Graded Literature Readers: Fourth Book
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23. "We must go to bed early, for we've only wood enough to last over to-morrow. I shall be paid for my work the day after, and then we can get some," said Tilly's mother, as they sat by the fire.
24. "If my bird was only a fairy bird, and would give us three wishes, how nice it would be! Poor dear, he can't give me anything; but it's no matter," answered Tilly, looking at the robin, which lay in the basket with his head under his wing, a mere little feathery bunch.
25. "He can give you one thing, Tilly – the pleasure of doing good. That is one of the sweetest things in life; and the poor can enjoy it as well as the rich."
26. As her mother spoke, with her tired hand softly stroking her little daughter's hair, Tilly suddenly started and pointed to the window, saying in a frightened whisper:
"I saw a face – a man's face, looking in! It's gone now; but I truly saw it."
27. "Some traveler attracted by the light, perhaps. I'll go and see." And Tilly's mother went to the door.
No one was there. The wind blew cold, the stars shone, the snow lay white on field and wood, and the Christmas moon was glittering in the sky.
28. "What sort of face was it?" asked Tilly's mother, coming back.
"A pleasant sort of face, I think; but I was so startled I don't quite know what it was like. I wish we had a curtain there," said Tilly.
29. "I like to have our light shine out in the evening, for the road is dark and lonely just here, and the twinkle of our lamp is pleasant to people's eyes as they go by. We can do so little for our neighbors, I am glad to cheer the way for them. Now put these poor old shoes to dry, and go to bed, dearie; I'll come soon."
30. Tilly went, taking her bird with her to sleep in his basket near by, lest he should be lonely in the night.
Soon the little house was dark and still, and no one saw the Christmas spirits at their work that night.
31. When Tilly opened the door next morning, she gave a loud cry, clapped her hands, and then stood still, quite speechless with wonder and delight. There, before the door, lay a great pile of wood all ready to burn, a big bundle, and a basket, with a lovely nosegay of winter roses, holly, and evergreen tied to the handle.
32. "Oh, mother! did the fairies do it?" cried Tilly, pale with her happiness, as she seized the basket, while her mother took in the bundle.
33. "Yes, dear, the best and dearest fairy in the world, called 'Charity.' She walks abroad at Christmas time, does beautiful deeds like this, and does not stay to be thanked," answered her mother with full eyes, as she undid the parcel.
34. There they were – the warm, thick blankets, the comfortable shawl, the new shoes, and, best of all, a pretty winter hat for Bessy. The basket was full of good things to eat, and on the flowers lay a paper saying:
"For the little girl who loves her neighbor as herself."
35. "Mother, I really think my bird is a fairy bird, and all these splendid things come from him," said Tilly, laughing and crying with joy.
36. It really did seem so, for, as she spoke, the robin flew to the table, hopped to the nosegay, and, perching among the roses, began to chirp with all his little might. The sun streamed in on flowers, bird, and happy child, and no one saw a shadow glide away from the window; no one ever knew that Mr. King had seen and heard the little girls the night before, or dreamed that the rich neighbor had learned a lesson from the poor neighbor.
37. And Tilly's bird was a fairy bird; for by her love and tenderness to the helpless thing she brought good gifts to herself, happiness to the unknown giver of them, and a faithful little friend who did not fly away, but stayed with her till the snow was gone, making summer for her in the winter time.
I. Bē̍ nŭmbed´: deprived of feeling, as by cold. Cŏn fīd´ĭng: trusting.
II. Plŭm´my̆: full of plums. Chăr´ĭ ty̆: kindness to the poor.
Honor and shame from no condition rise.Act well your part; there all the honor lies.POPEUnder the Greenwood Tree
By William ShakspereWilliam Shakspere (1564-1616): An English dramatic poet. His name is the greatest in English literature, and one of the greatest in the world's literature. The plays usually considered his best are "Hamlet," "King Lear," "Othello," "Macbeth," "Julius Cæsar," "The Merchant of Venice," and "The Tempest." "Under the Greenwood Tree" is the song of the banished lords in "As You Like It."
1. Under the greenwood tree,Who loves to lie with me,And turn his merry noteUnto the sweet bird's throat,Come hither, come hither, come hither!Here shall he seeNo enemyBut winter and rough weather.2. Who doth ambition shun,And loves to live i' the sun,Seeking the food he eats,And pleased with what he gets,Come hither, come hither, come hither!Here shall he seeNo enemyBut winter and rough weather.Our First Naval Hero
1. Much has been said about the gallant deeds of the brave sailors who won the victories of Manila and Santiago in the war with Spain.
The great steel war ships of to-day are very different from the small wooden vessels with which the naval battles of the Revolution were fought.
2. But we had brave sailors in those early days, also, as you can learn from the following stories of our first great naval hero. This hero's name was John Paul Jones.
3. At the beginning of the Revolution, Jones offered his services to Congress, and was given a position in the navy. He showed such skill and courage that he was soon put in command of a ship.
When a ship was being fitted out for him, he asked for a good one. "For," said he, "I intend to go in harm's way."
4. Paul Jones was the first to raise the stars and stripes on the seas, and he soon made his flag feared by the enemies of his country.
5. Not long after he raised his flag, he went to Whitehaven, on the coast of England. There hundreds of English vessels lay at anchor. At midnight, Jones, with two small boats, rowed noiselessly into the harbor. Leaving the others to set fire to the English ships, he hastened forward, with only one man, to take the fort which defended the harbor.
6. He spiked every gun and then hurried back to his men. What was his rage to find that they had not set fire to the ships as he had ordered.
7. By this time day was beginning to break, and the people of the town were gathering at the water-side. But Paul Jones was unwilling to see his plan fail entirely. All alone he entered a large ship, and set fire to it with his own hands.
8. As the flames rose high, the people rushed forward to put them out. But Paul Jones, pistol in hand, threatened to shoot down the first man who should approach. When the ship was fairly on fire, he rowed to his own vessel and sailed out of the harbor.
9. Through the help of Franklin, Jones obtained command of a vessel which he called the "Poor Richard." As it and three other small American ships were sailing along the English coast, they saw a fleet of merchant vessels accompanied by two large war ships.
10. Jones at once gave chase. The merchant vessels scattered like wild pigeons, and ran for shore, but the two war ships advanced to fight.
Paul Jones, in his old, half worn-out ship, fearlessly approached the Serapis, a new vessel with an excellent crew. Both vessels opened fire, and two of Jones's guns burst at once.
11. Soon the vessels drew close together, and Jones gave orders to board the Serapis. His men were driven back, and Captain Pearson of the Serapis called to know, if he had yielded.
"I have not yet begun to fight," replied Jones.
12. The ships parted, and the size and strength of the enemy told against the Poor Richard, so Jones determined to try again to board the Serapis. As the two vessels came close to each other, Jones ordered them to be fastened together.
13. Captain Pearson did not like this close fighting, for it took away all the advantage his better ship and heavier guns had given him. Paul Jones's guns now touched those of the Serapis. As the gunners loaded, they had to thrust their ramrods into the enemy's ports. Never before had an English commander met such a foe or fought such a battle.
14. With his heaviest guns useless, and part of his deck blown up, Jones still kept up the unequal fight. He himself helped work the guns. In this hour of need one of the American vessels, the Alliance, commanded by a Frenchman, came up, and instead of attacking the Serapis, fired on the Poor Richard.
15. Just then the gunners and carpenter ran up, saying that the ship was sinking. Captain Pearson called again to know if the ship had yielded. Paul Jones replied that if he could do no better he would go down with his colors flying.
16. In the confusion the English prisoners had been set free. One of them, who passed through the fire to his own ship, told Captain Pearson that the Poor Richard was sinking; if he could hold out but a few minutes longer she must go down.
17. Imagine the condition of Paul Jones at this moment! Every gun was silenced, except the one at which he himself stood; his ship was gradually settling beneath him, a hundred prisoners swarmed on his decks, and the Alliance was firing on his ship. Still he would not yield. He ordered the prisoners to the pumps, declaring that if they would not work they should sink with him.
18. The condition of the Serapis was little better than that of the Poor Richard. Both vessels looked like wrecks, and both were on fire. The Serapis was at last forced to surrender. Nothing but Paul Jones's courage and his resolve never to give up had saved him from defeat.
19. The captain of the Alliance had intended to destroy Jones's ship, and then take the English vessel and claim the honor of the victory. He was disgraced for his conduct, and Jones was honored, as he deserved to be.
20. Captain Pearson was made a knight for the courage with which he defended his ship.
When Jones heard this, he said: "Well, he deserved it; and if I have the good fortune to fall in with him again, I will make him a lord."
I. Găl´lant: brave. Spīked: made the guns useless by stopping the vent or touchhole with a nail or spike.
II. Sē̍ rā´ pĭs. Bōard: to go on deck of. Knīght: a man who receives a rank which entitles him to be called Sir, as "Sir Walter Scott."
In the lexicon of youth, which fate reservesFor a bright manhood, there's no such word as fail.BULWERHiawatha's Sailing
By Henry Wadsworth LongfellowHenry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882): One of the most popular of American poets. "Evangeline" and "Hiawatha" are the best known of his longer poems. Among his shorter poems are many household favorites, such as "The Village Blacksmith," "Excelsior," and "The Psalm of Life." Longfellow was also the author of two prose volumes, "Outre Mer" and "Hyperion," descriptive of his European travels.
"Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!Growing by the rushing river,Tall and stately in the valley!I a light canoe will build me,Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,That shall float upon the river,Like a yellow leaf in autumn,Like a yellow water lily!""Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree!Lay aside your white skin wrapper,For the summer time is coming,And the sun is warm in heaven,And you need no white skin wrapper!"Thus aloud cried HiawathaIn the solitary forest,By the rushing Taquamenaw,When the birds were singing gaily,In the Moon of Leaves were singing,And the Sun, from sleep awaking,Started up and said, "Behold me!Geezis, the great Sun, behold me!"And the tree with all its branchesRustled in the breeze of morning,Saying, with a sigh of patience,"Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"With his knife the tree he girdled;Just beneath its lowest branches,Just above the roots, he cut it,Till the sap came oozing outward;Down the trunk, from top to bottom,Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,With a wooden wedge he raised it,Stripped it from the trunk unbroken."Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!Of your strong and pliant branches,My canoe to make more steady,Make more strong and firm beneath me!"Through the summit of the CedarWent a sound, a cry of horror,Went a murmur of resistance;But it whimpered, bending downward,"Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"Down he hewed boughs of cedar,Shaped them straightway to a framework,Like two bows he formed and shaped them,Like two bended bows together."Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!My canoe to bind together,So to bind the ends togetherThat the water may not enter,That the river may not wet me!"And the Larch with all its fibers,Shivered in the air of morning,Touched his forehead with its tassels,Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,"Take them all, O Hiawatha!"From the earth he tore the fibers,Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree,Closely sewed the bark together,Bound it closely to the framework."Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!Of your balsam and your resin,So to close the seams togetherThat the water may not enter,That the river may not wet me!"And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,Battled like a shore with pebbles,Answered wailing, answered weeping,"Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"And he took the tears of balsam,Took the resin of the Fir Tree,Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,Made each crevice safe from water."Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!All your quills, O Kagh, the Hedgehog!I will make a necklace of them,Make a girdle for my beauty,And two stars to deck her bosom!"From a hollow tree the HedgehogWith his sleepy eyes looked at him,Shot his shining quills, like arrows,Saying, with a drowsy murmur,Through the tangle of his whiskers,"Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"From the ground the quills he gathered,All the little shining arrows,Stained them red and blue and yellow,With the juice of roots and berries;Into his canoe he wrought them,Round its waist a shining girdle,Round its bows a gleaming necklace,On its breast two stars resplendent.Thus the Birch Canoe was builded,In the valley, by the river,In the bosom of the forest;And the forest's life was in it,All its mystery and its magic,All the lightness of the birch tree,All the toughness of the cedar,All the larch's supple sinews;And it floated on the riverLike a yellow leaf in autumn,Like a yellow water lily.Paddles none had Hiawatha,Paddles none he had or needed,For his thoughts as paddles served him,And his wishes served to guide him;Swift or slow at will he glided,Veered to right or left at pleasure.Chēema̤un´: a birch canoe. Sŏl´ĭ tā̍ ry̆: lonely. Tȧ qua mē´na̤w: a river of northern Michigan which flows into Lake Superior. Moon of Leaves: May. Gēe´zĭs: the sun. Shēer: straight up and down. Ȧ sŭn´dẽr: apart; in two. Plī´ant: bending easily without breaking. Strāight´ wāy: at once. Tăm´ȧ răck: the American larch. Fī´broŭs: composed of fibers or threads; tough. Bälm, ba̤l´sam, rĕs̝´ĭn: gummy substances which flow from the fir tree. Sŏm´bẽr: dark; gloomy. Fis´sure: a narrow opening. Kägh: the hedgehog. Drow´s̝y̆: sleepy. Rē̍ splĕn´dent: very bright; shining. My̆s´tẽr y̆: something kept secret. Sŭp´ple: easily bent. Vēered: turned; changed direction.
Shun Delay
I
1. One day an old farmer went into the nearest market town with some of the produce of his farm. When he had attended to all his business, he stabled his horse at the inn and went to see the great lawyer who lived in one of the grandest houses in the town.
2. He rang the bell and sent in word that he wished to see the lawyer on important business.
On being shown into the room, he said: "Now, sir, I have come to get your advice."
"Yes," answered the lawyer; "what is the matter?"
"That is for you to find out," said the old man. "I have come to you to get advice, not to give it."
3. The lawyer had never before met so queer a client. No one was in the habit of speaking so bluntly to him. He was rather amused than angry, and made up his mind to find out what the old man really wanted with him.
So he asked: "Have you a complaint to make against any one?"
"No," said the farmer; "I live at peace with all my neighbors."
4. "Perhaps you wish to recover a debt?"
"No!" shouted the old man; "I owe no man; and, if any one owes me anything, he gets time to pay it. There are honest people in the part I come from."
5. The lawyer asked several other questions, but without being able to discover why his strange client had called upon him. At length he said that he was unable to give him any advice, as he did not seem to be in any difficulty or trouble.
6. "Difficulty or trouble!" said the old man; "that's exactly what I am in. I come to ask you for advice – you, the greatest lawyer in the country – and you can do nothing to help me. That's difficulty and trouble enough, I think.
7. "Many of my friends and neighbors have been to see lawyers from time to time, and taken their advice about the conduct of their affairs. They say they have done well ever since. So when I came to market to-day, I made up my mind to come to you and get advice; but, as you have none to give me, I must go to some other man who understands my case."
8. "You need not do that," said the lawyer. "Now that you have explained, I understand your case thoroughly. Your neighbors have been receiving legal advice, and you do not wish to be considered less important than they."
9. "That's it," shouted the man, delighted that he was understood at last.
The lawyer gravely took a sheet of paper and a pen. Then he asked the man his name.
10. "John Brown," was the answer.
"Occupation?"
"What's that?" he asked, in amazement.
"What do you do for a living?"
"Oh! is that what occupation means?" he said. "I'm a farmer."
11. The great lawyer wrote it all down, and added something which the farmer could not make out. Then, folding the paper, he gave it to the old man, who paid his fee, and went out delighted that he was now every bit as clever as his neighbors.
II
12. When he arrived home, he found a number of his work people at his door, talking to his wife.
"Ah, here comes John," she cried; "he will tell us what to do."
13. Then she explained to her husband that the hay was all cut and ready for carrying in, and the men wanted to know whether they should stop for the night, or work till the fields were clear. The weather had been fine for many days, and the sky had a settled appearance, so that there seemed no need of haste for fear of rain.
14. The farmer thought a moment without coming to any decision. Suddenly he remembered the lawyer's advice which he had in his pocket.
"This will decide it in a minute," he cried, as he unfolded the paper. "I have here an opinion from one of our famous lawyers, and we will follow whatever advice he gives. Read it," he said to his wife. "You are a better scholar than I."
15. His wife took the paper and read aloud: "John Brown, farmer. Do not put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day."
"A famous opinion," cried the farmer with delight. "Away to the fields, lads, and get the hay in."
16. The men went back and worked with a will. In the moonlight they kept busy loading the carts, till, at length, all the fields were cleared. As the last load was driven in, a few drops of rain began to fall, but there was no sign of a storm.
17. During the night, however, a tempest of wind and rain burst over the valley, and when the farmer got up in the morning, several of his fields were flooded. We can well imagine how thankful he was that he had not put off his work till to-morrow. Had he done so, he would have found, as so many have found, that to-morrow is too late.
18. "A famous piece of advice that was," he remarked, as he walked back to the house. "'Do not put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day.' If everybody acted on that plan, what a world of misery and disappointment would be saved. I will always do so for the future."
19. The farmer kept his word, and he found, as you wall also find if you try it, that his work was lighter, and that the world went more smoothly than it had ever done before.
I. Prŏd´ūçe: that which is brought forth from the ground. Clī´ent: One who asks advice of a lawyer. Lē´gal: relating to law; governed by the rules of law. Ȧ māze´ment: surprise. Fēe: charge.
II. De cis´ion: fixed purpose.
Select from this story five words which express action.
Write all the forms of these words: as see, saw, seen.
One of the illusions is that the present hour is not the decisive hour. Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.
EMERSONThe Walrus and the Carpenter
By Lewis Carroll1. The sun was shining on the sea,Shining with all his might;He did his very best to makeThe billows smooth and bright —And this was odd, because it wasThe middle of the night.2. The moon was shining sulkily,Because she thought the sunHad got no business to be thereAfter the day was done:"It's very rude of him," she said,"To come and spoil the fun!"3. The sea was wet as wet could be,The sands were dry as dry.You could not see a cloud, becauseNo cloud was in the sky:No birds were flying overhead —There were no birds to fly.4. The Walrus and the CarpenterWere walking close at hand;They wept like anything to seeSuch quantities of sand:"If this were only cleared away,"They said, "it would be grand!"5. "If seven maids with seven mopsSwept it for half a year,Do you suppose," the Walrus said,"That they could get it clear?""I doubt it," said the Carpenter,And shed a bitter tear.6. "O Oysters, come and walk with us!"The Walrus did beseech."A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,Along the briny beach:We can not do with more than four,To give a hand to each."7. The eldest Oyster looked at him,But never a word he said:The eldest Oyster winked his eye,And shook his heavy head, —Meaning to say he did not chooseTo leave the Oyster-bed.8. But four young Oysters hurried up,All eager for the treat:Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,Their shoes were clean and neat —And this was odd, because, you know,They hadn't any feet.9. Four other Oysters followed them,And yet another four;And thick and fast they came at last,And more, and more, and more, —All hopping through the frothy waves,And scrambling to the shore.10. The Walrus and the CarpenterWalked on a mile or so,And then they rested on a rockConveniently low:And all the little Oysters stoodAnd waited in a row.11. "The time has come," the Walrus said,"To talk of many things:Of shoes – and ships – and sealing wax —Of cabbages – and kings —And why the sea is boiling hot —And whether pigs have wings."12. "But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,"Before we have our chat;For some of us are out of breath,And all of us are fat!""No hurry!" said the Carpenter.They thanked him much for that.13. "A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,"Is what we chiefly need:Pepper and vinegar besidesAre very good indeed:Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,We can begin to feed."14. "But not on us!" the Oysters cried,Turning a little blue."After such kindness that would beA dismal thing to do!""The night is fine," the Walrus said;"Do you admire the view?15. "It was so kind of you to come!And you are very nice!"The Carpenter said nothing but,"Cut us another slice:I wish you were not quite so deaf —I've had to ask you twice!"16. "It seems a shame," the Walrus said,"To play them such a trick,After we've brought them out so far,And made them trot so quick!"The Carpenter said nothing but,"The butter's spread too thick!"17. "I weep for you," the Walrus said:"I deeply sympathize."With sobs and tears he sorted outThose of the largest size,Holding his pocket handkerchiefBefore his streaming eyes.18. "O Oysters," said the Carpenter,"You've had a pleasant run!Shall we be trotting home again?"But answer came there none —And this was scarcely odd, becauseThey'd eaten every one.Bĭl´lō̍ws̝: great waves of the sea. Sŭlk´ĭ ly̆: peevishly; angrily. Bē̍ sēech´: beg; ask earnestly. Brīn´y̆: salty. Frŏth´y̆: full of bubbles. Dĭs̝´mal: sad. Sy̆m´pȧ thīze: pity.