapidly poor Pinocchio's heart began to beat. He swam with redoubled strength and energy towards the white rock; and he was already half-way when he saw, rising up out of the water and coming to meet him, the horrible head of a sea-monster. His wide-open cavernous mouth and his three rows of enormous teeth would have been terrifying to look at even in a picture.

And do you know what this sea-monster was?

This sea-monster was neither more nor less than that gigantic Dog-fish who has been mentioned many times in this story, and who, for his slaughter and for his insatiable voracity, had been named the "Attila of fish and fishermen."

Only think of poor Pinocchio's terror at the sight of the monster. He tried to avoid it, to change his direction; he tried to escape; but that immense wide-open mouth came towards him with the velocity of an arrow.

"Be quick, Pinocchio, for pity's sake," cried the beautiful little goat, bleating.

And Pinocchio swam desperately with his arms, his chest, his legs, and his feet.

"Quick, Pinocchio, the monster is close upon you! . . ."

And Pinocchio swam quicker than ever, and flew on with the rapidity of a ball from a gun. He had nearly reached the rock, and the little goat, leaning over towards the sea; had stretched out her fore-legs to help him out of the water! . . .

But it was too late! The monster had overtaken him, and, drawing in his breath, he sucked in the poor puppet as he would have sucked a hen's egg; and he swallowed him with such violence and avidity that Pinocchio, in falling into the Dog-fish's stomach, received such a blow that he remained unconscious for a quarter of an hour afterwards.

"Quick, Pinocchio,. . ." but it was too late! The monster had overtaken him.

When he came to himself again after the shock he could not in the least imagine in what world he was. All round him it was quite dark, and the darkness was so black and so profound that it seemed to him that he had fallen head downwards in to an inkstand full of ink. He listened, but he could hear no noise; only from time to time great gusts of wind blew in his face. At first he could not understand where the wind came from, but at last he discovered that it came out of the monster's lungs. For you must know that the Dog-fish suffered very much from asthma, and when he breathed it was exactly as if a north wind was blowing:

Pinocchio at first tried to keep up his courage; but when he had one proof after another that he was really shut up in the body of this sea-monster he began to cry and scream and to sob out:

"Help! help! Oh, how unfortunate I am! Will nobody come to save me?"

"Who do you think could save you, unhappy wretch? . . ." said a voice in the dark that sounded like a guitar out of tune.

"Who is speaking?" asked Pinocchio, frozen with terror.

"It is I! I am a poor Tunny who was swallowed by the Dog-fish at the same time that you were. And what fish are you?"

"I have nothing in common with fish. I am a puppet."

"Then if you are not a fish, why did you let yourself be swallowed by the monster?"

"I didn't let myself be swallowed: it was the monster swallowed me! And now, what are we to do here in the dark?"

"Resign ourselves and wait until the Dog-fish has digested us both."

"But I do not want to be digested!" howled Pinocchio, beginning to cry again.

"Neither do I want to be digested," added the Tunny; "but I am enough of a philosopher to console myself by thinking that when one is born a Tunny it is more dignified to die in the water than in oil."

"That is all nonsense!" cried Pinocchio.

"It is my opinion," replied the Tunny; "and opinions, so say the political Tunnies, ought to be respected."

"To sum it all up . . . I want to get away from here . . . I want to escape."

"Escape if you are able! . . ."

"Is this Dog-fish who has swallowed us very big?" asked the puppet.

"Big! Why, only imagine, his body is two miles long without counting his tail."

Whilst they were holding this conversation in the dark, Pinocchio thought that he saw a light a long way off.

"What is that little light I see in the distance?" he asked.

"It is most likely some companion in misfortune who is waiting like us to be digested."

"I will go and find him. Do you not think that it may by chance be some old fish who perhaps could show us how to escape?"

"I hope it may be so with all my heart, dear puppet."

"Good-bye, Tunny."

"Good-bye, puppet, and good fortune attend you."

"Where shall we meet again? . . ."

"Who can say? . . . It is better not even to think of it!"

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

Surprised by Savages

The fort, as it was called, had been built only of the branches of trees, and might easily have been overrun by savages bent on doing us harm.

It was while Master Wingfield, with thirty of the gentlemen, was gone to visit Powhatan's village, and the others were hunting for gold, leaving only my master and the preacher to look after the serving men and the laborers, that upward of an hundred naked savages suddenly came down upon us, counting to make an end of all who were in the town.

It was a most fearsome sight to see the brown men, their bodies painted with many colors, carrying bows and arrows, dash out from among the trees bent on taking our lives, and for what seemed a very long while our people ran here and there like ants whose nest has been broken in upon.

Captain Smith gave no heed to his own safety; but shouted for all to take refuge in our house of logs, while Master Hunt did what he might to aid in the defence; yet, because there had been no exercise at arms, nor training, that each should know what was his part at such a time, seventeen of the people were wounded, some grievously, and one boy, James Brumfield of whom I have already spoken, was killed by an arrow piercing his eye.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

Strengthening the Fort

Next day, when Master Wingfield and his following came in, none the better for having gone to Powhatan's village, all understood that it would have been wiser had they listened to my master when he counseled them to take exercise at arms, and straightway all the men were set about making a fort with a palisade, which last is the name for a fence built of logs set on end, side by side, in the ground, and rising so high that the enemy may not climb over it.

This work took all the time of the laborers until the summer was gone, and in the meanwhile the gentlemen made use of the stores left us by the fleet, until there remained no more than one half pint of wheat to each man for a day's food.

The savages strove by day and by night to murder us, till it was no longer safe to go in search of oysters or wildfowl, and from wheat which had lain so long in the holds of the ships that nearly every grain in it had a worm, did we get our only nourishment.

The labor of building the palisade was most grievous, and it was not within the power of man to continue it while eating such food; therefore the sickness came upon us, when it was as if all had been condemned to die.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

A Time of Sickness and Death

The first who went out from among us, was John Asbie, on the sixth of August. Three days later George Flowers followed him. On the tenth of the same month William Bruster, one of the gentlemen, died of a wound given by the savages while he was searching for gold, and two others laid down their lives within the next eight and forty hours.

Then the deaths came rapidly, gentlemen as well as serving men or laborers, until near eighty of our company were either in the grave, or unable to move out of such shelters as served as houses.

A great fear came upon all, save that my master held his head as high as ever, and went here and there with Master Hunt to do what he might toward soothing the sick and comforting the dying.

It was on the twentieth day of August when Captain Bartholomew Gosnold, one of the Council, died, and then Master Wingfield forgot all else save his own safety. More than one in our village declared that he was making ready the pinnace that he might run away from us, as if the Angel of Death could be escaped from by flight.

It was starvation brought about by sheer neglect, together with lying upon the bare ground and drinking of the river water, which by this time was very muddy, that had brought us to such a pass.

Save for the king, Powhatan, and some few of the other savages in authority, we must all have died; but when there were only five in all our company able to stand without aid, God touched the hearts of these Indians.

They, who had lately been trying to kill us, suddenly came to do what they might toward saving our lives after a full half of the company were in the grave.They brought food such as was needed to nourish us, and within a short time the greater number of us who were left alive, could go about, but only with difficulty.

It was a time of terror, of suffering, and of close acquaintance with death such as I cannot set down in words, for even at this late day the thought of what we then endured chills my heart.

When we had been restored to health and strength, and were no longer hungry, thanks to those who had been our bitter enemies, the chief men of the village began to realize that my master had not only given good advice on all occasions, but stood among them bravely when the President of the Council was making preparations to run away.

 

Harriet Whitney Durbin

A Little Dutch Garden

I passed by a garden, a little Dutch garden, Where useful and pretty things grew,— Heartsease and tomatoes, and pinks and potatoes, And lilies and onions and rue. I saw in that garden, that little Dutch garden, A chubby Dutch man with a spade, And a rosy Dutch frau with a shoe like a scow, And a flaxen-haired little Dutch maid. There grew in that garden, that little Dutch garden, Blue flag flowers lovely and tall, And early blush roses, and little pink posies, And Gretchen was fairer than all. My heart 's in that garden, that little Dutch garden,— It tumbled right in as I passed, 'Mid wildering mazes of spinach and daisies, And Gretchen is holding it fast.

 

Fifty Famous Stories Retold  by James Baldwin

Alexander and Bucephalus

O NE day King Philip bought a fine horse called Bu-ceph´a-lus. He was a noble an-i-mal, and the king paid a very high price for him. But he was wild and savage, and no man could mount him, or do anything at all with him.

They tried to whip him, but that only made him worse. At last the king bade his servants take him away.

"It is a pity to ruin so fine a horse as that," said Al-ex-an´der, the king's young son. "Those men do not know how to treat him."

"Perhaps you can do better than they," said his father scorn-ful-ly.

"I know," said Al-ex-an-der, "that, if you would only give me leave to try, I could manage this horse better than any one else."

"And if you fail to do so, what then?" asked Philip.

"I will pay you the price of the horse," said the lad.

While everybody was laughing, Alexander ran up to Bu-ceph-a-lus, and turned his head toward the sun. He had noticed that the horse was afraid of his own shadow.

He then spoke gently to the horse, and patted him with his hand. When he had qui-et-ed him a little, he made a quick spring, and leaped upon the horse's back.

Everybody expected to see the boy killed outright. But he kept his place, and let the horse run as fast as he would. By and by, when Bucephalus had become tired, Alexander reined him in, and rode back to the place where his father was standing.

All the men who were there shouted when they saw that the boy had proved himself to be the master of the horse.

He leaped to the ground, and his father ran and kissed him.

"My son," said the king, "Macedon is too small a place for you. You must seek a larger kingdom that will be worthy of you."

After that, Alexander and Bucephalus were the best of friends. They were said to be always together, for when one of them was seen, the other was sure to be not far away. But the horse would never allow any one to mount him but his master.

Alexander became the most famous king and warrior that was ever known; and for that reason he is always called Alexander the Great. Bucephalus carried him through many countries and in many fierce battles, and more than once did he save his master's life.

 

Outdoor Visits  by Edith M. Patch

The Bee That Cut Leaves

Mrs. Leaf Cutter was as busy as a bumblebee or a honey bee. But she did not do the same kind of work that those other bees did. She had her own different habits.

First this little bee found a big piece of wood. It was so old that it was soft.

Next she dug a hole in the wood with her jaws.

Her jaws were like tools that she could use in many different ways. They were strong enough to dig in wood if it was soft.

When her hole was five or six inches long she flew away.

She went as far as a rose bush. Then she used her jaws again. This time she used them like little shears. They were sharp and she cut a piece out of a rose leaf. She could cut very, very quickly.

Mrs. Leaf Cutter needed many such pieces for her nests. But she could hold only one at a time. So she took each piece to her hole as soon as she cut it.

She made a nest shaped like a thimble. She had some sticky juice in her mouth. She put some on each piece of leaf to hold it in place.

When her first nest was ready she filled it with bee bread. She made this food with pollen and nectar that she got from flowers.

She drank the nectar and put the pollen on the hairs on the under part of her body. Then she took them to the nest and made bee bread.

After she filled the nest with food, she laid an egg. She put it on top of the bee bread.

Then she flew to the rose bush again. She cut a round green piece the right size to cover the nest.

Mrs. Leaf Cutter made about eight rose leaf nests. They were in the hole like a row of thimbles. One was on top of another.

Each nest had one egg in it. The baby bee that hatched was soft and white. It had no legs or wings.

It ate all the bee bread that was in its own nest. That was all the food it needed. When that was gone the baby bee was not hungry.

Each baby bee changed to a pupa. It did not need to eat while it was a pupa. It rested and its body changed again.

When it had rested long enough it was not a pupa any more. It was a grown bee and looked like Mrs. Leaf Cutter.

Don and Nan saw one of these bees fly to a rose bush. She was not so large as a honey bee. She did not have so many pretty hairs as a bumblebee.

The children watched the bee cut a piece from a leaf and fly away.

"I wonder why she cut the leaf," said Nan to her brother.

 

Sir Walter Scott

Hie Away

Hie away, hie away! Over bank and over brae, Where the copsewood is the greenest, Where the fountains glisten sheenest, Where the lady fern grows strongest, Where the morning dew lies longest, Where the blackcock sweetest sips it, Where the fairy latest trips it: Hie to haunts right seldom seen, Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green, Over bank and over brae, Hie away, hie away!

 

The Burgess Bird Book for Children  by Thornton Burgess

A New Friend and an Old One

P ETER RABBIT never will forget the first time he caught a glimpse of Glory the Cardinal, sometimes called Redbird. He had come up to the Old Orchard for his usual morning visit and just as he hopped over the old stone wall he heard a beautiful clear, loud whistle which drew his eyes to the top of an apple-tree. Peter stopped short with a little gasp of sheer astonishment and delight. Then he rubbed his eyes and looked again. He couldn't quite believe that he saw what he thought he saw. He hadn't supposed that any one, even among the feathered folks, could be quite so beautiful.

The stranger was dressed all in red, excepting a little black around the base of his bill. Even his bill was red. He wore a beautiful red crest which made him still more distinguished looking, and how he could sing! Peter had noticed that quite often the most beautifully dressed birds have the poorest songs. But this stranger's song was as beautiful as his coat, and that was one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful, that Peter ever had seen.

GLORY THE CARDINAL He is often called Redbird. You cannot mistake him. KITTY THE CATBIRD His black crown and slaty‑gray coat make him easy to recognize.

Of course he lost no time in hunting up Jenny Wren. "Who is it, Jenny? Who is that beautiful stranger with such a lovely song?" cried Peter, as soon as he caught sight of Jenny.

"It's Glory the Cardinal," replied Jenny Wren promptly. "Isn't he the loveliest thing you've ever seen? I do hope he is going to stay here. As I said before, I don't often envy any one's fine clothes, but when I see Glory I'm sometimes tempted to be envious. If I were Mrs. Cardinal I'm afraid I should be jealous. There she is in the very same tree with him. Did you ever see such a difference?"

Peter looked eagerly. Instead of the glorious red of Glory, Mrs. Cardinal wore a very dull dress. Her back was a brownish-gray. Her throat was a grayish-black. Her breast was a dull buff with a faint tinge of red. Her wings and tail were tinged with dull red. Altogether she was very soberly dressed, but a trim, neat looking little person. But if she wasn't handsomely dressed she could sing. In fact she was almost as good a singer as her handsome husband.

"I've noticed," said Peter, "that people with fine clothes spend most of their time thinking about them and are of very little use when it comes to real work in life."

"Well, you needn't think that of Glory," declared Jenny in her vigorous way. "He's just as fine as he is handsome. He's a model husband. If they make their home around here you'll find him doing his full share in the care of their babies. Sometimes they raise two families. When they do that, Glory takes charge of the first lot of youngsters as soon as they are able to leave the nest so that Mrs. Cardinal has nothing to worry about while she is sitting on the second lot of eggs. He fusses over them as if they were the only children in the world. Everybody loves Glory. Excuse me, Peter, I'm going over to find out if they are really going to stay."

When Jenny returned she was so excited she couldn't keep still a minute. "They like here, Peter!" she cried. "They like here so much that if they can find a place to suit them for a nest they're going to stay. I told them that it is the very best place in the world. They like an evergreen tree to build in, and I think they've got their eyes on those evergreens up near Farmer Brown's house. My, they will add a lot to the quality of this neighborhood."

Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal whistled and sang as if their hearts were bursting with joy, and Peter sat around listening as if he had nothing else in the world to do. Probably he would have sat there the rest of the morning had he not caught sight of an old friend of whom he is very fond, Kitty the Catbird. In contrast with Glory, Kitty seemed a regular little Quaker, for he was dressed almost wholly in gray, a rather dark, slaty-gray. The top of his head and tail were black, and right at the base of his tail was a patch of chestnut color. He was a little smaller than Welcome Robin. There was no danger of mistaking him for anybody else, for there is no one dressed at all like him.

Peter forgot all about Glory in his pleasure at discovering the returned Kitty and hurried over to welcome him. Kitty had disappeared among the bushes along the old stone wall, but Peter had no trouble in finding him by the queer cries he was uttering, which were very like the meow of Black Pussy the Cat. They were very harsh and unpleasant and Peter understood perfectly why their maker is called the Catbird. He did not hurry in among the bushes at once but waited expectantly. In a few minutes the harsh cries ceased and then there came from the very same place a song which seemed to be made up of parts of the songs of all the other birds of the Old Orchard. It was not loud, but it was charming. It contained the clear whistle of Glory, and there was even the tinkle of Little Friend the Song Sparrow. The notes of other friends were in that song, and with them were notes of southern birds whose songs Kitty had learned while spending the winter in the South. Then there were notes all his own.

Peter listened until the song ended, then scampered in among the bushes. At once those harsh cries broke out again. You would have thought that Kitty was scolding Peter for coming to see him instead of being glad. But that was just Kitty's way. He is simply brimming over with fun and mischief, and delights to pretend.

When Peter found him, he was sitting with all his feathers puffed out until he looked almost like a ball with a head and tail. He looked positively sleepy. Then as he caught sight of Peter he drew those feathers down tight, cocked his tail up after the manner of Jenny Wren, and was as slim and trim looking as any bird of Peter's acquaintance. He didn't look at all like the same bird of the moment before. Then he dropped his tail as if he hadn't strength enough to hold it up at all. It hung straight down. He dropped his wings and all in a second made himself look fairly disreputable. But all the time his eyes were twinkling and snapping, and Peter knew that these changes in appearance were made out of pure fun and mischief.

"I've been wondering if you were coming back," cried Peter. "I don't know of any one of my feathered friends I would miss so much as you."

"Thank you," responded Kitty. "It's very nice of you to say that, Peter. If you are glad to see me I am still more glad to get back."

"Did you pass a pleasant winter down South?" asked Peter.

"Fairly so. Fairly so," replied Kitty. "By the way, Peter, I picked up some new songs down there. Would you like to hear them?"

"Of course," replied Peter, "but I don't think you need any new songs. I've never seen such a fellow for picking up other people's songs excepting Mocker the Mockingbird."

At the mention of Mocker a little cloud crossed Kitty's face for just an instant. "There's a fellow I really envy," said he. "I'm pretty good at imitating others, but Mocker is better. I'm hoping that, if I practice enough, some day I can be as good. I saw a lot of him in the South and he certainly is clever."

"Huh! You don't need to envy him," retorted Peter. "You are some imitator yourself. How about those new notes you got when you were in the South?"

Kitty's face cleared, his throat swelled and he began to sing. It was a regular medley. It didn't seem as if so many notes could come from one throat. When it ended Peter had a question all ready.

"Are you going to build somewhere near here?" he asked.

"I certainly am," replied Kitty. "Mrs. Catbird was delayed a day or two. I hope she'll get here to-day and then we'll get busy at once. I think we shall build in these bushes here somewhere. I'm glad Farmer Brown has sense enough to let them grow. They are just the kind of a place I like for a nest. They are near enough to Farmer Brown's garden, and the Old Orchard is right here. That's just the kind of a combination that suits me."

Peter looked somewhat uncertain. "Why do you want to be near Farmer Brown's garden?" he asked.

"Because that is where I will get a good part of my living," Kitty responded promptly. "He ought to be glad to have me about. Once in a while I take a little fruit, but I pay for it ten times over by the number of bugs and worms I get in his garden and the Old Orchard. I pride myself on being useful. There's nothing like being useful in this world, Peter."

Peter nodded as if he quite agreed. Though, as you know and I know, Peter himself does very little except fill his own big stomach.

 

The Aesop for Children  by Milo Winter

A Raven and a Swan

A Raven, which you know is black as coal, was envious of the Swan, because her feathers were as white as the purest snow. The foolish bird got the idea that if he lived like the Swan, swimming and diving all day long and eating the weeds and plants that grow in the water, his feathers would turn white like the Swan's.

So he left his home in the woods and fields and flew down to live on the lakes and in the marshes. But though he washed and washed all day long, almost drowning himself at it, his feathers remained as black as ever. And as the water weeds he ate did not agree with him, he got thinner and thinner, and at last he died.

A change of habits will not alter nature.

 

The Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said  by Padraic Colum

What the Peacock and the Crow Told Each Other

Said the Lapwing "Crow, I never have seen Such a one as you For stealing eggs." Said the Crow "Caw, caw, I never have seen Such a one myself, And I am, I am sure Longer in the world."

T HEN the Crow flew away and the Lapwing went on complaining.

The Crow flew away and he came to where the Peacock was walking in the King's Garden. He asked the Peacock did he ever listen to stories.

"No," said the Peacock as he mounted the steps of the terrace. "No. Certainly not. I do not demean myself by listening to any of the stories they tell down below there." He spread out his tail, and, that he might view his own magnificence, he turned his blue, shining neck.

Hoodie the grey-headed Crow with the bright sharp eyes hopped after him.

"Jewels! Kings! Magicians! Palaces! Dragons!" What do geese, grouse and farmyard fowl know of such things? And yet they presume to tell stories! Tell stories that have nothing in them of Jewels, Kings, Magicians, Palaces, or Dragons!"

"Nothing at all about such things," said Hoodie the Crow, as he plucked a feather out of the Peacock's tail.

"Yet they will not listen to me," said Purpurpurati the Peacock. "They affect even to scorn my voice! They pretend that it is less resonant than the cock in the farmyard and less musical than the bird's that sings at night.

"They'd say anything," said Hoodie the Crow, keeping behind the Peacock's tail.

Purpurpurati the Peacock mounted higher on the terrace. "I shall walk before the statue of the beautiful Queen yonder," he said, "and I shall tell you a story. The reason that I shall tell you is that the Queen always listens to me. But I would have her think that it is to you that I am telling the story."

"I'll listen to you," said Hoodie the Crow and he plucked another feather out of the Peacock's tail.

"When the Queen has been pleased with the sight of my tail, I shall begin," said Purpurpurati, and he spread out his tail. Hoodie the Crow plucked out three feathers.

"How pleased she looks," said he.

"Yes, she is always pleased by my appearance," the Peacock said, and he turned round and walked the other way.

"Did I ever tell you," said Hoodie, hiding the feathers behind a bush. "Did I ever tell you how the Pigeon went to the Crow to learn the art of nest-making?"

"I do not know about such things," said Purpurpurati the Peacock.

"I'll tell you and then you'll know," said Hoodie the Crow.

The Crow is the Master-builder among the Birds and so it was to the Crow that the Pigeon went to learn the art of nest-making. "We begin with the sticks," said the Crow. "I know," said the Pigeon. "First we take one stick and lay it lengthwise." "I know," said the Pigeon. "Then we put a stick across it," said the Crow. "I know," said the Pigeon. "And then we put another stick lower down." said the Crow. "I know," said the Pigeon. "Then we put another stick lengthwise," "I know," said the Pigeon. "Musha," said the Crow, "If you know so much, why do you come here at all? Away with you! Fly home now and build the nest yourself." The Pigeon flew home, but of course he was not able to build his nest, for he knew nothing about the laying of sticks and the bringing of straws, and he was too young and foolish to learn when he got the chance. And that is why the Pigeon to this day cannot build a nest.

"Why do you tell such foolish stories?" said Purpurpurati the Peacock when Hoodie had finished.

"We have no other stories in our family," said Hoodie the Crow. "We don't know about Jewels and Magicians and Palaces and Kings and Dragons."

"The Magician," said Purpurpurati the Peacock, "The Magician lived in a Palace of red marble that was all surrounded by a forest of black, black trees. I lived there too and I ate golden grains out of pails of silver. That was long ago and it was in far India.

The Magician had precious stones of every kind and he would have me walk beside him to the Cavern where he kept his precious stones, and as he handled them over he would tell me of the virtues that each stone possessed. And one day the Magician looking upon me said ‘This Peacock I will slay, for the beauty of his neck makes dull my turquoises and the crest on his head is more shapely than my Persian jewel-work' "

"Dear me, dear me!" said Hoodie the Crow.

Hearing him say this, said the Peacock "I flew into the branches of a dark, dark tree. And as I rested there the fair lady who walked about the Garden—White-as-a-Pearl she was called and she was the Magician's daughter—walked under the dark, dark trees, and I saw that she was weeping.

I knew why she wept. She wept for the young man whom her father had imprisoned in a tower. This young man was the son of a King, and the Magician was his father's brother. And if the young man died the Magician would become King in his brother's Kingdom. But the lady White-as-a-Pearl did not want the young man to die.

A little snow-white dove flew down from the tower and spoke in words to White-as-a-Pearl and asked her what word she had to send to the young man.

" 'You must tell him terrible news, my little snow white dove,' said White-as-a-Pearl. 'My father will have him go forth to fight with a dragon. And this is a terrible dragon. Every young man who has gone forth against him has been slain.'

The little snow white dove flew back to the tower and the Princess White-as-a-Pearl stood under the dark, dark trees and wept again. And when she saw me on my branch she said 'O most beauteous of all the birds, do you know of any arms by which a hero can slay a terrible dragon?'

Then I came down off my branch and I walked beside the Princess, and as I walked beside her I told her the wonderful secrets I knew."

"And what were the secrets," said Hoodie the Crow plucking a last feather from the peacock's tail. "What were the secrets anyway?"

"Can I tell them to a Crow?" said Purpurpurati the Peacock. But I will tell them. I told her the secrets I had learnt from the Magician when he spoke of the virtues of his precious stones—a ruby in a man's helmet would make a dragon's eyes go blind. A turquoise on his arm would make a dragon's blood turn to water. A sapphire on his spear would make a dragon's heart burst within him.

So the Princess White-as-a-Pearl went to her father's cavern and took the precious stones I spoke of and gave them to the King's son. And he went forth the next day and when he came to him the dragon's eyes were blinded, and his blood turned to water and his heart burst within him. And the King's son cut off his head and brought it into the Palace. Then the Magician fled amongst the dark, dark trees and I was given the red marble palace to live in."

"I lived in Lapland," said Hoodie the Crow. "And who do you think I knew there?"

"No one of any dignity," said Purpurpurati the Peacock.

"I knew your White-as-a-Pearl. She had become an old ugly witch-woman."

"Base crow!" said Purpurpurati and he walked up the steps and went away.

Then Hoodie the Crow dressed himself in the feathers he had stolen from the Peacock and went away and walked across the field admiring himself. But a Fox that had promised to bring a Peacock to his Mother-in-law saw Hoodie the Crow and stole up beside him and caught him in his mouth and carried him away. And that was the end of Hoodie who was such a clever crow. "This Peacock is very tough," said the Fox's mother-in-Law as she ate Hoodie. "What would your Ladyship have?" said Rory the Fox." Peacock is always tough.

 

Robinson Crusoe Written Anew for Children  by James Baldwin

I Make a Surprising Discovery

ONCE every week I went into the woods to see the flock of goats that I had hidden there.

I always carried my gun, but since my last great fright I did not dare to fire it off. I was afraid even to drive a nail or chop a stick of wood, lest some savages might be near enough to hear the sound.

I was afraid to build a fire at my castle, lest the smoke should be seen.

At last I carried some of my pots and kettles to my hidden field in the woods. I could do my cooking there much more safely than at my castle.

Hardly had I put things in order there when I found something that made me very glad. What do you suppose it was?

It was a cave—a real cave. The door into it was through a little hollow place at the bottom of a great rock. It was so well hidden that no one could have found it even by looking for it.

Shall I tell you how I came upon it?

I was afraid to make a smoke near my house, and yet I could not live without cooking meat. I tried all kinds of dry wood, and yet there was always some smoke. Then I thought I would try charcoal. But I must first make the charcoal.

I found a place in the darkest part of the woods where the smoke would hardly rise to the tops of the trees. There I built my charcoal pit.

This was done in the following way:—

First, I cleared off a round space about ten feet in diameter. Here I dug out the earth till I made a pit about a foot deep. Then I cut a cord or more of wood and piled it up in this space. I piled it up until it was almost as high as my shoulders. I covered it a foot deep with earth and turf, leaving a small open place at the bottom.

When this was done, I set fire to the wood through the hole in the bottom. It burned slowly. The wood became charcoal.

One day, while cutting wood for my charcoal pit, I happened to see a hollow place in the rock close by a tree I was chopping.

It was half covered with brush. I pushed this aside and looked in. I saw a little cave just large enough for me to creep into on my hands and knees.

But, a little farther in, it was larger. It was so high that I could stand upright, and it was so wide that two men could have walked in it side by side.

It was a very dark place, and I stood still a moment till my eyes should become a little used to it.

All at once I saw something in the darkness that made me scramble out of that place much faster than I had come into it.

What do you think it was? Two big shining eyes that glowed like coals in the darkness. Whether they were the eyes of a man or of some fierce beast, I did not stop to see.

I stood a little while by the mouth of the cave and then I began to get over my fright.

What could there be in this cave that would do me harm? No man could live there in the darkness. As for any animal, I knew there was nothing fiercer on the island than one of my cats.

So, with a blazing stick for a torch, I crept back into the cave. But I had not gone three steps before I was frightened almost as much as before.

I heard a loud sigh, like that of a man in trouble. Then there were low moans, and sounds as of some one trying to speak.

I stopped short. Cold chills ran down my back. My hair seemed to stand on end. But I would not allow myself to run out again.

I pushed my little torch forward into the darkness, as far as I could. The blaze lit up the cave. And what do you suppose I saw then?

Why, nothing but a shaggy old goat that I had missed from my flock for nearly a week past.

He was stretched on the floor of the cave, and too weak to rise up. He was a very old fellow, and perhaps had gone in there to die.

I gave him some food and water, and made him as comfortable as I could. But he was too far gone to live long.

I found that, although I could stand up in the cave, it was very small. It was only a hole in the rocks, and was neither round nor square.

But at the end of this little chamber there seemed to be a passage that led farther in. This passage was very narrow and dark, and as my torch had burned out, I did not try to follow it.

I went back to my wood chopping.

 

Robert Louis Stevenson

Farewell to the Farm

The coach is at the door at last; The eager children, mounting fast And kissing hands, in chorus sing: Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! To house and garden, field and lawn, The meadow-gates we swang upon, To pump and stable, tree and swing, Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! And fare you well for evermore, O ladder at the hayloft door, O hayloft where the cobwebs cling, Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! Crack goes the whip, and off we go; The trees and houses smaller grow; Last, round the woody turn we swing: Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

 

The Discovery of New Worlds  by M. B. Synge

A Famous Voyage

"The Prince, who, Heaven inspired, To love of useful glory roused mankind, And in unbounded commerce mixed the world." —Thomson.

P ERHAPS of all the voyages made in the time of Prince Henry of Portugal, that of the Venetian voyager, Cadamosto, is the most famous; and we have an account of it in his own words. Sailing from Venice to France, Cadamosto was driven by a storm to shelter in the Prince's town near Cape St Vincent. Here he heard of the glorious and boundless discoveries of the Prince's ships, and a passionate desire to see the world and explore the unknown fired him with eagerness to enter the Prince's service.

"No countryman of mine had ever tried the like, and my certainty of winning the highest honour and gain from such a venture made me offer myself," he tells us in his story.

On March 21, 1455, Cadamosto sailed for Madeira, then on to the newly found Canary Islands—which had been called by Hanno of old, the Islands of the Blessed—and so to the coast of Africa, landing at the white cape, Cape Blanco.

"The natives of Cape Blanco are black as moles, but dress in white flowing robes," says the old traveller and chronicler, "with a turban wound round the head. Indeed, plenty of Arabs are always hovering off the Cape for the sake of trade with Prince Henry's ships, especially in silver, grain, and woven stuffs, slaves and gold."

Coasting on to the southward, he came to the great river Senegal, where the natives were of a colour "something between black and ashes in hue." When first they had seen the ships from Portugal sailing along their coast, they had thought them to be birds coming from afar and cleaving the air with white wings. When the sailors let down the sails and drew the ships to shore, the natives thought they must be fishes, and they stood stupidly on the shore gazing at the new wonder.

On sailed the explorers, south and ever south, till they reached Cape Verde, the most western point of West Africa. The long spell of white sand had now given way to green grass and trees, while native villages were dotted about on the sea-shore. But the Portuguese knew Cape Verde already. Farther south they did not know. So Cadamosto sailed on. They reached the mouth of the river Gambia, and started up the stream to explore farther. But the negroes, "sooty black in colour, dressed in white cotton with helmets on their heads, two white wings on either side and a feather in the middle," came against them. The natives were hostile and unfriendly, so Cadamosto sailed away.

He had already sailed farther south than any of the other Portuguese ships, to within measurable distance of the equator, that imaginary line that divides the world in two parts. Cadamosto did not know that the world was round. He therefore tells Prince Henry on his return, as a curious piece of information, that the Pole Star had sunk so low that it almost touched the sea. Also that they had seen, in their cruise down the African coast, the brilliant group of stars, the Southern Cross, shining through the wonderful June nights.

Cadamosto had done much, but the Prince was not yet satisfied. In 1458 he planned a yet longer voyage, giving the command to his most faithful servant, Diego Gomez. His orders had been simple enough. He was just to sail as far as he could, farther and farther south. Would these explorers never find out what lay beyond this Sea of Darkness? Much had been learnt, but how much more remained to be learnt.

Gomez started forth and sailed beyond Cape Verde, turning due west and coming on the Cape Verde Islands, important to-day as coaling-stations for the large steamers plying between England and Africa and America. He had stories to tell of golden rivers, of gold mines, of ivory tusks and elephant teeth, of houses made of sea-weed covered with straw. He returned to Portugal only in time to be present at the death of his beloved master, Prince Henry.

Still working for the cause he had at heart, his motto, "Desire to do well," ever before him, Prince Henry fell ill. In his own town, near Cape St Vincent, he lay dying, within sound of the great Atlantic rollers, within sight of that vast Sea of Darkness he had failed to fathom.

Perhaps he had done more than ever he dreamt. His energy, his untiring hope, his unwavering purpose and steady determination, had awakened in his countrymen a spirit of enterprise and adventure. He had indeed roused mankind to the love of useful glory, "and in unbounded commerce mixed the world."

 

Merry Tales  by Eleanor L. Skinner

The Monkey and the Crocodile

Jataka Tale

I T is no use trying to live here any longer," thought the monkey, looking down, from his home in the tree, at a big crocodile sleeping on the sunlit bank of the river. "Whenever that creature opens his great mouth, I shudder to think what might happen if I were near."

Just then the crocodile yawned. Wider and wider and wider he opened his mouth. Away whisked the monkey to the topmost branch of the tree.

"This very day I shall move farther down the river!" he said.

So the monkey slipped away to a tree about half a mile distant. There he lived peaceably for some time. He was delighted with his new home. The water was cool and clear. In the middle of the stream was an island covered with fruit trees.

It was very easy to reach the little island. One leap from his tree brought the monkey to the end of a large rock which jutted out into the river; another leap brought him to the island, where he could get a fine feast and frisk about all the day long. In the evening he went back to his home in the great tree on the river's bank.

One day he stayed later than usual on the island. When he came to the water's edge, he looked and blinked and looked and blinked! "How strange that rock looks!" he said to himself. "Surely it was never so high before! What can be the matter with it?" Suddenly the monkey's heart beat very fast. The crocodile was lying on the top of that rock!

"Oho! Mr. Crocodile," thought the monkey, "I see I must put my wits to work very, very quickly indeed if I am to escape from you!"

"Good evening, Big Rock," he called.

The crocodile lay very still.

"This is a fine evening, Big Rock!" called the monkey.

The crocodile lay very, very still.

"What is the matter, Big Rock? You have always been a good friend of mine. Why are you so silent this evening?"

Then the crocodile thought, "Now I see I must pretend to be the rock, or the monkey may not come this way to-night." So with his mouth shut he mumbled as best he could, "Good evening, Mr. Monkey."

"Oh! Is that you, Mr. Crocodile?" said the monkey, pleasantly. "I'm afraid I have awakened you!"

"Never mind that," said the crocodile, raising his head. "Come, make your leap! You cannot escape me this time."

"No, I'm afraid not," said the monkey, meekly.

And all the time he was thinking, "Crocodiles shut their eyes when they open their mouths wide."

"Come along and make haste, Monkey," said the crocodile.

"I'm caught, that is sure, for I must leap your way. Well, as you say, I cannot escape you, Crocodile. Open your mouth. Oh, wider than that, please, if I am to leap into it. Wider! There! Here I go! Ready!"

Before the crocodile knew what was happening, the monkey gave three bounds—first to the top of the crocodile's head,—then to the bank,—then to his tree. Away he whisked to the topmost branch.

"Thank you, Mr. Crocodile," he called.

 

Walter de la Mare

Song of Enchantment

A Song of Enchantment I sang me there, In a green—green wood, by waters fair, Just as the words came up to me I sang it under the wild wood tree. Widdershins turned I, singing it low, Watching the wild birds come and go; No cloud in the deep dark blue to be seen Under the thick-thatched branches green. Twilight came; silence came; The planet of Evening's silver flame; By darkening paths I wandered through Thickets trembling with drops of dew. But the music is lost and the words are gone Of the song I sang as I sat alone, Ages and ages have fallen on me— On the wood and the pool and the elder tree.

 

The Bears of Blue River  by Charles Major

How Balser Got a Gun

Part 2 of 2

He was so intent on the game which he knew the dogs held at bay, that he did not look about him with his accustomed caution, and the result of his unwatchfulness was that he found himself within ten feet of two huge bears before he was at all aware of their presence. They were evidently male and female, and upon seeing him the great he-bear gave forth a growl that frightened Balser to the depths of his soul. Retreat seemed almost impossible; and should he fire at one of the bears, his gun would be empty and he would be at the mercy of the other. To attempt to outrun a bear, even on level ground, would be almost a hopeless undertaking; for the bear, though an awkward-looking creature, is capable of great speed when it comes to a foot-race. But there, where the tangled underbrush was so dense that even walking through it was a matter of great difficulty, running was out of the question, for the thicket which would greatly impede Balser would be but small hindrance to the bears.

After Balser had killed the big bear at the drift, he felt that he never again would suffer from what hunters call "buck ager"; but when he found himself confronted by those black monsters, he began to tremble in every limb, and for the life of him could not at first lift his gun. The he-bear was the first to move. He raised himself on his haunches, and with a deep growl started for poor Balser. Balser should have shot the bear as he came toward him, but acting solely from an instinct of self-preservation he started to run. He made better headway than he had thought possible, and soon came to a small open space of ground where the undergrowth was not so thick, and where the bright light of the sun dispelled the darkness. The light restored Balser's confidence, and the few moments of retreat gave him time to think and to pull himself together. So, turning quickly, he lifted his gun to his shoulder and fired at the bear, which was not two yards behind him. Unfortunately, his aim was unsteady, and his shot wounded the bear in the neck, but did not kill him.

Balser saw the disastrous failure he had made, and felt that the bear would be much surer in his attack upon him than he had been in his attack upon the bear. They boy then threw away his gun, and again began a hasty retreat.

He called for his father, and cried, "Tige! Prince! Tige! Tige!" not so much with a hope that either the dogs or his father would hear, but because he knew not what else to do. Balser ran as fast as he could, still the bear was at his heels, and the frightened boy expected every moment to feel a stroke from the brute's huge rough paw. Soon it came, with a stunning force that threw Balser to the ground, upon his back. The bear was over him in an instant, and caught his left arm between his mighty jaws. It seemed then that the light of the world went out for a moment, and he remembered nothing but the huge, blood-red mouth of the bear, his hot breath almost burning his cheeks, and his deep, terrible growls nearly deafening his ears. Balser's whole past life came up before him like a picture, and he remembered everything that had ever happened to him. He thought of how deeply his dear father and mother would grieve, and for the only time in his life regretted having received the carbine, for it was the gun, after all, that had got him into this trouble. All this happened in less time than it takes you to read ten lines of this page, but it seemed very, very long to Balser, lying there with the huge body of the bear over him.

Suddenly a note of hope struck his ear—the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It was the yelp of dear old Tige, who had heard his call and had come to the rescue. If there is any creature on earth that a bear thoroughly hates, it is a dog. Tige wasted not a moment's time, but was soon biting and pulling at the bear's hind legs. The bear immediately turned upon the dog and gave Balser an opportunity to rise. Of this opportunity he quickly took advantage, you may be sure. Soon Prince came up also, and in these two strong dogs the bear had foemen worthy of his steel.

Balser's great danger and narrow escape had quickened all his faculties, so he at once ran back to the place where he had dropped his gun, and although his left arm had been terribly bitten, he succeeded in loading, and soon came back to the help of the dogs, who had given him such timely assistance.

The fight between the dogs and the bear was going on at a merry rate, when Balser returned to the scene of action. With Prince on one side and Tige on the other, both so strong and savage, and each quick and nimble as a cat, the bear had all he could do to defend himself, and continually turned first one way and then another in his effort to keep their fangs away from his legs or throat. This enabled Balser to approach within a short distance of the bear, which he cautiously did. Taking care not to wound either of his faithful friends, he was more fortunate in his aim than he had been the first time, and gave the bear a mortal wound.

The wounded animal made a hasty retreat back into the thicket, followed closely by the dogs; but Balser had seen more than enough of bear society in the thicket, and prudently concluded not to follow. He then loaded his gun with a heavy charge of powder only, and fired it to attract his father's attention. This he repeated several times, until at last he saw the welcome form of his father hurrying toward him from the bluff. When his father reached him and saw that he had been wounded, Mr. Brent was naturally greatly troubled; but Balser said: "I'll tell you all about it soon. Let's go in after the bears. Two of them are in the thicket up there next to the cliff, and the dogs have followed them. If Tige had not come up just in time, one of the bears would have killed me; but I think the shot I gave him must have killed him by this time."

So without another word, Balser having loaded his gun, they started into the dark thicket toward the cliff, in the direction whence came the voices of the dogs.

They had not proceeded farther than a hundred yards when they found the bear which Balser had shot, lying dead in the path over which Balser had so recently made his desperate retreat. The dogs were father in, toward the cliff, where the vines, trees, and brush grew so thick that it was almost dark.

The two hunters, however, did not stop, but hurried on to the help of their dogs. Soon they saw through the gloom of the thicket the she-bear, and about her the dogs were prancing, barking, and snapping most furiously.

Carefully Balser and his father took their position within a few yards of the bear, and Balser, upon a signal from his father, called off the dogs so that a shot might be made at the bear without danger of killing either Tige or Prince.

Soon the report of two guns echoed through the forest, almost at the same instant, and the great she-bear fell over on her side, quivered for a moment, and died. This last battle took place close by the stone cliff, which rose from the bottom-land to a height of fifty or sixty feet.

Balser and his father soon worked their way through the underbrush to where the she-bear lay dead. After having examined the bear, Balser's attention was attracted to a small opening in the cliff, evidently the mouth of a cave which had probably been the home of the bear family that he and his father had just exterminated. The she-bear had taken her stand at the door of her home, and in defending it had lost her life. Balser examined the opening in the cliff, and concluded to enter; but his father said:—

"You don't know what's in there. Let's first send in one of the dogs."

So Tige was called and told to go into the cave. Immediately after he had entered he gave forth a series of sharp yelps which told plainly enough that he had found something worth barking at. Then Balser called the dog out, and Mr. Brent collected pieces of dry wood, and made a fire in front of the cave, hoping to drive out any animal that might be on the inside.

He more than suspected that he would find a pair of cubs.

As the smoke brought nothing forth, he concluded to enter the cave himself and learn what was there.

Dropping upon his knees, he began to crawl in at the narrow opening, and the boy and the two dogs followed closely. Mr. Brent had taken with him a lighted torch, and when he had gone but a short distance into the cave he saw in a remote corner a pair of gray-black, frowzy little cubs, as fat and round as a roll of butter. They were lying upon a soft bed of leaves and grass, which had been collected by their father and mother.

Balser's delight knew no bounds, for, next to his gun, what he wanted above all things was a bear cub, and here were two of them. Quickly he and his father each picked up a cub and made their way out of the cave.

The cubs, not more than one-half larger than a cat, were round and very fat, and wore a coat of fur, soft and sleek as the finest silk. Young bears usually are gray until after they are a year old, but these were an exception to the rule, for they were almost black.

Leaving the old bears dead upon the ground, Balser and his father hurried down to the creek, where Mr. Brent washed and dressed his son's wounded arm. They then marked several trees upon the bank of the creek by breaking twigs, so that they might be able to find the bears when they returned that evening with the horses to take home the meat and skins.

All this, which has taken so long to tell, occurred within the space of a few minutes; but the work while it lasted was hard and tiresome, and, although it was but a short time past noon, Balser and his father were only too glad to turn their faces homeward, each with a saucy little bear cub under his arm.

"As we have killed their mother," said Balser, referring to the cubs, "we must take care of her children and give them plenty of milk, and bring them up to be good, honest bears."

The evening of the same day Mr. Brent and a few of his neighbours brought home the bear meat and skins. Balser did not go with his father because his arm was too sore. He was, however, very proud of his wound, and thought that the glory of the day and the two bear cubs were purchased cheaply enough after all.

 

The Adventures of Unc' Billy Possum  by Thornton Burgess

Reddy Fox Goes Hungry

L IKE a great green pincushion lay the runaway cabbage of Peter Rabbit and Jumper the Hare. Every one thought it was the very best joke ever. Jimmy Skunk had gone off to take a bath and get two more eggs for Peter Rabbit's party. Reddy Fox and Shadow the Weasel, peeping out from the hollow log where they were hiding, could see Jimmy on his way back with a big goose egg under each arm. Shadow smacked his lips. He meant to have those eggs himself.

Pretty soon all the little forest and meadow people whom Peter Rabbit had invited were gathered around the foot of Unc' Billy Possum's hollow tree, and each had brought something good to eat. My, such a feast as was spread out there! Now they were waiting for Unc' Billy Possum, who had gone to meet his family, coming up from "Ol' Virginny."

Over in the top of a tall pine tree Blacky the Crow was hiding and chuckling to himself as he watched. Reddy Fox was getting impatient. He was hungry. He had had no breakfast, and as he lay hiding in the hollow log, he could peep out and see all the good things, and he could smell them, too. It seemed as if his stomach would just give him no peace at all. He wished that Sammy Jay would bring the false message that Bowser the Hound was coming, so as to frighten all the rest away.

"I'm nearly starved!" whispered Reddy Fox. "I hope Sammy Jay will hurry up."

Just then they noticed that Peter Rabbit was very busy. He hopped from guest to guest and whispered in the ear of each.

"Now I wonder what Peter Rabbit is whispering about," said Reddy.

Suddenly the light at the end of the hollow log disappeared. There was a queer rattling sound that sent shivers up and down Reddy's backbone. Prickly Porky the Porcupine had sat down with his back against the end of the hollow log, and the queer rattling sound was made by the thousand little spears in his long coat. Reddy Fox and Shadow the Weasel were in a prison. You see there was no other opening to the hollow log.

"Never mind," whispered Shadow the Weasel, "he'll go away when Sammy Jay shouts that Bowser the Hound is coming."

Blacky the Crow, hidden in the top of the tall pine, was also wondering what Peter was whispering. His sharp eyes watched Peter, and every time that Peter whispered in the ear of one of the little meadow or forest people, they would laugh.

Now, Sammy Jay knew nothing about all this. By and by, when he thought that every one was there, Sammy came flying through the Green Forest, just as if he knew nothing about Peter Rabbit's party. Now, Sammy, with all his faults, is one of the best watchmen in the Green Forest. If there is any danger which his sharp eyes discover, he always screams at the top of his lungs. So, though he steals and plays tricks and makes life very uncomfortable for the others, they always stop to listen when Sammy sounds a warning. Because Sammy knew this he felt sure of breaking up this party.

As soon as he came in sight of all the little meadow and forest people, he began to shriek at the top of his lungs.

"Run! run! run! Here comes Bowser the Hound," he shouted.

No one moved, and this puzzled Sammy so that he hardly knew what to do, but he kept right on shrieking, just as if Bowser was right close at hand. Still no one moved. Sammy stopped on a tall pine and pretended to be terribly excited.

"You had better run before Bowser gets here," he shouted.

What do you think happened then? Why, everybody set up a great shout. "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Peter Rabbit.

"Ho! ho! ho!" shouted Johnny Chuck.

"Hee! hee! hee!" giggled Danny Meadow Mouse.

"What time will Bowser get here?" asked Bobby Coon, gravely.

"Tell Bowser that we are all waiting for him," added Jimmy Skunk.

"Is Bowser quite out of breath?" inquired Jerry Muskrat.

"I would like nothing better than to run a race with Bowser the Hound," said Jumper the Hare, sitting up very straight.

Sammy Jay didn't know what to do or what to say. He was just the most disgusted looking Jay that ever flew through the Green Forest, and all the time he wondered and wondered and wondered how it could be that Peter Rabbit and his friends knew that Bowser the Hound was not in the Green Forest at all. You see, old Mr. Toad had told Peter all about Sammy's plan, and this is what Peter had been whispering to the others.

 

Alfred Lord Tennyson

The Eagle

He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring'd with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.

 

Hurlbut's Story of the Bible  by Jesse Lyman Hurlbut

The Last Days of King Saul

I Samuel xxviii: 1, to xxxi: 13.

NCE more the Philistines gathered together to make war on King Saul and the land of Israel. The king of the Philistines, Achish, sent for David, and said to him, "You and your men shall go with me in the army, and fight against the men of Israel."

For David was now living in the Philistine country and under their rule. So David came from Ziklag, with all his six hundred men, and they stood among the armies of the Philistines. But when the lords of the Philistines saw David and his men, they said, "Why are these Israelites here? Is not this the man of whom they sang,

'Saul slew his thousands, But David his ten thousands.'

Will not this man turn from us in the battle, and make his peace with his king by fighting against us? This man shall not go with us to the war."

Then Achish, the king of the Philistines, sent away David and his men, so that David was not compelled to fight against his own people. But when he came to his own city, Ziklag, he found it had been burned and destroyed; and all the people in it, the wives and children of David's men, and David's own wives also, had been carried away by the Amalekites into the desert on the south.

The Lord spoke to David through the high-priest, Abiathar, saying, "Pursue these men, and you will overtake them, and take back all that they have carried away."

So David followed the Amalekites into the wilderness. His march was so swift that a part of his men could not endure it, but stopped to rest at the brook Bezor, while four hundred men went on with David. He found the Amalekites in their camp, without guards, feasting upon the spoil that they had taken. And David and his men fell upon them suddenly and killed all of them, except four hundred men who escaped on camels far into the desert, where David could not follow them. And David took from these robbers all the women and children that they had carried away from Ziklag, and among them David's own two wives; also he took a great amount of treasure and of spoil, not only all that these men had found in Ziklag, but what they had taken in many other places.

David divided all these things between himself and his men, giving as much to those who had stayed at the brook Bezor as to those who had fought with the Amalekites. This treasure taken from the Amalekites made David very rich; and from it he sent presents to many of his friends in the tribe of Judah.

While David was pursuing his enemies in the south, the Philistines were gathering a great host in the middle of the land, on the plain of Esdraelon, at the foot of Mount Gilboa. Saul and his men were on the side of Mount Gilboa, near the same spring where Gideon's men drank, as we read in Story 45. But there was no one like Gideon now, to lead the men of Israel, for King Saul was old, and weakened by disease and trouble; Samuel had died many years before; David was no longer by his side; Saul had slain the priests, through whom in those times God spoke to men; and Saul was utterly alone, and knew not what to do, as he saw the mighty host of the Philistines on the plain. And the Lord had forsaken Saul, and would give him no word in his sore need.

Saul heard that there was living at En-dor, on the north side of the Hill Moreh, not far from his camp, a woman who could call up the spirits of the dead. Whether she could really do this, or only pretended to do it, we do not know, for the Bible does not tell. But Saul was so anxious to have some message from the Lord, that at night he sought this woman. He took off his kingly robes and came dressed as a common man, and said to her, "Bring me up from the dead the spirit of a man whom I greatly long to meet."

And the woman said, "What spirit shall I call up?"

And Saul answered, "Bring me up the spirit of Samuel, the prophet."

Saul asks the woman to call up Samuel.

Then the woman called for the spirit of Samuel; and whether spirits had ever arisen from the dead before or not, at that time the Lord allowed the spirit of Samuel to rise up from his place among the dead, to speak to King Saul.

When the woman saw Samuel's spirit she was filled with fear. She cried out, and Saul said to her, "Do not fear; but tell me whom you see."

For Saul himself could not see the spirit whom the woman saw. And she said, "I see one like a god rising up. He is an old man, covered with a long robe."

Then out of the darkness a voice came from the spirit whom Saul's eyes could not see. "Why have you troubled me, and called me out of my rest?"

And Saul answered Samuel, "I am in great distress, for the Philistines make war upon me, and God has forsaken me. He will not speak to me either by a prophet, or a priest, or in a dream. And I have called upon you that you may tell me what to do." And the spirit of Samuel said to Saul, "If the Lord has forsaken you and has become your enemy, why do you call upon me to help you? The Lord has dealt with you as I warned you that he would do. Because you would not obey the Lord, he has taken the kingdom away from you and your house, and has given it to David. And the Lord will give Israel into the hands of the Philistines; and to-morrow you and your three sons shall be as I am, among the dead." And then the spirit of Samuel the prophet passed from sight. When Saul heard these words he fell down as one dead, for he was very weak, as he had taken no food all that day. The woman and Saul's servants who were with him raised him up, and gave him food, and tried to speak to him words of cheer. Then Saul and his men went over the mountain to their camp.

On the next day a great battle was fought on the side of Mount Gilboa. The Philistines did not wait for Saul's warriors to attack them. They climbed up the mountain, and fell upon the Israelites in their camp. Many of the men of Israel were slain in the fight, and many more fled away. Saul's three sons were killed, one of them, the brave and noble Jonathan.

When Saul saw that the battle had gone against him, that his sons were slain, and that the enemies were pressing closely upon him, he called to his armor-bearer, and said, "Draw your sword and kill me; it would be better for me to die by your hand than for the Philistines to come upon me and slaughter me."

But the armor-bearer would not draw his sword upon his king, the Lord's anointed. Then Saul took his own sword and fell upon it, and killed himself among the bodies of his own men.

The death of Saul.

On the next day the Philistines came to strip off the armor and carry away the weapons of those who had been slain. The crown of King Saul and the bracelet on his arm had been already carried away; but the Philistines took off his armor and sent it to the temple of their idol, Dagon; and the body of Saul and those of his three sons they fastened to the wall of Beth-shan, a Canaanite city in the valley of the Jordan.

You remember how Saul, in the beginning of his reign, had rescued the city of Jabesh-gilead from the Ammonites. (See Story 54.) The men of Jabesh had not forgotten Saul's brave deed. When they heard what had been done with the body of Saul they rose up in the night and went down the mountains and walked across the Jordan, and came to Beth-shan. They took down from the wall the bodies of Saul and his sons, and carried them to Jabesh; and that they might not be taken away again, they burned them and buried their ashes under a tree; and they mourned for Saul seven days. Thus came to an end the reign of Saul, which began well, but ended in failure and in ruin, because Saul forsook the Lord God of Israel.

Saul had reigned forty years. At the beginning of his reign the Israelites were almost free from the Philistines, and for a time Saul seemed to have success in driving the Philistines out of the land. But after Saul forsook the Lord, and would no longer listen to Samuel, God's prophet, he became gloomy and full of fear, and lost his courage, so that the land fell again under the power of its enemies. David could have helped him, but he had driven David away; and there was no strong man to stand by Saul and win victories for him. So at the end, when Saul fell in battle, the yoke of the Philistines was on Israel heavier than at any time before.

Women grinding grain in Biblical times.

 

The Sandman: His Sea Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The September-Gale Story

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.

Once, more than a hundred years ago, when ships still came to that wharf, the brig Industry  came sailing into that river. For she was one of the ships that used to come to that wharf, and she used to sail from it to India and China, and she always brought back silks and cloth of goats' hair and camels' hair shawls and sets of china and pretty lacquered tables and trays, and things carved out of ebony and ivory and teakwood, and logs of teakwood and tea and spices. And she had just got back from those far countries and Captain Solomon and all the sailors were very glad to get back. For it was more than a year since she had sailed out of the little river, and they hadn't seen their families for all that long time. And a year is a pretty long time for a man to be sailing on the great ocean and not to see his wife and his dear little boys and girls.

So they hurried and tied the Industry  to the wharf with great ropes and they went away just as soon as they could. And the men that had wives and little boys and girls went to see them, and the others went somewhere. Perhaps they went to the Sailors' Home and perhaps they didn't. But Captain Solomon went to the office of Captain Jonathan and Captain Jacob, who were the owners of the Industry. Their office was just at the head of the wharf, so he didn't have far to go. And Captain Jonathan and Captain Jacob were there waiting for him, and they shook hands with him and sent him packing off home, to see his wife and baby. For Captain Solomon hadn't been married much more than a year and he had sailed away on that long voyage after he had been married four months and he had left his wife behind. And the baby had been born while he was gone, so that he hadn't seen him yet. That baby was the one that was called little Sol, that is told about in some of the Ship Stories. Captain Solomon wanted to see his wife and his baby, so he hurried off when Captain Jonathan and Captain Jacob told him to.

Then the mate of the Industry  got a lot of men and had them take out of the ship all the things that she had brought from those far countries. And they wheeled them, on little trucks, into the building where Captain Jonathan and Captain Jacob had their office, and they piled them up in a great empty room that smelled strangely of camphor and spices and tea and all sorts of other things that make a nice smell.

At last all the things were taken out of the Industry, so that she floated very high up in the water and the top of her rail, which the sailors look over, was high above the wharf. And Captain Jonathan and Captain Jacob came out of their office to speak to the mate. And the mate said that the Industry  was all unloaded; for he was rather proud that he had got all those many things out so quickly.

And Captain Jonathan answered the mate and said how quick he had been. But Captain Jacob didn't say anything, for he was looking around at the sky. The mate saw that Captain Jacob was looking at the sky, and he looked up, too.

"Looks as though we might have a breeze o' wind," he said. For little white feathery clouds were coming up from the southwest and covering the sky like a thin veil.

Captain Jacob nodded. "More than a breeze," he said; for Captain Jacob had been a truly captain and he knew about the weather.

"I've got out double warps," said the mate; and he meant that he had tied the Industry  to the wharf with two ropes instead of one at each place.

Captain Jacob nodded again. "That's well," he said. "That's just as well."

And the mate said "Good night, sir," to Captain Jonathan and he said it to Captain Jacob, too, and they bade him good night, and he went home.

That evening Captain Jacob heard the wind as he was playing chess with Lois. Lois was Captain Jacob's wife. And Captain Jacob listened to the wind and forgot about the game of chess that he was playing, so that Lois beat him two games. That made Captain Jacob angry, for Lois didn't care much about chess and couldn't play as well as Captain Jacob could. She only played to please Captain Jacob, anyway. And Captain Jacob got so angry that he put the chessmen away and went to bed; but he didn't sleep very well, the wind howled so.

Very early in the morning, long before daylight, Captain Jacob got up. He had been awake for some time, listening to the sound of the rain against his windows and to the howling and shrieking of the wind. And he wondered what was happening down on the river and if the Industry  was all right. He knew well enough what was happening along the shore, and that they would be hearing of wrecks for the next two weeks. They didn't have the telegraph then, so that they wouldn't read in a morning paper what had happened far away during the night, but would have to wait for the stage to bring them the news, or for some boat to bring it. So Captain Jacob got more and more uneasy, until, at last, he couldn't stand it any longer.

And he dressed himself as fast as he could and put on his heavy boots and his great cloak, and he pulled his hat down hard, and he lighted a lantern and started down to the wharf. It was hard work, for the wind was so strong that it almost took him up right off the ground, and blew him along. And sometimes he had to hold on to the fences to keep himself from blowing away; and he had to watch for a chance, when the wind wasn't so strong for a minute, to cross the streets. Once he heard a great crash, and he knew that that was the sound of a chimney that the wind had blown over. But he couldn't stop to attend to that.

Sometimes he had to Hold On to the Fences

When he got to the wharf, he was surprised to see how high the hull of the Industry  was. It wasn't daylight yet, but he could just make out the bulk of it against the sky. And he was surprised because he knew that it would not be time for the tide to be high for three hours yet, and the Industry  was floating as high as she would at a very high tide. So Captain Jacob made his way very carefully out on the wharf, holding on to ropes and to other things when there were other things to hold on to, and crouching down low, for he didn't want to be blown off into the water.

At last he got to the edge, and he held his lantern over and looked down at the water. And the top of the water was only about three feet down, for the wind was blowing straight up the river from the ocean, and it was so strong that it had blown the water from the ocean into the river. And it was still blowing it in, and was getting stronger every minute.

Captain Jacob looked at the water a minute. "Hello!" he said. But nobody could have heard him, there was such a noise of the wind and of the waves washing against the wharf. He didn't say it to anybody in particular, so he wasn't disappointed that nobody heard him. And he listened again, and he thought he heard a noise as though somebody was on the Industry. So he climbed up the side, with his lantern, and there he saw the mate, for it was just beginning to be a little bit light in the east. The mate was trying to do something with an anchor; but the anchors were great, enormous, heavy things, and one man couldn't do anything with them at all.

Captain Jacob went close beside the mate. "What you trying to do?" he yelled, as loud as he could.

"What, sir?" asked the mate, yelling as loud as he could.

"What—you—trying—to—do?" asked Captain Jacob again. The wind was playing a tune on every rope on the ship and singing a song besides, so that the noise, up there on the deck, was fearful.

"Trying to get an anchor out in the river," yelled the mate, putting his hands to his mouth like a trumpet. "Wharf's going to be flooded as the tide rises. Afraid she'll capsize!"

"You can't do it alone," yelled Captain Jacob.

"No," yelled the mate. "Can't! Get some men!"

"Good!" yelled Captain Jacob. And the mate climbed down the side.

But the mate didn't have to go far, for some men were already coming as well as they could, holding on by the fences on the way, and the mate met those men. And they came on the Industry, and lowered the biggest boat that she had into the water, and they all managed to get in, somehow or other, and to hold the boat while Captain Jacob and the mate lowered the anchor into the boat, winding the chain around the capstan. The anchor was so heavy that it nearly sunk the boat, but it didn't quite sink it. The end of the boat that the anchor was on was so near the water that water kept splashing in.

Then the men all rowed very hard and the boat went ahead slowly, while Captain Jacob and the mate let out more of the anchor chain. But they couldn't go very far, for the wind was so strong and the waves were so high and the heavy anchor chain held them back near the ship. When they had got as far as they could, they managed to pry the anchor overboard. It went into the water with a tremendous splash, wetting all the men; but they didn't mind, for they were all wet through already with the rain and the splashing of the waves. And the boat turned around and went back to the shore. But the men didn't try to row it back to the Industry. The wind blew them up the river, so that they got to the shore three or four wharves up, beyond the railway where they pulled ships up out of the water to mend them. They then walked back as quickly as they could.

Captain Jacob and the mate had been working hard, taking in some of the anchor chain. They put two of the bars in the capstan head and pushed as hard as they could, and they had managed to get a strain on the anchor by the time the men got back. It was daylight, by this time, and the tide had risen so much that the men had to go splashing through water that was up to their ankles all over the top of the wharf. But they didn't care, and they got up on the ship, and some of them put more bars in the capstan head and pushed, and some of them let out more of the great ropes that held the ship to the wharf. They wanted to get her away from the wharf and out in the river, for they were afraid that the wind might blow her right over upon the wharf and tip her over. Then it would be very hard to get her into the water again.

When the anchor chain was pulled in enough, they fastened it and went to the stern and down one of the great ropes that held the Industry  to the wharf. They went down, half sliding and half letting themselves down by their hands, and Captain Jacob and the mate and all the men that were on the ship went down that way. They all had been sailors, and a sailor has to learn to do such things and not to be afraid. And they all splashed into the water that was on the top of the wharf. Then they let out the ropes from that end, but they didn't let them go. And the Industry  lay out in the river, at anchor, about five fathoms from the end of the wharf. A fathom is six feet, and sailors generally measure distances in fathoms instead of in feet.

As soon as Captain Jacob had got to the wharf he yelled to the men and waved his hand to them, for he was afraid that they could not hear him if he tried to tell them anything. And he started very carefully across the wharf, holding on to anything he could get hold of, and all the men followed him. It was very hard work and very dangerous, too, going about on top of the wharf, for the water was nearly up to the men's knees, and it was all wavy. And Captain Jacob led the way to the office and opened the door and they all went in.

As soon as they were inside, they began taking all the things that were piled up in that great room that had the nice smell, and they carried them up stairs. They didn't wait to be told what to do, for they knew well enough that Captain Jacob was afraid that the tide might rise so high that the floor of that room and of the office would be covered with water and all the pretty things would be wet and spoiled. Of course, water wouldn't spoil the china and such things, but it would spoil the shawls and the silks and the tea and the spices. So they worked hard until they had all the things up stairs.

And, by that time, the water was beginning to come in at the door and to creep along over the floor; and Captain Jacob and the mate and all the men went outside, and stood where they were sheltered from the wind, and they watched the river, that stretched out very wide indeed, and they watched the things that were being driven up on its surface by the wind, and they watched the Industry.

They were all standing in the water, but they didn't know it. And they saw all sorts of things going up the river, with the wind and the waves: many small boats that had been dragged from their moorings or off the beaches; and some larger boats that belonged to fishermen; and some of the fishermen's huts that had stood in a row on a beach; and a part of a house that had been built too near the water; and logs and boards from the wharves and all kinds of drifting stuff. It was almost high tide now, and the wind was stronger than ever. None of the men had had any breakfast, but they didn't think of that.

They Saw All Sorts of Things Going Up the River

"About the height of it, now," said the mate to Captain Jacob. They could hear each other speak where they were standing, in a place that was sheltered by the building. "Not so bad here, in the lee of the office. And the wind 'll go down as the tide turns, I'm thinking."

Captain Jacob nodded. He was watching the Industry  pitching in the great seas that were coming up the river.

"She ought to have more chain out," he said anxiously. "I wish we could have given her more chain. It's a terrible strain."

"If a man was to go out to her," began the mate, slowly, "he might be able to give her more. He could shin up those warps——"

"Don't think of it!" said Captain Jacob. "Don't think of it!"

As he spoke, the ship's bow lifted to a great sea, there was a dull sound that was scarcely heard, and she began to drift, slowly, at first, until she was broadside to the wind. The anchor chain had broken; but the great ropes that were fastened to the wharf still held her by the stern. Then she drifted faster, in toward the wharves. There was a sound like the report of a small cannon; then another and another. The great ropes that had held her to the wharf had snapped like thread.

"Well," said Captain Jacob, "now I wonder where she'll bring up. We can't do anything."

So they watched her drifting in to the wharf where the railway was, where they pulled ships up out of the water to mend them. And Captain Jonathan was coming down to the office just as the Industry  broke adrift, and he saw that she would come ashore at the railway. So he stopped there and waited for her to come. They had there a sort of cradle, that runs down into the water on rails; and a ship fits into the cradle and is drawn up out of the water to be mended. And Captain Jonathan thought of that, and he thought that it wouldn't do any harm to lower the cradle and see if the Industry  wouldn't happen to fit into it. It might not do any good, but it couldn't do any harm; and the Industry  was all unloaded, and floated very high in the water.

So Captain Jonathan and two other men, who belonged at that railway, lowered the cradle as much as they thought would be right, and the Industry  drifted in and she did happen to catch on the cradle. She didn't fit into it exactly, for she was heeled over by the wind, and she caught on the cradle more on one side than the other; but Captain Jonathan thought that she would go into the water all right when the tide went down a little and the cradle was lowered more. And he was glad that he had happened to think of it.

Then, pretty soon, the tide began to go out again, and the wind stopped blowing so hard. And, in an hour, there was not more than a strong gale blowing, and men began to go out in row boats that hadn't broken adrift, and to pick things up as they came down with the tide. The sea was very rough, but they were afraid that the things would drift out to sea if they waited.

And, in a couple of hours more, Captain Jonathan and Captain Jacob and the mate and all the men had the Industry  afloat again and were warping her back to her wharf. There was no great harm done; only some marks of scraping and bumping and the anchor down at the bottom of the river.

Then Captain Jonathan and Captain Jacob went home to dinner, and pretty soon all the men went, too. And they saw a great many chimneys blown over into yards and a great many fences blown down; and they came to a great tree that was blown down across the street, and then they saw another and a third. And they had to go through somebody's yard to get around these trees. And, when they got home, they heard about an old woman who had tried to go somewhere, who had been picked up by the wind and carried a long way and set down again on her own doorstep. And she had taken the hint and gone into the house.

That great wind, they called the Great September Gale, for it happened in the early part of September. That is the time of the year that such great winds are most apt to come. And all the people had it to talk about for a long time, for there wasn't another such gale for more than twenty years.

And that's all.

 

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Who Has Seen the Wind?

Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you; But when the leaves hang trembling The wind is passing through. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I. But when the trees bow down their heads The wind is passing by.