Brooks's Readers Third Year, by Stratton D. Brooks--A Project Gutenberg eBook.

The selections from the writings of Henry W. Longfellow, Thomas Bailey Aldrich, John G. Whittier, Frank Dempster Sherman, Olive Thorne Miller, Dora Read Goodale, Lucy Larcom, Alice and Phœbe Cary, are used by permission of and by special arrangements with Houghton, Mifflin & Co., the authorized publishers of the writings of these authors.

Special arrangements have also been made with the following publishers for permission to use selections from their publications: Little, Brown & Co. for a stanza from Emily Dickinson's poems; The Macmillan Company for "Clovers," copyright, 1902; Charles Scribner's Sons for "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod," by Eugene Field, and for a stanza from "Rhymes and Jingles," by Mary Mapes Dodge.

Acknowledgments are also due to Silver, Burdett & Company for "Flowers that tell Time" and "Maple Leaves," from The Plant Baby and its Friends , by Kate Louise Brown, copyright, 1897, and also for a selection from Stories of Starland ; to the Century Company for "How Birds learn to Sing," by Mary Mapes Dodge, from When Life is Young ; to F. A. Stokes Company for a selection from The Snow Baby , by Josephine D. Peary, copyright, 1901; to the Biglow & Main Company for "The Easter Song," from Little Pilgrim Songs ; to A. Flanagan Company for "The First Thanksgiving," from The Plan Book ; to James Baldwin for "Abraham Lincoln," from Four Great Americans ; to Alice C. D. Riley and to Lydia A. C. Ward for selections from their writings.

Acknowledgments are due to Miss Frances Lilian Taylor of Galesburg, Illinois, and to Mr. W. J. Button of Chicago for valuable assistance rendered in choosing the selections comprised in this volume.

THE MAGIC WINDOWS

Did you ever hear of the Magic Windows? Those who look through them behold many strange and beautiful sights. If you will but make them your own, you may enter the fairyland of wonder and see all its rich treasures.

There was once a happy boy who played through the long summer days. And where he played the meadows were green, and the sky was blue, and the sunshine was bright.

On every side the flowers nodded like smiling playmates. Birds chirped to him from the bushes. The rabbits gave him a friendly look as they went leaping by. The squirrels watched him with bright eyes as they ran up and down the trees.

A little brook flowed through the meadows. On its sandy bed the happy boy found bright pebbles. His toy ships sailed proudly upon its waves or rested in the quiet harbors along its banks. Tiny fishes darted from their hiding places to eat the crumbs which he threw into the water.

"I wonder where the brook goes," said the happy boy. "I should like to follow it and see. How I wish the school bell would never call me from my play! I would rather sail my boat than learn to read, and I like the rabbits and squirrels better than my books."

II.

The little brook heard the boy's words as it went flowing by. On its way to the great river it ran through a forest where fairyland was hidden. There it told the fairies of the happy boy and of his wishes.

By and by the sun went down and playtime [Pg 13] ended. Night came, and the Shut-eye train carried the boy far away to the Land of Slumber.

There a wise fairy met the happy boy. "Come with me," she said, "and I will let you look through Magic Windows into a land of wonders."

Through the Magic Windows the boy looked with delight. All the things that he had ever wished to see were before him. There were the hiding places of the wild birds. There were the animals that live in the fields and in the woods.

He could look into the birds' nests that hung on the tallest trees. He could peep into the holes where the squirrels kept their little ones.

He could see the mole digging long halls under ground. He could watch the spider as it spun the silk for its curious house.

Rabbits were hiding their young in the long grass, and little foxes were playing by their rocky dens.

He could even see the bear's cubs curled up like balls in the hollow trunks of trees.

III.

And then the happy boy looked away over the great round world. He saw strange lands and strange people. Far off in the north he could see the land of snow and ice. There were the homes of the seal, the reindeer, and the white bear.

Children dressed in fur crept out of snow houses. They went dashing over the snow in sleds drawn by dogs.

Again the happy boy looked, and the wonder lands of the south lay before him. Gay flowers blossomed everywhere. Bright-colored birds found a safe home in the great forest.

He could see the lion and his mate in their home. Hundreds of monkeys played in the branches of the trees. Tigers ran through the tall grass, and huge elephants pushed their way among the trees and bushes.

Once more the happy boy looked through the Magic Windows, and oh, how wonderful! [Pg 16] He could see into fairy land where animals talk, and where the playthings are alive.

"Oh, kind fairy, let me stay here," said the happy boy. "I can not leave this land of wonders."

"Would you like to have the Magic Windows for your own?" asked the fairy. "Then listen well. When the school bell rings, it will call you to the land of books. Through the Magic Windows of your books you may see greater wonders than fairies can tell or fairy land can show."

Another day came with the rising sun. Once more the school bell rang. Gladly the happy boy left his play, for in his books he would find the Magic Windows.

THE LAND OF STORY BOOKS

At evening, when the lamp is lit,
Around the fire my parents sit;
They sit at home and talk and sing,
[Pg 17] And do not play at anything.

Now, with my little gun, I crawl,
All in the dark along the wall,
And follow round the forest track
Away behind the sofa back.

There in the night, where none can spy,
All in my hunter's camp I lie,
And play at books that I have read.
Till it is time to go to bed.

These are the hills, these are the woods,
These are my starry solitudes;
And there the river by whose brink
The roaring lions come to drink.

I see the others far away,
As if in firelit camp they lay,
And I, like to an Indian scout,
Around their party prowled about.

So, when my nurse comes in for me,
Home I return across the sea,
And go to bed with backward looks
At my dear Land of Story Books.
— Robert Louis Stevenson.
[Pg 18]

A WONDERFUL BALL

I have heard of a wonderful ball which floats in the sweet blue air, and has soft white clouds about it as it floats along.

There are many charming stories to be told about this wonderful ball. Some of them you shall hear.

It is so large that many houses are built upon it. Men and women live upon it, and little children can play upon its surface.

In some places it is soft and green, like the long meadows between the hills. In other parts there are trees for miles and miles on every side. All kinds of wild animals live in the great forests that grow on this wonderful ball.

Then again in some places it is steep and rough. And there are mountains so high that the snow lies upon their tops all the year around.

In other parts there are no hills at all, but level land, and quiet little ponds of blue water. There the white water lilies grow and fishes play among the lily stems.

Now, if we look on another side of the ball, we shall see no ponds, but something very dreary. A great plain of sand stretches away on every side. There are no trees, and the sunshine beats down upon the burning sand.

We look again, and we see a great body of water. Many islands are in the sea, and great ships sail upon it.

Look at one more side of this ball as it turns around. Jack Frost must have spent all his longest winter nights here. For see what a palace of ice he has built for himself.

How cold it looks! See the clear, blue ice, almost as blue as the sky. And look at the snow, drifts upon drifts, and the feathery flakes filling the air.

Now, what do you think of this ball, so white and cold, so warm and green, so dreary and rough, as it floats along in the sweet blue air, with the flocks of white clouds about it?

I will tell you one thing more. The wise men have said that this earth on which we live is just such a ball. We shall know more about this when we are older and wiser.

THE GREAT, WIDE WORLD

FLOWERS THAT TELL TIME

Down in the grass plot of a pretty garden grew a little dandelion. He wore a green jacket, and his head was covered with sunny, yellow curls.

In the morning, he stood up boldly, lifting his jolly little face to catch the dewdrops. In this way he took his morning bath, and he found it very refreshing. At dusk he put on his green nightgown and went to bed very early.

The mothers said, as they called the children from their play, "See, there is the good dandelion! He knows when it is time to go to bed."

As the dandelion grew older, his yellow curls turned white. Then the children would blow—one, two, three times. If all the hairs [Pg 23] blew away, it was a sign that mother wanted them at once.

If there were ten hairs left, the children said, "Mother wants us at ten o'clock." If but two hairs remained, they said, "Mother will look for us at two o'clock."

When the children awoke in the morning, they saw the morning-glory cups peeping in at the windows. "Six o'clock! Time to get up!" they said. "The morning glories are calling us."

Every afternoon the four-o'clocks bloomed. Their red and white flowers told the children that their father would soon be home.

In the evening the moon flowers unfolded their great white blossoms on the vines that clambered over the porch. "Now it is bedtime," [Pg 24] said the children, "for the moon flowers are looking down at us."

All day long the time flowers, like our clocks, are telling us the time of day.

— Kate Louise Brown.

DANDELION

THE FARMER'S WHEAT FIELD

here was once a stalk of wheat that grew in the middle of a field. It was very tall and it lifted its head high and nodded in the wind.

All around it were a thousand other stalks not quite so tall. Every one was looking up at the sun and bowing to its neighbor, and saying, "Good morning."

"How bright and golden we are!" said the tall stalk; "and how beautiful we look, standing together like a great army of soldiers! The sun shines to cheer us. And when the gentle rains fall, how sweet and refreshing they are!"

"Yes, yes!" said the other stalks, waving back and forth in the morning breeze. "All the world is very kind to us. We have nothing to do but to live and grow and become bright and golden like the sun."

"Ah," said the tall stalk. "It is true that we must live and grow and become yellow and golden. But after that, there must be something else for us to do."

The very next day the farmer came into the fields to look at his wheat. He took some of the bearded heads and rubbed them between his hands. They were full of plump, round, golden grains.

"What fine flour these will make, and what good bread for little Alice," he said. "The wheat is fully ripe and it must be cut at once."

Then all the golden-headed stalks waved back and forth in the wind. "Now we understand it all," they whispered. "It is for the sake of the farmer's fair little girl that we are here.

"She must live and grow and be healthy [Pg 27] and beautiful. There is nothing that can help her to do this so well as good bread made from the best of wheat."

Very soon the golden stalks were cut. The wheat was threshed and ground into the finest of flour. And then the flour was baked into fresh, white loaves of bread.

But little Alice did not know that her bread was made of the wheat that she had seen growing in the big field where the daisies bloomed.

THE SONG OF THE WHEAT

THE SONG OF THE MILL WHEEL

THE APPLE-TREE MOTHER

The old apple tree had stood in the corner of the pasture for so many years that no one could tell when it was planted.

It was a friendly old tree. Under its branches men and animals found pleasant shade. In the spring it gave blossoms to all that came, and in the fall it dropped apples at their feet.

The apple tree was easy to climb, as Dick well knew. From its top he could see the sloping hillside and the little brook that flowed through the pasture. Indeed, he spent so much time playing in the old tree that his father often said, "Well, Dick, has the Apple-Tree Mother kept you out of mischief to-day?"

And so Dick came to wonder a great deal about the Apple-Tree Mother.

The time of green apples had come, and all day long a hard wind had been blowing. When supper time came Dick was ill. Perhaps the apple tree could have told the reason.

Dick was lying on the couch, and his mother was busy making a cup of tea for him.

After he had taken the hot and bitter [Pg 32] drink he lay watching the steam that rose from the teakettle. Just as he was closing his eyes in sleep the steam began to turn from white to green. Then an apple tree grew up out of the teakettle and stretched its branches to the ceiling.

"That looks like the apple tree in the corner of our pasture," thought Dick.

And then he saw a woman sitting in the midst of the branches. She wore a dress that was green and brown, like the apple-tree leaves in the fall.

[Pg 33]

"I suppose that is the Apple-Tree Mother," said Dick to himself. "If she is as old as our tree, she must be very old indeed."

Then the Apple-Tree Mother laughed and all the leaves of the tree danced. "My little boy," she said, "I am so old that I have grown young again, and I bring with me pictures and stories of the world that has lived about my tree."

"That is just why I came to visit you," she said. "Will you have pictures of animals or of flowers?"

II.

Then the room changed to the corner of the pasture. There was the fence and the brook and the old apple tree. Just above the fence, [Pg 34] half hidden in the branches, was a nest that held five tiny eggs.

The sound of bird voices was heard, and there in the tree Dick saw two orioles. They were singing a song together, and somehow Dick could understand it all. They sang of their little home and of the eggs that lay within it. And they sang of the happy time when five little birds would come to be loved and cared for.

Then the two orioles rose slowly into the air and flew across the field. The nest was left alone.

The boy in the picture looked up and saw [Pg 35] the brown nest among the leaves. "There is an oriole's nest," thought he. And in a moment he had climbed the tree, and the five tiny eggs were in his hand.

"I'll take them home," he said, as he put the eggs into his pocket. But he handled them so roughly that three were broken.

With an angry word he threw all the eggs on the ground, and then went on whistling and kicking up the dust.

A joyous bird song was heard in the air, and the two orioles darted into the apple tree. The mother bird flew to her nest. Then she gave a cry so sharp and sad that it hurt one's heart to hear it.

The father bird joined the poor mother in her outcries of fright and sorrow. There on the dusty ground lay all that was left of the beautiful eggs.

Far across the field flew the oriole mother, almost wild with sorrow. The father, with his feathers drooping, sat on a fence post, and his happy songs were changed to notes of sadness.

III.

The Apple-Tree Mother looked very grave, but she only said, "Shall we have another picture?"

Dick was afraid to say "No." He lay quite still, looking at the apple tree. The rain was beginning to beat against the leaves. Then he saw a weary little dog come limping to the tree, whining, and licking one of his paws.

He was not a handsome dog. His legs were crooked and one ear was torn. The branches of the tree bent above him. And when the poor dog looked up at their shelter, one could see how big and soft and sad were his eyes.

With a splashing noise two boys came wading across the brook. Each boy had a fishing pole over his shoulder, and in his [Pg 37] hand was a small tin pail in which he had carried bait.

As they came toward the tree one of them pointed to the poor little dog. It was the same boy that had stolen the oriole's eggs.

"Now for some fun!" he said. Then both the boys sat down on the ground, and to work they went with a fishing line and one of the empty pails.

They did not see how the apple tree shook its head at them. They did not hear how [Pg 38] each raindrop called, "No! no! no!" as it fell pattering on the leaves.

The poor little dog lay resting under the tree, safe from the storm. All at once he was caught and held by rough hands. He howled with fright and pain, but he could not get away. A strong cord was bound around his thin little body, and his wounded foot was sadly hurt.

At last the boys let him go, and with a wild bound he jumped through the fence and ran along the road.

But oh, what terrible thing is rattling and banging around him? At every leap he is cruelly struck on his crooked little legs.

Dick had turned his head the other way. His cheeks burned and his heart was sad. Then he opened his eyes and saw his mother standing beside him with a second cup of bitter tea in her hand.

"Such a nice sleep as you have had," she said. "I really think you are better. Now sit up and drink this like a man."

Never a word said Dick. He sat up and [Pg 39] drank the bitter tea, while he thought of many things. Had he seen himself in the pictures which the Apple-Tree Mother had brought to his bedside?

THE DIAMOND DIPPER

Once upon a time it was very hot and very, very dry. No rain had fallen for days and days. The thirsty birds had stopped singing. The plants withered and the animals were dying for want of water. All the people were praying for rain.

One morning a little girl started out to find some water for her sick mother. In her hand she carried a tin dipper.

She climbed a high hill hoping to find a spring. Up and up she climbed. On her way she saw the dusty plants, the quiet birds, and the suffering animals.

The sharp stones cut her feet. High rocks towered above her head. Their strange shapes filled her with fear. But she thought of her sick mother and she would not turn back. At last she came to a great wall of rocks, and could go no farther.

And then a beautiful fairy stood before her in a robe like the clouds at sunset. She pointed to a narrow path among the rocks. The child followed the path and soon came to a spring hidden under green fern leaves.

She filled her dipper to the brim. How carefully she held it! How softly she stepped, so as not to spill one drop!

In her path down the hill there lay a rabbit almost dead from thirst. The little girl needed all the water, but she poured a few drops upon the rabbit's tongue. Then something wonderful happened! The rusty tin dipper was changed to shining silver.

II.

The little girl hurried home. With a happy heart she gave the water to her sick mother. The gentle mother raised the dipper to her lips, but she did not drink. "My faithful nurse, let her drink first," she said.

As she gave the silver dipper to the nurse, behold! it was changed to yellow gold.

Again the mother raised the water to her lips. Just then a shadow fell across the floor. In the open doorway stood an old [Pg 42] woman. She was ragged and pale and weak. She could only stretch out her thin hand toward the water.

The mother and the little girl looked at each other. Could they give up the last drop of the precious water? The mother nodded her head, and the little girl put the golden dipper into the hands of the stranger.

The poor old woman took the water and drank it all. As she drank, her rags were changed into beautiful garments, and the dipper sparkled with diamonds.

"Oh, mother, look! There is the fairy I saw in the mountains," cried the little girl. "And see! The dipper shines like diamonds!"

They looked again, but the fairy was gone. It was not long before clouds spread over the sky, and a gentle rain began to fall. Soon there was water for all the plants, the birds, the animals, and the people.

But the dipper could not anywhere be found. Night came, and the little girl looked up at the stars. There, in the sky, she saw the dipper shining like diamonds.

And now, when the evening stars twinkle overhead, the mothers point out the great dipper in the northern sky and tell this story to their children.

BEAUTIFUL THINGS

MY COUNTRY

MY OWN LAND FOREVER

HOME, SWEET HOME

SEPTEMBER

OCTOBER

NOVEMBER

AN AUTUMN RIDDLE

LEAVES AT PLAY

WHERE GO THE BOATS

THE CORN SONG

SHAPES OF LEAVES

Did you ever take a feather in your hand and look at it? Did you notice how the quill keeps the feather in shape and makes it strong?

Now find the leaf of an apple tree. Hold it before your eyes and let the light shine through it.

Do you see the large rib running along the middle of the leaf? Do you see the fine ribs on each side of the large rib? Does not the large rib make you think of the quill of a feather?

The ribs of a leaf have fine passages or pipes in them through which the sap flows. These passages are called veins, and the large rib is called a midvein. When a leaf has one strong midvein like the quill of a feather, it is said to be feather-veined.

There is a peach tree. Pick a leaf and look at it. Yes, the peach leaf is feather-veined. Now go to the pear tree. "These leaves look like the apple leaves," you say.

Here is a dandelion plant growing in the grass. Take a leaf in your hand and look at its ragged edges. There is one straight rib or vein along the middle of the leaf. And so you see that the dandelion leaf is also feather-veined.

You can find feather-veined leaves on the plants in the garden and on the flower stems that grow in our window boxes. And you can also find feather-veined leaves on the weeds that grow by the side of the road.

Look again at the apple leaf. Do you see the fine network of veins? Now take up a leaf of grass and hold it in the light. Can you see a network of veins in it? No, the grass leaf has straight veins.

All the grass blades are long and narrow. Have you ever seen any other leaves that were long and narrow like the grass?

But what is this leaf under the maple tree? "It is a maple leaf," you say. This leaf is not shaped like a feather.

Hold out your hand and stretch out your fingers. Does not the maple leaf look as if it had fingers, too? We may call the maple leaf a hand-shaped leaf. Perhaps we can find more hand-shaped leaves. Let us go to the currant bushes. Yes, these also have hand-shaped leaves.

One of the strangest leaves in the world is shaped like a pitcher. It has a lid that [Pg 55] opens and shuts. Some leaves of this kind hold more than a cup of water.

There are leaves shaped like hearts and leaves shaped like arrowheads. And there are many other wonderful leaves which we may see if we keep our eyes open.

DOGS THAT ALMOST TALK

It seems as if our friend the dog can talk without using words. He not only makes other dogs understand him, but he also makes his wants known to his master.

A little dog named Rudy was once taken to the city. One day he lost his way in the streets and did not come home at night.

The next morning, as Rudy's master was looking out of the window, he saw his little dog coming along the street with two other dogs.

The strangers left Rudy at his own door, and then went away. As they left they seemed to say, "Good-by." But how did Rudy ask the other dogs to show him the way home? This we should like to know.

Another dog called Prince often asked in his own way to be let out of doors. But when he returned he could not always get into the house again.

The bell was too high for Prince to reach it or he might have learned to ring it. As he could not do this he found another way to get in. A little girl who lived near by often played with him. He ran to her and begged until she saw what he wanted. This he did day after day.

After the little girl had rung the bell for him, Prince never forgot to thank her. He jumped around her and wagged his tail to show his pleasure.

One day Prince could not find his little friend. So he begged a man who was passing by to ring the bell. It was some time before the man could understand what the dog wanted. But at last the bell tinkled, the door was opened, and Prince ran into the house.

A faithful dog never forgets those he loves. Sometimes he proves to be a good friend in time of great need.

One night a fire broke out in a shed close by a little cottage. The watchdog saw the flames. He ran to the cottage and began to scratch the door with his paws. He scratched and howled until he woke the family.

After the fire had been put out the children put their arms around the faithful dog. They patted him and thanked him for saving their lives. They treated him as if he were a human being instead of only a dog.

There are many true stories about dogs that have saved the lives of children. A great artist has painted a beautiful picture of one of these noble animals.

A dog has jumped into the sea and saved a child from drowning. He has caught the child's clothes in his strong jaws, and has brought her to the shore.

See, he is almost too tired to climb up beside her! There she lies on his big paws. He seems to be waiting for help. Does he not look as if he could speak?

The artist who painted this picture was a great friend of dogs. His name was Edwin Landseer. He has made hundreds of paintings of his humble friends. Many of the dogs in his pictures look as if they could talk.

A LITTLE GIRL'S FANCIES

A BOY'S WISHES

ROLLO AND GEORGE

One day Rollo and his playmate, George Cropwell, were running along the road, pushing their little wheelbarrows.

Just as they came near George's home they saw before them a little boy much smaller than Rollo. He was ragged and barefooted.

As he said this, George rolled his wheelbarrow directly toward Tom as if he were going to run over him. Tom was very much frightened and began to scream.

Just at that moment Farmer Cropwell [Pg 63] happened to be coming up the lane on the opposite side of the road. He called out,—

"Besides," said his father, "when you treat boys in that harsh, rough way you make them your enemies. And it is a very bad plan to make enemies."

"Enemies, father!" said George, laughing; "Tom could not do me any harm if he were my enemy."

"That makes me think of the story of the bear and the tomtit," said the farmer. "If you and Rollo will jump into the cart I will tell it to you."

THE FARMER'S STORY

One pleasant summer morning a wolf met a bear in a lonely wood. In a tree near by, a bird was singing.

"Brother," said the bear, "that is very good singing, indeed. What kind of bird do you think it is?"

Soon the mother bird came flying with some food in her mouth for her children. She went to the tree where her mate was singing.

They walked away for some distance, but soon returned, for the bear was impatient to see the nest. He scrambled up the tree, intending to frighten the young birds.

"Take care," said the wolf. "The tomtits are very little, but little enemies are sometimes very troublesome."

"Who is afraid of a tomtit?" said the bear, as he poked his black nose into the nest.

"What do you mean by making such a noise and talking so to me?" said the bear. "I will teach you better manners."

So he put his great paw on the nest and pressed it down until the poor little birds could hardly breathe. Then he left them and went away.

The young tomtits were terribly frightened, and some of them were hurt. When the old birds came home they were very angry.

They could see the bear walking about among the trees, but they did not know how to punish him.

II.

Not far away there was a glen, surrounded by high rocks, where the bear used to go to sleep because it was a lonely place.

One day, as he was prowling in the woods, he saw two hunters coming with their guns. In fright, he fled to his glen, where he thought he should be safe.

"Do you see those hunters with their guns?" said the mother tomtit. "If only they can find the bear, then our little ones will be safe. Let us help them."

So the tomtits began to flutter around the hunters and fly a little way toward the glen and then back again. The men followed the birds to see what could be the matter.

By and by the bear saw the hunters coming, led on by his little enemies, the tomtits. He ran from one side of the glen to the other. He hid himself in a cave among the rocks. But he could not escape the hunters.

The wolf happened to be near by upon the rocks that overlooked the glen. Hearing the noise, he came and peeped over.

As soon as he saw what had happened to the bear, he thought it would be prudent for him to walk away. This he did, saying to himself as he went:—

"Well, the bear has found out that a friend is better than an enemy, whether he is great or small."

"Oh," said the farmer, "they took off his skin to make caps of, and nailed his claws up on the barn."

THE DOG AND HIS IMAGE

A dog, with a piece of meat in his mouth, was hurrying home to eat his supper in quiet. On his way he had to pass over a narrow plank which lay across a small stream.

As he looked down into the water he saw his own image in the smooth surface of the brook. This, he thought, was another dog with a larger piece of meat in his mouth.

He put his head down near the water. Behold, the meat, which the other dog carried, was plainly within his reach.

"Now, I shall have a fine dinner," he thought. And with a quick snap of his jaws, he tried to snatch the meat from the dog in the water.

But as he opened his mouth, his own piece of meat fell to the bottom of the brook. And thus, by greed, he lost all that he had.

BELLING THE CAT

Once upon a time some mice met together to find a way to save themselves from their enemy, the cat.

"I have a plan," said a young mouse, "which will save the life of every one of us. You all know that our chief danger lies in the cat's sly and quiet manner of walking. If we could hear her coming, we could easily run away.

"Let us hang a bell to the cat's neck, and when we hear it ring we shall all know that she is near."

THE DOG IN THE MANGER

A dog once chose to make his bed in a manger full of hay. Now this manger was the feeding place of a pair of oxen who worked hard in the fields all day.

When the tired beasts came for their evening meal, the dog growled and showed his teeth. He could not eat the hay himself, and he would not let the oxen have so much as a mouthful of it.

A WISE INDIAN

An Indian boy sees many things which a white boy passes by without seeing. Can you tell why?

The Indian boy is taught to look at things [Pg 71] closely, and to think about everything he sees. He learns to observe. Here is a good story of an Indian who was trained to use his eyes when he was young.

An old Indian once lived in a village among white people. His little hut was near the woods. A white man lived alone in a cabin near by.

One night the white man came home late from his work in the fields. He had left a bag of corn hanging in his cabin. Some one had taken it.

He was very angry. "That lazy Indian who lives in the hut has stolen my corn," he told his neighbors.

"I can not tell you his name," the Indian answered. "I have never seen him, but I can tell you something about him.

One of the neighbors had seen a little old man. He was going to the woods with a bag on his back.

They went out to hunt for him. Soon he was found, and the bag of corn was returned to its owner.

"I will tell you," said the Indian. "I knew that the thief was an old man from the heavy mark of his feet in the earth. A young man's step is much lighter.

"I knew he was a white man because he turned his toes out when he walked. An Indian does not walk in that way.

"Did you not see that he stood on a stool to reach the bag of corn? This shows that he was a short man."

"Now see," said the neighbors. "If you had kept your eyes open as the Indian keeps his open, you would not have said that he stole your corn."

CLOVERNOOK

One summer morning, a merry group of children was helping to make hay in one of the Clovernook hay fields.

Not far away stood a little brown house in the cool shade of cherry trees and apple trees. A sweetbrier clambered over the windows, and in the dooryard grew bushes of large red roses.

Near the house was a deep well of clear, cold water. An old-fashioned well sweep was used to draw up the water, as you see in the picture.

This was the Clovernook home. Here [Pg 74] lived the merry children who were helping in the hayfield, and there were nine of them. What if the house was small? There was the barn in which they could play, and there were the fields and woods in which they could wander.

They thought their gentle, blue-eyed mother the most beautiful woman in the world. Their father was one of the kindest of men. Every child loved him, and the horses and the cows followed him all over the farm.

He loved books, and went about his work repeating fine old hymns and lines from grand poems. In the long winter evenings he liked to gather his children around him before the open fire. Then he told them wonderful stories of the olden time.

The Clovernook children learned to know the flowers and the trees by name, and to tell the birds by their songs. In the spring they boiled sap for maple sugar. In the fall they gathered nuts, and helped store away the apples in the cellar.

There were two daughters of the Clovernook household who liked nothing so well as their books. They went to school when their mother could spare them from the work of the home. At night they often wished to study, but they had no lamp. So they put some lard into a saucer and used a piece of cloth for a wick.

Year after year these two girls spent all their spare moments in reading and study. What they did when they were older, and how they came to be called the Poet Sisters, you shall soon learn.

THE POET SISTERS

The Clovernook cottage was the home of the Cary family, and the Poet Sisters were Alice Cary and Phœbe Cary.

While the sisters were still little girls, they began to write verses. Phœbe was but fourteen years old when she sent her first poem to a newspaper. She told no one, not even her sister Alice, what she had done.

At last her father brought the paper from the postoffice. When Phœbe saw her poem in print she was so happy that she laughed [Pg 77] and cried. After that, she did not care if her clothes were plain, or if she could not go to school as much as she wished.

The Clovernook home was near Cincinnati, Ohio. When Alice and Phœbe grew older they left the home of their childhood and went to live in New York city.

They were now able to earn money by writing stories and poems for books and papers. At last they could make their home beautiful with the books and pictures which they had so long wished for.

Alice and Phœbe loved children, and they wrote many beautiful verses for their little friends. In their charming stories they tell us about their life in Clovernook, and of their plays in hayfield and barn.

OUR HOMESTEAD

Our old brown homestead reared its walls
From the wayside dust aloof,
Where the apple boughs could almost cast
Their fruit upon its roof;

And the cherry tree so near it grew
That when awake I've lain,
In the lonesome nights, I've heard the limbs
As they creaked against the pane.

The sweetbrier, under the window sill,
Which the early birds made glad,
And the damask rose, by the garden fence,
Were all the flowers we had.

We had a well, a deep old well,
Where the spring was never dry,
And the cool drops down from the mossy stones
Were falling constantly.

And there never was water half so sweet
As the draught which filled my cup,
Drawn up to the curb by the rude old sweep
That my father's hand set up.
— Phœbe Cary.

SUPPOSE

Suppose, my little lady,
Your doll should break her head,
Could you make it whole by crying
Till your eyes and nose are red?
And wouldn't it be pleasanter
To treat it as a joke,
And say you're glad 'twas dolly's
And not your head that broke?

Suppose you're dressed for walking,
And the rain comes pouring down,
Will it clear off any sooner
Because you scold and frown?
And wouldn't it be better
For you to smile than pout,
And so make sunshine in the house,
When there is none without?

Suppose your task, my little man,
Is very hard to get,
Will it make it any easier
[Pg 80] For you to sit and fret?
And wouldn't it be wiser
Than waiting like a dunce,
To go to work in earnest
And learn the thing at once?

Suppose the world doesn't please you,
Nor the way some people do,
Do you think the whole creation
Will be altered just for you?
And isn't it, my boy or girl,
The wisest, bravest plan
Whatever comes or doesn't come,
To do the best you can?
— Phœbe Cary.

THE RIGHT WAY

NOVEMBER

COLUMBUS IN THE NEW WORLD

When Columbus reached the New World, he landed on a beautiful green island. He tells us that the island was covered with trees like an orchard. The trees and the flowers and the fruits were different from any that he had ever seen before.

All day he remained on shore with his men. They were delighted with the warm air, the clear streams, the bright flowers, and the fresh fruit.

The natives were friendly and gentle. They wore no clothes, but their bodies were painted with many colors. They came near the strangers and seemed to wonder at their white faces.

Some of the natives wore rings of gold in their noses and ears. Columbus tried to learn from them where they had found the gold. They pointed to the south and said "Cuba." By signs they led him to believe that Cuba was a land where there was much gold.

Columbus was in haste to reach the mines of gold and the rich cities about which he had read. The next day he sailed with all his ships and sailors toward the south.

They passed by many green islands as beautiful as the one on which they had landed. Columbus sat on deck, watching the shore. He hoped and he believed that he should [Pg 84] soon see the towers of a city rise toward the sky.

The news of the visit of the white men spread from island to island. The natives ran to the shore to see the wonderful ships with sails like white wings. They paddled out to the ships in their canoes, and they brought fruit and balls of cotton yarn.

Columbus and his men were looking everywhere for gold. Whenever they saw a village of huts they visited the chief and asked him where gold could be found. They traded bells and beads for the gold ornaments which the natives wore.

Soon Columbus reached the shores of Cuba. Everywhere he saw beautiful flowers and fruits. He found gentle natives living in poor huts. But he saw no cities and he found no mines of gold.

Columbus supposed that he had reached some small islands on the coast of India. For this reason he called the dark-skinned people living there Indians. He did not know that he had found the New World.

COLUMBUS RETURNS TO SPAIN

At last Columbus gave up the search for gold, and decided to return to Spain. He wished to tell King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of the islands he had visited.

He was sure that he had discovered a new way to India, and he wished to ask the king for more ships and more men. He believed that great riches could be found on these islands which he had visited.

Early in January he gave a farewell feast to the natives. Then he sailed for Spain, taking with him six Indians.

His flagship, the Santa Maria , had been wrecked. One of his captains had sailed away in the Pinta and had not returned. And so Columbus was obliged to cross the ocean in the Nina , which was the smallest of his three ships.

The voyage was long and the storms were many. The little ship was tossed about by the waves and was often in great danger. But at last the shores of Spain were seen by the sailors, and great was their joy.

At noon, on the fifteenth of March, 1493, they sailed into the harbor which they had left more than seven months before. All the people in the town crowded to the shore. For a long time they had thought that Columbus was lost at sea, and that they would never see him and his sailors again.

The first act of Columbus was to lead his men to the church, where they gave thanks to God for their safe return.

Very soon the good news spread over all Spain. Bells were rung, and great fires were lighted on the hilltops.

King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella were several hundred miles from the seaport town where Columbus landed with his sailors. As soon as the king and queen heard of his safe return, they sent Columbus a letter asking him to come without delay to their court.

COLUMBUS AT THE COURT OF SPAIN

The time of year was delightful for the long journey through Spain. Every mile of the way Columbus and his men received a welcome. As they passed along the plains and over the mountains, men, women, and children came to see the brave sailors who had dared to cross the ocean.

When they reached the end of their journey, they were met by officers of the king. Then all marched into the city through crowded streets where banners were flying.

First came Columbus riding a fine horse. Next walked six Indians, painted and wearing feathers in their hair.

The sailors followed, carrying strange birds and animals from across the sea. Some had live parrots which they had caught and tamed.

One man carried a turtle shell almost as large as himself. Others showed with great pride the curious rings and crowns of gold which they had brought from the islands.

The king and queen sat on their throne awaiting Columbus. When he came near, they rose to greet him, and they asked him to take a seat by their side.

In the great room were the lords and ladies of the court and the chief men of the kingdom. Every one looked with wonder at the painted Indians and at the strange gifts which were carried by the sailors.

Columbus then gave an account of his wonderful voyage. When his story was done, the king and queen knelt in thanks to God. Then the great crowd of people joined them in thanksgiving and in a grand song of praise.

So great was the honor paid to Columbus that he rode with the king and his son through the streets of the city. The people thronged to see him, and they called him the third king.

THE FIRST THANKSGIVING

Almost a year had passed since the first company of Pilgrims had come to America. About fifty of those who had crossed the ocean in the Mayflower were now living in their new home.

They had laid out a village street and had built a few houses in the place which they called Plymouth. Their houses were made of logs. The roofs were very steep and were covered with grass and rushes.

It had been a busy summer for the Pilgrims. They had worked hard in the gardens and the fields. But the harvests were good and there would be food enough for the coming winter. How thankful they were!

"Let us set aside a day in which to give thanks for this great harvest," they said. [Pg 91] "It is God who has sent the sunshine and the rain to make the seeds grow. We will have a day of thanksgiving, and ask the friendly Indians to come and rejoice with us."

So the Indian chief and his band were invited to the feast. Such a busy time as that was for the Pilgrims! The men went to the forest to hunt deer, wild turkeys, and other game. All the women were at work, and the smoke of the ovens rose from the chimneys.

Even the children helped. Some of them gathered the cranberries that were turning red in the lowlands. Some picked the wild grapes that were growing purple on the vines. Others brought home the nuts which were falling from the trees. The older boys were sent to the beach for clams.

The Indians were invited to come on Thursday. At sunrise on that day the Pilgrims were awakened by whoops and yells which told them that their guests had already arrived.

II.

It was in the month of November, but the weather was mild and lovely, and a soft blue haze seemed to veil the woods.

Late wild flowers were blooming. Bright leaves were falling from the trees. It was the time of year that we call Indian summer.

A great fire was built out of doors for the cooking, and long tables were spread in the open air. When the loud roll of the drum was heard, all the people went to the log fort on the hill which was used as a meeting house. There they gave thanks to God for the rich harvest of the year.

Everybody, young and old, was there. The little children must have grown very tired of the long sermon. They must have wanted to go home to the good dinner which they knew was waiting for them.

At last the Thanksgiving feast was ready. [Pg 93] In the middle of the long table stood a huge bowl of stew made of different kinds of game.

There were great roasts of deer and roasted turkeys stuffed with nuts. There were the cakes and puddings made by the Pilgrim mothers. And it is said that the Indians brought a large basket of popcorn which they poured on the table just as the meal began.

THANKSGIVING DAY

Over the river and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way
To carry the sleigh
Through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river and through the wood,
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes
And bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.

Over the river and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play;
Here the bells ring,
"Ting-a-ling-ding!"
Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river and through the wood,
Trot fast, my dapple-gray!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting hound!
[Pg 95] For this is Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river and through the wood,
And straight through the barnyard gate.
We seem to go
Extremely slow,
It is so hard to wait!

THE SNOW BABY

Hundreds and hundreds of miles away in the white frozen north, there is a wonderful land of snow and ice. There strange little yellow people, called Eskimos, live in snow houses, and dress in the skins of animals.

In summer, in this wonderful land, the sun never sets, but shines all the time, day and night. Flowers spring up, and soft-eyed reindeer wander about cropping the short grass.

[Pg 97]

The ice breaks up and drifts out to sea. Great rivers of ice push forward into the water. Enormous icebergs break off from them and float away like white ships.

The blue waves dance and sparkle in the sun. Singing brooks rush down the mountains. Thousands of noisy sea birds come to the rocky cliffs to lay their eggs.

Glossy seals swim in the water, and once in a while a shaggy white bear goes running over the floating ice in search of seals.

The Eskimos, paddling swiftly through the water in their strange skin boats, hunt these animals for food and clothing.

In winter there is no sunshine at all in Eskimo land. For four long, long months it is dark all the time, just as it is here in the night. The ground is covered deep with snow, and the poor deer must dig through it with their hoofs for grass and moss.

The sea is covered thick with ice, and the birds fly away. The cold is so terrible that the Eskimos would freeze to death were it not for their thick, warm fur coats.

II.

Here in this wonderful land there was found, one September day, a snow-white baby with big blue eyes.

And such a funny little house it was where she was found. It was only one story high. The walls were more than a foot thick, and the outside was covered with heavy black paper. All around the house was a veranda. Its walls were built of boxes of biscuit, sugar, coffee, and tea.

Inside the house, the little room where the baby lived was lined with soft warm [Pg 99] blankets. There was a bright carpet on the floor and pictures on the walls.

All these things, like the boxes of food outside, came in the ship which brought the baby's father and mother to this strange country.

One window of the baby's room looked out upon a great river of ice. From the other window you could see high red and brown mountains. And here was the sea in which strange-looking icebergs floated.

III.

When the people of that land heard that there was a white baby in the small black house, they came hundreds of miles to see the little stranger.

They talked to the baby in their own queer language. They called her the Snow Baby, and they brought her presents of fur mittens and little sealskin boots.

After the sun went away the baby lived [Pg 100] for days and weeks in a little room lined with blankets. A lamp was kept burning in the room all the time, both day and night.

One of the Eskimo women made a little suit of clothes for the baby, all out of furs. There were only two pieces in this suit. First there was a pair of little trousers and boots made together. Over this a hooded coat was worn.

When the sun returned, the Snow Baby was taken out of doors every day. No matter how cold it was she had a sleigh ride on her little Eskimo sledge. You should have seen her team of dogs with their bright eyes, their sharp-pointed ears, and their big bushy tails.

For nearly a year the Snow Baby lived in this strange, northern home. But one day in August a big black ship came up the bay. It was the same ship that had brought the Snow Baby's father and mother to the Snowland.

Then the baby and her mother went on board the ship and steamed away south to their own American home.

A SNOW HOUSE

In the summer time the Eskimo people live in tents made of skins. In the winter they build their houses out of hard blocks of ice and snow.

Perhaps you would like to visit an Eskimo family, and see how these yellow people live in a snow house. But how shall we get into the house? There seems to be no door in this strange-looking mound of snow.

We must bow our heads and crawl on our hands and knees through a dark passage. Soon we come to an open space where we stand upright in a dimly lighted room.

All around the room is a bank of snow next to the wall of the house. The top of this bank is broad and level like a table. It is covered with the thick skins of reindeer, bear, and foxes. Here the family eat and sleep, and here the children play.

Near the doorway stands the stove, on a raised platform. You would think it a very poor stove, for it is only a hollow stone filled with oil and moss. When the moss is lighted, it burns like the wick of a lamp.

This stove warms the room, melts the water for drinking, dries wet clothing, and thaws the frozen meat. It lights the room dimly and we see the Eskimo father, mother, and children in their snow house.

A bag is lying on the thick furs. Now it moves and the mother takes it in her arms. See, it is a baby boy in a bag of feathers.

When an Eskimo baby is in the house, [Pg 103] he lies in his feather bag. And when he is out of doors, he is always on his mother's back, inside of her fur hood.

As soon as an Eskimo boy is old enough to walk, he has a puppy for a playmate. He learns to harness his dog and drive it all around the room. Soon he will be able to drive a team of dogs, as his father does, and ride swiftly over the snow.

The large boys catch fish and hunt seal. They even help to kill great whales and fierce white bears.

But what does the little Eskimo girl do? The little sister learns to sew and to make clothes out of skins. She makes her own needle from a hard bone or a piece of iron, and she twists thread from strips of deerskin. [Pg 104] Everything the Eskimos use they make with their own hands.

Sometimes our ships force their way through the frozen ocean to their land of ice and snow. The Eskimo people think these great ships the most wonderful things they have ever seen.

THE NORTHERN SEAS

Up! up! let us a voyage take;
Why sit we here at ease?
Find us a vessel tight and snug,
Bound for the northern seas.

I long to see the Northern Lights,
With their rushing splendors, fly,
Like living things, with flaming wings,
Wide o'er the wondrous sky.

I long to see those icebergs vast,
With heads all crowned with snow,
Whose green roots sleep in the awful deep,
[Pg 105] Two hundred fathoms low.

I long to hear the thundering crash
Of their terrific fall;
And the echoes from a thousand cliffs,
Like lonely voices call.

There we shall see the fierce white bear,
The sleepy seals aground,
And the spouting whales that to and fro
Sail with a dreary sound.

We'll pass the shores of solemn pine,
Where wolves and black bears prowl,
And away to the rocky isles of mist
To rouse the northern fowl.

And there, in the wastes of the silent sky,
With the silent earth below,
We shall see far off to his lonely rock
The lonely eagle go.

Then softly, softly we will tread
By island streams, to see
Where the pelican of the silent North
Sits there all silently.
— William Howitt.

DECEMBER

JANUARY

FEBRUARY

CHRISTMAS EVERYWHERE

THE CHRISTMAS SONG

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will to man."

THE NEW YEAR

The New Year comes in the midnight hour
When the beautiful world is still,
And the moonlight falls in a silver stream
Over meadow and wood and hill.

We can not hear the tread of his feet,
For so silently comes he;
But the ringing bells the good news tell
As they sound over land and sea.

Where'er he steps new joys upspring,
And hopes, that were lost or dim,
Grow sweet and strong in the golden hours,
That he everywhere bears with him.

He brings us snow from the fleecy clouds;
He sends us the springtime showers;
He gladdens our world with the light of love
And fills its lap with flowers.

Some day, as softly as he came,
He will pass through the open door,
And we who sing at his coming now
Will never see him more.
— Marie Zetterberg.

HOW PLANTS GROW

Cut an apple into halves and take out one of the little brown seeds. How small it is! Now look at an apple tree. Did the apple tree come out of a little brown seed like the one you hold in your hand?

You say that it did. Look again. Which is larger, the seed or the apple tree? And now you laugh, as you say: "Of course an apple tree is larger than an apple seed." Then there must be something in the apple tree that was not in the seed.

The tree has a trunk or stem. It has leaves and it has roots. How were all these made?

Do you say that the apple tree grew? But what do you mean by growing? Something must have come into the apple seed to make [Pg 112] it grow into a plant. And something must have come into the little green apple plant to make it grow into a tree.

What was it? Where did the plant get it? Cut into a green stem of the apple tree. See how the juice runs out!

The apple tree was made from this juice which we call sap. This sap is the blood of the plant. It makes the plant grow just as your blood makes you grow.

The sap came to the little apple plant all the time it was growing. But where did the plant get the sap?

The food of a plant lies all about its roots. The rain, or water from your watering pot, falls around the plant. It sinks into the ground. Then the water dissolves the earth just as it dissolves sugar.

The seed swells, and the brown seed coat bursts. Then a little root runs down into the earth. This root has hundreds of openings or mouths. The little openings are so small that our eyes can not see them.

The roots suck in the water from the [Pg 113] ground. The earth that is dissolved in the water creeps up into the plant. This juice or sap makes the plant grow.

But the plant must have air as well as food. The sap can not turn into wood and bark and fruit until it has met the air. So the sap flows up into the leaves and meets the air.

Apple Blossoms.

Then it finds its way into every part of the plant. It changes into the rough bark and hard wood of the apple tree. It changes into pink apple blossoms and buds. It changes into red apples and yellow apples. The same sap makes sweet apples and sour apples. Every part of a plant is made from sap. Is not that very strange?

We have learned that the roots take the food of plants from the earth. They do more than this. The roots are the feet of the plant.

[Pg 114]

You could not stand without your feet. You would fall on the ground or the floor. And so the tree or the plant could not stand without its roots.

Other plants grow just as the apple tree grows. The roots of a plant get food from the earth and keep the plant in its place in the ground. The stem makes the plant strong and holds it up in the air. And the leaves draw in just what the plants need from the air around them.

TALKING IN THEIR SLEEP

"You think I am dead,"
The apple tree said,
"Because I have never a leaf to show—
Because I stoop
And my branches droop,
And the dull gray mosses over me grow.
But I'm still alive in trunk and shoot;
The buds of next May
I fold away—
But I pity the withered grass at my foot."

"You think I am dead,"
The quick grass said,
"Because I have parted with stem and blade.
But under the ground
I am safe and sound
With the snow's thick blanket over me laid.
I'm all alive and ready to shoot,
Should the spring of the year
Come dancing here—
[Pg 116] But I pity the flowers without branch or root."

"You think I am dead,"
A soft voice said,
"Because not a branch or root I own!
I never have died
But close I hide,
In a plumy seed that the wind has sown.
Patient I wait through the long winter hours;
You will see me again—
I shall laugh at you then,
Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers."
— Edith M. Thomas.

A RIDDLE

SNOWFLAKES

FANNIE'S MENAGERIE

"What a long, long day!" said Fannie. "Rain, rain all the time, and nothing pleasant to do. I wish mother would let me go out of doors and play in the water.

"The ducks seem to be having a fine time on the pond. They like the rain. If I only had a coat of feathers, I shouldn't mind a little wetting. I could dive and splash about all day long. But now I suppose I must go to sleep, for there seems to be nothing else for me to do."

So Fannie threw herself on her bed. She lay with her eyes half open, watching the [Pg 119] raindrops as they trickled down the window panes.

Flap, flap, flap! "What is that at the window?" Flap, flap, flap! In flew a dozen geese. "Quack, quack! quack! Who carried off our feathers?" they were screaming. They flew around the room, beating their wings against the walls and ceiling.

Flap, flap, flap! went the flock of geese over Fannie's head, and down they pounced upon the pillow. In a few minutes it was torn to pieces, and the feathers scattered all over the floor.

"Quack, quack, quack! Here are our feathers!" cried all the geese; and each one seized a bunch of feathers in its bill. Then they flew off, leaving the air full of soft, white down.

Patter, patter, patter! The door was gently pushed open, and there stood a sheep. "Please walk in, madam," said Fannie; and in came a whole flock of sheep.

"Baa, baa, baa! Where is the wool they cut from my back?" said a great, black sheep.

"I didn't carry off your wool," said Fannie. "Stop, stop! that's my shawl. You mustn't take that. What are you pulling the carpet to pieces for?"

Without minding a word Fannie said, the great, black sheep marched out of the room with the shawl on its shoulders. All the other sheep followed with pieces of carpet folded over them.

II.

The bees flew about, crying, "Buzz, buzz, [Pg 121] buzz! Hum, hum, hum!" They seemed to be very angry about something.

"Oh, dear," exclaimed Fannie; "they have all lighted on my doll and are nibbling away her pretty face. Oh, my beautiful wax doll! What shall I do? What shall I do?"

At that moment there was a great noise in the hall. "I wonder what will come next," said Fannie. In trotted a troop of horses, neighing loudly, "Who stole our flowing manes? Who carried off our long, waving tails?"

"Here they are," said a great, white horse, and he began pulling the mattress into pieces.

"I shall have no bed to sleep on," thought Fannie, as the horses went galloping out of the room, with their mouths full of horsehair.

"Fannie! Fannie! Why don't you come down to tea?" shouted Frank, bursting into the room.

"Why, some geese flew in through the window, and took the feathers from my pillows. A whole troop of horses came into my room and tore the mattress to pieces. A flock of sheep carried off the carpet, and a swarm of bees has eaten up my doll's head."

"Your doll is lying in her cradle, with cheeks as red as cranberries," said Frank. "The carpet looks as pretty as ever; and your bed has not been disturbed. Sister dear, I think you have been dreaming a great deal of nonsense for one afternoon."

HOW LAMBKIN WHITE WAS SAVED

The morning sun was just rising over the hills when Lambkin White opened his eyes [Pg 123] and scrambled to his feet. All around him lay the sleeping flock.

One after another the sheep and lambs awoke, and soon they were feeding on the grassy hillside.

After the morning meal the lambs began to frolic. They raced across the pasture. They bounded over the stones that lay in their way. They seemed to plan their plays as children do, and everywhere Lambkin White was the leader.

Suddenly, he left his companions and ran to a large, flat rock. Upon this he jumped and stood waiting. Every lamb followed him. What the new game was called in sheep language no one can tell. But they chased one another like boys in a game of tag.

The sun crept up the sky and the air grew hotter. And now the sheep stopped eating grass. They turned, all together, into a path that led to their drinking place.

But to-day they could find no water. Instead of the spring which had bubbled out from under the great rock there were only stones and dry sand.

Down the hill the flock slowly wound its way, looking for water. But Lambkin White did not walk with the flock. He ran here and there. He climbed rocks and hid behind trees. Indeed, could the mother sheep have spoken, she would have called him a very troublesome lambkin.

The pasture sloped down to a piece of low, wet land. A wooden bridge or trestle had been built across the marsh for a railroad [Pg 125] track. Trains of cars rolled over this high bridge nearly every hour of the day.

On came the sheep to the very edge of the swamp. Here they found black mud, but not a drop of water to drink.

Near the end of the trestle was a cask, or water barrel, which had been sunk into the ground. Lambkin White ran to the barrel and looked in. There was some water in the cask, and the thirsty lamb stretched his neck farther and farther down to get a drink. Before his mother could reach him he fell, head foremost, into the water barrel.

II.

Poor little lamb! The smooth sides of the barrel were all around him and he could not get out. The helpless mother was in great distress, but what could she do? Her little one was drowning before her eyes, and she could not save him!

The lamb's wild struggles were growing slower and slower. His limbs now moved feebly. In a moment more the brave young heart would stop beating. Soon there would be one less in the flock. Soon there would be a sad mother sheep calling in vain for her little lamb.

Just then a shrill whistle sounded across the marsh. Over the trestle came the great locomotive dragging a train of cars filled with passengers.

The foolish sheep, in their terror, ran along the railroad track in front of the moving train.

But Lambkin White's mother still stood by the water cask. Nearer and nearer came the terrible noise of the engine. The black monster was coming directly toward her. Soon it will be upon her!

Will she not run away from danger? Will she not join the flock? No! for the mother heart is brave and the mother love is strong. If she can not save her darling, she can, at least, die by his side.

III.

The engineer was watching with sharp eyes the flock of sheep on the track ahead. He saw the lamb in the water barrel as the engine came near the end of the trestle. "Down brakes!" he whistled, and the train suddenly stopped.

The passengers crowded to the windows. What could be the matter? They saw the engineer running. They saw him stoop down and lift a little lamb from the sunken water barrel. Its fleece was dripping with water.

The engineer placed the half-drowned creature by its mother's side. And then what a cheer arose from the passengers for the kind deed which he had done.

The fireman drove the sheep from the track and turned them toward the hillside pasture. A brakeman pumped the water barrel full of water for the thirsty flock.

Back ran the engineer to his engine. "All aboard," shouted the conductor, as he swung himself upon the last car of the rolling train.

Late that afternoon a happy mother sheep wandered back to the pasture with Lambkin White following very slowly in her tracks.

THE LAMB

THE NECKLACE OF TRUTH

There was once a little girl named Pearl, who had a bad habit of telling untruths. For a long time her father and mother did not know this. But at last they found that she very often said things that were not true.

Now, at this time—for it was long, long ago—there lived a wonderful man named Merlin. He could do such strange things, and he was so very wise, that he was called a wizard.

Merlin was a great lover of truth. For this reason children who told untruths were often brought to him, so that he might cure them of their fault.

And the mother said, "Yes, let us take [Pg 131] her to Merlin. He will cure her!" So Pearl's parents went to the glass palace where Merlin lived.

When they reached Merlin's palace, the wise old man said, "I know very well what is the matter with your child; she does not love the truth."

Poor Pearl hid her head with shame and fear. But Merlin said, "Do not be afraid. I am only going to make you a present."

Then the wizard opened a drawer and took from it a lovely necklace with a diamond [Pg 132] clasp. This he put on Pearl's neck, and told her parents to go home happy, for the little girl would soon be cured.

As they were going away, Merlin looked at Pearl, and said, "In a year from now I shall come for my necklace. Till then you must not dare to take it off."

II.

Next day Pearl went to school. When her schoolmates saw the beautiful necklace, they crowded around her.

Pearl looked down at her necklace and saw that the lovely clasp was changed to coarse glass. Then she was very much afraid, and said, "I will tell you the truth: the wizard Merlin gave it to me."

The girls now began to laugh, because they knew that only children who told falsehoods were sent to Merlin.

"You need not laugh," said Pearl. "Merlin sent a lovely coach to bring us. It was drawn by six white horses, and was lined with satin, and had gold tassels."

She stopped, for all the children were laughing again. Then she looked at her necklace, and—what do you think? It hung down to the floor! At each false word she had spoken, the necklace had stretched out more and more.

Then Pearl confessed that all she had told them was false; and at once the necklace changed to its right size.

She could not go on speaking. The necklace became so short that it nearly choked her.

"O dear, no!" sobbed Pearl. "He said I did not love the truth, nor speak the truth."

The girls did not laugh now. They were sorry for Pearl when they saw her weeping.

At last Pearl was cured. She saw how wrong and how foolish it is to tell falsehoods. "Never more will I tell a lie," said she. And she kept her word.

Before the year was ended Merlin came for his necklace. He knew that Pearl did not need it now, and he wanted it for another little girl.

Since Merlin died, no one can tell what has become of the wonderful Necklace of Truth. Would you like to wear it? Are you sure the diamond would always keep bright?

SPEAK THE TRUTH

TO BE MEMORIZED

SAINT VALENTINE

Father Valentine was a priest who lived a long time ago. He spent his time in nursing the sick and in comforting the sorrowing. [Pg 136] As he went about among his people, the children, too, found a kind and helpful friend.

They liked to talk with him, and to run by his side as he went from one house to another. What wonderful stories he told them about the birds and the flowers! How many beautiful things he taught them as they walked together through the forest and by the river!

Father Valentine loved all the little creatures of the woods and the streams, and they seemed to love him in return. The birds would come at his call, and the squirrels would scamper down the trees to take food from his hand.

Years went by, and at last the good priest became too old to visit his people. How they must have wished to hear again the sound of his footsteps at the door! How the children must have missed their kind teacher and the stories that he told!

Father Valentine was very sad because he could no longer go about from home to home. [Pg 137] But he soon found a way by which he could still be of use to those he loved.

As he sat in his room he wrote the kind words which had always made his visits so full of good cheer. Every day his loving messages were sent near and far. They were carried by the boys and girls who had learned from him to be happy in helping others.

Soon his friends began to watch for the kind words that were sure to come to them whenever they were in need of help. Even the little children, when they were ill, would say, "I am sure that Father Valentine will send me a letter to-day."

After a time the good father passed away from earth, but he has not been forgotten.

Each year, when the fourteenth of February comes around, we still keep his birthday.

A FAMOUS OLD HOUSE

Here is a picture of a famous old house. It was built more than one hundred years ago, and it still stands, painted yellow and white, as in the days of old. People come from far and near to see it, and perhaps some day you will visit it.

Do you wish to know why so many people travel miles and miles to see this old place?

Two great men once lived here. The first one was a brave general. Long ago he was called from his own home to take command [Pg 139] of an army. In those days, the yellow and white house was one of the finest places for miles around. So it was given to the general for his headquarters.

If these old walls could only speak, what wonderful stories they could tell! For in this house many plans were made, which helped to bring freedom to our land.

We like to fancy that we can see the great general going in and out of the front door. He used to wear a three-cornered hat and ruffled shirt bosom, knee-breeches, and low shoes with silver buckles.

This brave and noble commander led his army through many dangers to victory, and he afterward became the first president of the United States. You need not be told that the great general who once lived in the famous old house was George Washington.

After many years the old house became the home of another great and good man. He did not lead armies, nor make laws, nor hold office. And yet few men in our country have been so well known or so well loved.

His poems are read in all parts of the world, and his beautiful thoughts have helped hundreds and hundreds of people to love the right and to hate the wrong.

And now you are eager to speak the name of the great poet who once lived in the famous old house—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

HIAWATHA'S HUNTING

Then the little Hiawatha
Learned of every bird its language,
Learned their names and all their secrets,—
How they built their nests in summer,
Where they hid themselves in winter,—
Talked with them whene'er he met them,
Called them "Hiawatha's chickens."

Of all beasts he learned the language,
Learned their names and all their secrets,—
How the beavers built their lodges,
Where the squirrels hid their acorns,
[Pg 141] How the reindeer ran so swiftly,
Why the rabbit was so timid,—
Talked with them whene'er he met them,
Called them "Hiawatha's brothers."

Forth into the forest straightway
All alone walked Hiawatha
Proudly, with his bow and arrows;
And the birds sang round him, o'er him,
"Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!"
Sang the robin, sang the bluebird,
"Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!"

And the rabbit from his pathway
Leaped aside, and at a distance
Sat erect upon his haunches,
Half in fear and half in frolic
Saying to the little hunter,
"Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!"

But he heeded not, nor heard them,
For his thoughts were with the red deer;
On their tracks his eyes were fastened,
Leading downward to the river,
To the ford across the river;
And as one in slumber walked he.
[Pg 142]

LONGFELLOW WITH HIS CHILDREN

The famous old house looks very quiet and lonely in the picture. But there was a time when many children ran about its halls and played upon the lawn.

"How many children did Mr. Longfellow have? Did he have any boys? What were their names?"

These questions are asked again and again by little people who keep the birthday of the poet and wish to learn about his life.

In his journal, Mr. Longfellow tells us about [Pg 144] his children, and it is there we may find answers to all our questions.

The poet's eldest son was named Charles. When Charles was two years old his little brother Ernest was born. Longfellow then moved his books into another room and gave up his study to his babies.

And so the room in which Washington had planned battles became the nursery of the Longfellow children. Did any children ever have a more famous nursery?

In this room which once belonged to Washington we like to think that the children heard again and again the story of our first President.

When Ernest was but a few days old his father told a friend that the little newcomer was a great musician. Do you know what the poet meant by this?

While Charles and Ernest were still little boys, their baby sister Fannie came to live in the nursery. Just as she was old enough to run about, the dear little girl died. Then the house was full of sorrow. Many of the poems [Pg 145] Longfellow wrote at this time tell the story of his grief at the loss of his little daughter.

Charles was six years old and Ernest four, when their father first took them to school. He left them sitting on little chairs among the other children in an old house near a large elm tree.

As time went on three little girls took the places of the boys in the nursery. How all these children loved their father! They thought him the best playfellow in the world, and so he was.

He made toys for them, taught them games, and wrote letters which he placed under their pillows for them to find in the morning.

II.

Longfellow writes in his journal about coasting with the boys for hours upon the [Pg 146] hillside, and of working hard with all the children making a snow house in the front yard.

Again he tells of charming birthday parties when children played in the hay and scrambled for sugar plums. These parties always ended with a fine birthday supper.

On the first of May the children sometimes had a May party. The girls wore wreaths upon their heads and danced around the May pole. Then they all went to the summer house for a feast.

In summer the Longfellow children often went to the seaside with their father and mother. All day long they played in the sand and waded in the water.

But a great and terrible sorrow came suddenly to the Longfellow home. One morning, as Mrs. Longfellow was sealing a package with hot wax, her dress caught fire. Before the flames could be put out she was so badly burned that she died soon after.

Never again was the poet full of joy as he had always been before. For him the [Pg 147] happiness of life was over. But he never forgot to provide for the pleasure of his children.

Longfellow has told us about his three daughters in a beautiful poem called "The Children's Hour." He has also written about them in a letter to a little girl which you will be glad to read.

A LETTER TO A LITTLE GIRL

Your letter followed me down here by the seaside, where I am passing the summer with my three little girls.

The oldest is about your size; but as little girls keep changing every year I can never remember exactly how old she is, and have to ask her mamma, who has a better memory than I have. Her name is Alice. I never forget that. She is a nice girl and loves poetry almost as much as you do.

The second is Edith, with blue eyes and beautiful golden locks which I sometimes call her nankeen hair to make her laugh. She is a busy little woman and wears gray boots.

The youngest is Allegra, which you know means merry; and she is the merriest little thing you ever saw—always singing and laughing all over the house.

These are my three little girls, and Mr. Read has painted them all in one picture which I hope you will see some day.

They bathe in the sea and dig in the sand and patter about the piazza all day long. Sometimes they go to see the Indians encamped on the shore, and buy baskets and bows and arrows.

I do not say anything about the two boys. They are such noisy fellows it is of no use to talk about them.

And now, Miss Emily, give my love to your papa, and good night with a kiss from his friend and yours,

THE OPEN WINDOW

THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
[Pg 154] Each morning sees some task begun,
Each evening sees its close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.
— Henry W. Longfellow.

GEORGE WASHINGTON, THE YOUNG SURVEYOR

It is very interesting to know how George Washington passed his boyhood. In many ways he was no better than other boys. He had a quick temper, and he soon found that he must learn to control it.

But he wished to make a good and useful [Pg 155] man of himself. This story tells some of the ways in which he tried to do this.

He had learned to survey land, and this knowledge soon became of great use to him. When he was sixteen years old, he went to live with his brother Lawrence at Mount Vernon.

He took his compass and surveyor's chain with him. Nearly every day he went out into the fields to measure his brother's land.

A tall, white-haired gentleman often came into the fields to see what Washington was doing, and to talk with him. This was Sir Thomas Fairfax. He had lately come to America from his home in England. He owned thousands of acres of land in the new country beyond the mountains.

Sir Thomas was very fond of hunting, and he liked to have Washington go with him. They often rode out together, and the old Englishman came to like his young friend very much. He saw that the boy was manly and brave and very careful in all that he did.

"Here is a boy who likes to make himself [Pg 156] useful; I can trust him," he said. And Sir Thomas soon made a bargain with young Washington to survey his wild lands.

Washington loved out-of-door life, and he was very fond of riding on horseback. So he was glad to undertake the work of surveying land for Sir Thomas.

SURVEYING IN THE WILDERNESS

One bright day in early spring the young surveyor started out on his first trip across the mountains. With him was a cousin of Sir Thomas Fairfax. Each young man rode a good horse and carried a gun.

As there were no roads in the wild country they found their way through paths in the forest. They climbed mountains and swam rivers. At night they slept in a hunter's cabin or by a camp fire in the woods.

Often they were wet and cold and without shelter. They cooked their meat over the fire [Pg 157] on forked sticks, and they used wooden chips and leaves for plates.

One day they met a band of Indians. There were thirty of them, and their bodies were half covered with war paint.

The Indians seemed very friendly. They built a huge fire under the trees and danced their war dance. One of them drummed on a deerskin stretched over an iron pot.

The others whooped and yelled as they danced around the fire. It was a strange sight, and the young men looked on with wonder.

For weeks Washington and his companion [Pg 158] lived in the forest. They found the best places for hunting, and the best lands for farms.

When they returned home Sir Thomas was much pleased with all that the young men told him about the new country. He made up his mind to move across the mountains and to spend the rest of his life upon his own lands.

George was well paid for his work of surveying. This was the first money he had ever earned, and he enjoyed spending it because he had worked hard for it.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

His New Home

In the autumn after Abraham Lincoln was eight years old, his parents left their Kentucky home and moved to Indiana.

They had no wagon, and all their household goods were carried on the backs of two horses. At night they slept on the ground, sheltered only by the trees.

It was not more than fifty or sixty miles from the old home to the new; but it was a good many days before the family reached their journey's end. Over a part of the way there was no road. The movers had sometimes to cut a path through the thick woods.

The boy was tall and very strong for his age. He already knew how to handle an ax, and few men could shoot with a rifle better than he. He was his father's helper in all kinds of work.

It was in November when the family came to the place which was to be their future home. Winter was near at hand. There was no house nor shelter of any kind. What would become of the patient, tired mother, and the gentle little sister?

Hardly had they reached the spot chosen for their home than Lincoln and his father were [Pg 160] at work with their axes. In a short time they had built what they called a camp.

This camp was but a rude shed made of poles and covered with leaves and branches. [Pg 161] It was inclosed on three sides. The fourth side was left open, and in front of it a fire was built.

This fire was kept burning all the time. It warmed the inside of the camp. A big iron kettle was hung over it by means of a chain and pole. In the kettle the fat bacon, the beans, and the corn were boiled for the family's dinner and supper. In the hot ashes the good mother baked corn cakes, and sometimes, perhaps, a few potatoes.

One end of the camp was used as a kitchen. The rest of the space was the family sitting room and bedroom. The floor was covered with leaves, and on these were spread the furry skins of deer and bears and other animals.

II.

In this camp the Lincoln family spent their first winter in Indiana. How very cold and dreary that winter must have been! Think of [Pg 162] the stormy nights, of the howling wind, of the snow and the sleet and the bitter frost! It is not much wonder that the mother's strength began to fail before the spring months came.

It was a busy winter for Thomas Lincoln. Every day his ax was heard in the woods. He was clearing the ground, so that in the spring it might be planted. And he was cutting logs for his new house. For he had made up his mind, now, to have something better than a cabin to live in.

The woods were full of wild animals. It was easy for the boy and his father to kill plenty of game, and thus keep the family supplied with meat.

Lincoln, with chopping and hunting and trapping, was very busy. He had but little time to play. Since he had no playmates we do not know that he even wanted to play.

With his mother he read over and over the Bible stories which both of them loved so well. And, during the cold, stormy days, when he could not leave the camp, his mother taught him how to write.

In the spring the new house was built. It was only a log house, with one room below and a loft above. But it was so much better than the old cabin in Kentucky that it seemed like a palace.

The family moved into the new house before the floor was laid, or any door was hung at the doorway.

Then came the plowing and the planting and the hoeing. Everybody was busy from daylight to dark.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

His First Great Sorrow

The summer passed, and autumn came. Then the poor mother's strength gave out. She could no longer go about her household duties. She had to depend more and more upon the help that her children could give her.

At length she became too feeble to leave her bed. She called the boy to her side. She put her arm around him and said: "My boy, I shall very soon leave you. I know that you will always be good and kind to your sister and father. Try to live as I have taught you, and to love your heavenly Father."

Under a big sycamore tree, half a mile from the house, the neighbors dug the grave for the mother of Abraham Lincoln. And there they buried her in silence and in great sorrow.

In all that new country there was no church; and no minister could be found to speak words of comfort and hope to the grieving ones around the grave.

But the boy remembered a preacher whom they had known in Kentucky. The name of this preacher was David Elkin. If he would only come!

And so, after all was over, the lad sat [Pg 165] down and wrote a letter to David Elkin. Abraham was only a child nine years old, but he believed that the good man would remember his mother, and come.

It was no easy task to write a letter. Paper and ink were not things of common use, as they are with us. A pen had to be made from the quill of a goose.

But at last the letter was finished and sent to Kentucky. How it was carried I do not know, for the mails were few in those days, and postage was very high.

II.

Months passed. The leaves were again on the trees. The wild flowers were blossoming in the woods. At last the preacher came.

He had ridden a hundred miles on horseback. He had forded rivers and traveled through pathless woods. He had dared the [Pg 166] dangers of the wild forest. And all in answer to the lad's letter.

He had no hope of reward save that which is given to every man who does his duty. He did not know that there would come a time when the greatest preachers in the world would envy him his sad task.

And now the friends and neighbors gathered again under the great sycamore tree. The funeral sermon was preached. Hymns were sung. A prayer was offered, and words of comfort were spoken.

From that time forward the mind of Abraham Lincoln was filled with high and noble thoughts. In his earliest childhood his mother had taught him to love truth and justice, to be honest and upright among men, and to honor God. These lessons he never forgot.

Long afterward, when the world had come to know him as a very great man, he said: "All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother."

HANA AND TORA

Their Home

Hana is a little Japanese girl. Her name, in the language of Japan, means flower or blossom. If you should see her you would say that she is as beautiful as the gayest flower in the garden.

Tora is her brother and his name means tiger. He is called Tora because his father and mother wish him to be as strong and as brave as a tiger.

Hana and Tora live in one of the beautiful islands of Japan. Let us visit them in their home on the other side of the world.

We must cross the ocean to reach this far away land. So we go on board a great steamer and for days and days we sail over the sea.

At last we come to the city where our [Pg 168] little friends live. We leave the ship and climb into a two-wheeled carriage which is drawn by a man. He runs along the street with our carriage almost as fast as a horse can trot.

How strange everything seems. The men, women, and children all wear gowns that look like dresses. They clatter along in wooden shoes, and they carry paper umbrellas. We ride through narrow streets. There are no sidewalks nor green lawns.

And now our carriage stops. We have come to the home of Hana and Tora. The front of the house is open like a doll's playhouse, [Pg 169] and we can see through to the garden beyond.

How clean everything looks! The porch shines like a mirror. All the floors are covered with matting made of the whitest straw. Even the road in front of the house is swept.

We walk toward the house, and a little girl comes in from the garden. She has a clear yellow skin, bright black eyes, and smooth black hair. This is Hana, and she hastens to greet us.

She drops down on her knees, and bows so low that her head touches the matting. Her mother will soon be at home, Hana says, and she begs us to come in.

Does she ask us to take off our hats? Oh, no, she expects us to take off our shoes. The Japanese always leave their shoes outside when they go into a house.

Again and again the polite little girl bows her head to the floor as we enter. We sit down on the thick matting, for in the houses of Japan there are no chairs.

II.

Little Hana looks like a butterfly in her loose dress embroidered all over with bright flowers. Her sleeves are very large, and a wide sash of soft red silk is tied around her waist.

And now Hana's mother returns, and Tora comes running in from his play. There are more bows and more greetings.

Tora is dressed in a plain blue gown very much like his sister's. Both the children have large pockets in their sleeves where they carry their playthings.

Our friends invite us to spend the night with them. We are very glad to do so. They take us to the parlor, which is at the back of the house.

It is now time for supper. A small table, about ten inches high, is placed before each [Pg 171] person in the room. We sit on the floor as we eat. A little maidservant brings in cakes and candies shaped like flowers. She kneels and bows low as she hands them to us.

Next we have soup, which we drink from small bowls. Then come pickles and strange kinds of food that we have never before seen. Last of all rice is served from a large, round, wooden box, and we drink our tea from tiny cups.

There are no knives and no forks, and so [Pg 172] we observe our Japanese friends as they eat with two long wooden sticks. Then we take our chop sticks and try to eat the rice as they do. Hana and Tora watch us, but they are too polite to smile.

After the supper is over, the grown people sit on the floor and talk to one another, or watch the children at their games. Hana and Tora play with small cards on which are printed the strange-looking letters of the Japanese alphabet.

And so the evening passes and bedtime comes. The little maidservant takes us upstairs. We see no beds, and we wonder where we shall sleep. But screens are soon drawn together, and a room is made for us.

Then the little maid slides back another screen, and there in the wall is a closet. Out of this she takes soft, thick quilts, and spreads them on the matting, one on top of another. For a pillow she brings each of us a small block of wood.

We do not like the wooden pillows, but we sleep soundly all night in our beds on the floor.

HANA AND TORA

Their Festival Days

In Japan the people love the flowering trees and plant them in their gardens. Now it is early springtime and the plum trees are just beginning to burst into bloom.

The children ask us to go with them and look for the first plum blossoms. The pink buds are pushing out of their brown coverings. "Oh, I am so glad!" Hana says. "Soon the peach trees will bloom, and then it will be time for the Doll Festival.

"How I wish I could show you my dolls! I have more than a hundred, but they are all packed away in the storehouse.

"Some of them are very old. They used to belong to my grandmother and to my [Pg 174] great-grandmother. The doll I like best was given to me when I was a baby. It is as large as I am, and it can wear my clothes.

"When the Doll Festival comes I have a merry time. In the morning when I get up I find all my dolls waiting for me in the guest room.

"With them are doll houses, little tables, sets of dishes, and boxes full of pretty gowns and sashes. The first thing I do is to dress all the dolls in their best clothes.

"I make tea for them and put dishes of candy and cake and rice on their little tables. It is not polite to leave anything on one's plate, and so Tora and I have all the food that the dolls do not eat.

"For three whole days I can play with my dolls. Then I take off their beautiful clothes and put on their sleeping coats. My mother packs them in their boxes and stores them away for another year, until the Feast of Dolls comes again."

II.

"Tora does not care for the Feast of Dolls, because that is a girls' festival. The Feast of Flags is the boys' day."

"Oh, yes," Tora says, "I think the Flag Festival is the very best day of the whole year. Then everybody flies kites and the boys have their feast.

"What fun it is to see the huge paper fishes flying over all the houses and gardens! Some of the fishes are as large as a man. They open their mouths and swim about in the air as if they were in the water. All day long they flap their fins and tails and rustle in the wind."

"But why are so many of your kites made like fishes?" we ask.

[Pg 176]

"Because there is one kind of fish in our country so strong and brave that he swims up stream and leaps the waterfalls," Tora answered. "So Japanese parents fly kites made like fishes to help their sons remember that they must struggle bravely to win success.

"There are many kinds of fish, my father says, that can float down the stream with the current; but there is only one fish that can swim up the stream and leap over a waterfall.

"We have many other kites too. Some of them are shaped like butterflies. Some are shaped like birds and they make a singing noise when the wind blows through them.

"On the morning of the Flag Festival I find all my toys in the guest room where Hana finds her dolls.

"Among my toys are wooden soldiers older than Hana's oldest dolls. My grandfather's grandfather used to play with them when he was a little boy.

"And there are banners and swords, and images of the famous generals of Japan dressed in splendid armor. My father always [Pg 177] plays with me on the day of the Flag Festival, and he tells me about the brave soldiers of our country.

"In the evening the people light their prettiest paper lanterns, and hang them in the gardens and before every house and store.

"Sometimes my father takes me boat-riding, and the most beautiful sight of all is the river with the many colored lights twinkling from the boats."

Hana and Tora tell us about other great festivals of their country, and they invite us to visit them again at the time of the Feast of Cherry Blossoms.

MARCH

APRIL

MAY

EASTER SONG

TO BE MEMORIZED

THE SONG OF THE POPPY SEED

TO BE MEMORIZED

CLOVERS

WHO TOLD THE NEWS?

AIR

We say that a room with no furniture in it is empty. But this is not exactly true. There is one thing that the room is full of to its very top. It is something that you can not see. But it is as real a thing as the furniture. This thing is air.

If you take all of your books out of the box in which you keep them, you say there is nothing left in it. But the box is full of air. When you shut it up and put it away, you put away a box full of air. When the books were in it, it was full of books and air together. Now it is full of air alone.

The air is everywhere. It is always ready to go where there is a place for it. Every crack and crevice is filled with it.

You see a little boy playing with a ball. What is it that he is throwing against the wall? It is a rubber ball, you say. But is [Pg 184] this all? Is there not something else besides the rubber?

Suppose that you prick a hole in the ball and squeeze it. It is now good for nothing. But the rubber is all there. Why is the ball good for nothing?

It is because the air which filled the ball and made it round has escaped. The ball is of no use unless you can keep it full of air.

Perhaps you think that air does not weigh anything. But it does weigh something, though very little, and its weight is well known.

You can not see air, but you can sometimes feel it. You can not feel it while it is still if you are still at the same time. You can feel it only when it is in motion. When the wind blows upon you, it is air in motion that you feel.

When you fan yourself, the air strikes upon your face, and you feel it. When there is a gust of wind, the air comes against you just as a wave of water does.

Sometimes we say the wind blows very [Pg 185] hard or very strong. This is when the air moves very fast. When there is only a gentle breeze, the air is moving very slowly.

When the air moves very fast, it sometimes does a great deal of harm. It roots up trees and blows down houses.

The air is clear, like glass. That is, it lets you see through it. But when you look up through the air, you see that it is of a blue color. You call the blue air the sky. The sky is the blue air that surrounds the earth.

THE UNSEEN GIANT

There is a mighty giant in the world, who is as old as the earth itself. You have often heard his voice and felt his touch, but you have never seen his face.

When he is angry, all men fear, and all the beasts of the field seek their hiding places.

As he rages and whirls along his way, he tosses houses into the air as easily as a boy tosses a ball. He throws down great trees or pulls them up by the roots as he crashes through the forest.

Sometimes he flies out over the sea and chases the ships. He rolls great waves over their decks and drives the ships against the rocks to perish.

But he plays many a queer prank even in [Pg 187] the midst of his anger. One day he lifted a schoolhouse, turned it around in the air, and set it down with the back of the house just where the front had been.

Once when he was tumbling down houses with a great racket, he found a baby in a cradle. Catching it up, he was off like a flash.

Where had he taken the baby? Would it ever be found alive? "Never," the people said. But just then a cry was heard, and there was the little child safe in the branches of a tree!

This giant meddles with everything within his reach. He knocks the apples off the trees before they are ripe. He tears the vines from the house, and picks the flowers from their stalks.

He is not always honest, for on washing days he often tries to steal the clothes from the line. He takes things which boys and girls leave in the yard, or on the doorstep.

Then the old giant goes whistling on his way to hide his stolen goods. Sometimes he throws them under the bushes, and sometimes he tosses them into the water.

II.

The unseen giant is often kind and gentle. In the long, hot summer time he softly fans sick children, and helps them to become strong and well again.

When he wishes, he can be one of the greatest workers in the world. Sometimes [Pg 189] he flies from town to town sweeping the streets. He draws water for thirsty cattle, and he grinds wheat and corn for any miller that asks his help.

Up and down the rivers, and over the sea, he works by day and by night, carrying people where they wish to go. Had it not been for him, neither Columbus nor the Pilgrims could have reached the shores of America.

He likes to play with boys and girls. Sometimes he is a little rough. But when there are kites to fly or boats to sail, he is the best playfellow that can be found.

The strong old giant is very fond of music, too. He loves to play on the horn, the bugle, and the flute. Sometimes you hear him whistling in the keyhole and singing in the chimney. Often he flies to the pine forests, where he makes the sweetest, saddest music you have ever heard.

Everything you have heard about this wonderful giant is true. And when you think of his name, you will remember many other things that he can do.

WHAT ROBIN TOLD

THE BIRD'S EDUCATION

The young bird needs to be educated just as a child needs to be, though not exactly in the same way.

After the young bird can fly, he needs to be taught to find his own food, and also where to sleep.

He needs to know the different calls and cries of his family, and what they all mean. He has to learn to fly, and he must learn to [Pg 192] sing. Then he must learn what to be afraid of, and how to protect himself from his enemies. No doubt there are many lessons for him to learn that we do not know about.

If you watch little birds just out of the nest, you may see them being taught how to find their food.

The robin mother takes her little one to the ground and shows him where the worms live, and how to get them. The owl mother finds a mouse creeping about in the grass. She teaches the owlets how to pounce upon it by doing it herself before them.

The old swallow takes her young ones into the air and shows them how to catch little flies on the wing.

If you watch long enough, you may see the old bird, who is training a young one, fly away. She may leave the young one alone on a tree or on the ground and be gone a long time.

Before many minutes the little one will begin to call for food. But by and by, if nobody comes to feed him, he will look around [Pg 193] for something to eat. Thus he will get his first lesson in finding food for himself.

Once I saw a woodpecker bring his little one to a fence close by some raspberry bushes. He fed the young bird two or three raspberries, and then quietly slipped away.

When the young bird began to feel hungry, he cried out; but nobody came. Then he looked over at the raspberries and tried to reach one. After trying three or four times he got one. Then how proud he was!

The father stayed away an hour or more. Before he came back that young woodpecker had learned to help himself very well. But the minute his father came, he began to flutter his wings and beg to be fed.

II.

It is very easy to see the birds teaching their little ones to fly. You will find the [Pg 194] young birds sitting quietly on fences or trees. All at once the parents begin to fly around, with strange, loud calls. In a minute the little birds will fly out and join them.

Around and around they all go till their little wings are tired, and then they come down and alight again.

Once I saw a young crow who did not fly when his parents called. All the others flew around many times.

The mother's sharp eyes saw her naughty son. She flew right at him, and knocked him off his perch. The next time she called, he flew with the rest.

An old robin wanted to teach her young one to bathe. She brought him to a dish of water kept for their use by some people who were fond of birds.

The little one stood on the edge and watched his mother go in and splash and scatter the water. He fluttered his wings and was eager to try it for himself, but seemed afraid to plunge in.

At last the mother flew away and left him standing there. In a moment she came back with a worm in her mouth. The young robin was hungry, as young birds always are. When he saw the worm, he began to flutter his wings and cry for it.

But the mother jumped into the middle of the water dish and stood there, holding the worm in his sight. The little bird wanted the worm so much that he seemed to forget his fear and hopped in beside his mother.

She fed him, and then began to splash about. The little fellow stayed in the water and took a good bath.

A careful watcher can see the birds teach many interesting things to their young ones. But one must be quiet and patient, and not frighten the birds.

HOW BIRDS LEARN TO SING

THE GREATEST OF BEASTS

Nandi, the Great One, was the baby's nurse. He was one of the strongest nurses that ever took care of a baby anywhere on this round earth.

In the first place Nandi was large, as you have already guessed. He was twice as high as the baby's father, and he was almost as tall as the roof of the tiny hut where the baby lived.

Nandi had a long nose. It was a very long nose indeed. Perhaps you will not believe it, but his nose was as long as you are tall, my little reader.

And it was a wonderful nose. It was always moving, always feeling, always smelling. With his nose Nandi could rock the cradle, and brush away the flies that buzzed about the baby's face. With it he could pick [Pg 198] up the smallest toys from the ground, or open the door of the hut.

But you, my little readers, have another name for this wonderful, long nose. You call it a trunk.

Nandi had two long, sharp teeth. They were longer than a man's arm, and they were very strong. With them he could lift heavy logs and move great stones.

But you have another name for these long, strong teeth. You call them tusks. And you have already guessed that the baby's nurse was an elephant.

The baby was a little Hindu boy, and he lived on the other side of the world. He had a brown skin, black eyes, and black hair.

The Hindu baby had played with great Nandi's trunk ever since he could grasp anything with his tiny hands. He had crawled around the elephant's feet and slept on the ground in the shadow of the great beast. For, in the warm country of India, where the baby lived, it is always summer.

One morning, the baby's father perched [Pg 199] himself upon the elephant's head and rode away from his home. The child screamed with grief for his companion.

"Be still, love of my life," said the mother. "Thy father has need of Nandi. He can no longer be idle. There is harder work for him to do than to care for thee, O small one."

The elephant's work was to pile heavy timbers in the lumber yard, and to help unload the ships. Often he worked alone, for he needed no driver to urge him to his [Pg 200] task. His piles of wood were always straight, and his work always well done.

Once Nandi belonged to a Hindu prince and walked in long processions through the streets of cities. Then he wore gold rings in his ears and silver rings around his tusks. Red cloth, trimmed with gold, covered his great sides and hung almost to his feet. And he proudly bore upon his back the officers of the prince.

And longer ago than that, when he was young, he had lived in the jungle. Ah! those were happy days! Then, with other elephants, he roamed the forest, ate the tender branches, and swam the rivers.

But one day he was driven by the hunters through the forest and across the hills. Suddenly he found himself shut in on every side by a strong, high fence. Then he was caught [Pg 201] and chained to a tame elephant who afterwards taught him how to work.

Nandi often took part in great hunts for wild beasts, and he bore the marks of a fierce tiger's claws upon his side. He helped to catch other elephants in the dark forest, and taught great beasts like himself to do many kinds of work.

Nandi did not care to be free. Truly, if he had wished to go back to the jungle what could hinder? For he worked without chain or harness.

He was well cared for. He loved the evening bath in the river and the evening meal of fresh leaves. He loved his master, who was always kind.

But best of all he loved the brown baby who fed him with bananas, and always welcomed his return with childish glee. How old Nandi's bright eyes would sparkle when his little friend came near.

And when the baby could run to meet him, and sit upon his great strong neck, there was no prouder elephant in all the land of India.

THE STORY OF GIANT SUN

"Sister, I wish you would tell me a story about the sun," said Harry. "Where does it go at night, and where does it come from in the morning?"

"We live on a big round globe called the earth," replied his sister, "and we travel around the sun once every year. The sun is like a great lamp in the sky. When we face the lamp, we see the light, and when we turn away from it, we are in darkness.

"As the earth travels around the sun, it whirls like a huge top. When the side of the earth on which we live is turned toward the sun, we have day. But when the earth turns around so that the sun can not shine on us, we have night.

"If the sun stopped shining, there would be no daylight, and soon there would be no heat on the earth.

"The sun is very, very hot. If it should come nearer and nearer to the earth, every plant and animal in the world would die. The rivers and the seas would dry up, and at last the great earth would melt like a ball of wax."

"It is so far away that it would take more than a hundred years to travel the distance by the fastest railroad train."

"Suppose there were a road all the way to the sun. How long would it take me to walk there?"

"Let me see," said sister Mary, taking out her notebook. "If you should walk four miles an hour and ten hours a day, you would be more than six thousand years old before you could finish your journey."

"But suppose," asked Harry, his eyes bright with wonder, "some one fired a big cannon at the sun. How long would it take the cannon ball to get there?"

Mary looked in her notebook again. "If a cannon ball could be shot to the sun, it would take nine years to reach it. Now what else do you want to know about the sun, little brother?"

"I should like to know how large it is. Does any one know? Is it as large as the earth?"

"Very much larger," replied Mary. "It is so large that if it were cut up into a million parts, each one of the parts would be larger than the earth.

"If a train should run at the rate of a mile a minute, it would take five years for it to go around the sun. A train going at the same rate could travel the distance around the earth in less than three weeks."

"Then the sun must be very large," said Harry. "It is larger than anything I ever heard about. Let us call it Giant Sun."

"There are stars far away in the sky that are larger than the sun," said his sister. "And there are planets like our earth which are near the sun. But I will tell you about [Pg 205] them some other day. Now do not forget what I have told you about Giant Sun."

"Forget! How could I, sister? It is better than any fairy tale I have ever heard. Why, you have told me enough about Giant Sun to keep me thinking all day."

From "Stories of Starland." Copyright, 1898.
By permission of the publishers, Silver, Burdett & Co.

SUMMER SUN

Great is the sun, and wide he goes,
Through empty heavens without repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlor cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
[Pg 206] To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic, spider clad,
He through the keyhole maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hayloft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy's inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the world, he goes.
— Robert Louis Stevenson.

THE STORY OF PHAETHON

You have read the true story of the great sun. Now you shall hear a strange old tale told of Giant Sun, in the days of long ago.

Do you remember the beautiful picture of [Pg 208] Aurora, and the story of Apollo, the driver of the sun car? Here is another picture of the sun chariot, in its flight across the heavens.

Once upon a time Phaethon, the son of Apollo, said to his mother, "I go to-day to my father's palace," and he started for the land of the sunrise.

For days and for nights he traveled until he came to a high mountain. On its top was the shining palace of the sun. It had golden columns and silver doors. On its wall were pictures of the wonders of the earth and of the sea.

But Phaethon hurried by these beautiful sights. He entered the great hall and found the Sun god just ready to drive his horses through the clouds of dawn.

"Welcome, welcome, my son!" said Apollo. "I have waited long for thy coming. What is thy wish? Tell me, and thy wish shall be granted thee."

"Oh, my father," said Phaethon, "let me drive the chariot of the sun for one day across the sky."

"No hand but mine can hold these fiery horses," said Apollo. "Change thy wish, foolish boy. You ask for death, not for honor."

"My father never breaks his promise," said Phaethon. "I will not change my wish."

"Then follow my advice," said Apollo. "Hold fast the reins. Use not the whip, and drive neither too high lest the earth freeze, nor too low lest it burn."

Phaethon sprang into the sun car and grasped the lines. The horses darted across the sky. Lower and lower they plunged. The heat of the shining sun car dried the lakes and the rivers, and burned every green thing upon the land.

The people cried for rain, and the great ruler of earth and air heard their cries, and looked down from his dwelling place. He flashed his lightnings at the mad driver, and hurled him from his seat.

Then the great ruler led the horses and the chariot to their old track across the sky. But Phaethon never rose from the cold waters of the river into which he had fallen.

A SUNFLOWER STORY

Clytie was a sea maiden, so the old Greek stories tell us. She lived at the bottom of the ocean. The white sea sand was her carpet, a beautiful shell was her bed, and the seaweed was her pillow.

One morning Clytie arose, put on her moss-green dress, and went to ride in her seashell boat. A pair of fishes drew her over the beautiful sea bottom. They swam around rocks with sharp, ragged edges, and they passed through forests of sea weed and coral.

Indeed, so long and pleasant was the ride that Clytie fell asleep, and she did not awaken until a big wave rolled her boat upon the shore of a green island.

Then the little maiden opened her brown eyes very wide, for she had never before seen the land. There was green grass at her feet, and such flowers as never grew in her garden at the bottom of the deep sea.

In the trees were birds whose songs sounded sweeter than the music of the waves that had so often lulled her to sleep.

Across the blue sky rode the Sun king in a chariot which shone like blazing gold.

Clytie saw that all living things looked up and smiled when the golden chariot rolled above the earth.

"Oh, that I were a land child!" she said; "then I too might gaze upon the Sun king the whole day long."

Day after day the sea maiden came to the island. There she stood hour after hour watching the bright Sun king until his golden chariot sank into the western sea.

But one evening Clytie found that she could not move. Behold, she was no longer a maid of the sea. Her dress was but a slender green stalk with dark green leaves.

Her yellow hair had become a circle of golden petals. From their midst looked out the brown eyes of Clytie, no longer a sea maiden, but a beautiful sunflower with its face turned toward the sun.

WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe—
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we,"
Said Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew;
The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in that beautiful sea.
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish,
But never afraid are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
[Pg 213] Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam,
Then down from the sky came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home;
'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed
As if it could not be;
And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea;
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed;
So shut your eyes while mother sings
Of the wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three,—
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.— Eugene Field

From "With Trumpet and Drum." Copyright, 1892, by Mary French Field.
Published by Charles Scribner's Sons.

A LITTLE GIRL WHO LOVED ANIMALS

A little four-year-old girl stood in her room making pictures upon the white walls. On every side could be seen drawings of horses and dogs, cows, rabbits, and sheep. The walls were covered with pictures as high as the chubby hand could reach.

In the doorway stood the father, watching his little daughter. So wonderful were her drawings for a little child that the neighbors often came into the tiny room to look at the pictures on the walls.

"My little Rosa will be an artist some day," said the father, "but she can never be a great artist because she is a girl. How I wish she were a boy!"

In those days it was not thought proper for a girl to do anything that would take her away from home. "A girl should stay in the [Pg 215] house," people said. "She should spend her time in sewing and in helping her mother."

Rosa Bonheur's home was in France. She was the eldest of four children. Her father gave lessons in drawing and made pictures [Pg 216] for books. The little cottage in which she was born was in a beautiful part of the country. Here, with her two younger brothers and a baby sister, she lived a happy life.

Rosa loved animals, and she had many pets. Dogs that had no home came to her, and they were never turned away. She fed the wild rabbits and tamed the squirrels. If a stray horse wandered by, it was given food and water, and cared for until its owner could be found.

The child artist drew pictures of all these animals. She studied them as they ran or walked or lay down to rest.

When her little brothers were old enough to run about, they loved to follow their sister from place to place. Often they went with her to the roadside, where she made pictures for them in the sand with a pointed stick.

Sometimes her dogs came too and sat for their pictures. The passers-by stopped to see the rosy-cheeked little girl drawing animals and landscapes along the sandy way.

In the long winter evenings Rosa amused herself and her brothers by cutting pictures of animals and people from pieces of paper.

A LITTLE GIRL WHO PAINTED ANIMALS

But this free and happy life came to an end all too soon. When Rosa was seven years old, the family moved to Paris, where they lived in small rooms. The street was crowded with houses, and there was no yard for the children to play in.

How Rosa longed for her old home and for the animals she loved. Sometimes she ran across the street to pet a wooden pig which stood just outside the door of a meat shop.

About this time a great sorrow came to the little Bonheur children. Their beautiful mother died, and then they were all sent away from home.

Poor little Rosa! She did not like to [Pg 218] study or sew, and she was very unhappy in the girls' school to which she was sent. Her only pleasure was in visiting her father's studio. Here, if she could have a pencil, or a bit of clay, she was always contented.

How she begged to leave school and stay with her father! Her relatives thought this a foolish thing for her to do. "What would people think," they said, "to see a girl doing a boy's work?"

One day, when her father returned to the studio after a short absence, he found that Rosa had painted a bunch of cherries. He looked at her picture for a long time, and then he said, "If you can do as well as that, I will give you lessons."

"And I will cut off my hair and wear boy's clothes," said Rosa. "Then I can study with you, and no one will notice me." So she dressed like a boy and went everywhere with her father.

Lessons in drawing and painting now began in earnest. It was not long before she could help her father. Soon she was [Pg 219] able to copy pictures in the famous picture galleries of Paris.

And now the girl who did not like to study books, and who hated to sew, became one of the hardest of workers. She painted from early morning until night to earn money for her father and the younger children.

At last the Bonheur family were able to have a home together once more. In a quiet street in Paris, up six flights of stairs, they found a few small rooms.

But what should they do for a garden and for a place to keep their animals? It was Rosa's greatest wish to learn to draw and paint animals from life, and she needed to study living models.

The windows of their rooms opened on a broad, flat roof. Here Rosa and her brother made a roof garden and planted flowers. Here they kept singing birds, a hen and chickens, and a pet sheep.

Every morning the two boys carried the sheep downstairs, and led it to the pasture. In the evening they carried it up the long [Pg 220] flights of stairs to the studio. It was drawn standing and lying down, eating and sleeping. It was painted and modeled in clay, again and again, by Rosa and her brothers.

A GREAT ARTIST

Rosa Bonheur now spent all her time in painting animals. She took long trips into the country to find animals to sketch. There she drew flocks of sheep, oxen at work, and cows standing in the long grass.

Sometimes she went into pens where animals were kept, both in the country and in the city of Paris. Because her long skirts were in the way of her work she often dressed as men do.

Her pictures were shown in Paris with those of great artists. When she was only nineteen years old, she won her first prize. This was a great honor.

One of her finest pictures is called "Oxen Plowing." It was finished just before her father's death. He was greatly interested in this picture. When it was done, he was proud and happy to see that his daughter had become a great artist.

Rosa Bonheur spent the last years of her life in a home of her own, not far from Paris. Near by was a beautiful forest, and in a park close to the house she kept a number of wild animals.

The studio in which the artist worked was very interesting. Paintings hung on the walls and stood about the room. Birds sang [Pg 222] in their cages. Dogs and other pets walked about or lay on the skins of wild animals which covered the floor.

To this home came many poor people, whom the great artist was always glad to help. She was kind to every one, and even the animals loved her.

II.

A large lion named Nero was one of Rosa's pets, and he often lay in the studio while she painted her pictures.

Once, when she was leaving home for a long trip, she was obliged to send Nero away. On her return she went to see him in one of the parks of Paris. She found him in a cage, sick and blind.

The poor beast heard her voice. He crawled to the bars of the cage, where he could feel her hand stroking his head. So great was the love [Pg 224] he showed that Rosa had him taken again to her home, and she cared for him as long as he lived. He died clinging with his great paws to the mistress he had loved so well.

Rosa Bonheur's most wonderful painting is "The Horse Fair." The artist spent nearly two years in drawing horses before she began this great work. The picture is so large that she was obliged to use a stepladder to reach some parts of it.

"The Horse Fair" was bought by an American, and it can be seen in the Museum of Art in New York city.

When the French people wish to honor an artist, they give him the cross of the Legion of Honor. The Empress had often seen Rosa Bonheur sketching in the forest, and she thought her the greatest of animal painters.

One morning when Rosa Bonheur was painting in her studio, the Empress came into the room and hung a beautiful white cross around the artist's neck.

WHEN BENJAMIN FRANKLIN WAS A BOY

When Benjamin Franklin was a boy there were no great public schools as there are now. But Benjamin learned to read almost as soon as he could talk, and he was always fond of books.

His nine brothers were older than he, and every one had learned a trade. They did not care so much for books.

And so, when he was eight years old, he was sent to a grammar school. He studied hard, and in a few months he was promoted to a higher class. But his father was poor and needed his help. In two years he was obliged to leave school.

Benjamin was a small boy, but there were many things that he could do. His father [Pg 226] was a soap boiler, and candle maker. And so when the boy was taken from school, what kind of work do you think he had to do?

You may be sure that Benjamin was kept busy. He cut wicks for the candles, poured the melted tallow into the candle molds, and sold soap to his father's customers.

He did not like it at all. And when he saw the ships sailing in and out of Boston Harbor, he longed to be a sailor, and go to strange, far-away lands, where candles and soap were unknown.

Benjamin's father saw that his boy did not like the work he was doing. One day he said: "Benjamin, since you do not wish to be a candle maker, what trade do you think you would like to learn?"

"I do not wish you to be a sailor," said his father. "I intend that you shall learn some useful trade on land; and I know that you [Pg 227] will do best the kind of work that is most pleasant to you."

The next day he took the boy to walk with him among the workshops of Boston. They saw men busy at all kinds of work.

Benjamin was delighted. Long afterwards, when he had become a very great man, he said, "It has ever since been a pleasure to me to see good workmen handle their tools."

He gave up the thought of going to sea, and decided that he would learn any trade his father would choose for him.

Soon after this, Benjamin's brother James set up a printing press in Boston. He intended to print books and a newspaper.

And so, when he was twelve years old, he was sent to his brother to learn the printer's trade. He was to have his board and clothing, but no wages.

Benjamin never attended school again, but he kept on studying. At that time there were no books written for children as there [Pg 228] are nowadays. His father's books were not easy to understand. We should think them very dull.

But before he was twelve years old, Benjamin had carefully read the most of them. All the money that came into his hands he laid out in books.

Often he would borrow a book in the evening, and then sit up nearly all night reading it so as to return it early in the morning.

He spent all his spare time in studying and reading the best books that he could get. We shall find that afterward Benjamin Franklin became the most learned man in America.

SOME WISE SAYINGS

A WEAVING STORY

t was a spring morning more than one hundred years ago. A young man was plowing in a field near a low farmhouse.

Four men with guns on their shoulders passed along the road. "There is Abner White," said one of them. "He ought to join the army. Call to him."

"Abner, Abner," they shouted.

The young man left his plow and ran to the fence.

"We are raising a company to join Washington's army," they said. "We march to-morrow. You must go with us, Abner."

Abner walked quickly to the little farmhouse. His mother was standing in the door.

"If you feel it is your duty to fight for your country, Abner, you must go," answered the brave woman. "When will the new company march?"

"To-morrow!" exclaimed Mrs. White. "You can not wear those old trousers. We must make you a new pair."

"A soldier can not wait for new clothes, and I must march with my company. A pair of trousers can not be made in a day."

"The sheep have not been sheared, and there is no wool. It is not possible to make Abner a new pair of trousers before he goes. There is no use to try!" said Nancy.

"We can never tell what we can do until we try," replied the mother. "Where are the sheep?"

The children ran to the pasture. "Nan, Nan, Nan, Nan," they called. And the sheep came running for the salt.

Nancy was hurrying to the field with a pair of large shears in her hand. "Catch that black sheep if you can," she shouted.

Silas put his arms around the patient animal, and Nancy cut off its fine white wool.

"You may carry in all the wool we have, Faith," said Nancy. "Silas and I will keep on shearing until we have enough."

The wool was quickly combed by Deborah, for there was no time to wash the newly cut [Pg 233] fleece. Very soon the mother commenced to spin. How the spinning wheel buzzed as it twisted the soft wool into yarn!

Nancy threaded the loom. Deborah wound the shuttle full of new yarn, and the weaving of the cloth began.

Back and forth the shuttle flew, Deborah and Nancy taking turns. Late at night the cloth was woven, and Abner's new trousers were cut out. All night long the sewing went on, every stitch by hand.

The next day at noon Silas sat on the gatepost watching. Rub-a-dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub, came the sound of drums.

Abner held his musket proudly as he passed. He glanced at his mother and then down at his new trousers.

"No one looks finer than our Abner," said Deborah, as the soldier boys marched by on their way to the war.

AMERICA

TO BE MEMORIZED

My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing!
Land where my fathers died;
Land of the pilgrims' pride;
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring!

My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above!

Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees,
Sweet freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break—
[Pg 235] The sound prolong!

Our fathers' God, to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing!
Long may our land be bright,
With freedom's holy light!
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God, our King!

A SONG FOR FLAG DAY

JUNE

JULY

AUGUST

THE SEASONS

THE MONTHS

FOR THE GIRLS

FOR THE BOYS

WHAT WOULD I DO?

If I were a bird I would warble a song,
The sweetest and finest that ever was heard,
And build me a nest in the old elm tree;
Oh, that's what I'd do if I were a bird!

If I were a flower I'd hasten to bloom,
And make myself beautiful all the day through,
With drinking the sunshine, the wind, and the rain;
Oh, if I were a flower, that's what I'd do!

If I were a brook I would sparkle and dance
Among the green fields where sheep and lambs stray,
And call, "Little lambkins, come hither and drink;"
Oh, if I were a brook, that is what I would say!

If I were a star I would shine wide and bright
To guide the lone sailor on ocean afar,
And travelers, lost in the desert and woods;
[Pg 240] Oh, that's what I'd do if I were a star!

But I know that for me other tasks have been set,
For I am a child and can nothing else be;
I must sit at my lessons, and, day after day,
Learn to read and to spell, and to add one, two, and three.

Yet perhaps if I try I shall sometime find out
How the birds sing so sweetly, how the roses grow red,
What the merry brook says to the moss-covered stones,
And what makes the stars stay so high overhead.

PRONOUNCING KEY AND WORD LIST

The following key to the pronunciation of words is in accordance with Webster's International Dictionary. The modified long vowels in unaccented syllables are indicated by the modified macron, as in sen'ā̍te, ē̍ vent', ō̍ bey'. The silent letters are printed in italics.

The list includes the more difficult words of the lessons in the Third Reader not listed in the preceding books of the series.

Ab'nẽr
A'brȧ hăm
ăb'senç e
ăc count'
ā'cr e
ăd vīç e '
ȧ greed'
ăl'cōv e
ăl'dẽr
Ăl'ĭç e
ȧ lī gh t'
Al lē'grȧ
ȧ lo͞of'
ăl'phȧ bĕt
a̤l rĕ a d'y̆
a̤l'tẽr e d
A mĕr'ĭ cȧ
ȧ mūs̞ e d'
ān'ġel
ăṉ'gry̆
ănt'lẽr
ăn'vĭl
ā'prĭ cŏt
A'prĭl
ăr rīv e '
ăr'rō̍ w
ăr'rō̍ w hĕ a d
ȧ shōr e '
ăt'tĭc
a̤ u 'bûrn
A̤ u 'gŭst
ȧ wā i t'

bā'c o n
băng'ing
băn'nẽr
bär'gain ( -gĕn )
băr'rĕl
bāt̶h e
bē a rd'ed
b e âr'ing
b ea ū'tē̍ o ŭs
bē̍ hōld'
bĕl'lo w s ( lŭs )
bē̍ lȯv e d'
bē̍ nē a th'
Bĕn'jȧ mĭn
Bĕt̶h'lē̍ hĕm
bē̍ yŏnd'
bĭs'c u ĭt
Bī'bl e
bĭt'ter
blă c k'smĭth
blăṉ'kĕt
blīt̶h e
blood ( blŭd )
Bly̆ṉ'kĕn
bŏd'ĭ e s̞
bŏd'y̆
boil'ẽr
Bŏn he ũr'
bŏt'tom
bou gh
brāk e
brāk e ' man
br e āk
breez'y̆
brĭm
bŭ c 'kl e s̞
bŭd'dĭng
bū'gl e
bŭnch
bur'ied ( bĕr'ĭd )
bûrst'ing

căb'ĭn
căn'dl e
cā̍ reer'
câr e 'fụl
câr e 'fụl ly̆
căr'rĭ a ġ e
çē a s e
çĕl'lãr
chānġ e
chānġ e 'fụl
chăr'ĭ ŏt
cheer
cheer'y̆
chĕr'rĭ e s̞
chĕs t 'nŭt
chĭm'n e y̆
choir ( kwīr )
chŏp'ping
chōs̞ e
chŭb'by̆
Çĭn'çĭn nä'tĭ
clăm'bẽr
clăm'bẽr e d
clȧsp
clĭffs
clō a k
clŏs̞'ĕt
clōth'ing
Clō'vẽr no͝ok
Clȳ'tĭ e
cō a ch
cō a rs e
cō a st'ing
cō a x
cŏl'ŭm n
cȯm'fõrt
cŏm păn'ĭon
cȯm'pā̍ss
cŏn dŭct'õr
cŏn fĕss'
cŏn'stant
cŏn'stant ly̆
cŏn tĕnt'ed
cŏr'al
[Pg 243] côr'nẽr
cō's̞ĭly̆
cŏt'tā̍ġ e
cŏt't o n
couch
cō u rs e
cō u rt
crăn'bĕr rĭ e s̞
crē a k
crē̍ ā'tion
crĕpt
crĕv'ĭç e
crĭm's̞ o n
cro͝ok'ed
Crŏp'wĕll
crṳ'ĕl
crṳ'ĕl ly̆
crṳ'ĕl ty̆
crŭm b s̞
cûrb
cûrl
cŭr'rants
cŭr'rent

dā i n'tī e s̞
dăm'ask
dăn'dē̍ līon
dān'ġẽr
dăsh'ing
da̤ ugh 'tẽr
dăz'zl e
dĕ a th
Dĕb'ō̍ rȧ h
Dē̍ çĕm'bẽr
dē̍ cīd'ed
dē̍ lā y '
dē̍ lī gh t'
dē̍ lī gh t'ed
dī'ȧ mȯnd
dĭm'ly̆
dĭp'pẽr
dĭ rĕct'ly̆
dĭs cȯv'ẽr
dĭs'tanç e
dĭs tûrb'
dīv e
dō o r'wā y
dȯz' e n
draught ( drȧft )
drē a r'y̆
drĭfts
drĭp'ping
drown
drown e d
drown'ing
dŭnç e
dŭst'y̆
dȳ'ing

ē a 'gl e
ẽ a r'nĕst
ē a r'rĭngs
E a s'tẽr
ē a t' e n
ĕc h 'ō̍
ĕd'ū cāt ed
ĕld'est
ĕlm
ĕls e 'whêr e
ĕm broi'dẽr
ĕmp'ty̆
ĕn cămp e d'
ĕn'ē̍ mĭ e s̞
ĕn'ē̍ my̆
ĕn ġĭ neer'
Eng'lĭsh ( ĭṉ-' )
Eng'lĭsh man
ē̍ nôr'm o ŭs
Ẽr'nĕst
ĕr'rand
ĕs cāp e '
Es'kĭ mō̍
ēv e
ex ăct'ly̆ ( egz- )
ĕx clā i m'
ex'īl e
ex trēm e '
ex trēm e 'ly̆

Fâ i r'făx
fa̤ls e 'ho͝od
fā'm o ŭs
făn'çĭ e s̞
făn'çy̆
fâr e wĕll'
fâsh' i ȯn e d
făth'ȯm
fa̤ u lt
fĕ a th'ẽr y̆
Fĕb'rụ ā̍ ry̆
feed'ing
fee'bl e
Fẽr'dĭ nănd
fẽrn
fĕs'tĭ val
fī'ẽry̆
fĭfteenth
fĭṉ'gẽr
fĭn'ĭsh
fīre'lī gh t
fīr e 'man
flăsh e d
fleeç e
fleeç'y̆
flour
flūt e
flŭt'tẽr
fō a m'ing
fo͝ot'stĕp
fōrç e
[Pg 244] fōrġ e
fŏr ĕv´ẽr
fōrth
Frȧnç e
free´dȯm
freez e
fr i ĕnd´ly̆
frī gh t´ e n
frŏl´ĭc
frŏst´ed
frown
fûr´nĭ tūr e
fŭr´rō̍ws̞
fûr´ry̆
fu̇r´thẽr

găl´lẽr y̆
gām e
gär´ment
găth´er
ga̤ u z´y̆
ġĕn´ẽr al
ġĕn´tl e man
g h ōst
glăd´dens̞
glȧnç e
glee
glōb e
glō w ´ing
gown
grā´çi o ŭs
grā i n
grăm´mãr
grȧsp
greed
Greek
gr i ēv e
grīnd´ing
gro̤ u p
growl e d
g u ĕst
gŭst

hăb´ĭt
hälf
hälv e s̞
Hä´nä
hăn´dl e d
hăp´p e n
här´nĕss
härsh
hāst e
hās´ te ns̞
hāz e
hĕ a d
hĕ a d qua̤r´tẽrs̞
h´ĕ a lth´y̆
hĕav´ e n
h´ e ī gh t
hĕr´rĭng
Hĭn´dṳ
hō a rd
hō e ´ing
hŏl´lō̍ w
hōm e ´stĕ a d
h ŏn´ĕst
h ŏn´ĕst y̆
ho͞ofs
hōp e ´ful
hŏpp e d
hous e ´hōld
howl e d
hūġ e
hū´man
hŭm´bl e
hŭṉ´gry̆
hûrl e d
hụr rä h ´
hŭr´rĭ e d
hŭr´ry̆
hûrt´ing
hy̆m n s̞

iç e ´bẽrg
ī´çy̆
ī´dly̆
ĭm´ā̍ġ e
ĭm pā´tienç e
ĭn clōs̞ e ´
In´dĭ ăn´ȧ
ĭn stĕ a d´
ĭn tĕnd´ing
ĭn´tẽr ĕst ing
ĭn vīt e ´
Is̞´ȧ bĕl´lȧ
ī s ´lands̞
ī s l e s̞
ī´vy̆

Jā´cob
Jăn´ū̍ ā̍ ry̆
Jȧ păn´
Jăp ȧ nēs̞ e ´
jä u n´ty̆
join
joy´ o us
jū i ç e
Jūn e
jŭṉ´gl e

Kāt e
Kĕn tŭ c k´y̆
kīnd´ly̆
kĭng´dȯm
k nāv e
k nees̞
k nĕlt
k nŏ w l´e d ġ e

lā i n
[Pg 245] lăm b ´kĭn
lăṉ´guā̍ġe
la̤ w n
lā´zy̆
lē a d´ẽr
lē a p´ing
lĕv´ĕl
lī gh t´nĭng
lĭm b s
lĭmp´ing
Lĭṉ´co l n
lĭs´ te n e d
Lŏng´fĕl lō̍ w
lōn e ´sȯm e
lo͞om
lō w ´lănds̞
lō w ´ly̆

măġ´ĭc
mā i d´ e n
măn´nẽr
mā´pl e
märsh
măt´tress
Mā y
mē a l
mē a n
mĕ a nt
mĕ a s´ū̍r e
mĕd´dl e
mĕm´ō̍ ry̆
Mẽr´lĭn
mĕr´rĭ ĕst
mĭd´ve̱ i n
mĭl´lion ( -yŭn )
mĭn´ĭs tẽr
mĭn´ute ( -ĭt )
mĭr´rõr
mĭs´chĭ e f
mŏd´ĕl
mō´mĕnt
mo͞on´lĭt
mo͞on´shīne
mō´tion ( -shun )
mouth´fụl
mū´s̞ĭc
mu si´cian ( mū zĭsh´an )
mŭs´kĕt

Na hănt´
nā i l e d
năn keen´
nā´tĭv e
na̤ ugh ´ty̆
nĕ c k´lā̍ç e
ne̱ igh ´bõrs̞
ne̱ igh ´ing
nĕt´wọrk
news̞´pā pẽr
nĭb´bling
nī gh t´gown
Nī´ṉȧ
nīn e ´teen
nō´bl e
nõ´bŏd y̆
nois̞´y̆
nŏn´sĕns e
nŏs´trĭls̞
nō´tĭç e
Nō̍ vĕm´bẽr
nûrs´ẽr y̆

ō̍ blīġ e d´
ŏb s̞ẽrv e ´
Oc tō´bẽr
ŏf´fẽr
ŏf´fĭç e
ŏf´fĭ çẽrs̞
once ( wŭns )
ō´p e n ing
ŏp´pō̍ s̞ĭt e
ôr´chãrd
ō´rĭ ōl e
ôr´nȧ ment
ō´vẽr lo͝ok´
owl´ĕt
ō w n´ẽr
ŏx´ e n

pă c k´ā̍ġ e
pă c k e d
păd´dl e
pâ i r
pān e
Păr´ȧ dīs e
pär´d o n
Păr´ĭs
pär´lõr
păr´rȯt
pär´tĭ e s̞
păs´sā̍ġ e
pȧss´ẽrs̞
pȧs´tū̍r e
pā´tient ( -shent )
păt´tẽr ing
pa̤ u s̞ e
p e âr
peep e d
pĕl´ĭ can
pĕn´çĭl
pẽrch
pĕr´ĭsh
Phā´ē̍ thŏn
Phœ´be ( fē´bē )
pĭ ăz´zȧ
pĭc´kl e s̞
p i ēç e
pĭ´ġ e ȯn
pĭl´lō̍ w s̞
[Pg 246] Pĭn´tȧ
pīp e s
plā i n´ly̆
plăn´ĕt
plăṉk
plănn e d
plăt´fôrm
plā y ´fĕl lō̍ w
plow´ing
plūm´y̆
plŭnġ e d
pŏ c k´ĕts
pōk e d
pō̍ līt e ´
pŏp´côrn
pōrch
pŏs´sĭ bl e
pōst
pōst´ā̍ġ e
pounç e d
pō u r e d
prā i s̞ e
prăṉk
prâ ye rs̞
prē a ch´ẽr
prĕ´çĭ o ŭs
prĕss e d
prīd e
prĭm´rōs̞ e
Prĭnç e
prĭnt
prĭnt´ẽr
prīz e
prō̍ çĕs´sion
prō̍ mōt´ed
prŏp´ẽr
prō̍ tĕct´
proud´ly̆
prō̍ vīd e ´
prō̍ vīd´ing
prowl e d
prowl´ing
prṳ´dent
pŭb´lĭc
pụd´dĭng
pŭmp´kĭn
pŭn´ĭsh
pŭp´py̆
pu̇sh´ing

quā i l
quĭ c k
quī´ĕt ly̆
quĭlt

ră c k´ĕt
răg´gĕd
rā i l´rō a d
răs̞ p ´bĕr rĭ e s̞
răt´tlĭng
rē a r e d
rē a ´s̞ o n
rē̍ çē i v e ´
rē̍ frĕsh´ing
rē̍ joiç e ´
rĕl´ȧ tĭv e s̞
rē̍ mā i n´
rē̍ pē a t´
rē̍ pōs̞ e ´
rī´fl e
rī´p e n ing
rĭs̞´ e n
rō a m
rō a st
rŏ c k´y̆
rōll´ing
Rŏl´lō
Rō´s̞ȧ
rough ( rūf )
Rṳ´dy̆
rŭf´fl e
rŭs´ t l e
rŭs´ t ling
rŭst´y̆

săd´dest
săd´nĕss
Săn´tȧ Mȧ rī´ȧ
săsh´es̞
săt´ĭn
sa̤ u ´çẽr
scăm´pẽr
sc h ŏl´ãr
scōld
scout
scrăm´bl e
scră t ch e d
scrē a m
screen
sē a l
sē a ´pōrt
sẽ a rch
sĕc´ȯnd
sē̍ lĕct´ed
Sĕp tĕm´bẽr
sẽr´mȯn
sĕv´ẽr al
sĕx´tȯn
shăg´gy̆
shām e
sha̤ w l
shĕl´tẽr
shĕp´ h ẽrd
shôrt
shō u l´dẽr
shŭt´tl e
sī g n
Sī´las
sī´lenç e
sī´lent ly̆
[Pg 247] sĭn´ew y̆
sīz e
skĕ t ch
slĕ d ġ e
sleet
slē igh
slĭpp e d
slōp´ing
slŭg´gãrd
slȳ
smīl´ing
snăp
snă t ch
snō w ´flāk e
snō w ´y̆
sŏbb e d
sō´fȧ
sŏl´em n
sŏl´ĭ tūd e s̞
spär´kling
spĭll
splĕn´dõr
squeez e
squĩr´rĕl
sta̤ l k
stär´lĭt
stär´ry̆
stē a m
stĭ t ch
stōl´ e n
sto͞ol
strān´ġẽr
strĕngth
strĕ t ch´es̞
stū´dĭ ō̍
stŭff e d
sŭc çĕss´
sŭd´dĕn
sŭd´dĕn ly̆
sŭf´fẽr
sŭf´fẽr ing
su´gar ( sho͝og´ĕr )
sŭnk´en
sŭp plī e d´
sûr´fā̍ç e
sŭr rounds̞´
sûr ve̱ y ´
sûr ve̱ y ´õr
swạmp
swa̤rm
sweet´brī ẽr
swĕll
s w ōrd
sy̆c´ȧ mōr e

tăl´lō̍ w
tȧsk
tăs´s e l
ta̤ ugh t
tĕmpt
tĕr´rĭ bl e
tĕr rĭf´ĭc
tĕr´rõr
thătch e d
tha̤ w
thĩrd
thou´s̞and
thrĕ a d
thrĕsh e d
threw
thrŏng
Thûrs̞´dā̍ y
tĭm´ĭd
tĭṉ´kl e d
tŏm´tĭt
to͞ols̞
Tō´rȧ
tow´ẽr e d
tră c k
trĕ a d
trē a t
trĕs´ t le
tro͞op
tr o ŭ´bl e sȯm e
trŭn´dl e
trŭṉk
trṳth
trṳth´fụl
tŭm´bl e
tūn e
tûr´tl e
tŭsk
twĭṉ´kl e
twĭst

ŭn´dẽr nē a th´
ŭn´dẽr tāk e ´
ŭn seen´
ŭn trṳth´
ûrġ e

Văl´en tīn e
vāl e s̞
văl´l e y̆
ve̱ i l
ve̱ i n
vĕst
vĭc´tō̍ ry̆
vĭs̞´ĭt

wăgg e d
wā i t´ing
wạn´dẽr
wạ t ch´dŏg
wăx
wā y ´sīd e
wē a ´ry̆
weep
we̱ igh
wĕl´cȯm e
whāl e
[Pg 248] whĕnç e
whĕth´ẽr
whī´t e n
whīn´ing
whĭs´ t lĭng
w hōl e
who͞op
wĭ c ks
wĭl´dẽr nĕss
wĭn´dō̍ w
wĭn´try̆
wĭt̶h´ẽr e d
wĭt̶h ĭn´
wĭz´ãrd
wọlf
wȯn
wȯn´dẽr
worms ( wûrmz )
wound´ed
w rē a th
w rĕck e d
Wy̆ṉk´en

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		Page

The Magic Windows		11

The Land of Story Books	Robert Louis Stevenson	16

O Big, Round World	Alice C. D. Riley	18

A Wonderful Ball	Adapted	19

The Great, Wide World	William Brighty Rands	21

Flowers that Tell Time	Kate L. Brown	22

Dandelion	George Cooper	24

The Farmer's Wheat Field	W. E. Baldwin	25

The Song of the Wheat	Selected	27

The Song of the Mill Wheel	Selected	29

The Sky Bridge	Christina G. Rossetti	30

The Apple-tree Mother	Selected	31

The Diamond Dipper	An Old Legend	39

Beautiful Things	David Swing	43

My Country	Marie Zetterberg	44

My Own Land Forever	John G. Whittier	44

Home, Sweet Home	John Howard Payne	45

Verses for September, October, November		46
Emily Dickinson, Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Dora Read Goodale

An Autumn Riddle	Selected	48

Leaves at Play	Frank D. Sherman	48

Where Go the Boats	Robert Louis Stevenson	49 [Pg 6]

The Corn Song	John G. Whittier	50

Shapes of Leaves	Adapted	52

Dogs that almost Talk	Edith Carrington	56

A Little Girl's Fancies	Selected	60

A Boy's Wishes	William Allingham	61

Rollo and George	Jacob Abbott	62

The Farmer's Story	Jacob Abbott	64

The Dog and his Image	Æsop	68

Belling the Cat	Æsop	69

The Dog in the Manger	Æsop	70

A Wise Indian	Adapted	70

Clovernook		73

The Poet Sisters		76

Our Homestead	Phœbe Cary	78

Suppose	Phœbe Cary	79

November	Alice Cary	81

Columbus in the New World		82

Columbus returns to Spain		85

Columbus at the Court of Spain		87

The First Thanksgiving	Marian M. George	90

Thanksgiving Day	Lydia Maria Child	94

The Snow Baby	Josephine D. Peary	96

A Snow House	Adapted	101

The Northern Seas	William Howitt	104

Verses for December, January,
February	Mary Mapes Dodge	106

Christmas Everywhere	Phillips Brooks	107 [Pg 7]

The Christmas Song	Selected	108

The New Year	Marie Zetterberg	110

How Plants Grow	Adapted	111

Talking in their Sleep	Edith M. Thomas	115

A Riddle	George Macdonald	116

Snowflakes	Frank Dempster Sherman	117

Fannie's Menagerie	"Rainbows for Children"	118

How Lambkin White was Saved		122

The Lamb	William Blake	129

The Necklace of Truth	Old Fairy Tales	130

Speak the Truth	Selected	135

Saint Valentine	Adapted	135

A Famous Old House		138

Hiawatha's Hunting	Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	140

Longfellow with his Children	Adapted	143

Letter to a Little Girl	Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	147

The Open Window	Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	150

The Village Blacksmith	Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	151

George Washington, the Young Surveyor		154
Surveying in the Wilderness		156

Abraham Lincoln	James Baldwin
His New Home		158
His First Great Sorrow		163

Hana and Tora
Their Home		167
Their Festival Days		173

Verses for March, April, May		178 [Pg 8]
Dora R. Goodale, Thomas Bailey Aldrich

An Easter Song	Mary A. Lathbury	179

The Song of the Poppy Seed	E. Nesbit	180

Clovers	Helena L. Jelliffe	181

Who Told the News?	Selected	182

Air	Worthington Hooker	183

The Unseen Giant		185

What Robin Told	George Cooper	190

A Bird's Education	Olive Thorne Miller	191

How Birds Learn to Sing	Mary Mapes Dodge	196

The Greatest of Beasts		197

The Story of Giant Sun	Mary Proctor	202

Summer Sun	Robert Louis Stevenson	205

The Story of Phaethon	Greek Myths	206

A Sunflower Story	Greek Myths	210

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod	Eugene Field	212

Rosa Bonheur	Adapted
A Little Girl who Loved Animals		214
A Little Girl who Painted Animals		217
A Great Artist		220

When Benjamin Franklin was a
Boy	Adapted	225

A Weaving Story	Adapted	229

America	Samuel Francis Smith	234

A Song for Flag Day	Lydia Coonley Ward	235

Verses for June, July, August		236

The Seasons. The Months		237 [Pg 9]

For the Girls	Charles Kingsley	238

For the Boys	Selected	238

What would I Do?	Selected	239


Pronouncing Key and Word List		241

stalk	threshed	breeze	flour
plump	healthy	bearded	grain
forth	neighbor	thousand	cheer

empty	whining	shoulder	weary
stolen	crooked	cruelly	shelter
howled	rattling	pattering	limping
second	wounded	terrible	banging

rusty	narrow	further	fern
dipper	towered	suffering	brim
dying	withered	carefully	spill

hurried	twinkle	garments	stranger
precious	faithful	diamonds	ragged

scream	frightened	directly	treat
hurting	frightening	opposite	harsh
pushing	wheelbarrow	enemies	tomtit

wolf	distance	impatient	breathe
poked	scrambled	intending	pressed
terror	perhaps	troublesome	punish

peeped	prudent	followed	toward
flutter	whether	surrounded	nailed
escape	prowling	overlooked	paused

snap	image	behold	jaws
piece	within	plainly	greed
snatch	bottom	hurrying	plank

group	cottage	repeating	sugar
hymns	daughter	sweetbrier	cellar
merry	gathered	old-fashioned	saucer

rejoice	Thursday	invited	quail
rushes	lowlands	dainties	guests
arrived	cranberries	already	whoops

coarse	satin	truthful	size
sobbed	tassels	falsehood	wrong
choked	weeping	confessed	coach

fancy	buckles	victory	office
bosom	ruffled	headquarters	freedom

Alice	Clovernook	postoffice	print
Phœbe	Cincinnati	newspaper	parties

haste	remained	different	gentle
spread	orchard	delighted	cotton
bodies	paddled	ornaments	natives

January	obliged	several	court
Isabella	decided	fifteenth	delay
Ferdinand	wrecked	discovered	search
Santa Maria	farewell	seaport	voyage

third	thronged	bearing	honor
knelt	banners	received	turtle
praise	kingdom	officers	parrots
joined	listened	awaiting	account

game	feast	November	stew
roasts	poured	turkeys	veil
stuffed	sermon	popcorn	haze

knees	puppy	harness	dries
force	needle	clothing	twists
thaws	dimly	platform	whales

dozen	trickled	creatures	dive
pounced	mustn't	shoulders	bunch
seized	shouldn't	snatching	shawl

swarm	nibbling	exclaimed	mattress
troop	neighing	cranberries	bursting
eaten	nonsense	disturbed	pillows

frolic	trestle	railroad	marsh
leader	minute	suddenly	barrel
bubbled	lambkin	companions	swamp

feebly	drowning	locomotive	distress
monster	struggles	passengers	whistle

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Brooks's Readers, Third Year

BROOKS'S READERS

THIRD YEAR

BY

STRATTON D. BROOKS

SUPERINTENDENT OF SCHOOLS, BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

NEW YORK ❖ CINCINNATI ❖ CHICAGO

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY

I

II.

III.

I.

II.

III.

I.

II.

SEPTEMBER

OCTOBER

NOVEMBER

DOGS THAT ALMOST TALK

I.

II.

I.

II.

I.

II.

III.

I.

II.

I.

II.

III.

I.

II.

TO BE MEMORIZED

I.

II.

His New Home

I.

II.

His First Great Sorrow

I.

II.

Their Home

I.

II.

Their Festival Days

I.

II.

TO BE MEMORIZED

TO BE MEMORIZED

CLOVERS

I.

II.

I.

II.

HOW BIRDS LEARN TO SING

I.

II.

track	fireman	brakeman	drowned
brakes	sunken	engineer	darling
fleece	pumped	conductor	dripping

beloved	loss	providing	wreaths
sealing	grief	happiness	package
coasting	meant	playfellow	pleasure

beyond	compass	Mount Vernon
acres	bargain	undertake
measure	surveyor	interesting

chain	patient	Kentucky	furry
ashes	potatoes	Indiana	bacon
rifle	inclosed	household	loosed

silence	postage	autumn	duties
finished	preacher	sycamore	comfort
buried	grieving	minister	feeble

upright	forded	funeral	months
justice	earliest	sympathy	hymns
reward	preached	reverence	duty

closet	pickles	alphabet	knives
parlor	pockets	embroidered	quilts
observe	greetings	maidservant	screens

giant	perish	whistling	whirls
mighty	stolen	meddles	voice
tosses	racket	tumbling	prank

bugle	unseen	neither	flute
music	chimney	thirsty	whence
cattle	saddest	keyhole	grinds

owlets	training	educated	worms
hungry	nobody	raspberries	slipped
protect	quietly	woodpecker	flutter