Citation
Fifty famous stories retold

Material Information

Title:
Fifty famous stories retold
Creator:
Baldwin, James, 1841-1925
American Book Company ( Publisher )
Baldwin, James, 1841-1925, 1841-1925
Place of Publication:
New York ;
Cincinnati ;
Chicago
Publisher:
American Book Company
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
172 p. : ill. ; 19 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Folklore -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
History -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1896 ( lcsh )
Readers -- 1896 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1896
Genre:
Children's stories
Readers ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- New York -- New York
United States -- Ohio -- Cincinnati
United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

Statement of Responsibility:
by James Baldwin.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026581285 ( ALEPH )
ALG1996 ( NOTIS )
233023021 ( OCLC )

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Full Text
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| The Baldwin Library ] |

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FIFTY FAMOUS STORIES
RETOLD

BY

JAMES BALDWIN



AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY

NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO



CopyRIGHT, 1896, BY

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.



FIFTY FAMOUS STORIES.
E-P 1



King Alfred and the Cakes . .
King Alfred and the Beggar. .
King Canute on the Seashore .
The Sons of William the Con-
- queror . 1 ee we
The White Ship . ....
King John and the Abbot ..
A Story of Robin Hood . . .
Bruce and the Spider. . . .
The Black Douglas . .. «
Three Men of Gotham . . .
Other Wise Men of Gotham .
The Miller of the Dee . . .
Sir Philip Sidney . . 2. 6 6
The Ungrateful Soldier . . .
Sir Humphrey Gilbert. . . .
Sir Walter Raleigh. . .. -
Pocahontas . . 2. 6 « © «
George Washington and his
Hatchet . . 2. «6 ©
Grace Darling . . . « ©
The Story of William Tell . .
Arnold Winkelried . 2 . .
The Bellof Atri . . 2...
How Napoleon crossed the Alps
The Story of Cincinnatus. . .

CONTENTS.

es
PAGE PAGE
5 |. The Story of Regus. . . . 82
8 | Cornelia’s Jewels . - 2. 2 2 85
to | Androclus and the Lion. . . 87
Horatius at the Bridge . . gI

12 | Julius Cesar. 2. 2. «6 6 6 95
17 | The Sword of Damocles . . . 96
21) Damon and Pythias . . . . 100
28 | ALaconic Answer . . « « 102
33 | The Ungrateful Guest . + « 103
35 | Alexander and Bucephalus . . 106
39 | Diogenes the Wise Man . - 108
42 ; The Brave Three Hundred . . 110
46 | Socrates and his House - 6 HI2
49 | The King and his Hawk. . . 113
51 | Doctor Goldsmith. . . - 118
53 | The Kingdoms. ... . « « 119
54 | The Barmecide Feast . + « 123
58 | The Endless Tale . . . . 127
The Blind Men and the Elephant 130

59 | Maximilian and the Goose Boy . 132
61 | The Inchcape Rock . . . . 137
64 | Whittington and hisCat. . . 140
66 | Casabianca . . 2. « - 153
69 | AntonioCanova . . . . « 156
75 | Picciola . 2 . 2 5 6 + © 162
76 { Mignon . 2 2 6 «© «© © « 167



CONCERNING THESE STORIES.



THERE are numerous time-honored stories which have become so
incorporated into the literature and thought of our race that a knowl-
edge of them is an indispensable part of one’s education. These
stories are of several different classes. To one class belong the popu-
lar fairy tales which have delighted untold generations of children,
and will continue to delight them to the end of time. To another
class belong the limited number of fables that have come down to us
through many channels from hoar antiquity. To a third belong the
harming stories of olden times that are derived from the literatures of
ancient peoples, such as the Greeks and the Hebrews. A fourth class
includes the half-legendary tales of a distinctly later origin, which have
for their subjects certain romantic episodes in the lives of well-known
heroes and famous men, or in the history of a people.

It is to this last class that most of the fifty stories contained in the
present volume belong. As a matter of course, some of these stories
are better known, and therefore more famous, than others. Some have
a siight historical value; some are useful as giving point to certain
great moral truths; others are products solely of the fancy, and are
intended only to amuse. Some are derived from very ancient sources,
and are current in the literature of many lands; some have come to us
through the ballads and folk tales of the English people; a few are
of quite recent origin; nearly all are the subjects of frequent allusions
in poetry and prose and in the conversation of educated people. Care
has been taken to exclude everything that is not strictly within the
limits of probability; hence there is here no trespassing upon the
domain of the fairy tale, the fable, or the myth.

That children naturally take a deep interest in such stories, no per-
son can deny; that the reading of them will not only give pleasure, but
will help to lay the foundation for broader literary studies, can scarcely
be doubted. It is believed, therefore, that the present collection will
be found to possess an educative value which will commend it as a
supplementary reader in the middle primary grades at school. It is also
hoped that the book will prove so attractive that it will be in demand
out of school as well as in.

Acknowledgments are due to Mrs. Charles A. Lane, by whom eight
or ten of the stories were suggested.

4



FIFTY FAMOUS STORIES RETOLD.

—059% 0o—_——_.

KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.



Many years ago there lived in Eng-land a wise
and good king whose name was Al-fred. No other
man ever did so much for his country as he; and

5



6

people now, all over the world, speak of him as
Alfred the Great.

In those days a king did not have a very easy
life. There was war almost all the time, and no
one else could lead his army into battle so well as
he. And so, between ruling and fighting, he had a
busy time of it indeed. .

A fierce, rude people, called the Danes, had come
from over the sea, and were fighting the Eng-lish.
There were so many of them, and they were so
bold and strong, that for a long time they gained
every battle. If they kept on, they would soon be
the masters of the whole country.

At last, after a great battle, the English army
was broken up and scat-tered. Every man had to
save himself in the best way he could. King AI-.
fred fled alone, in great haste, through the woods
and swamps.

Late in the day the king came to the hut of a
wood-cut-ter. He was very tired and hungry, and
he begged the wood-cut-ter’s wife to give him some-
thing to eat and a place to sleep in her hut.

The wom-an was baking some cakes upon the
hearth, and she looked with pity upon the poor,
ragged fellow who seemed so hungry. She had
no thought that he was the king.

“Yes,” she said, “1 will give you some supper if



7

you will watch these cakes. I want to go out and
milk the cow; and you must see that they do not
burn while I am gone.”

King Alfred was very willing to watch the cakes,
but he had far greater things to think about. How
was he going to get his army to-geth-er again?
And how was he going to drive the fierce Danes
out of the land? He forgot his hunger; he forgot
the cakes; he forgot that he was in the woodcut-
ter’s hut. His mind was busy making plans for
to-mor-row.

In a little while the wom-an came back. The
cakes were smoking on the hearth. They were
burned to a crisp. Ah, how angry she was!

“You lazy fellow!” she cried. “See what you
have done! You want some-thing to eat, but you
do not want to work!”

I have been told that she even struck the king
with a stick; but I can hardly be-lieve that she was
so ill-na-tured. .

The king must have laughed to himself at the
_ thought of being scolded in this way; and he

was so hungry that he did not mind the woman’s .
angry words half so much as the loss of the
cakes. |
_ I do not know whether he had any-thing te eat

_» that night, or whether he had to go to bed without



8

his supper. But it was not many days until he
had gath-ered his men to-geth-er again, and had
beaten the Danes in a great battle...

KING ALFRED AND THE BEGGAR.

At one time the Danes drove King Alfred from
his kingdom, and he had to lie hidden for a long
time on a little is-land in a river.

One day, all who were on the is-land, except the
king and queen and one servant, went out to fish.
It was a very lonely place, and no one could get to
it except by a boat. About noon a ragged beggar
came to the king’s door, and asked for food.

The king called the servant, and asked, “ How
much food have we in the house? ”

“ My lord,” said ine servant, “we have only one
loaf and a little wine.’

Then the king gave thanks to God, and said,
“Give half of the loaf and half of the wine to this
poor man.”

The servant did as he was bidden. The beggar.
thanked the king for his kindness, and went on his
way.

In the after-noon the men who nea gone out to
fish came back. They had three boats full of fish,



9

and they said, “We have caught more fish to-day
than in all the other days that we have been on
this island.”

The king was glad, and he and his people were
more hopeful than they had ever been before.

When night came, the king lay awake for a long
time, and thought about the things that had hap-
pened that day. At last he fancied that he saw
a great light like the sun; and in the midst of the
light there stood an old man with black hair, hold-
ing an open book in his hand.

It may all have been a dream, and yet to the king
it seemed very real indeed. He looked and won-
dered, but was not afraid.

“Who are you?” he asked of the old man.

“ Alfred, my son, be brave,” said the man; “for I
am the one to whom you gave this day the half of
all the food that you had. Be strong and joyful
of heart, and listen to what I say. Rise up early
in the morning and blow your horn three times,
so loudly that the Danes may hear it. By nine
o'clock, five hundred men will be around you ready
to be led into battle. Go forth bravely, and within
seven days your en-e-mies shall be beaten, and you
shall go back to your kingdom to reign in peace.”

Then the light went out, and the man was seen
no more.



10

In the morning the king arose early, and crossed
over to the mainland. Then he blew his horn
three times very loudly; and when his friends
heard it they were glad, but the Danes were filled
with fear. a

At nine o’clock, five hundred of his bravest sol-
diers stood around him ready for battle. He spoke,
and told them what he had seen and heard in his
dream; and when he had fin-ished, they all cheered
loudly, and said that they would follow him and fight
for him so long as they had strength.

So they went out bravely to battle; and they
beat the Danes, and drove them back into their
own place. And King Alfred ruled wisely and well
over all his people for the rest of his days.

KING CANUTE ON THE SEASHORE.

A HUNDRED years or more after the time of
Alfred the Great there was a king of England
named Ca-nute’. .King Canute was a Dane; but
the Danes were not so fierce and cruel then as
they had been when they were at war with King
Alfred.

The great men and of-fi-cers who were around
King Canute were always praising him.



Il

“You are the greatest man that ever lived,” one

/ would say.

Then an-oth-er would say, “O king! there can
never be an-oth-er man so mighty as you.”

- And another would say, “ Great Canute, there is
nothing in the world that dares to dis-o-bey you.”

The king was a man of sense, and he grew very
tired of hearing such foolish speeches. _

One day he was by the sea-shore, and his of-fi-
cers were with him. They were praising him, as
they were in the habit of doing. He thought that
now he would teach them a lesson, and so he bade
them set his chair on the beach close the edge
of the water,

“Am I the greatest man in the world?” he
asked.

“O king!” any cried, “there is no one so

mighty as you.”

“Do all things obey me?” he asked.

“There is nothing that dares to dis-o-bey you, O
king!” they said. “The world bows before you,
and gives you honor.”

“Will the sea obey me?” he asked; and he
looked down at the little waves which were lapping
the sand at his feet.

‘The foolish officers were puzzled, but they did
not dare to say “ No.” |



12

“Command it, O king! and it will obey,” said
one,

-“ Sea,” cried Canute, “I command you to come
no farther! Waves, stop your rolling, and do not
dare to touch my feet!”

But the tide came in, just as it always did. The
water rose higher and higher. It came up around
the king’s chair, and wet not only his feet, but also
his robe. His officers stood about him, alarmed,
and won-der-ing whether he was not mad.

Then Canute took off his crown, and threw it
down upon the sand.

“J shall never wear it again,” he said. “And do
you, my men, learn a lesson from what you have
seen. There is only one King who is all-powerful:
and it is he who rules the sea, and holds the ocean
in the hollow of his hand. It is he whom you
ought to praise and serve above all others.”

THE SONS OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.

THERE was once a great king of England who
was called Wil-liam the Con-quer-or, ane he had
three sons.

One day King Wil-liam seemed to be thinking
of something that made him feel very sad; and the



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14

wise men who were about him asked him what was
the matter.

“T am thinking,” he said, “of what my sons: may

do after I am dead. For, unless they are wise and
strong, they cannot keep the kingdom which I have
won for them. Indeed, I am ata loss to know which
one of the three ought to be the king when I am.
gone.”
—&O king!” said the wise men, “if we only
knew what things your’ sons admire the most,
we might then be able to tell what kind of men
they will be. Perhaps, by asking each one of
them a few ques-tions, we can find out which
one of them will be best fitted to rule in your
place.”

“ The plan is well worth trying, at least,” said the
king. “Have the boys come before you, and then
~ ask them what you please.”

The wise men talked with one another for a little
while, and then agreed that the young princes’
should be brought in, one at a time, and that the
same ques-tions should be put to each.

The first who came into the room was Robert.
He was a tall, willful lad, and was nick-named Short
Stocking.

“ Fair sir,” said one of the men, “answer me this
question: If, instead of being a boy, it had pleased



15

_ God that you should be a bird, what kind of a bird
would you rather be?”

“ A hawk,” answered Robert. “I would rather
be a hawk, for no other bird reminds one so much
of a bold and gallant knight.”

The next who came was young William, his
father’s name-sake and pet. His face was jolly and
_ round, and because he had red hair he was nick-
named Rufus, or the Red.

“Fair sir,’ said the wise man, “answer me this
question: If, instead of being a boy, it had pleased
God that you should be a bird, what kind of a bird
would you rather be?”

“ An eagle,” answered William. “I would rather
be an eagle, because it is strong and brave, It is
feared by all other birds, and is there-fore the king
of them all.” é

Lastly came the youngest brother, Henry, with
quiet steps and a sober, thought-ful look. He had
been taught to read and write, and for that reason
he was nick-named Beau-clerc, or the Hand-some
Schol-ar. -

“Fair sir,” said the wise man, “answer me this
question: If, instead of being a boy, it had pleased
God that you should be a bird, what kind of a bird
would you rather be?”

“A star-ling,” said Henry. “I would rather be a



16

star-ling, because it is good-mannered and kind and
a joy to every one who sees it, and it never tries to
rob or abuse its neigh-bor.”

Then the wise men talked with one another for a
little while, and when they had agreed among them-
selves, they spoke to the king.

“We find,” said they, “that your alaest son, Rob-
ert, will be bold and gallant. He will do some great
deeds, and make a name for himself; but in the end
he will be over-come by his foes, and will die in|
prison. |

“The second son, William, will be as brave and
strong as the eagle; but he will be feared and hated
for his cruel deeds. He will lead a ‘wicked life, and
will die a shamefui death.

“ The youngest son, Henry, will be wise and pru-
dent and peaceful. He will go to war only when he
is forced to do so by his enemies. He will be loved
at home, and re-spect-ed abroad; and he will die in
peace after having gained great pos-ses-sions.”

Years passed by, and the three boys had grown
up to be men. King William lay upon his death-
bed, and again he thought of what would become
of his sons when he was gone. Then he re-mem-
bered what the wise men had told him; and so he
de-clared that Robert should have the lands which
he held in France, that William should be the King



17

of England, and that Henry should have no land at
all, but only a chest of gold.

So it hap-pened in the end very much as the wise
men had fore-told. Robert, the Short Stocking, was
bold and reckless, like the hawk which he so much
admired. He lost all the lands that his father had
left him, and was at last shut up in prison, where he
was kept until he died.

William Rufus was so over-bear-ing and cruel that
he was feared and hated by all his people. He led
a wicked life, and was killed by one of his own men
while hunting in the forest.

And Henry, the Handsome Scholar, had not only
the chest of gold for his own, but he became by and
by the King of England and the ruler of all the lands
that his father had had in France.

THE WHITE SHIP. .

King Henry, the Handsome Scholar, had one
son, named William, whom he dearly loved. The
young man was noble and brave, and every-body
hoped that he would some day be the King of
England.

One summer Prince William went with his father
across the sea to look after their lands in France.

FIFTY FAM. STO.— 2



18

They were wel-comed with joy by all their people
there, and the young prince was so gallant and
kind, that he won the love of all who saw him.

But at last the time came for them to go back
to England. The king, with his wise men and
brave knights, set sail early in the day; but: Prince
William with his younger friends waited a little
while. They had had so joyous a time in France |
that they were in no great haste to tear them-selves
away.

Then they went on board of the ship which was
waiting to carry them home. It was a beau-ti-ful
ship with white sails and white masts, and it had
been fitted up on purpose for this voyage.

The sea was smooth, the winds were fair, and no
one thought of danger. On the ship, every-thing
had been ar-ranged to make the trip a pleasant one.
There was music and dancing, and everybody was
merry and glad.

The sun had gone down before the white-winged
vessel was fairly out of the bay. But what of that?
The moon was at its full, and it would give light
enough; and before the dawn of the morrow, the
narrow sea would be crossed. And so the prince,
and the young people who were with him, gave
themselves up to mer-ri-ment and feasting and joy.

The ear-li-er hours of the night passed by; and



19

then there was a cry of alarm on deck. A moment
after-ward there was a great crash. The ship had
struck upon a rock. The water rushed in. She
was sinking. Ah, where now were those who had
lately been so heart-free and glad?

Every heart was full of fear. No one knew what
to do. A small boat was quickly launched, and the
prince with a few of his bravest friends leaped into
it. They pushed off just as the ship was be-gin-ning
to settle beneath the waves. Would they be saved?

They had rowed hardly ten yards from the ship,
when there was a cry from among those that were
left behind.

“Row back!” cried the prince. “It is my little
sister. She must be saved!”

The men did not dare to disobey. ‘The boat was
again brought along-side of the sinking vessel.
The prince stood up, and held out his arms for his
sister. At that moment the ship gave a great
lurch forward into the waves. One shriek of ter-
ror was heard, and then all was still save the sound
of the moaning waters.

Ship and boat, prince and prin-cess, and all the
gay com-pa-ny that had set sail from France, went
down to the bottom together. One man clung toa
floating plank, and was saved the next day. He
was the only person left alive to tell the sad story.



20

When King Henry heard of the death of his son
his grief was more than he could bear. His heart
was broken. He had no more joy in life; and men
say that no one ever saw him smile again.

Here is a poem about him that your teacher may
read to you, and perhaps, after a while, you may
learn it by heart.

HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN.

The bark that held the prince went down,
The sweeping waves rolled on;

And what was England’s glorious crown
To him that wept a son?

He lived, for life may long be borne
Ere sorrow breaks its chain ;

Why comes not death to those who mourn?
He never smiled again.

There stood proud forms before his throne,
The stately and the brave ;

But who could fill the place of one, —
That one beneath the wave?

Before him passed the young and fair,
In pleasure’s reckless train ;

But seas dashed o’er his son’s bright hair —
He never smiled again.

He sat where festal bowls went round ;
He heard the minstrel sing ;

He saw the tour-ney’s victor crowned
Amid the knightly ring.



21

A murmur of the restless deep
Was blent with every strain,

A voice of winds that would not sleep —
He never smiled again.

Hearts, in that time, closed o’er the trace
Of vows once fondly poured,

And strangers took the kins-man’s place
At many a joyous board;

Graves which true love had bathed with tears
Were left to heaven’s bright rain ;

Fresh hopes were born for other years -—

#7e never smiled again !
MRS. HEMANS.

KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT.

I. THE THREE QUESTIONS.

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

Now, there was in the town of Can’‘ter-bur-y a rich
old abbot who lived in grand style in a great house
called the Abbey. Every day a hundred noble men
sat down with him to dine; and fifty brave knights,



22

in fine velvet coats and gold chains, waited AROR
him at his table.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, do not'say so!” said the abbot. “ For 1”—

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



38

“TI will try to answer them, O king!” said the
abbot.

“Well, then,” said King John, “as I sit here with

my crown of gold on my head, you must tell me to.
within a day just how long I shall live. Sec-ond-ly,
you must tell me how soon I shall ride round the
whole world; and lastly, you shall tell me what I
think.”
“O king!” said the abbot, “these are deep, hard.
questions, and I cannot answer them just now. But
if you will give me two weeks to think about them,
I will do the best that I can.” .

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

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

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

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



24.

Il. THE THREE ANSWERS.

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

“Welcome home, good master!” cried the shep-
herd. “What news do you bring us from great
King John?”

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

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

“You help me!” cried the abbot. “‘ How? how?”

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

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

So the shepherd got ready to go at once. He



25

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

Of course the king did not know him.

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

“T am ready to answer them, O king!” said the
shepherd.

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

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

The king laughed.

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






\ \\ Ys Ws % P
AWS \ Wy 3
Es NY WN




























i AG
Lipper E>
Mp pa
mM te Hs )
Eh















































































** You shall live until the day that you die.”’



27

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

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

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

The king laughed loud and long.

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

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

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



28

A STORY OF ROBIN HOOD.

In the rude days of King Rich-ard and King
John there were many great woods in England.
The most famous of these was Sher-wood forest,
where the king often went to hunt deer. In this
forest there lived a band of daring men called out-
laws.

They had done something that was against the
laws of the land, and had been forced to hide them-
selves in the woods to save their lives. There they
spent their time in roaming about among the trees,
in hunting the king’s deer, and in robbing rich
trav-el-ers that came that way.

There were nearly a hundred of these outlaws,
and their leader was a bold fellow called Robin
Hood. They were dressed in suits of green, and
armed with bows and arrows; and sometimes they
carried long wooden lances and broad-swords, which
they knew how to handle well. When-ever they
had taken anything, it was brought and laid at the
feet of Robin Hood, whom they called their king.
He then di-vid-ed it fairly among them, giving to
each man his just share. .

Robin never allowed his men to harm any-body
but the rich men who lived in great houses and did
no work. He was always kind to the poor, and



29

he often sent help to them; and for that reason
the common people looked upon him as their
friend.

Long after he was dead, men liked to talk about
his deeds. Some praised him, and some blamed
him. He was, indeed, a rude, lawless fellow; but
at that time, people did not think of right and
wrong as they do now.

A great many songs were made up about Robin
Hood, and these songs were sung in the cot-ta-ges
aud huts all over the land for hundreds of years
after-ward.

Here is a little story that is told in one of those
songs : —

Robin Hood was standing one day under a green
tree by the road-side. While he was lis-ten-ing to
the birds among the leaves, he saw a young man
passing by. This young man was dressed in a fine
suit of bright red cloth; and, as he tripped gayly
along the road, he seemed to be as happy as the
day.

“TJ will not trou-ble him,” said Robin Hood, “for
I think he is‘on his way to his wedding.”

The next day Robin stood in the same place.
He had not been there long when he saw the
same young man coming down the road. But he
did not seem to be so happy this time. He had



30

left his scarlet coat at home, and at every step he
sighed and groaned.

“ Ah the sad day! the sad day!” he kept saying
to himself.

Then Robin Hood stepped out from under the
tree, and said, —

“T say, young man! Have you any money to
spare for my merry men and me?”

“T have nothing at all,” said the young man, “but
five shil-lings and a ring.”

“A gold ring?” asked Robin.

“Yes,” said the young man, “it is a gold ring.
Here it is.”

“Ah, I see!” said Robin: “it is a wedding
ring.”

“I have kept it these seven years,” said the:
young man; “I have kept it to give to my bride
on our wedding day. We were going to be mar-
ried yes-ter-day. But her father has prom-ised her
to a rich old man whom she never saw. And now
my heart is broken.” |

“What is your name?” asked Robin.

“ My name is Allin-a-Dale,” said the young man.

“What will you give me, in gold or fee,” said
Robin, “if I will help you win your bride again in
spite of the rich old man to whom she has been
promised ?”






he ff i ;
x 7 Ken My >
e Ag sh ee »
pak iit aan is A)
A is
o) ag me

a rid Ae
tle is
ak pe

Loy iy oy













i,




“T have no money,” said
Allin, “but I will promise
to be your servant.”
“How many miles is it to the place where the
maiden lives?” asked Robin.



32

“Tt is not far,” said Allin. “But she is to be
married this very day, and the church is five miles
away.”

Then Robin made haste to dress himself as a
harper; and in the after-noon he stood in the door
of the church.

“Who are you?” said the bishop, “and what are
you doing here?”

“JT am a bold harper,” said Robin, “the ase! in
the north country.”

“T am glad you have come,” said the bishop
kindly. “There is no music that I like so well as
that of the harp. Come in, and play for us.”

“T will go in,” said Robin Hood; “but I will not
give you any music until I see the bride and bride-
groom.”

Just then an old man came in. He was dressed
in rich clothing, but was bent with age, and was
feeble and gray. By his side walked a fair young
girl. Her cheeks were very pale, and her eyes were
full of tears.

“ This is no match,” said Robin. “ Let the bride
choose for herself.”

Then he put his horn to his lips, and blew three
times. The very next minute, four and twenty
men, all dressed in green, and car-ry-ing long bows
in their hands, came running across the fields.



33

And as they marched into the church, all in a row,
the fore-most among them was Allin-a-Dale.

“Now whom do you choose?” said Robin to the
maiden.

“1 choose Allin-a-Dale,” she said, blushing.

“And Allin-a-Dale you shall have,” said Robin;
“and he that takes you from Allin-a-Dale shall find
that he has Robin Hood to deal with.”

And so the fair maiden and Allin-a-Dale were
married then and there, and the rich old man went
home in a great rage.

“ And thus having ended this merry wedding,
The bride looked like a queen:
And so they re-turned to the merry green wood,
Amongst the leaves so green.”

BRUCE AND THE SPIDER.

THERE was once a king of Scot-land whose name
was Robert Bruce. He had need to be both brave
and wise, for the times in which he lived were wild
and rude. The King of England was at war with
him, and had led a great army into Scotland to
drive him out of the land.

Battle after battle had been fought. Six times
had. Bruce led his brave little army against his foes;

FIFTY FAM. STO.— 3



34

and six times had his men been beaten, and driven
into flight. At last his army was scat-tered, and he
was forced to hide himself in the woods and in
lonely places among the moun-tains.

One rainy day, Bruce lay on the ground under a
rude shed, lis-ten-ing to the patter of the drops on
the roof above him. He was tired and sick at
heart, and ready to give up all hope. It seemed
to him that there was no use for him to a to do
anything more.

As he lay thinking, he saw a spider over his
head, making ready to weave her web. He
watched her as she toiled slowly and with great
care. Six times she tried to throw her frail thread
from one beam to another, and six times it fell
short.

“ Poor thing!” said Bruce: “you, too, know what
it is to fail.”

But the spider did not lose hope with the sixth
failure. With still more care, she made ready to
try for the seventh time. Bruce almost forgot his
own troubles as he watched her swing herself out
upon the slender line. Would she fail again?
No! The thread was carried safely to the beam,
and fas-tened there.

“T, too, will try a seventh time!” cried Bruce.

He arose and called his men together. He told



35

them of his plans, and sent them out with mes-sa-
ges of cheer to his dis-heart-ened people. Soon
there was an army of brave Scotch-men around
him. Another battle was fought, and the King of
England was glad to go back into his own country.

I have heard it said, that, after that day, no one
by the name of Bruce would ever hurt a spider.
The lesson which the little crea-ture had taught
the king was never for-got-ten.

THE BLACK DOUGLAS.

In Scotland, in the time of King Robert Bruce,
there lived a brave man whose name was Doug-las.
’ His hair and beard were black and long, and his
face was tanned and dark; and for this reason
people nicknamed him the Black Douglas. He
was a good friend of the king, and one of his
strongest helpers.

In the war with the English, who were trying to
drive Bruce from Scotland, the Black Douglas did
many brave deeds; and the English people became
very much afraid of him. By and by the fear of
him spread all through the land. Nothing could
frighten an English lad more than to tell him that
the Black Douglas was not far away. Women



36

would tell their chil-dren, when they were naughty,
that the Black Douglas would get them; and this
would make them very quiet and good.

There was a large cas-tle in Scotland which the
English had taken early in the war. The Scot-tish
soldiers wanted very much to take it again, and the
Black Douglas and his men went one day to see
what they could do. It happened to be a hol-i-day,
and most of the English soldiers in the cas-tle were
eating and drinking and having a merry time. But
they had left watch-men on the wall to see that the
Scottish soldiers did not come upon them un-a-
wares; and so they felt quite safe.

In the e-ven-ing, when it was growing dark, the
wife of one of the soldiers went up on the wall
with her child in‘her arms. As she looked over
into the fields below the castle, she saw some dark
objects moving toward the foot of the wall. In the
dusk she could not make out what they were, and so
she pointed them out to one of the watch-men.

“Pooh, pooh!” said the watchman. “Those are
nothing to frighten ‘us. They are the farmer's cat-
tle, trying to find their way home. The farmer
himself is en-joy-ing the hol-i-day, and he has for-
gotten to bring them in. If the Douglas should
happen this way before morning, he will be sorry
for his care-less-ness.”



37

But the dark objects were not cattle. They were
the Black Douglas and his men, creeping on hands
and feet toward the foot of the castle wall. Some
of them were dragging ladders behind them through
the grass. They would soon be climbing to the top
of the wall. None of the English soldiers dreamed
that they were within many miles of the place.

The woman watched them until the last one had
passed around a corner out of sight. She was not
afraid, for in the dark-en-ing twi-light they looked
indeed like cattle. After a little while she began
to sing to her child: —

“ Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye,
_ Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye,
The Black Douglas shall not get ye.”

All at once a gruff voice was heard behind her,
saying, “ Don’t be so sure about that!”

She looked around, and there stood the Black
Douglas himself. At the same moment a Scottish
soldier climbed off a ladder and leaped upon the
wall; and then there came another and another
and another, until the wall was covered with them.
Soon there was hot fighting in every part of the
castle. But the English were so taken by sur-
prise that they could not do much. Many of them
were killed, and in a little while the Black Douglas











t be so sure about that)”

1

“Don

(38)



39

and his men were the masters of the castle, which
by right be-longed to them.

' As for the woman and her child, the Black
Douglas would not suffer any one to harm them.
After a while they went back to England; and
whether the mother made up any more songs about
the Black Douglas I cannot tell.

THREE MEN OF GOTHAM.

THERE is a town in England called Go-tham, and
many merry stories are told of the queer people who
used to live there.

One day two men of Go-tham met on a bridge.
Hodge was coming from the market, and Peter was ©
going to the market.

“ Where are you going?” said Hodge.

“I am going to the market to buy sheep,” said
Peter.

“Buy sheep?” said Hodge. “And which way
will you bring them home?”

“T shall bring them over this bridge,” said Peter.

“No, you shall not,” said Hodge.

“Yes, but I will,” said Peter.

“You shall not,” said Hodge.

“T will,” said Peter.



40

Then they beat with their sticks on the ground as
though there had been a hundred sheep between
them.

“Take care!” cried Peter. “Look out that my
sheep don’t jump on the bridge.”

“JT care not where they jump,” said Hodge; “ but
they shall not go over it.”

“ But they shall,” said Peter.

“ Have a care,” said Hodge; “for if you say too
much, I will put my fingers in your mouth.”

“Will you ?” said Peter.

Just then another man of Gotham came from
the market with a sack of meal on his horse. He
heard his neigh-bors quar-rel-ing about sheep; but
he could see no sheep between them, and so he
stopped and spoke to them.

“Ah, you foolish fellows!” he cried. “It is
strange that you will never learn wisdom.— Come
here, Peter, and help me lay my sack on my
shoul-der.”

Peter did so, and the man carried his meal to the
side of the bridge.

“ Now look at me,” he said, “and learn a lesson.”
And he opened the mouth of the sack, and poured
all the meal into the river.

“ Now, neighbors,” he said, “can you tell how
much meal is in my sack?”








4

ty yen
cop! fl
GO



Ny VN
LY









yeas
F =a
My

WD ese I etre ata nt
Panne san A
‘i i es yy We
‘| YA ZN



i
IT































‘How much meal is in my sack?”



42

Â¥

“There is none at all!” cried Hodge and Peter
together.

“You are right,” said the man; “and you that
stand here and quarrel about nothing, have no more
sense in your heads than I have meal in my sack!”

OTHER WISE MEN OF GOTHAM.

One day, news was brought to Gotham that the
king was coming that way, and that he would pass
through the town. This did not please the men of
Gotham at all. They hated the king, for they knew
that he was a cruel, bad man. If he came to their
town, they would have to find food and lodg-ing for
him and his men; and if he saw anything that
pleased him, he would be sure to take it for his
own. What should they do? ,

They met together to talk the matter over.

“Let us chop down the big trees in the woods, so
that they will block up all the roads that lead into
the town,” said one of the wise men.

“ Good!” said all the rest.

So they went out with their axes, and soon all the
roads and paths to the town were filled with logs
and brush. The king’s horse-men would have a .
hard time of it getting into Gotham. They would



43

either have to make a new road, or give up the
plan al-to-geth-er, and go on to some other place.

When the king came, and saw that the road had
been blocked up, he was very angry.

“Who chopped those trees down in my way?”
he asked of two country lads that were passing by.

“The men of Gotham,” said the lads.

“Well,” said the king, “go and tell the men of
Gotham that I shall send my sher-iff into their town,
and have all their noses cut off.”

The two lads ran to the town as fast as they
could, and made known what the king had said.

Every-body was in great fright. The men ran
from house to house, carrying the news, and asking
one another what they should do.

“Our wits have kept the king out of the town,”
said one; “and so now our wits must save our
noses.”

“True, true!” said the others. “ But what shall
we do?”

Then one, whose name was Dobbin, and who was
thought to be the wisest of them all, said, “Let me
tell you something. Many a man has been pun-
ished because he was wise, but I have never heard
of any one being harmed because he was a fool.
So, when the king’s sher-iff comes, let us all act
like fools.”



44

“Good, good!” cried the others. “ We will all act
like fools.”

It was no easy thing for the king’s men to open
the roads; and while they were doing it, the king
grew tired of waiting, and went back to London.
But very early one morning, the sheriff with a party
of fierce soldiers rode through the woods, and be-
tween the fields, toward Gotham. Just before they
reached the town, they saw a queer sight. The old
men were rolling big stones up the hill, and all the
young men were looking on, and grunting very
loudly.

The sheriff stopped his horses, and asked what
they were doing.

“We are rolling stones up-hill to make the sun
rise,” said one of the old men.

“You foolish fellow!” said the sheriff. “Don’t
you know that the sun will rise without any help?”

“Ah! will it?” said the oldman. “ Well, I never
thought of that. How wise you are!”

“And what are you doing?” said the sheriff to
_ the young men.

“ Oh, we do the grunting while our fathers do the
working,” they answered.

“T see,” said the sheriff. “Well, that is the way
the world goes every-where.” And he rode on
toward the town.



45

He soon came to a field where a number of men
were building a stone wall.

«What are you doing?” he asked.

“Why, master,” they answered, “there is a cuck-oo
in this field, and we are building a wall around it so
as to keep the bird from straying away.”

“You foolish fellows!” said the sheriff. “Don’t
you know that the bird will fly over the top of your
wall, no matter how high you build it?”

“Why, no,” they said. “We never thought of
that. How very wise you are!”

The sheriff next met a man who was carrying a
door on his back.

“ What are you doing?” he asked.

“T have just started on a long jour-ney,” said the
man,

“But why do you carry that door?” asked the
sheriff.

“T left my money at home.”

“Then why didn’t you leave the door at home
too?”

“ T was afraid of thieves; and you see, if I have the
door with me, they can’t break it open and get in.”

“You foolish fellow!” said the sheriff. “It would
be safer to leave the door at home, and carry the
money with you.”

“Ah, would it, though?” said the man. “ Now,



Ls
I never thought of that. You are the wisest man
that I ever saw.” ;

Then the sheriff rode on with his men; but every
one that they met was doing some silly thing.

“Truly I believe that the people of Gotham are
all fools,” said one of the horsemen.

_ “That is true,” said another. “It would be a
shame to harm such simple people.”

“Let us ride back to London, and tell the king
all about them,” said the sheriff.

“Ves, let us do so,” said the horsemen.

So they went back, and told the king that Gotham
was a town of fools; and the king laughed, and said
that if that was the case, he would not harm them,
but would let them keep their noses.

THE MILLER OF THE DEE.

Once upon a time there lived on the banks of the
River Dee a miller, who was the hap-pi-est man in
England. He was always busy from morning till
night, and he was always singing as merrily as any
lark. He was so cheerful that he made everybody
else cheerful; and people all over the land liked to
talk about his pleasant ways. At last the king
heard about him.



47

“JT will go down and talk with this won-der-ful
miller,” he said. “ Perhaps he can tell me how to
be happy.”

As soon as he stepped inside of the mill, he
heard the miller singing : —

“T envy no-body — no, not I !—
For I am as happy as I can be;
And nobody envies me.”

“ You’re wrong, my friend,” said the king. “ You're
wrong as wrong can be. I envy you; and I would
gladly change places with you, if I could only be as
light-hearted as you are.”

The miller smiled, and bowed to the king.

“Tam sure I could not think of changing places
with you, sir,” he said.

“ Now tell me,” said the king, “what makes you
so cheerful and glad here in your dusty mill, while
I, who am king, am sad and in trouble every day.”

The miller smiled again, and said, “I do not know
why you are sad, but I can eas-i-ly tell why I am
glad. I earn my own bread; I love my wife and
my children; I love my friends, and. they love me;
and I owe not a penny to any man. Why should
I not be happy? For here is the River Dee, and
every day it turns my mill; and the mill grinds the
corn that feeds my wife, my babes, and me.”





— » “Say no more,” said
the king. “ Stay
where you
are, and be
happy still.
But I envy






Seiten asl :

Th eek

fh:



dusty cap is worth
more than my
golden crown. Your mill

does more for you than my kingdom can do for
me. If there were more such men as you, what



49

a good place this world would be! Good-by, my |
friend !”

The king turned about, and walked sadly away;
and the miller went back to his work, singing : —

“Qh, I’m as happy as happy can be,
For I live by the side of the River Dee 1”

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

A cRUEL battle was being fought. The ground
was covered with dead and dying men. The air
was hot and stifling. The sun shone down without
pity on the wounded soldiers lying in the blood and
dust.

One of these soldiers was a no-ble-man, whom
everybody loved for his gen-tle-ness and kindness.
Yet now he was no better off than the poorest
man in the field. He had been wounded, and would
die; and he was suf-fer-ing much with pain and
thirst.

When the battle was over, his friends hurried to
his aid. A soldier came running with a cup in his
hand. , ;

“Here, Sir Philip,” he said, “I have brought you
some clear, cool water from the brook. I will raise
your head so that you can drink.”

FIFTY FAM, STO.—4



50

The cup was placed to Sir Philip’s lips. How
thank-ful-ly he looked at the man who had brought
it! Then his eyes met those of a dying soldier
who was lying on the ground close by. The wist-
ful look in the poor man’s face spoke plainer than
words, a
“Give the water to that man,” said Sir Philip
quickly; and then, pushing the cup toward him,
he said, “‘ Here, my comrade, take this. Thy need
is greater than mine.”

What a brave, noble man he was! The name
of Sir Philip Sidney will never be for-got-ten; for
it was the name of a Chris-tian gen-tle-man who
always had the good of others in his mind. Was
it any wonder that everybody wept when it was
heard that he was dead?

It is said, that, on the day when he was carried
to the grave, every eye in the land was filled with
tears. Rich and poor, high and low, all felt that
they had lost a friend; all mourned the death of
the kindest, gentlest man that they had ever known.





51

THE UNGRATEFUL SOLDIER.

Here is another story of the bat-tle-field, and
it is much like the one which I have just told
you.
Not quite a hundred years after the time of Sir
Philip Sidney there was a war between the Swedes
and the Danes. One day a great battle was fought,
and the Swedes were beaten, and driven from the
field. A soldier of the Danes who had been slightly
wounded was sitting on the ground. He was about
to take a drink from a flask. All at once he heard
some one say, —

“O sir! give me a drink, for I am dying.”

It was a wounded Swede-who spoke. He was
lying on the ground only a little way off. The
Dane went to him at once. He knelt down by the
side of his fallen foe, and pressed the flask to his
lips. ;
“ Drink,” said, he, “for thy need is greater than
mine.”

Hardly had he spoken these words, when the
Swede raised himself on his elbow. He pulled a
pistol from his pocket, and shot at the man who
would have be-friend-ed him. The bullet grazed the
Dane’s shoulder, but did not do him much harm.

“Ah, you rascal!” he cried. “I was going to



52

befriend you, and you repay me by trying to kill
me. Now I will punish you. I would have given
you all the water, but now you shall have only

half.” And with that he drank the half of it, and
then gave the rest to the Swede.



When the King of the Danes heard about this,
he sent for the soldier and had him tell the story
just as it was.

“Why did you spare the life of the Swede after
he had tried to kill you?” asked the king.



53

“ Because, sir,’ said the soldier, “I could never
kill a wounded enemy.”

“ Then you deserve to be a no-ble-man,” said the
king. And he re-ward-ed him by making him a
knight, and giving him a noble title.

SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT.

More than three hundred years ago there lived in
England a brave man whose name was Sir: Hum-
phrey Gil-bert. At that time there were no white
people in this country of ours. The land was cov-
ered with forests; and where there are now great
cities and fine farms there were only trees and
swamps among which roamed wild In-di-ans and
wild beasts.

Sir Hum-phrey Gilbert was one of the first men
who tried to make a set-tle-ment in A-mer-i-ca.
Twice did he bring men and ships over the sea, and
twice did he fail, and sail back for England. The
second time, he was on a little ship called the “ Squir-
rel.” Another ship, called the “ Golden Hind,” was
not far away. When they were three days from
land, the wind failed, and the ships lay floating on
the waves. Then at night the air grew very cold.
A breeze sprang up from the east. Great white



54

ice-bergs came drifting around them. In the
_morning the little ships were almost lost among
the floating mountains of ice. The men on the
“Hind” saw Sir Humphrey sitting on the deck
of the “Squirrel” with an open book in his hand.
He called to them and said, —

“Be brave, my friends! We are as near heaven
on the sea as on the land.”

Night came again. It was a stormy night, with
mist and rain. All.at once the men on the “ Hind”
saw the lights on board of the “Squirrel” go out.
The little vessel, with brave Sir Humphrey and all
his brave men, was swal-lowed up by the waves.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

TueErE once lived in England a brave and noble
man whose name was Walter Raleigh. He was
not only brave and noble, but he was also hand-
some and polite; and for that reason the queen
made him a knight, and called him Sir Walter
Ra-leigh.

I will tell you about it.

When Raleigh was a young man, he was one day
walking along a street in London. At that time
the streets were not paved, and there were no side-



55

walks. Raleigh was dressed in very fine style, and
he wore a beau-ti-ful scar-let cloak thrown over his
shoulders. :

As he passed along, he found it hard work to
keep from stepping in the mud, and soiling his
hand-some new shoes. Soon he came to a puddle
of muddy water which reached from one side of the
street to the other. He could not step across. Per-
haps he could jump over it. |

As he was thinking what he should do, he hap-
pened to look up. Who was it coming down the
street, on the other side of the puddle?

It was E-liz-a-beth, the Queen of England, with
her train of gen-tle-wom-en and waiting maids. She
saw the dirty puddle in the street. She saw the
handsome young man with the scar-let cloak, stand-
ing by the side of it. How was she to get across?

Young Raleigh, when he saw who was coming,
forgot about himself. He thought only of helping
the queen. There was only one thing that he could
do, and no other man would have thought of that.

He took off his scarlet cloak, and spread it across
the puddle. The queen could step on it BOW, as on
a beautiful carpet.

She walked across. She was safely over the bugis
puddle, and her feet had not touched the mud. She
paused a moment, and thanked the young man.



56

As she walked onward with her train, she asked
one of the gen-tle-wom-en, ‘‘ Who is that brave
gen-tle-man who helped us so handsomely ?”

“His name is Walter Raleigh,” said the gentle-
woman.

“ He shall have his reward,” said the queen.

Not long after that, she sent for Raleigh to come
to her pal-ace.

The young man went, but he had no scarlet cloak
to wear. Then, while all the great men and fine
ladies of England stood around, the queen made
him a knight. And from that time he was known
as Sir Walter Raleigh, the queen’s favorite.

Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Humphrey Gilbert,
about whom I have already told you, were half-
broth-ers.

When Sir Humphrey made his first voy-age to
.America, Sir Walter was with him. After that, Sir
Walter tried sev-er-al times to send men to this
country to make a set-tle-ment.

But those whom he sent found only great forests,
and wild beasts, and sav-age In-di-ans. Some of
them went back to England; some of them died
for want of food; and some of them were lost in
the woods. At last Sir Walter gave up trying to
get people to come to America.

But he found two things in this country which



57

the people of England knew very little about. One
was the po-ta-to, the other was to-bac-co.

If you should ever go to Ireland, you may be
shown the place where Sir Walter planted the few
po-ta-toes which he carried over from America. He
told his friends how the Indians used them for food;
and he proved that they would grow in the Old
World as well as in the New.

Sir Walter had seen the Indians smoking the
leaves of the to-bac-co plant. He thought that he
would do the same, and he carried some of the
leaves to England. Englishmen had never used
tobacco before that time; and all who saw Sir
Walter puff-ing away at a roll of leaves thought
that it was a strange sight.

One day as he was sitting in his chair and smok-
ing, his servant came into the room. The man saw
the smoke curling over his master’s head, and he
thought that he was on fire.

He ran out for some water. He found a pail
that was quite full. He hurried back, and threw
the water into Sir Walter’s face. Of course the
fire was all put out.

After that a great many men learned to smoke.
And now tobacco is used in all countries of the
world. It would have been well if Sir Walter
Raleigh had let it alone.



58

POCAHONTAS.

THERE was once a very brave man whose name
was John Smith. He came to this country many
years ago, when there were great woods everywhere,
and many wild beasts and Indians. Many tales
are told of his ad-ven-tures, some of them true and
some of them untrue. The most famous of all these
is the fol-low-ing :—

One day when Smith was in the sods some
Indians came upon him, and made him their
pris-on-er. They led him to their king, and
in a short time they made ready to put him to .
death.

A large stone was brought in, and Smith was
made to lie down with his head on it. Then two
tall Indians with big clubs in their hands came for-
ward. The king and all his great men stood around
to see. The Indians raised their clubs. In another
moment they would fall on Smith’s head.

But just then a little Indian girl rushed in. She
was the daugh-ter of the king, and her name was
Po-ca-hon’tas. She ran and threw herself between
Smith and the up-lift-ed clubs. She clasped Smith’s
head with her arms. She laid her own head upon
his.

“O father!” she cried, “spare this man’s life. I



59

am sure he has done you no harm, and we ought to
be his friends.”

The men with the clubs could not strike, for they
did not want to hurt the child. The king at first
did not know what to do. Then he spoke to some
of his war-riors, and they lifted Smith from the
ground. They untied the cords from his wrists and
feet, and set him free.

The next day the king sent Smith home; and
several Indians went with him to protect him from
harm.

After that, as long as she lived, Po-ca-hon-tas was
the friend of the white men, and she did a great
many things to help them.

GEORGE WASHINGTON AND HIS HATCHET.

Wuen George Wash-ing-ton was quite a little boy,
his father gave him a hatchet. It was bright and
new, and George took great delight in going about
and chopping things with it.

He ran into the garden, and there he saw a tree
which seemed to say to him, “Come and cut me
down!”

George had often seen his father’s men chop
down the great trees in the forest, and he thought



60

sl
a,

cat =











































































it
would be fine
sport to see
this tree fall with
a crash to the
ground. So he set to
work with his little hatchet, and,
as the tree was a very small one,
it did not take long to lay it low.
Soon after that, his father came home.



“Who has been cutting my fine young cherry
tree?” he cried. ‘It was the only tree of its kind



61

in this ony: and it cost me a great deal of
money.”

He was very angry when he came into the house.

“Tf I only knew who killed that cherry tree,” he
cried, “ I would — yes, I would ” —

“Father!” cried little George. “I will tell you
the truth about it. I chopped the tree down with
my hatchet.” .

His father forgot his anger.

< oe he said, and he took the little fellow in
his arms, “George, I am glad that you told me
about it. I would rather lose a dozen cherry trees
than that you should tell one false-hood.”

GRACE DARLING.

Ir was a dark Sep-tem-ber morning. There was
a storm at sea. A ship had been driven on a low
rock off the shores of the Farne Islands. It had been
broken in two by the waves, and half of it had been
washed away. The other half lay yet on the rock,
and those of the crew who were still alive were cling-
ing toit. But the waves were dashing over it, and in
a little while it too would be carried to the bottom.

Could any one save the poor, half-drowned men
who were there?



62

On one of the islands was a light-house; and
there, all through that stormy night, Once Darling
had listened to the storm.

Grace was the daughter of the light-house keeper,
and she had lived by the sea as long as she could
re-mem-ber. .

In the darkness of the night, above the noise of the
winds and waves, she heard screams and wild cries.
When day-light came, she could see the wreck, a
mile away, with the angry waters all around it. She
could see the men clinging to the masts.

“We must try to save them!” she cried. “Let
us go out in the boat at once!” *

“Tt is of no use, Grace,” said her father. “We
cannot reach them.”

He was an old man, and he knew the force of the
mighty waves.

“We cannot stay here and see them die,” said
Grace. “We must at least try to save them.”

Her father could not say, “ No.”

In a few minutes they were ready. They set off
in the heavy lighthouse boat. Grace pulled one
oar, and her father the other, and they made straight
toward the wreck. But it was hard rowing against
such a sea, and it seemed as though they would
never reach the place. ;

At last they were close to the rock, and now



63

they were in greater danger than before. The fierce
waves broke against the boat, and it would have
been dashed in pieces, had it not been for the
strength and skill of the brave girl.

But after many trials, Grace’s father climbed
upon the wreck, while Grace herself held the boat.
Then one by one the worn-out crew were helped
on board. It was all that the girl could do to keep
the frail boat from being drifted away, or broken
upon the sharp edges of the rock.

Then her father clam-bered back into his place.
Strong hands grasped the oars, and by and by all
were safe in the lighthouse. There Grace proved
to be no less tender as a nurse than she had been
brave as a sailor. She cared most kindly for the ship-
wrecked men until the storm had died away and they
were strong enough to go to their own homes.

All this happened a long time ago, but the name
of Grace Darling will never be forgotten. She lies
buried now in a little church-yard by the sea, not
far from her old home. Every year many people
go there to see her grave; and there a mon-u-ment
has been placed in honor of the brave girl. It is
not a large mon-u-ment, but it is one that speaks of -
the noble deed which made Grace Darling famous.
It is a figure carved in stone of a woman lying at
rest, with a boat’s oar held fast in her right hand.



ee
THE STORY OF WILLIAM TELL.

Tue people of Swit-zer-land were not always free
and happy as they are to-day. Many years ago a
proud tyrant, whose name was Gessler, ruled over
them, and made their lot a bitter one indeed.

One day this tyrant set up a tall pole in the pub-
lic square, and put his own cap on the top of it;
and then he gave orders that every man who came
into the town should bow down before it. But
there was one man, named William Tell, who
would not do this. He stood up straight with
folded arms, and laughed at the swinging cap,
He would not bow down to Gessler himself.

When Gessler heard of this, he was very angry.
He was afraid that other men would disobey, and
that soon the whole country would rebel against him.
So he made up his mind to punish the bold man.

William Tell’s home was among the mountains,
and he was a famous hunter. No one in all the
land could shoot with bow and arrow so well as he.
Gessler knew this, and so he thought of a cruel plan
to make the hunter’s own skill bring him to grief.
He ordered that Tell’s little boy should be made to
stand up in the public square with an apple on his
head; and then he bade Tell shoot the apple with

one of his arrows.



65

Tell begged the tyrant not to have him make
this test of his skill) What if the boy should
move? What if the bow-man’s hand should trem-
ble? What if the arrow should not carry true?



“Will you make me kill my boy?” he said.

“Say no more,” said Gessler. “You must hit
the apple with your one arrow. If you fail, my
sol-diers shall kill the boy before your eyes.”

FIFTY FAM. STO.—5



66

Then, without another word, Tell fitted the
arrow to his bow. He took aim, and let it fly.
The boy stood firm and still. He was not afraid,
for he had all faith in his father’s skill.

The arrow whistled through the air. It struck
the apple fairly in the center, and carried it away.
The people who saw it shouted with joy.

As Tell was turning away from the place, an
arrow which he had hidden under his coat dropped
to the ground. |

“ Fellow!” cried Gessler, “what mean you with
this second arrow? ”

“Tyrant!” was Tell’s proud answer, “this arrow
was for your heart if I had hurt my child.”

And there is an old story, that, not long after
this, Tell did shoot the tyrant with one of his
arrows; and thus he set his country free.

ARNOLD WINKELRIED.

A GREAT army was marching into Swit-zer-land.
If it should go much farther, there would be no
driving it out again. The soldiers would burn
the towns, they would rob the farmers of their
grain and sheep, they would make slaves of the
people. .



67

The men of Switzerland knew all this. They
knew that they must fight for their homes and
their lives. And so they came from the mountains
and valleys to try what they could do to save their
land. Some came with bows and arrows, some
with scythes and pitch-forks, and some with only
sticks and clubs.

But their foes kept in line as they marched along
the road. Every soldier was fully armed. As they
moved and kept close together, nothing could be
seen of them but their spears and shields and shin-
ing armor. What could the poor country people
do against such foes as these?

“We must break their lines,” cried their leader;
“for we cannot harm them while they keep to-
gether.”

The bowmen shot their arrows, but they glanced
off from the soldiers’ shields. Others tried clubs
and stones, but with no better luck. The lines
were still un-bro-ken. The soldiers moved stead-i-ly
onward; their shields lapped over one another;
their thousand spears looked like so many long
bris-tles in the sun-light. What cared they for
sticks and stones and hunts-men’s arrows?

“Tf we cannot break their ranks,” said the Swiss,
“we have no chance for fight, and our country will
be lost!”



68

Then a poor man, whose name was Ar-nold
Wink’el-ried, stepped out.

“On the side of yonder moun-tain,” said he, “I .
have a happy home. There my wife and chil-dren
wait for my return. But they will not see me
again, for this day I will give my life for my coun-
try. And do you, my friends, do your duty, and
Switzer'aid shall be free.”

With these words he ran forward. “Follow
me!” he cried to his friends. “I will break the lines,
and then let every man fight as bravely as he can.”

He had nothing in his hands, neither club nor
stone nor other weapon. But he ran straight on-
ward to the place where the spears were thickest.

“ Make way for lib-er-ty!” he cried, as he dashed
right into the lines.

A hundred spears were turned to catch him upon
their points. The soldiers forgot to stay in their
places. The lines were broken. Arnold’s friends
rushed bravely after him. They fought with what-
ever they had in hand. They snatched spears and
shields from their foes. They had no thought of
fear. They only thought of their homes and their
dear native land. And they won at last.

Such a battle no one ever knew before. But
Switzerland was saved, and Arnold Wink-el-ried did
not die in vain.



ce)

THE BELL OF ATRI.

A-tr1 is the name of a little town in Italy. It is
a very old town, and is built half-way up the side of
a steep hill.

A long time ago, the King of Atri bought a fine
large bell, and had it hung up in a tower in the
market place. A long rope that reached almost to
the ground was fas-tened to the bell. The smallest
child could ring the bell by pulling upon this rope.

“Tt is the bell of justice,” said the king.

When at last everything was ready, the people of
Atri had a great holiday. All the men and women
and children came down to the market place to look
at the bell of justice. It was a very pretty bell, and
was pol-ished until it looked almost as bright and
yellow as the sun. .

“ How we should like to hear it ring!” they said.

Then the king came down the street.

“Perhaps he will ring it,” said the people; and
everybody stood very still, and waited to see what
he would do.

But he did not ring the bell. He did not even
take the rope in his hands. When he came to the
foot of the tower, he stopped, and raised his hand. ©

“ My people,” he said, “do you see this beautiful
bell? It is your bell; but it must never be rung



7O

except incase of need. If any one of you is wronged
at any time, he may come and ring the bell; and
then the judges shall come together at once, and
hear his case, and give him justice. Rich and poor,
old and young, all alike may come; but no one must
touch the rope unless he knows that he has been
wronged.”
_ Many years passed by after this. Many times did
the bell in the market place ring out to call the
judges together. Many wrongs were righted, many
ill-doers were punished. At last the hempen rope
was almost worn out. The lower part of it was un-
twist-ed; some of the strands were broken; it became
so short that only a tall man could reach it.

“This will never do,” said the judges one day.
“ What if a child should be wronged? It could not
ring the bell to let us know it.”

They gave orders that a new rope should be put
- upon the bell at once,—a rope that should hang
down to the ground, so that the smallest child could
reach it. But there was not a rope to be found
in all Atri. They would have to send across the
mountains for one, and it would be many days
before it could be brought. What if some great
_ wrong should be done before it came? How could
the judges know about it, if the in-jured one could
not reach the old rope?



7X

_ “Let me fix it for you,” said a man who stood
by.

He ran into his garden, which was not far away,
and soon came back with along grape-vine in his
hands.

“This will do for a rope,” he it. and he
climbed up, and fastened it to the bell. The slen-
der vine, with its leaves and ten- drils still upon it,
trailed to the ground.

“Yes,” said the judges, “it is a very good rope.
Let it be as it is.” .

Now, on the hillside above the village, there
lived a man who had once been a brave knight.
In his youth he had ridden through many’ lands,
and he had fought in many a battle. His “best
friend through all that time had been his horse, —
a strong, noble steed that had borne him safe
through many a danger.

But the knight, when he grew older, cared no
more to ride into battle; he cared no more to do
brave deeds; he thought of nothing but gold; he
became a miser. At last he sold all that he had,
except his horse, and went to live in a little hut
on the hill-side. Day after day he sat among his
‘money bags, and planned how he might get more
gold; and day after day his horse stood in his bare
stall, half-starved, and shiv-er-ing with cold.



72

“What is the use of keeping that lazy steed?”
said the miser to. himself one morning. “Every
week it costs me more to keep him than he is
worth. I might sell him; but there is not a man
that wants him. I cannot even give him away. I
will turn him out to shift for himself, and pick grass
by the roadside. If he starves to death, so much
the better.”

So the brave old horse was turned out to find
what he could among the rocks on the barren hill-
side. Lame and sick, he strolled along the dusty
roads, glad to find a blade of grass ora thistle. The .
boys threw stones at him, the dogs barked at him,
and in all the world there was no one to pity him.

One hot afternoon, when no one was upon the
street, the horse chanced to wander into the mar-
ket place. Not a man nor child was there, for
the heat of the sun had driven them all indoors.
The gates were wide open; the poor beast could
roam where he pleased. He saw the grape-vine
rope that hung from the bell of justice. The leaves
and tendrils upon it were still fresh and green, for
it had not been there long. What a fine dinner
they would be for a starving horse!

He stretched his thin neck, and took one of the
tempting morsels in his mouth. It was hard to
break it from the vine. He pulled at it, and the



73

great bell above him began to ring. All the people
in Atri heard it. It seemed to say, —

“ Some one has done ’ me wrong!
Some one has done me wrong !
Oh! come and judge my case !
Oh ! come and judge my case !
For I’ve ’ been wronged !”

The judges heard it. They put on their robes,
and went out through the hot streets to the mar-
ket place. They wondered who it could be who
would ring the bell at such a time. When they
passed through the gate, they saw the old horse
nibbling at the vine. ~

“ Ha!” cried one, ‘it is the miser’s steed. He has
come to call for justice; for his master, as every~
body knows, has treated him most shame-ful-ly.”

“ He pleads his cause as well as any dumb brute
can,” said another.

“And he shall have justice!” said the third.

Mean-while a crowd of men and women and chil-
dren had come into the market place, eager to learn
what cause the judges were about to try. When
they saw the horse, all stood still in wonder. Then
every one was ready to tell how they had seen him
wan-der-ing on the hills, unfed, un-cared for, while
his master sat at home counting his bags of gold.

“Go bring the miser before us,” said the judges























“‘Some one has done me wrong!’’



75

And when he came, they bade him stand and
hear their judg-ment.

“ This horse has served you well for many a year,”
they said. “He has saved you from many a peril.
He has helped you gain your wealth. Therefore
we order that one half of all your gold shall be set
aside to buy him shelter and food, a green pasture
where he may graze, and a warm stall to comfort
him in his old age.”

The miser hung his head, and grieved to lose his
gold; but the people shouted with joy, and the horse
was led away to his new stall and a dinner such as
he had not had in many a day.

HOW NAPOLEON CROSSED THE ALPS.

AxzouT a hundred years ago there lived a great
gen-er-al whose name was Na-po'le-on Bo’na-parte.
He was the leader of the French army; and France
_ was at war with nearly all the countries around.
He wanted very much to take his soldiers into
It-a-ly; but between France and Italy there are
high mountains called the Alps, the tops of which
are covered with snow.

“Ts it pos-si-ble to cross the Alps?” said Na-po-
le-on.



76

The men who had been sent to look at the passes
over the mountains shook their heads. Then one
of them said, “ It may be possible, but ” —

“Let me hear no more,” said Napoleon. “ For-
ward to Italy!”

People laughed at the thought of an army of
sixty thousand men crossing the Alps where there
was no road. But Napoleon waited only to see
that everything was in good order, and then he
gave the order to march.

The long line of soldiers and horses and cannon
stretched for twenty miles. When they came to a
steep place where there seemed to be no way to go
farther, the trum-pets sounded “Charge!” Then
every man did his best, and the whole army moved
right onward.

Soon they were safe over the Alps. In four days
they were marching on the plains of Italy.

“The man who has made up his mind to win,”
said Napoleon, “ will never say ‘ Im-pos-si-ble.’”

THE STORY OF CINCINNATUS.

THERE was a man named Cin-cin-na’tus who lived
on a little farm not far from the city of Rome. He
had once been rich, and had held the highest office



77

in the land; but in one way or another he had lost
all his wealth. He was now so poor that he had to
do all the work on his farm with his own hands.
But in those days it was thought to be a noble
thing to till the soil.

Cin-cin-na-tus was so wise and just that every-
body trusted him, and asked his advice; and when
any one was in trouble, and did not know what to
do, his neighbors would say,—

“Go and tell Cincinnatus. He will help you.”

Now there lived among the mountains, not far
away, a tribe of fierce, half-wild men, who were at
war with the Roman people. They per-suad-ed .
another tribe of bold war-riors to help them, and -
then marched toward the city, plun-der-ing and
robbing as they came. They bvasted that they
would tear down the walls of Rome, and burn the
houses, and kill all the men, and make slaves of
the women and children.

At first the Romans, who were very proud and
brave, did not think there was much danger.
Every man in Rome was a soldier, and the army
which went out to fight the robbers was the finest
in the world. No one staid at home with the
women and children and boys but the white-haired
“ Fathers,” as they were called, who made the laws
for the city, and a small company of men who



78

guarded the walls. Everybody thought that it
would be an easy thing to drive the men of the
mountains back to the place where they belonged.

But one morning five horsemen came riding
down the road from the mountains. They rode
with great speed; and both men and horses were
covered with dust and blood. The watchman at
the gate knew them, and shouted to them as they
gal-loped in. Why did they ride thus? and what
had happened to the Roman army?

- They did not answer him, but rode into the city
and along the quiet streets; and everybody ran
after them, eager to find out what was the matter,
" Rome was not a large city at that time; and soon
they reached the market place where the white-
haired Fathers were sitting. Then they leaped
from their horses, and told their story.

“Only yes-ter-day,” they said, “our army was
marching through a narrow valley between two
steep mountains. All at once a thou-sand sav-
age men sprang out from among the rocks before
us and above us.. They had blocked up the way;
and the pass was so narrow that we could not
fight. We tried to come back; but they had
blocked up the way on this side of us too. The
fierce men of the mountains were before us and
behind us, and they were throwing rocks down’



79

upon us from above. We had been caught in a
trap. Then ten of. us set spurs to our horses; and
five of us forced our way through, but the other
five fell before the spears of the mountain men.
And now, O Roman Fathers! send help to our
army at once, or every man will be slain, and our
city will be taken.”

“What shall we do?” said the white-haired
Fathers. “Whom can we send but the guards
and the boys? and who is wise enough to lead
them, and thus save Rome?”

All shook their heads and were very grave; for
it seemed as if there was no hope. Then one said,
“Send for Cincinnatus. He will help us.”

Cincinnatus was in the field plowing when the
men who had been sent to him came in great haste.
He stopped and greeted them kindly, and waited
for them to speak.

“Put on your cloak, Cincinnatus,” they said,
“and hear the words of the Roman people.”

Then Cincinnatus wondered what they could
mean, “Is all well with Rome?” he asked; and
he called to his wife to bring him his cloak. _

She brought the cloak; and Cincinnatus wiped
the dust from his hands and arms, and threw it over
his shoulders. Then the men told their errand.

They told him how the army with all the noblest



80

men of Rome had been en-trapped in the mountain
pass. They told him about the great danger the







city was in. Then they said, ‘‘ The people of Rome
make you their ruler and the ruler of their city, to
do with everything as you choose; and the Fathers



81

bid you come at once and go out against our ene-
mies, the fierce men of the mountains.”

So Cincinnatus left his plow standing where it
was, and hurried to the city. When he passed
through the streets, and gave orders as to what
should be done, some of the people were afraid, for
they knew that he had all power in Rome to do
what he pleased. But he armed the guards and
the boys, and went out at their head to fight the
fierce mountain men, and free the Roman army
from the trap into which it had fallen.

A few days afterward there was. great joy in
Rome. There was good news from Cincinnatus.
The men of the mountains had been beaten with
great loss. They had been driven back into their
own place.

And now the Roman army, with the boys and
the guards, was coming home with banners flying,
and. shouts of vic-to-ry; and at their head rode
Cincinnatus. He had saved Rome. ©

Cincinnatus might then have made himself king;
for his word was law, and no man dared lift a finger
against him. But, before the people could thank
him enough for what he had done, he gave back
the power to the white-haired Roman Fathers, and
went again to his little farm and his plow.

He had been the ruler of Rome for sixteen days.

FIFTY FAM. STO.— 6



82

THE STORY OF REGULUS.

On the other side of the sea from Rome there
was once a great city named Car-thage. The
Roman people were never very friendly to the peo-
ple of Car-thage, and at last a war began between
them. For a long time it was hard to tell which
would prove the stronger. First the Romans
would gain a battle, and then the men of Car-
thage would gain a battle; and so the war went on
for many years.

Among the Romans there was a brave gen-er-al
named Reg’u-lus,—a man of whom it was said
that he never broke his word. It so happened
after a while, that Reg-u-lus was taken pris-on-er
and carried to Carthage. Ill and very lonely, he
dreamed of his wife and little children so far
away beyond the sea; and he had but little hope
of ever seeing them again. He loved his home
dearly, but he believed that his first duty was to
his country; and so he had left all, to fight in
this cruel war.

He had lost a battle, it is true, and had been
taken prisoner. Yet he knew that the Romans
were gaining ground, and the people of Carthage
were afraid of being beaten in the end. They had
sent into other countries to hire soldiers to help



83

them; but even with these they would not be able
to fight much longer against Rome. -

One day some of the rulers of Carthage came to
the prison to talk with Regulus. .

‘“ We should like to make peace with the Roman
people,” they said, “and we are sure, that, if your
rulers at home knew how the war is going, they
would be glad to make peace with us. We will set
you free and let you go home, if you will agree to
do as we say.”

“What is that?” asked Regulus.

“In the first place,” they said, “you must tell
the Romans about the battles which you have
lost, and you must make it plain to them that
they have not gained any-thing by the war. In
the second place, you must promise us, that, if
they will not make peace, you will come back to
your prison.”

“Very well,” said Regulus, “I promise you, that,
if they will not make peace, I will come back to
prison.”

And so they let him go; for they knew that a
great Roman would keep his word. | .

When he came to Rome, all the people greeted
him gladly. His wife and children were very

happy, for they thought that now they would not
be parted again. The white-haired Fathers who



84

made the laws for the city came to see him.
They asked him about the war.

“T was sent from Carthage to ask you to make
peace,” he said. “ But it will not be wise to make
peace. True, we have been beaten in a few battles,
but our army is gaining ground every day. The
people of Carthage are afraid, and well they may
be. Keep on with the war a little while longer,
and Carthage shall be yours. As for me, I have
come to bid my wife and children and Rome fare-
~well. To-morrow I will start back to Carthage and
to prison; for I have promised.”

Then the Fathers tried to persuade him to stay.

“Let us send another man in your place,” they
said. .

“Shall a Roman not keep: his word?” answered
Regulus. “I am ill, and at the best have not long
to live. I will go back, as I promised.”

His wife and little children wept, and his sons
begged him not to leave them again.

“I have given my word,” said Regulus. “The
rest will be taken care of.”

Then he bade them good-by, and went bravely
back to the prison and the cruel death which he
ex-pect-ed.

This was the kind of courage that made Rome
_ the greatest city in the world.



85

CORNELIA’S JEWELS.

Ir was a bright morning in the old city of Rome
many hundred years ago. In a vine-covered sum-
mer-house in a beautiful garden, two boys were
standing. They were looking at their mother and
her friend, who were walking among the flowers
and trees.

“Did you ever see so handsome a lady as our
mother’s friend?” asked the younger boy, holding
his tall brother's hand. “She looks like a queen.”

“Vet she is not so beautiful as our mother,” said
the elder boy. “She has a fine dress, it is true; but
her face is not noble and kind. It is our mother
who is like a queen.”

“That is true,’ said the other. “There is no
woman in Rome so much like a queen as our own
dear mother.”

Soon Cor-ne’li-a, their mother, came down the
walk to speak with them. She was simply dressed
in a plain white robe. Her arms and feet were
bare, as was the custom in those days; and no
rings nor chains glit-tered about her hands and
neck. For her only crown, long braids of soft
brown hair were coiled about her head; and a
tender smile lit up her noble face as she looked
into her sons’ proud eyes.



86

“ Boys,” she said, “I have something to tell
you.”

They bowed before her, as Roman lads were
taught to do, and said, “ What is it, mother?”

“You are to dine with us to-day, here in the gar-
den; and then our friend is going to show us that
wonderful casket of jewels of which you have heard
so much.” .

The brothers looked: shyly at their mother’s -
friend. Was it possible that she had still other
‘rings besides those on her fingers? Could she
have other gems besides those which sparkled in
the chains about her neck?

When the simple out-door meal was over, a serv-
ant brought the casket from the house. The lady
opened it. Ah, how those jewels dazzled the eyes
of the wondering boys! There were ropes of pearls,
white as milk, and smooth as satin; heaps of shining
rubies, red as the glowing coals; sap-phires as blue
as the sky that summer day; and di-a-monds that
flashed and sparkled like the sunlight.

The brothers looked long at the gems.

“Ah!” whis-pered the younger; “if our mother
could only have such beautiful things!”

At last, how-ever, the casket was closed and
carried care-ful-ly away.

“Ts it true, Cor-ne-li-a, that you have no jewels?”



‘ 87
asked her friend. “Is it true, as I have heard it
whis-pered, that you are poor?” .

“No, I am not poor,” answered Cornelia, and as
she spoke she drew her two boys to her side; “for
here are my jewels. They are worth more than all
your gems.”

I am sure that the boys never forgot their
mother’s pride and love and care; and in after
years, when they had become great men in Rome,
they often thought of this scene in the garden.
And the world still likes to hear the story of Cor-
nelia’s jewels,

ANDROCLUS AND THE LION.

In Rome there was once a poor slave whose
name was An/‘dro-clus. His master was a cruel
man, and so unkind to him that at last An-dro-clus
ran away.

He hid himself in a wild wood for many days;
but there was no food to be found, and he grew so
weak and sick that he thought he should die. So
one day he crept into a cave and lay down, and
soon he was fast asleep.

After a while a great noise woke him up. A lion
had come into the cave, and was roaring loudly.



838

Androclus was very much afraid, for he felt sure
that the beast would kill him. Soon, however, he
saw that the lion was not angry, but that he limped
_ as though his foot hurt him.

Then Androclus grew so bold that he took hold
of the lion’s lame paw to see what was the matter.
The lion stood quite still, and rubbed his head
against the man’s shoulder. He seemed to say, —

“TI know that you will help me.”

Androclus lifted the paw from the ground, and
saw that it was a long, sharp thorn which hurt the
lion so much. He took the end of the thorn in
his fingers; then he gave a strong, quick pull, and
out it came. The lion was full of joy. He jumped
about like a dog, and licked the hands and feet of
his new friend.

Androclus was not at all afraid after this; and
when night came, he and the lion lay “oan and
slept side by side.

For a long time, the lion brought food to An-
droclus every day; and the two became such good
friends, that Androclus found his new life a very
happy one.

One day some soldiers who were. passing
through the wood found Androclus in the cave.
They knew who he was, and so took him back to
Rome. .



89

It was the law at that time that every slave
who ran away from his master should be made
to fight a hungry lion. So a fierce lion was shut
up for a while without food, and a time was set
for the fight.

When the day came, thousands of people
crowded to see the sport. They went to such
places at that time very much as people now-a-days
go to see a circus show or a game of base-ball.

The door opened, and poor Androclus was
brought in. _ He was almost dead with fear, for the
roars of the lion could al-read-y be heard. He
looked up, and saw that there was no pity in the
thou-sands of faces around him.

Then the hungry lion rushed in. With a single
bound he reached the poor slave. Androclus gave
a great cry, not of fear, but of gladness. It was his
old friend, the lion of the cave.

The people, who had ex-pect-ed to see the man
killed by the lion, were filled with wonder. They
saw Androclus put his arms around the lion’s neck;
they saw the lion le down at his feet, and lick them
lov-ing-ly; they saw the great beast rub his head
against the slave’s face as though he wanted to be
petted. They could not un-der-stand what it all
meant.

After a while they asked Androclus to tell them



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about it. So he stood up before them, and, with
his arm around the lion’s neck, told how he and
the beast had lived together in the cave,

“T am a man,” he said; “but no man has ever
befriended me. This poor lion alone has been kind
‘to me; and we love each other as brothers.” :

The people were not so bad that they could be
cruel to the poor slave now. “Live and be free!”
they cried. “Live and be free!”

Others cried, “Let the lion go free too! Give
both of them their liberty!”

And so Androclus was set free, and the lion was
given to him for his own. And they lived together
in Rome for many years.

HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE.

Once there was a war between the Roman people
and the E-trus’cans who lived in the towns on the
other side of the Ti-ber River. Por’se-na, the King
of the E-trus-cans, raised a great army, and marched
toward Rome. The city had never been in so great
danger.

The Romans did not have very many fighting
men at that time, and they knew that they were
not strong enough to meet the Etruscans in open



92

battle. So they kept themselves inside of their
walls, and set guards to watch the roads.

One morning the army of Por-se-na was seen
coming over the hills from the north. There were
thousands of horsemen and footmen, and they were
marching straight toward the wooden bridge which
spanned the river at Rome.

“What shall we do?” said the white-haired
Fathers who made the laws for the Roman peo-
ple. “If they once gain the bridge, we cannot
- hinder them from crossing; and then what hope
will there be for the town?”

Now, among the guards at the bridge, there was
a brave man named Ho-ra'ti-us. He was on the
farther side of the river, and when he saw that
the Etruscans were so near, he called out to the
Romans who were behind him.

“Hew down the bridge with all the speed that
you can!” he cried. “I, with the two men who
stand by me, will keep the foe at bay.”

Then, with their shields before them, and their
long spears in their hands, the three brave men
stood in the road, and kept back the horsemen
whom Porsena had sent to take the bridge.

On the bridge the Romans hewed away at the
beams and posts. Their axes rang, the chips dew
fast; and soon it trembled, and was ready to fall.



93

“Come back! come back, and-save your lives!”
they cried to Ho-ra-ti-us and the two who were with
him. :

But just then Porsena’s horsemen dashed toward
them again.

“ Run for your lives!” said Horatius to his friends.
“J will keep the road.”

They turned, and ran back across the bridge.
They had hardly reached the other side when there
was a crashing of beams and timbers. The bridge
toppled over to one side, and then fell with a great
splash into the water.

When Horatius heard the sound, he knew that .
the city was safe. With his face. still toward
Porsena’s men, he moved slowly back-ward till he
stood on the river’s bank. A dart thrown by one
of Porsena’s soldiers put out his left eye; but he
did not falter. He cast his spear at the fore-most
horseman, and then he turned quickly around. He
saw the white porch of his own home among the
trees on the other side of the stream;

“ And he spake to the noble river
That rolls by the walls of Rome:
*O Tiber! father Tiber !
To whom the Romans pray,
A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms,
Take thou in charge to-day.’”



94

He leaped into the deep, swift stream. He still
had his heavy armor on; and when he sank out of
sight, no one thought that he would ever be seen
again. But he was a strong man, and the best
swimmer in Rome. The next minute he rose. He
was half-way across the river, and safe from the
_spears and darts which Porsena’s soldiers hurled
after him.

Soon he reached the farther side, where his
friends stood ready to help him. Shout after shout
greeted him as he climbed upon the bank. Then
Porsena’s men shouted also, for they had never seen
a man so brave and strong as Horatius. He had
kept them out of Rome, but he had done a deed
which they could not help but praise.

As for the Romans, they were very grateful to
Horatius for having saved their city. They called
him Horatius Co’cles, which meant the “one-eyed
Horatius,” because he had lost an eye in defending
the bridge; they caused a fine statue of brass to
be made in his honor; and they gave him as much
land as he could plow around in a day. And for
hundreds of years afterwards —

“With weeping and with laugh-ter,
Still was the story told,
How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.”



95

JULIUS CAESAR.

NEARLY two thousand years ago there lived in
Rome a man whose name was Julius Cz’sar. He
was the greatest of all the Romans,

Why was he so great?

He was a brave warricr, and had con-quered
many countries for Rome. He was wise in plan-
ning and in doing. He knew how to make men
both love and fear him.

At last he made himself the ruler'of Rome.
Some said that he wished to become its king.
But the Romans at that time did not believe in
kings.

Once when Ce-sar was passing through a little
country village, all the men, women, and children of
the place, came out to see him. There were not
more than fifty of them, all together, and they were
led by their may-or, who told each one what to do.

These simple people stood by the roadside and
watched Czesar pass. The may-or looked very
proud and happy; for was he not the ruler of this
village? He felt that he was almost as great a man
as Ceesar himself.

Some of the fine of-fi-cers who were with Cesar
laughed. They said, “See how that fellow struts at
the head of his little flock!”



06

“Laugh as you will,” said Ceesar, “he has reason
to be proud. I would rather be the head man of a
village than the second man in Rome!”

At an-oth-er time, Ceesar was crossing a narrow
sea ina boat. Before he was halfway to the farther
shore, a storm overtook him. The wind blew hard;
the waves dashed high; the lightning flashed; the
thunder rolled.

It seemed every minute as though the boat would
sink. The captain was in great fright. He had
crossed the sea many times, but never in such a
storm as this. He trembled with fear; he could
not guide the boat; he fell down upon his knees;
he moaned, “ All is lost! all is lost!”

But Ceesar was not afraid. He bade the man get
up and take his oars again.

“Why should you be afraid?” he said. “The
boat will not be lost; for you have Czeesar on
board.”

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES.

THERE was once a king whose name was Di-o-
nysi-us. He was so unjust and cruel that he won
for himself the name of tyrant. He knew that
almost everybody hated him, and so he was always
in dread lest some one should take his life.



97

But he was very rich, and he lived in a fine
palace where there were many beautiful and costly
things, and he was waited upon by a host of serv-
ants who were always ready to do his bidding.
One day a friend of his, whose name was Dam/o-
cles, said to him, —

“How happy you must be! You have here
everything that any man could wish.”

“Perhaps you would like to change places with
me,” said the tyrant. .

“No, not that, O king!” said Dam-o-cles; “but
I think, that, if I could only have your riches and
your pleas-ures for one day, I should not want any
greater hap-pi-ness.”

“Very well,” said the tyrant. ‘You shall have
them.”

And so, the next day, Damocles was led into the
palace, and all the servants were bidden to treat
him as their master. He sat down at a table in the
banquet hall, and rich foods were placed before him.
Nothing was wanting that could give him pleasure.
There were costly wines, and beautiful flowers, and
rare perfumes, and de-light-ful music. He rested
himself among soft cushions, and felt that he was
the happiest man in all the world.

Then he chanced to raise his eyes toward the
ceiling. What was it that was dangling above him,

FIFTY FAM. STO.— 7







































The Sword of Damocles,



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FIFTY FAMOUS STORIES
RETOLD

BY

JAMES BALDWIN



AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY

NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO
CopyRIGHT, 1896, BY

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.



FIFTY FAMOUS STORIES.
E-P 1
King Alfred and the Cakes . .
King Alfred and the Beggar. .
King Canute on the Seashore .
The Sons of William the Con-
- queror . 1 ee we
The White Ship . ....
King John and the Abbot ..
A Story of Robin Hood . . .
Bruce and the Spider. . . .
The Black Douglas . .. «
Three Men of Gotham . . .
Other Wise Men of Gotham .
The Miller of the Dee . . .
Sir Philip Sidney . . 2. 6 6
The Ungrateful Soldier . . .
Sir Humphrey Gilbert. . . .
Sir Walter Raleigh. . .. -
Pocahontas . . 2. 6 « © «
George Washington and his
Hatchet . . 2. «6 ©
Grace Darling . . . « ©
The Story of William Tell . .
Arnold Winkelried . 2 . .
The Bellof Atri . . 2...
How Napoleon crossed the Alps
The Story of Cincinnatus. . .

CONTENTS.

es
PAGE PAGE
5 |. The Story of Regus. . . . 82
8 | Cornelia’s Jewels . - 2. 2 2 85
to | Androclus and the Lion. . . 87
Horatius at the Bridge . . gI

12 | Julius Cesar. 2. 2. «6 6 6 95
17 | The Sword of Damocles . . . 96
21) Damon and Pythias . . . . 100
28 | ALaconic Answer . . « « 102
33 | The Ungrateful Guest . + « 103
35 | Alexander and Bucephalus . . 106
39 | Diogenes the Wise Man . - 108
42 ; The Brave Three Hundred . . 110
46 | Socrates and his House - 6 HI2
49 | The King and his Hawk. . . 113
51 | Doctor Goldsmith. . . - 118
53 | The Kingdoms. ... . « « 119
54 | The Barmecide Feast . + « 123
58 | The Endless Tale . . . . 127
The Blind Men and the Elephant 130

59 | Maximilian and the Goose Boy . 132
61 | The Inchcape Rock . . . . 137
64 | Whittington and hisCat. . . 140
66 | Casabianca . . 2. « - 153
69 | AntonioCanova . . . . « 156
75 | Picciola . 2 . 2 5 6 + © 162
76 { Mignon . 2 2 6 «© «© © « 167
CONCERNING THESE STORIES.



THERE are numerous time-honored stories which have become so
incorporated into the literature and thought of our race that a knowl-
edge of them is an indispensable part of one’s education. These
stories are of several different classes. To one class belong the popu-
lar fairy tales which have delighted untold generations of children,
and will continue to delight them to the end of time. To another
class belong the limited number of fables that have come down to us
through many channels from hoar antiquity. To a third belong the
harming stories of olden times that are derived from the literatures of
ancient peoples, such as the Greeks and the Hebrews. A fourth class
includes the half-legendary tales of a distinctly later origin, which have
for their subjects certain romantic episodes in the lives of well-known
heroes and famous men, or in the history of a people.

It is to this last class that most of the fifty stories contained in the
present volume belong. As a matter of course, some of these stories
are better known, and therefore more famous, than others. Some have
a siight historical value; some are useful as giving point to certain
great moral truths; others are products solely of the fancy, and are
intended only to amuse. Some are derived from very ancient sources,
and are current in the literature of many lands; some have come to us
through the ballads and folk tales of the English people; a few are
of quite recent origin; nearly all are the subjects of frequent allusions
in poetry and prose and in the conversation of educated people. Care
has been taken to exclude everything that is not strictly within the
limits of probability; hence there is here no trespassing upon the
domain of the fairy tale, the fable, or the myth.

That children naturally take a deep interest in such stories, no per-
son can deny; that the reading of them will not only give pleasure, but
will help to lay the foundation for broader literary studies, can scarcely
be doubted. It is believed, therefore, that the present collection will
be found to possess an educative value which will commend it as a
supplementary reader in the middle primary grades at school. It is also
hoped that the book will prove so attractive that it will be in demand
out of school as well as in.

Acknowledgments are due to Mrs. Charles A. Lane, by whom eight
or ten of the stories were suggested.

4
FIFTY FAMOUS STORIES RETOLD.

—059% 0o—_——_.

KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.



Many years ago there lived in Eng-land a wise
and good king whose name was Al-fred. No other
man ever did so much for his country as he; and

5
6

people now, all over the world, speak of him as
Alfred the Great.

In those days a king did not have a very easy
life. There was war almost all the time, and no
one else could lead his army into battle so well as
he. And so, between ruling and fighting, he had a
busy time of it indeed. .

A fierce, rude people, called the Danes, had come
from over the sea, and were fighting the Eng-lish.
There were so many of them, and they were so
bold and strong, that for a long time they gained
every battle. If they kept on, they would soon be
the masters of the whole country.

At last, after a great battle, the English army
was broken up and scat-tered. Every man had to
save himself in the best way he could. King AI-.
fred fled alone, in great haste, through the woods
and swamps.

Late in the day the king came to the hut of a
wood-cut-ter. He was very tired and hungry, and
he begged the wood-cut-ter’s wife to give him some-
thing to eat and a place to sleep in her hut.

The wom-an was baking some cakes upon the
hearth, and she looked with pity upon the poor,
ragged fellow who seemed so hungry. She had
no thought that he was the king.

“Yes,” she said, “1 will give you some supper if
7

you will watch these cakes. I want to go out and
milk the cow; and you must see that they do not
burn while I am gone.”

King Alfred was very willing to watch the cakes,
but he had far greater things to think about. How
was he going to get his army to-geth-er again?
And how was he going to drive the fierce Danes
out of the land? He forgot his hunger; he forgot
the cakes; he forgot that he was in the woodcut-
ter’s hut. His mind was busy making plans for
to-mor-row.

In a little while the wom-an came back. The
cakes were smoking on the hearth. They were
burned to a crisp. Ah, how angry she was!

“You lazy fellow!” she cried. “See what you
have done! You want some-thing to eat, but you
do not want to work!”

I have been told that she even struck the king
with a stick; but I can hardly be-lieve that she was
so ill-na-tured. .

The king must have laughed to himself at the
_ thought of being scolded in this way; and he

was so hungry that he did not mind the woman’s .
angry words half so much as the loss of the
cakes. |
_ I do not know whether he had any-thing te eat

_» that night, or whether he had to go to bed without
8

his supper. But it was not many days until he
had gath-ered his men to-geth-er again, and had
beaten the Danes in a great battle...

KING ALFRED AND THE BEGGAR.

At one time the Danes drove King Alfred from
his kingdom, and he had to lie hidden for a long
time on a little is-land in a river.

One day, all who were on the is-land, except the
king and queen and one servant, went out to fish.
It was a very lonely place, and no one could get to
it except by a boat. About noon a ragged beggar
came to the king’s door, and asked for food.

The king called the servant, and asked, “ How
much food have we in the house? ”

“ My lord,” said ine servant, “we have only one
loaf and a little wine.’

Then the king gave thanks to God, and said,
“Give half of the loaf and half of the wine to this
poor man.”

The servant did as he was bidden. The beggar.
thanked the king for his kindness, and went on his
way.

In the after-noon the men who nea gone out to
fish came back. They had three boats full of fish,
9

and they said, “We have caught more fish to-day
than in all the other days that we have been on
this island.”

The king was glad, and he and his people were
more hopeful than they had ever been before.

When night came, the king lay awake for a long
time, and thought about the things that had hap-
pened that day. At last he fancied that he saw
a great light like the sun; and in the midst of the
light there stood an old man with black hair, hold-
ing an open book in his hand.

It may all have been a dream, and yet to the king
it seemed very real indeed. He looked and won-
dered, but was not afraid.

“Who are you?” he asked of the old man.

“ Alfred, my son, be brave,” said the man; “for I
am the one to whom you gave this day the half of
all the food that you had. Be strong and joyful
of heart, and listen to what I say. Rise up early
in the morning and blow your horn three times,
so loudly that the Danes may hear it. By nine
o'clock, five hundred men will be around you ready
to be led into battle. Go forth bravely, and within
seven days your en-e-mies shall be beaten, and you
shall go back to your kingdom to reign in peace.”

Then the light went out, and the man was seen
no more.
10

In the morning the king arose early, and crossed
over to the mainland. Then he blew his horn
three times very loudly; and when his friends
heard it they were glad, but the Danes were filled
with fear. a

At nine o’clock, five hundred of his bravest sol-
diers stood around him ready for battle. He spoke,
and told them what he had seen and heard in his
dream; and when he had fin-ished, they all cheered
loudly, and said that they would follow him and fight
for him so long as they had strength.

So they went out bravely to battle; and they
beat the Danes, and drove them back into their
own place. And King Alfred ruled wisely and well
over all his people for the rest of his days.

KING CANUTE ON THE SEASHORE.

A HUNDRED years or more after the time of
Alfred the Great there was a king of England
named Ca-nute’. .King Canute was a Dane; but
the Danes were not so fierce and cruel then as
they had been when they were at war with King
Alfred.

The great men and of-fi-cers who were around
King Canute were always praising him.
Il

“You are the greatest man that ever lived,” one

/ would say.

Then an-oth-er would say, “O king! there can
never be an-oth-er man so mighty as you.”

- And another would say, “ Great Canute, there is
nothing in the world that dares to dis-o-bey you.”

The king was a man of sense, and he grew very
tired of hearing such foolish speeches. _

One day he was by the sea-shore, and his of-fi-
cers were with him. They were praising him, as
they were in the habit of doing. He thought that
now he would teach them a lesson, and so he bade
them set his chair on the beach close the edge
of the water,

“Am I the greatest man in the world?” he
asked.

“O king!” any cried, “there is no one so

mighty as you.”

“Do all things obey me?” he asked.

“There is nothing that dares to dis-o-bey you, O
king!” they said. “The world bows before you,
and gives you honor.”

“Will the sea obey me?” he asked; and he
looked down at the little waves which were lapping
the sand at his feet.

‘The foolish officers were puzzled, but they did
not dare to say “ No.” |
12

“Command it, O king! and it will obey,” said
one,

-“ Sea,” cried Canute, “I command you to come
no farther! Waves, stop your rolling, and do not
dare to touch my feet!”

But the tide came in, just as it always did. The
water rose higher and higher. It came up around
the king’s chair, and wet not only his feet, but also
his robe. His officers stood about him, alarmed,
and won-der-ing whether he was not mad.

Then Canute took off his crown, and threw it
down upon the sand.

“J shall never wear it again,” he said. “And do
you, my men, learn a lesson from what you have
seen. There is only one King who is all-powerful:
and it is he who rules the sea, and holds the ocean
in the hollow of his hand. It is he whom you
ought to praise and serve above all others.”

THE SONS OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.

THERE was once a great king of England who
was called Wil-liam the Con-quer-or, ane he had
three sons.

One day King Wil-liam seemed to be thinking
of something that made him feel very sad; and the
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14

wise men who were about him asked him what was
the matter.

“T am thinking,” he said, “of what my sons: may

do after I am dead. For, unless they are wise and
strong, they cannot keep the kingdom which I have
won for them. Indeed, I am ata loss to know which
one of the three ought to be the king when I am.
gone.”
—&O king!” said the wise men, “if we only
knew what things your’ sons admire the most,
we might then be able to tell what kind of men
they will be. Perhaps, by asking each one of
them a few ques-tions, we can find out which
one of them will be best fitted to rule in your
place.”

“ The plan is well worth trying, at least,” said the
king. “Have the boys come before you, and then
~ ask them what you please.”

The wise men talked with one another for a little
while, and then agreed that the young princes’
should be brought in, one at a time, and that the
same ques-tions should be put to each.

The first who came into the room was Robert.
He was a tall, willful lad, and was nick-named Short
Stocking.

“ Fair sir,” said one of the men, “answer me this
question: If, instead of being a boy, it had pleased
15

_ God that you should be a bird, what kind of a bird
would you rather be?”

“ A hawk,” answered Robert. “I would rather
be a hawk, for no other bird reminds one so much
of a bold and gallant knight.”

The next who came was young William, his
father’s name-sake and pet. His face was jolly and
_ round, and because he had red hair he was nick-
named Rufus, or the Red.

“Fair sir,’ said the wise man, “answer me this
question: If, instead of being a boy, it had pleased
God that you should be a bird, what kind of a bird
would you rather be?”

“ An eagle,” answered William. “I would rather
be an eagle, because it is strong and brave, It is
feared by all other birds, and is there-fore the king
of them all.” é

Lastly came the youngest brother, Henry, with
quiet steps and a sober, thought-ful look. He had
been taught to read and write, and for that reason
he was nick-named Beau-clerc, or the Hand-some
Schol-ar. -

“Fair sir,” said the wise man, “answer me this
question: If, instead of being a boy, it had pleased
God that you should be a bird, what kind of a bird
would you rather be?”

“A star-ling,” said Henry. “I would rather be a
16

star-ling, because it is good-mannered and kind and
a joy to every one who sees it, and it never tries to
rob or abuse its neigh-bor.”

Then the wise men talked with one another for a
little while, and when they had agreed among them-
selves, they spoke to the king.

“We find,” said they, “that your alaest son, Rob-
ert, will be bold and gallant. He will do some great
deeds, and make a name for himself; but in the end
he will be over-come by his foes, and will die in|
prison. |

“The second son, William, will be as brave and
strong as the eagle; but he will be feared and hated
for his cruel deeds. He will lead a ‘wicked life, and
will die a shamefui death.

“ The youngest son, Henry, will be wise and pru-
dent and peaceful. He will go to war only when he
is forced to do so by his enemies. He will be loved
at home, and re-spect-ed abroad; and he will die in
peace after having gained great pos-ses-sions.”

Years passed by, and the three boys had grown
up to be men. King William lay upon his death-
bed, and again he thought of what would become
of his sons when he was gone. Then he re-mem-
bered what the wise men had told him; and so he
de-clared that Robert should have the lands which
he held in France, that William should be the King
17

of England, and that Henry should have no land at
all, but only a chest of gold.

So it hap-pened in the end very much as the wise
men had fore-told. Robert, the Short Stocking, was
bold and reckless, like the hawk which he so much
admired. He lost all the lands that his father had
left him, and was at last shut up in prison, where he
was kept until he died.

William Rufus was so over-bear-ing and cruel that
he was feared and hated by all his people. He led
a wicked life, and was killed by one of his own men
while hunting in the forest.

And Henry, the Handsome Scholar, had not only
the chest of gold for his own, but he became by and
by the King of England and the ruler of all the lands
that his father had had in France.

THE WHITE SHIP. .

King Henry, the Handsome Scholar, had one
son, named William, whom he dearly loved. The
young man was noble and brave, and every-body
hoped that he would some day be the King of
England.

One summer Prince William went with his father
across the sea to look after their lands in France.

FIFTY FAM. STO.— 2
18

They were wel-comed with joy by all their people
there, and the young prince was so gallant and
kind, that he won the love of all who saw him.

But at last the time came for them to go back
to England. The king, with his wise men and
brave knights, set sail early in the day; but: Prince
William with his younger friends waited a little
while. They had had so joyous a time in France |
that they were in no great haste to tear them-selves
away.

Then they went on board of the ship which was
waiting to carry them home. It was a beau-ti-ful
ship with white sails and white masts, and it had
been fitted up on purpose for this voyage.

The sea was smooth, the winds were fair, and no
one thought of danger. On the ship, every-thing
had been ar-ranged to make the trip a pleasant one.
There was music and dancing, and everybody was
merry and glad.

The sun had gone down before the white-winged
vessel was fairly out of the bay. But what of that?
The moon was at its full, and it would give light
enough; and before the dawn of the morrow, the
narrow sea would be crossed. And so the prince,
and the young people who were with him, gave
themselves up to mer-ri-ment and feasting and joy.

The ear-li-er hours of the night passed by; and
19

then there was a cry of alarm on deck. A moment
after-ward there was a great crash. The ship had
struck upon a rock. The water rushed in. She
was sinking. Ah, where now were those who had
lately been so heart-free and glad?

Every heart was full of fear. No one knew what
to do. A small boat was quickly launched, and the
prince with a few of his bravest friends leaped into
it. They pushed off just as the ship was be-gin-ning
to settle beneath the waves. Would they be saved?

They had rowed hardly ten yards from the ship,
when there was a cry from among those that were
left behind.

“Row back!” cried the prince. “It is my little
sister. She must be saved!”

The men did not dare to disobey. ‘The boat was
again brought along-side of the sinking vessel.
The prince stood up, and held out his arms for his
sister. At that moment the ship gave a great
lurch forward into the waves. One shriek of ter-
ror was heard, and then all was still save the sound
of the moaning waters.

Ship and boat, prince and prin-cess, and all the
gay com-pa-ny that had set sail from France, went
down to the bottom together. One man clung toa
floating plank, and was saved the next day. He
was the only person left alive to tell the sad story.
20

When King Henry heard of the death of his son
his grief was more than he could bear. His heart
was broken. He had no more joy in life; and men
say that no one ever saw him smile again.

Here is a poem about him that your teacher may
read to you, and perhaps, after a while, you may
learn it by heart.

HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN.

The bark that held the prince went down,
The sweeping waves rolled on;

And what was England’s glorious crown
To him that wept a son?

He lived, for life may long be borne
Ere sorrow breaks its chain ;

Why comes not death to those who mourn?
He never smiled again.

There stood proud forms before his throne,
The stately and the brave ;

But who could fill the place of one, —
That one beneath the wave?

Before him passed the young and fair,
In pleasure’s reckless train ;

But seas dashed o’er his son’s bright hair —
He never smiled again.

He sat where festal bowls went round ;
He heard the minstrel sing ;

He saw the tour-ney’s victor crowned
Amid the knightly ring.
21

A murmur of the restless deep
Was blent with every strain,

A voice of winds that would not sleep —
He never smiled again.

Hearts, in that time, closed o’er the trace
Of vows once fondly poured,

And strangers took the kins-man’s place
At many a joyous board;

Graves which true love had bathed with tears
Were left to heaven’s bright rain ;

Fresh hopes were born for other years -—

#7e never smiled again !
MRS. HEMANS.

KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT.

I. THE THREE QUESTIONS.

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

Now, there was in the town of Can’‘ter-bur-y a rich
old abbot who lived in grand style in a great house
called the Abbey. Every day a hundred noble men
sat down with him to dine; and fifty brave knights,
22

in fine velvet coats and gold chains, waited AROR
him at his table.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, do not'say so!” said the abbot. “ For 1”—

“ Not another word!” cried the king. “Your fault
is plain, and unless you can answer me three ques-
tions, your head shall be cut off, and all your riches
shall be mine.”
38

“TI will try to answer them, O king!” said the
abbot.

“Well, then,” said King John, “as I sit here with

my crown of gold on my head, you must tell me to.
within a day just how long I shall live. Sec-ond-ly,
you must tell me how soon I shall ride round the
whole world; and lastly, you shall tell me what I
think.”
“O king!” said the abbot, “these are deep, hard.
questions, and I cannot answer them just now. But
if you will give me two weeks to think about them,
I will do the best that I can.” .

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

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

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

At last, sad and sor-row-ful, he rode toward home
to bid his friends and his brave knights good-by.
For now he had not a week to live.
24.

Il. THE THREE ANSWERS.

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

“Welcome home, good master!” cried the shep-
herd. “What news do you bring us from great
King John?”

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

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

“You help me!” cried the abbot. “‘ How? how?”

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

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

So the shepherd got ready to go at once. He
25

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

Of course the king did not know him.

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

“T am ready to answer them, O king!” said the
shepherd.

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

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

The king laughed.

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



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** You shall live until the day that you die.”’
27

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

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

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

The king laughed loud and long.

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

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

“Very well, then,” said the king, “I will give
you something else to pay you for this merry joke.
I will give you four pieces of silver every week as
long as you live. And when you get home, you
may tell the old abbot that you have brought him a
free pardon from King John.”
28

A STORY OF ROBIN HOOD.

In the rude days of King Rich-ard and King
John there were many great woods in England.
The most famous of these was Sher-wood forest,
where the king often went to hunt deer. In this
forest there lived a band of daring men called out-
laws.

They had done something that was against the
laws of the land, and had been forced to hide them-
selves in the woods to save their lives. There they
spent their time in roaming about among the trees,
in hunting the king’s deer, and in robbing rich
trav-el-ers that came that way.

There were nearly a hundred of these outlaws,
and their leader was a bold fellow called Robin
Hood. They were dressed in suits of green, and
armed with bows and arrows; and sometimes they
carried long wooden lances and broad-swords, which
they knew how to handle well. When-ever they
had taken anything, it was brought and laid at the
feet of Robin Hood, whom they called their king.
He then di-vid-ed it fairly among them, giving to
each man his just share. .

Robin never allowed his men to harm any-body
but the rich men who lived in great houses and did
no work. He was always kind to the poor, and
29

he often sent help to them; and for that reason
the common people looked upon him as their
friend.

Long after he was dead, men liked to talk about
his deeds. Some praised him, and some blamed
him. He was, indeed, a rude, lawless fellow; but
at that time, people did not think of right and
wrong as they do now.

A great many songs were made up about Robin
Hood, and these songs were sung in the cot-ta-ges
aud huts all over the land for hundreds of years
after-ward.

Here is a little story that is told in one of those
songs : —

Robin Hood was standing one day under a green
tree by the road-side. While he was lis-ten-ing to
the birds among the leaves, he saw a young man
passing by. This young man was dressed in a fine
suit of bright red cloth; and, as he tripped gayly
along the road, he seemed to be as happy as the
day.

“TJ will not trou-ble him,” said Robin Hood, “for
I think he is‘on his way to his wedding.”

The next day Robin stood in the same place.
He had not been there long when he saw the
same young man coming down the road. But he
did not seem to be so happy this time. He had
30

left his scarlet coat at home, and at every step he
sighed and groaned.

“ Ah the sad day! the sad day!” he kept saying
to himself.

Then Robin Hood stepped out from under the
tree, and said, —

“T say, young man! Have you any money to
spare for my merry men and me?”

“T have nothing at all,” said the young man, “but
five shil-lings and a ring.”

“A gold ring?” asked Robin.

“Yes,” said the young man, “it is a gold ring.
Here it is.”

“Ah, I see!” said Robin: “it is a wedding
ring.”

“I have kept it these seven years,” said the:
young man; “I have kept it to give to my bride
on our wedding day. We were going to be mar-
ried yes-ter-day. But her father has prom-ised her
to a rich old man whom she never saw. And now
my heart is broken.” |

“What is your name?” asked Robin.

“ My name is Allin-a-Dale,” said the young man.

“What will you give me, in gold or fee,” said
Robin, “if I will help you win your bride again in
spite of the rich old man to whom she has been
promised ?”



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“T have no money,” said
Allin, “but I will promise
to be your servant.”
“How many miles is it to the place where the
maiden lives?” asked Robin.
32

“Tt is not far,” said Allin. “But she is to be
married this very day, and the church is five miles
away.”

Then Robin made haste to dress himself as a
harper; and in the after-noon he stood in the door
of the church.

“Who are you?” said the bishop, “and what are
you doing here?”

“JT am a bold harper,” said Robin, “the ase! in
the north country.”

“T am glad you have come,” said the bishop
kindly. “There is no music that I like so well as
that of the harp. Come in, and play for us.”

“T will go in,” said Robin Hood; “but I will not
give you any music until I see the bride and bride-
groom.”

Just then an old man came in. He was dressed
in rich clothing, but was bent with age, and was
feeble and gray. By his side walked a fair young
girl. Her cheeks were very pale, and her eyes were
full of tears.

“ This is no match,” said Robin. “ Let the bride
choose for herself.”

Then he put his horn to his lips, and blew three
times. The very next minute, four and twenty
men, all dressed in green, and car-ry-ing long bows
in their hands, came running across the fields.
33

And as they marched into the church, all in a row,
the fore-most among them was Allin-a-Dale.

“Now whom do you choose?” said Robin to the
maiden.

“1 choose Allin-a-Dale,” she said, blushing.

“And Allin-a-Dale you shall have,” said Robin;
“and he that takes you from Allin-a-Dale shall find
that he has Robin Hood to deal with.”

And so the fair maiden and Allin-a-Dale were
married then and there, and the rich old man went
home in a great rage.

“ And thus having ended this merry wedding,
The bride looked like a queen:
And so they re-turned to the merry green wood,
Amongst the leaves so green.”

BRUCE AND THE SPIDER.

THERE was once a king of Scot-land whose name
was Robert Bruce. He had need to be both brave
and wise, for the times in which he lived were wild
and rude. The King of England was at war with
him, and had led a great army into Scotland to
drive him out of the land.

Battle after battle had been fought. Six times
had. Bruce led his brave little army against his foes;

FIFTY FAM. STO.— 3
34

and six times had his men been beaten, and driven
into flight. At last his army was scat-tered, and he
was forced to hide himself in the woods and in
lonely places among the moun-tains.

One rainy day, Bruce lay on the ground under a
rude shed, lis-ten-ing to the patter of the drops on
the roof above him. He was tired and sick at
heart, and ready to give up all hope. It seemed
to him that there was no use for him to a to do
anything more.

As he lay thinking, he saw a spider over his
head, making ready to weave her web. He
watched her as she toiled slowly and with great
care. Six times she tried to throw her frail thread
from one beam to another, and six times it fell
short.

“ Poor thing!” said Bruce: “you, too, know what
it is to fail.”

But the spider did not lose hope with the sixth
failure. With still more care, she made ready to
try for the seventh time. Bruce almost forgot his
own troubles as he watched her swing herself out
upon the slender line. Would she fail again?
No! The thread was carried safely to the beam,
and fas-tened there.

“T, too, will try a seventh time!” cried Bruce.

He arose and called his men together. He told
35

them of his plans, and sent them out with mes-sa-
ges of cheer to his dis-heart-ened people. Soon
there was an army of brave Scotch-men around
him. Another battle was fought, and the King of
England was glad to go back into his own country.

I have heard it said, that, after that day, no one
by the name of Bruce would ever hurt a spider.
The lesson which the little crea-ture had taught
the king was never for-got-ten.

THE BLACK DOUGLAS.

In Scotland, in the time of King Robert Bruce,
there lived a brave man whose name was Doug-las.
’ His hair and beard were black and long, and his
face was tanned and dark; and for this reason
people nicknamed him the Black Douglas. He
was a good friend of the king, and one of his
strongest helpers.

In the war with the English, who were trying to
drive Bruce from Scotland, the Black Douglas did
many brave deeds; and the English people became
very much afraid of him. By and by the fear of
him spread all through the land. Nothing could
frighten an English lad more than to tell him that
the Black Douglas was not far away. Women
36

would tell their chil-dren, when they were naughty,
that the Black Douglas would get them; and this
would make them very quiet and good.

There was a large cas-tle in Scotland which the
English had taken early in the war. The Scot-tish
soldiers wanted very much to take it again, and the
Black Douglas and his men went one day to see
what they could do. It happened to be a hol-i-day,
and most of the English soldiers in the cas-tle were
eating and drinking and having a merry time. But
they had left watch-men on the wall to see that the
Scottish soldiers did not come upon them un-a-
wares; and so they felt quite safe.

In the e-ven-ing, when it was growing dark, the
wife of one of the soldiers went up on the wall
with her child in‘her arms. As she looked over
into the fields below the castle, she saw some dark
objects moving toward the foot of the wall. In the
dusk she could not make out what they were, and so
she pointed them out to one of the watch-men.

“Pooh, pooh!” said the watchman. “Those are
nothing to frighten ‘us. They are the farmer's cat-
tle, trying to find their way home. The farmer
himself is en-joy-ing the hol-i-day, and he has for-
gotten to bring them in. If the Douglas should
happen this way before morning, he will be sorry
for his care-less-ness.”
37

But the dark objects were not cattle. They were
the Black Douglas and his men, creeping on hands
and feet toward the foot of the castle wall. Some
of them were dragging ladders behind them through
the grass. They would soon be climbing to the top
of the wall. None of the English soldiers dreamed
that they were within many miles of the place.

The woman watched them until the last one had
passed around a corner out of sight. She was not
afraid, for in the dark-en-ing twi-light they looked
indeed like cattle. After a little while she began
to sing to her child: —

“ Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye,
_ Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye,
The Black Douglas shall not get ye.”

All at once a gruff voice was heard behind her,
saying, “ Don’t be so sure about that!”

She looked around, and there stood the Black
Douglas himself. At the same moment a Scottish
soldier climbed off a ladder and leaped upon the
wall; and then there came another and another
and another, until the wall was covered with them.
Soon there was hot fighting in every part of the
castle. But the English were so taken by sur-
prise that they could not do much. Many of them
were killed, and in a little while the Black Douglas








t be so sure about that)”

1

“Don

(38)
39

and his men were the masters of the castle, which
by right be-longed to them.

' As for the woman and her child, the Black
Douglas would not suffer any one to harm them.
After a while they went back to England; and
whether the mother made up any more songs about
the Black Douglas I cannot tell.

THREE MEN OF GOTHAM.

THERE is a town in England called Go-tham, and
many merry stories are told of the queer people who
used to live there.

One day two men of Go-tham met on a bridge.
Hodge was coming from the market, and Peter was ©
going to the market.

“ Where are you going?” said Hodge.

“I am going to the market to buy sheep,” said
Peter.

“Buy sheep?” said Hodge. “And which way
will you bring them home?”

“T shall bring them over this bridge,” said Peter.

“No, you shall not,” said Hodge.

“Yes, but I will,” said Peter.

“You shall not,” said Hodge.

“T will,” said Peter.
40

Then they beat with their sticks on the ground as
though there had been a hundred sheep between
them.

“Take care!” cried Peter. “Look out that my
sheep don’t jump on the bridge.”

“JT care not where they jump,” said Hodge; “ but
they shall not go over it.”

“ But they shall,” said Peter.

“ Have a care,” said Hodge; “for if you say too
much, I will put my fingers in your mouth.”

“Will you ?” said Peter.

Just then another man of Gotham came from
the market with a sack of meal on his horse. He
heard his neigh-bors quar-rel-ing about sheep; but
he could see no sheep between them, and so he
stopped and spoke to them.

“Ah, you foolish fellows!” he cried. “It is
strange that you will never learn wisdom.— Come
here, Peter, and help me lay my sack on my
shoul-der.”

Peter did so, and the man carried his meal to the
side of the bridge.

“ Now look at me,” he said, “and learn a lesson.”
And he opened the mouth of the sack, and poured
all the meal into the river.

“ Now, neighbors,” he said, “can you tell how
much meal is in my sack?”





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‘How much meal is in my sack?”
42

Â¥

“There is none at all!” cried Hodge and Peter
together.

“You are right,” said the man; “and you that
stand here and quarrel about nothing, have no more
sense in your heads than I have meal in my sack!”

OTHER WISE MEN OF GOTHAM.

One day, news was brought to Gotham that the
king was coming that way, and that he would pass
through the town. This did not please the men of
Gotham at all. They hated the king, for they knew
that he was a cruel, bad man. If he came to their
town, they would have to find food and lodg-ing for
him and his men; and if he saw anything that
pleased him, he would be sure to take it for his
own. What should they do? ,

They met together to talk the matter over.

“Let us chop down the big trees in the woods, so
that they will block up all the roads that lead into
the town,” said one of the wise men.

“ Good!” said all the rest.

So they went out with their axes, and soon all the
roads and paths to the town were filled with logs
and brush. The king’s horse-men would have a .
hard time of it getting into Gotham. They would
43

either have to make a new road, or give up the
plan al-to-geth-er, and go on to some other place.

When the king came, and saw that the road had
been blocked up, he was very angry.

“Who chopped those trees down in my way?”
he asked of two country lads that were passing by.

“The men of Gotham,” said the lads.

“Well,” said the king, “go and tell the men of
Gotham that I shall send my sher-iff into their town,
and have all their noses cut off.”

The two lads ran to the town as fast as they
could, and made known what the king had said.

Every-body was in great fright. The men ran
from house to house, carrying the news, and asking
one another what they should do.

“Our wits have kept the king out of the town,”
said one; “and so now our wits must save our
noses.”

“True, true!” said the others. “ But what shall
we do?”

Then one, whose name was Dobbin, and who was
thought to be the wisest of them all, said, “Let me
tell you something. Many a man has been pun-
ished because he was wise, but I have never heard
of any one being harmed because he was a fool.
So, when the king’s sher-iff comes, let us all act
like fools.”
44

“Good, good!” cried the others. “ We will all act
like fools.”

It was no easy thing for the king’s men to open
the roads; and while they were doing it, the king
grew tired of waiting, and went back to London.
But very early one morning, the sheriff with a party
of fierce soldiers rode through the woods, and be-
tween the fields, toward Gotham. Just before they
reached the town, they saw a queer sight. The old
men were rolling big stones up the hill, and all the
young men were looking on, and grunting very
loudly.

The sheriff stopped his horses, and asked what
they were doing.

“We are rolling stones up-hill to make the sun
rise,” said one of the old men.

“You foolish fellow!” said the sheriff. “Don’t
you know that the sun will rise without any help?”

“Ah! will it?” said the oldman. “ Well, I never
thought of that. How wise you are!”

“And what are you doing?” said the sheriff to
_ the young men.

“ Oh, we do the grunting while our fathers do the
working,” they answered.

“T see,” said the sheriff. “Well, that is the way
the world goes every-where.” And he rode on
toward the town.
45

He soon came to a field where a number of men
were building a stone wall.

«What are you doing?” he asked.

“Why, master,” they answered, “there is a cuck-oo
in this field, and we are building a wall around it so
as to keep the bird from straying away.”

“You foolish fellows!” said the sheriff. “Don’t
you know that the bird will fly over the top of your
wall, no matter how high you build it?”

“Why, no,” they said. “We never thought of
that. How very wise you are!”

The sheriff next met a man who was carrying a
door on his back.

“ What are you doing?” he asked.

“T have just started on a long jour-ney,” said the
man,

“But why do you carry that door?” asked the
sheriff.

“T left my money at home.”

“Then why didn’t you leave the door at home
too?”

“ T was afraid of thieves; and you see, if I have the
door with me, they can’t break it open and get in.”

“You foolish fellow!” said the sheriff. “It would
be safer to leave the door at home, and carry the
money with you.”

“Ah, would it, though?” said the man. “ Now,
Ls
I never thought of that. You are the wisest man
that I ever saw.” ;

Then the sheriff rode on with his men; but every
one that they met was doing some silly thing.

“Truly I believe that the people of Gotham are
all fools,” said one of the horsemen.

_ “That is true,” said another. “It would be a
shame to harm such simple people.”

“Let us ride back to London, and tell the king
all about them,” said the sheriff.

“Ves, let us do so,” said the horsemen.

So they went back, and told the king that Gotham
was a town of fools; and the king laughed, and said
that if that was the case, he would not harm them,
but would let them keep their noses.

THE MILLER OF THE DEE.

Once upon a time there lived on the banks of the
River Dee a miller, who was the hap-pi-est man in
England. He was always busy from morning till
night, and he was always singing as merrily as any
lark. He was so cheerful that he made everybody
else cheerful; and people all over the land liked to
talk about his pleasant ways. At last the king
heard about him.
47

“JT will go down and talk with this won-der-ful
miller,” he said. “ Perhaps he can tell me how to
be happy.”

As soon as he stepped inside of the mill, he
heard the miller singing : —

“T envy no-body — no, not I !—
For I am as happy as I can be;
And nobody envies me.”

“ You’re wrong, my friend,” said the king. “ You're
wrong as wrong can be. I envy you; and I would
gladly change places with you, if I could only be as
light-hearted as you are.”

The miller smiled, and bowed to the king.

“Tam sure I could not think of changing places
with you, sir,” he said.

“ Now tell me,” said the king, “what makes you
so cheerful and glad here in your dusty mill, while
I, who am king, am sad and in trouble every day.”

The miller smiled again, and said, “I do not know
why you are sad, but I can eas-i-ly tell why I am
glad. I earn my own bread; I love my wife and
my children; I love my friends, and. they love me;
and I owe not a penny to any man. Why should
I not be happy? For here is the River Dee, and
every day it turns my mill; and the mill grinds the
corn that feeds my wife, my babes, and me.”


— » “Say no more,” said
the king. “ Stay
where you
are, and be
happy still.
But I envy






Seiten asl :

Th eek

fh:



dusty cap is worth
more than my
golden crown. Your mill

does more for you than my kingdom can do for
me. If there were more such men as you, what
49

a good place this world would be! Good-by, my |
friend !”

The king turned about, and walked sadly away;
and the miller went back to his work, singing : —

“Qh, I’m as happy as happy can be,
For I live by the side of the River Dee 1”

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

A cRUEL battle was being fought. The ground
was covered with dead and dying men. The air
was hot and stifling. The sun shone down without
pity on the wounded soldiers lying in the blood and
dust.

One of these soldiers was a no-ble-man, whom
everybody loved for his gen-tle-ness and kindness.
Yet now he was no better off than the poorest
man in the field. He had been wounded, and would
die; and he was suf-fer-ing much with pain and
thirst.

When the battle was over, his friends hurried to
his aid. A soldier came running with a cup in his
hand. , ;

“Here, Sir Philip,” he said, “I have brought you
some clear, cool water from the brook. I will raise
your head so that you can drink.”

FIFTY FAM, STO.—4
50

The cup was placed to Sir Philip’s lips. How
thank-ful-ly he looked at the man who had brought
it! Then his eyes met those of a dying soldier
who was lying on the ground close by. The wist-
ful look in the poor man’s face spoke plainer than
words, a
“Give the water to that man,” said Sir Philip
quickly; and then, pushing the cup toward him,
he said, “‘ Here, my comrade, take this. Thy need
is greater than mine.”

What a brave, noble man he was! The name
of Sir Philip Sidney will never be for-got-ten; for
it was the name of a Chris-tian gen-tle-man who
always had the good of others in his mind. Was
it any wonder that everybody wept when it was
heard that he was dead?

It is said, that, on the day when he was carried
to the grave, every eye in the land was filled with
tears. Rich and poor, high and low, all felt that
they had lost a friend; all mourned the death of
the kindest, gentlest man that they had ever known.


51

THE UNGRATEFUL SOLDIER.

Here is another story of the bat-tle-field, and
it is much like the one which I have just told
you.
Not quite a hundred years after the time of Sir
Philip Sidney there was a war between the Swedes
and the Danes. One day a great battle was fought,
and the Swedes were beaten, and driven from the
field. A soldier of the Danes who had been slightly
wounded was sitting on the ground. He was about
to take a drink from a flask. All at once he heard
some one say, —

“O sir! give me a drink, for I am dying.”

It was a wounded Swede-who spoke. He was
lying on the ground only a little way off. The
Dane went to him at once. He knelt down by the
side of his fallen foe, and pressed the flask to his
lips. ;
“ Drink,” said, he, “for thy need is greater than
mine.”

Hardly had he spoken these words, when the
Swede raised himself on his elbow. He pulled a
pistol from his pocket, and shot at the man who
would have be-friend-ed him. The bullet grazed the
Dane’s shoulder, but did not do him much harm.

“Ah, you rascal!” he cried. “I was going to
52

befriend you, and you repay me by trying to kill
me. Now I will punish you. I would have given
you all the water, but now you shall have only

half.” And with that he drank the half of it, and
then gave the rest to the Swede.



When the King of the Danes heard about this,
he sent for the soldier and had him tell the story
just as it was.

“Why did you spare the life of the Swede after
he had tried to kill you?” asked the king.
53

“ Because, sir,’ said the soldier, “I could never
kill a wounded enemy.”

“ Then you deserve to be a no-ble-man,” said the
king. And he re-ward-ed him by making him a
knight, and giving him a noble title.

SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT.

More than three hundred years ago there lived in
England a brave man whose name was Sir: Hum-
phrey Gil-bert. At that time there were no white
people in this country of ours. The land was cov-
ered with forests; and where there are now great
cities and fine farms there were only trees and
swamps among which roamed wild In-di-ans and
wild beasts.

Sir Hum-phrey Gilbert was one of the first men
who tried to make a set-tle-ment in A-mer-i-ca.
Twice did he bring men and ships over the sea, and
twice did he fail, and sail back for England. The
second time, he was on a little ship called the “ Squir-
rel.” Another ship, called the “ Golden Hind,” was
not far away. When they were three days from
land, the wind failed, and the ships lay floating on
the waves. Then at night the air grew very cold.
A breeze sprang up from the east. Great white
54

ice-bergs came drifting around them. In the
_morning the little ships were almost lost among
the floating mountains of ice. The men on the
“Hind” saw Sir Humphrey sitting on the deck
of the “Squirrel” with an open book in his hand.
He called to them and said, —

“Be brave, my friends! We are as near heaven
on the sea as on the land.”

Night came again. It was a stormy night, with
mist and rain. All.at once the men on the “ Hind”
saw the lights on board of the “Squirrel” go out.
The little vessel, with brave Sir Humphrey and all
his brave men, was swal-lowed up by the waves.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

TueErE once lived in England a brave and noble
man whose name was Walter Raleigh. He was
not only brave and noble, but he was also hand-
some and polite; and for that reason the queen
made him a knight, and called him Sir Walter
Ra-leigh.

I will tell you about it.

When Raleigh was a young man, he was one day
walking along a street in London. At that time
the streets were not paved, and there were no side-
55

walks. Raleigh was dressed in very fine style, and
he wore a beau-ti-ful scar-let cloak thrown over his
shoulders. :

As he passed along, he found it hard work to
keep from stepping in the mud, and soiling his
hand-some new shoes. Soon he came to a puddle
of muddy water which reached from one side of the
street to the other. He could not step across. Per-
haps he could jump over it. |

As he was thinking what he should do, he hap-
pened to look up. Who was it coming down the
street, on the other side of the puddle?

It was E-liz-a-beth, the Queen of England, with
her train of gen-tle-wom-en and waiting maids. She
saw the dirty puddle in the street. She saw the
handsome young man with the scar-let cloak, stand-
ing by the side of it. How was she to get across?

Young Raleigh, when he saw who was coming,
forgot about himself. He thought only of helping
the queen. There was only one thing that he could
do, and no other man would have thought of that.

He took off his scarlet cloak, and spread it across
the puddle. The queen could step on it BOW, as on
a beautiful carpet.

She walked across. She was safely over the bugis
puddle, and her feet had not touched the mud. She
paused a moment, and thanked the young man.
56

As she walked onward with her train, she asked
one of the gen-tle-wom-en, ‘‘ Who is that brave
gen-tle-man who helped us so handsomely ?”

“His name is Walter Raleigh,” said the gentle-
woman.

“ He shall have his reward,” said the queen.

Not long after that, she sent for Raleigh to come
to her pal-ace.

The young man went, but he had no scarlet cloak
to wear. Then, while all the great men and fine
ladies of England stood around, the queen made
him a knight. And from that time he was known
as Sir Walter Raleigh, the queen’s favorite.

Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Humphrey Gilbert,
about whom I have already told you, were half-
broth-ers.

When Sir Humphrey made his first voy-age to
.America, Sir Walter was with him. After that, Sir
Walter tried sev-er-al times to send men to this
country to make a set-tle-ment.

But those whom he sent found only great forests,
and wild beasts, and sav-age In-di-ans. Some of
them went back to England; some of them died
for want of food; and some of them were lost in
the woods. At last Sir Walter gave up trying to
get people to come to America.

But he found two things in this country which
57

the people of England knew very little about. One
was the po-ta-to, the other was to-bac-co.

If you should ever go to Ireland, you may be
shown the place where Sir Walter planted the few
po-ta-toes which he carried over from America. He
told his friends how the Indians used them for food;
and he proved that they would grow in the Old
World as well as in the New.

Sir Walter had seen the Indians smoking the
leaves of the to-bac-co plant. He thought that he
would do the same, and he carried some of the
leaves to England. Englishmen had never used
tobacco before that time; and all who saw Sir
Walter puff-ing away at a roll of leaves thought
that it was a strange sight.

One day as he was sitting in his chair and smok-
ing, his servant came into the room. The man saw
the smoke curling over his master’s head, and he
thought that he was on fire.

He ran out for some water. He found a pail
that was quite full. He hurried back, and threw
the water into Sir Walter’s face. Of course the
fire was all put out.

After that a great many men learned to smoke.
And now tobacco is used in all countries of the
world. It would have been well if Sir Walter
Raleigh had let it alone.
58

POCAHONTAS.

THERE was once a very brave man whose name
was John Smith. He came to this country many
years ago, when there were great woods everywhere,
and many wild beasts and Indians. Many tales
are told of his ad-ven-tures, some of them true and
some of them untrue. The most famous of all these
is the fol-low-ing :—

One day when Smith was in the sods some
Indians came upon him, and made him their
pris-on-er. They led him to their king, and
in a short time they made ready to put him to .
death.

A large stone was brought in, and Smith was
made to lie down with his head on it. Then two
tall Indians with big clubs in their hands came for-
ward. The king and all his great men stood around
to see. The Indians raised their clubs. In another
moment they would fall on Smith’s head.

But just then a little Indian girl rushed in. She
was the daugh-ter of the king, and her name was
Po-ca-hon’tas. She ran and threw herself between
Smith and the up-lift-ed clubs. She clasped Smith’s
head with her arms. She laid her own head upon
his.

“O father!” she cried, “spare this man’s life. I
59

am sure he has done you no harm, and we ought to
be his friends.”

The men with the clubs could not strike, for they
did not want to hurt the child. The king at first
did not know what to do. Then he spoke to some
of his war-riors, and they lifted Smith from the
ground. They untied the cords from his wrists and
feet, and set him free.

The next day the king sent Smith home; and
several Indians went with him to protect him from
harm.

After that, as long as she lived, Po-ca-hon-tas was
the friend of the white men, and she did a great
many things to help them.

GEORGE WASHINGTON AND HIS HATCHET.

Wuen George Wash-ing-ton was quite a little boy,
his father gave him a hatchet. It was bright and
new, and George took great delight in going about
and chopping things with it.

He ran into the garden, and there he saw a tree
which seemed to say to him, “Come and cut me
down!”

George had often seen his father’s men chop
down the great trees in the forest, and he thought
60

sl
a,

cat =











































































it
would be fine
sport to see
this tree fall with
a crash to the
ground. So he set to
work with his little hatchet, and,
as the tree was a very small one,
it did not take long to lay it low.
Soon after that, his father came home.



“Who has been cutting my fine young cherry
tree?” he cried. ‘It was the only tree of its kind
61

in this ony: and it cost me a great deal of
money.”

He was very angry when he came into the house.

“Tf I only knew who killed that cherry tree,” he
cried, “ I would — yes, I would ” —

“Father!” cried little George. “I will tell you
the truth about it. I chopped the tree down with
my hatchet.” .

His father forgot his anger.

< oe he said, and he took the little fellow in
his arms, “George, I am glad that you told me
about it. I would rather lose a dozen cherry trees
than that you should tell one false-hood.”

GRACE DARLING.

Ir was a dark Sep-tem-ber morning. There was
a storm at sea. A ship had been driven on a low
rock off the shores of the Farne Islands. It had been
broken in two by the waves, and half of it had been
washed away. The other half lay yet on the rock,
and those of the crew who were still alive were cling-
ing toit. But the waves were dashing over it, and in
a little while it too would be carried to the bottom.

Could any one save the poor, half-drowned men
who were there?
62

On one of the islands was a light-house; and
there, all through that stormy night, Once Darling
had listened to the storm.

Grace was the daughter of the light-house keeper,
and she had lived by the sea as long as she could
re-mem-ber. .

In the darkness of the night, above the noise of the
winds and waves, she heard screams and wild cries.
When day-light came, she could see the wreck, a
mile away, with the angry waters all around it. She
could see the men clinging to the masts.

“We must try to save them!” she cried. “Let
us go out in the boat at once!” *

“Tt is of no use, Grace,” said her father. “We
cannot reach them.”

He was an old man, and he knew the force of the
mighty waves.

“We cannot stay here and see them die,” said
Grace. “We must at least try to save them.”

Her father could not say, “ No.”

In a few minutes they were ready. They set off
in the heavy lighthouse boat. Grace pulled one
oar, and her father the other, and they made straight
toward the wreck. But it was hard rowing against
such a sea, and it seemed as though they would
never reach the place. ;

At last they were close to the rock, and now
63

they were in greater danger than before. The fierce
waves broke against the boat, and it would have
been dashed in pieces, had it not been for the
strength and skill of the brave girl.

But after many trials, Grace’s father climbed
upon the wreck, while Grace herself held the boat.
Then one by one the worn-out crew were helped
on board. It was all that the girl could do to keep
the frail boat from being drifted away, or broken
upon the sharp edges of the rock.

Then her father clam-bered back into his place.
Strong hands grasped the oars, and by and by all
were safe in the lighthouse. There Grace proved
to be no less tender as a nurse than she had been
brave as a sailor. She cared most kindly for the ship-
wrecked men until the storm had died away and they
were strong enough to go to their own homes.

All this happened a long time ago, but the name
of Grace Darling will never be forgotten. She lies
buried now in a little church-yard by the sea, not
far from her old home. Every year many people
go there to see her grave; and there a mon-u-ment
has been placed in honor of the brave girl. It is
not a large mon-u-ment, but it is one that speaks of -
the noble deed which made Grace Darling famous.
It is a figure carved in stone of a woman lying at
rest, with a boat’s oar held fast in her right hand.
ee
THE STORY OF WILLIAM TELL.

Tue people of Swit-zer-land were not always free
and happy as they are to-day. Many years ago a
proud tyrant, whose name was Gessler, ruled over
them, and made their lot a bitter one indeed.

One day this tyrant set up a tall pole in the pub-
lic square, and put his own cap on the top of it;
and then he gave orders that every man who came
into the town should bow down before it. But
there was one man, named William Tell, who
would not do this. He stood up straight with
folded arms, and laughed at the swinging cap,
He would not bow down to Gessler himself.

When Gessler heard of this, he was very angry.
He was afraid that other men would disobey, and
that soon the whole country would rebel against him.
So he made up his mind to punish the bold man.

William Tell’s home was among the mountains,
and he was a famous hunter. No one in all the
land could shoot with bow and arrow so well as he.
Gessler knew this, and so he thought of a cruel plan
to make the hunter’s own skill bring him to grief.
He ordered that Tell’s little boy should be made to
stand up in the public square with an apple on his
head; and then he bade Tell shoot the apple with

one of his arrows.
65

Tell begged the tyrant not to have him make
this test of his skill) What if the boy should
move? What if the bow-man’s hand should trem-
ble? What if the arrow should not carry true?



“Will you make me kill my boy?” he said.

“Say no more,” said Gessler. “You must hit
the apple with your one arrow. If you fail, my
sol-diers shall kill the boy before your eyes.”

FIFTY FAM. STO.—5
66

Then, without another word, Tell fitted the
arrow to his bow. He took aim, and let it fly.
The boy stood firm and still. He was not afraid,
for he had all faith in his father’s skill.

The arrow whistled through the air. It struck
the apple fairly in the center, and carried it away.
The people who saw it shouted with joy.

As Tell was turning away from the place, an
arrow which he had hidden under his coat dropped
to the ground. |

“ Fellow!” cried Gessler, “what mean you with
this second arrow? ”

“Tyrant!” was Tell’s proud answer, “this arrow
was for your heart if I had hurt my child.”

And there is an old story, that, not long after
this, Tell did shoot the tyrant with one of his
arrows; and thus he set his country free.

ARNOLD WINKELRIED.

A GREAT army was marching into Swit-zer-land.
If it should go much farther, there would be no
driving it out again. The soldiers would burn
the towns, they would rob the farmers of their
grain and sheep, they would make slaves of the
people. .
67

The men of Switzerland knew all this. They
knew that they must fight for their homes and
their lives. And so they came from the mountains
and valleys to try what they could do to save their
land. Some came with bows and arrows, some
with scythes and pitch-forks, and some with only
sticks and clubs.

But their foes kept in line as they marched along
the road. Every soldier was fully armed. As they
moved and kept close together, nothing could be
seen of them but their spears and shields and shin-
ing armor. What could the poor country people
do against such foes as these?

“We must break their lines,” cried their leader;
“for we cannot harm them while they keep to-
gether.”

The bowmen shot their arrows, but they glanced
off from the soldiers’ shields. Others tried clubs
and stones, but with no better luck. The lines
were still un-bro-ken. The soldiers moved stead-i-ly
onward; their shields lapped over one another;
their thousand spears looked like so many long
bris-tles in the sun-light. What cared they for
sticks and stones and hunts-men’s arrows?

“Tf we cannot break their ranks,” said the Swiss,
“we have no chance for fight, and our country will
be lost!”
68

Then a poor man, whose name was Ar-nold
Wink’el-ried, stepped out.

“On the side of yonder moun-tain,” said he, “I .
have a happy home. There my wife and chil-dren
wait for my return. But they will not see me
again, for this day I will give my life for my coun-
try. And do you, my friends, do your duty, and
Switzer'aid shall be free.”

With these words he ran forward. “Follow
me!” he cried to his friends. “I will break the lines,
and then let every man fight as bravely as he can.”

He had nothing in his hands, neither club nor
stone nor other weapon. But he ran straight on-
ward to the place where the spears were thickest.

“ Make way for lib-er-ty!” he cried, as he dashed
right into the lines.

A hundred spears were turned to catch him upon
their points. The soldiers forgot to stay in their
places. The lines were broken. Arnold’s friends
rushed bravely after him. They fought with what-
ever they had in hand. They snatched spears and
shields from their foes. They had no thought of
fear. They only thought of their homes and their
dear native land. And they won at last.

Such a battle no one ever knew before. But
Switzerland was saved, and Arnold Wink-el-ried did
not die in vain.
ce)

THE BELL OF ATRI.

A-tr1 is the name of a little town in Italy. It is
a very old town, and is built half-way up the side of
a steep hill.

A long time ago, the King of Atri bought a fine
large bell, and had it hung up in a tower in the
market place. A long rope that reached almost to
the ground was fas-tened to the bell. The smallest
child could ring the bell by pulling upon this rope.

“Tt is the bell of justice,” said the king.

When at last everything was ready, the people of
Atri had a great holiday. All the men and women
and children came down to the market place to look
at the bell of justice. It was a very pretty bell, and
was pol-ished until it looked almost as bright and
yellow as the sun. .

“ How we should like to hear it ring!” they said.

Then the king came down the street.

“Perhaps he will ring it,” said the people; and
everybody stood very still, and waited to see what
he would do.

But he did not ring the bell. He did not even
take the rope in his hands. When he came to the
foot of the tower, he stopped, and raised his hand. ©

“ My people,” he said, “do you see this beautiful
bell? It is your bell; but it must never be rung
7O

except incase of need. If any one of you is wronged
at any time, he may come and ring the bell; and
then the judges shall come together at once, and
hear his case, and give him justice. Rich and poor,
old and young, all alike may come; but no one must
touch the rope unless he knows that he has been
wronged.”
_ Many years passed by after this. Many times did
the bell in the market place ring out to call the
judges together. Many wrongs were righted, many
ill-doers were punished. At last the hempen rope
was almost worn out. The lower part of it was un-
twist-ed; some of the strands were broken; it became
so short that only a tall man could reach it.

“This will never do,” said the judges one day.
“ What if a child should be wronged? It could not
ring the bell to let us know it.”

They gave orders that a new rope should be put
- upon the bell at once,—a rope that should hang
down to the ground, so that the smallest child could
reach it. But there was not a rope to be found
in all Atri. They would have to send across the
mountains for one, and it would be many days
before it could be brought. What if some great
_ wrong should be done before it came? How could
the judges know about it, if the in-jured one could
not reach the old rope?
7X

_ “Let me fix it for you,” said a man who stood
by.

He ran into his garden, which was not far away,
and soon came back with along grape-vine in his
hands.

“This will do for a rope,” he it. and he
climbed up, and fastened it to the bell. The slen-
der vine, with its leaves and ten- drils still upon it,
trailed to the ground.

“Yes,” said the judges, “it is a very good rope.
Let it be as it is.” .

Now, on the hillside above the village, there
lived a man who had once been a brave knight.
In his youth he had ridden through many’ lands,
and he had fought in many a battle. His “best
friend through all that time had been his horse, —
a strong, noble steed that had borne him safe
through many a danger.

But the knight, when he grew older, cared no
more to ride into battle; he cared no more to do
brave deeds; he thought of nothing but gold; he
became a miser. At last he sold all that he had,
except his horse, and went to live in a little hut
on the hill-side. Day after day he sat among his
‘money bags, and planned how he might get more
gold; and day after day his horse stood in his bare
stall, half-starved, and shiv-er-ing with cold.
72

“What is the use of keeping that lazy steed?”
said the miser to. himself one morning. “Every
week it costs me more to keep him than he is
worth. I might sell him; but there is not a man
that wants him. I cannot even give him away. I
will turn him out to shift for himself, and pick grass
by the roadside. If he starves to death, so much
the better.”

So the brave old horse was turned out to find
what he could among the rocks on the barren hill-
side. Lame and sick, he strolled along the dusty
roads, glad to find a blade of grass ora thistle. The .
boys threw stones at him, the dogs barked at him,
and in all the world there was no one to pity him.

One hot afternoon, when no one was upon the
street, the horse chanced to wander into the mar-
ket place. Not a man nor child was there, for
the heat of the sun had driven them all indoors.
The gates were wide open; the poor beast could
roam where he pleased. He saw the grape-vine
rope that hung from the bell of justice. The leaves
and tendrils upon it were still fresh and green, for
it had not been there long. What a fine dinner
they would be for a starving horse!

He stretched his thin neck, and took one of the
tempting morsels in his mouth. It was hard to
break it from the vine. He pulled at it, and the
73

great bell above him began to ring. All the people
in Atri heard it. It seemed to say, —

“ Some one has done ’ me wrong!
Some one has done me wrong !
Oh! come and judge my case !
Oh ! come and judge my case !
For I’ve ’ been wronged !”

The judges heard it. They put on their robes,
and went out through the hot streets to the mar-
ket place. They wondered who it could be who
would ring the bell at such a time. When they
passed through the gate, they saw the old horse
nibbling at the vine. ~

“ Ha!” cried one, ‘it is the miser’s steed. He has
come to call for justice; for his master, as every~
body knows, has treated him most shame-ful-ly.”

“ He pleads his cause as well as any dumb brute
can,” said another.

“And he shall have justice!” said the third.

Mean-while a crowd of men and women and chil-
dren had come into the market place, eager to learn
what cause the judges were about to try. When
they saw the horse, all stood still in wonder. Then
every one was ready to tell how they had seen him
wan-der-ing on the hills, unfed, un-cared for, while
his master sat at home counting his bags of gold.

“Go bring the miser before us,” said the judges




















“‘Some one has done me wrong!’’
75

And when he came, they bade him stand and
hear their judg-ment.

“ This horse has served you well for many a year,”
they said. “He has saved you from many a peril.
He has helped you gain your wealth. Therefore
we order that one half of all your gold shall be set
aside to buy him shelter and food, a green pasture
where he may graze, and a warm stall to comfort
him in his old age.”

The miser hung his head, and grieved to lose his
gold; but the people shouted with joy, and the horse
was led away to his new stall and a dinner such as
he had not had in many a day.

HOW NAPOLEON CROSSED THE ALPS.

AxzouT a hundred years ago there lived a great
gen-er-al whose name was Na-po'le-on Bo’na-parte.
He was the leader of the French army; and France
_ was at war with nearly all the countries around.
He wanted very much to take his soldiers into
It-a-ly; but between France and Italy there are
high mountains called the Alps, the tops of which
are covered with snow.

“Ts it pos-si-ble to cross the Alps?” said Na-po-
le-on.
76

The men who had been sent to look at the passes
over the mountains shook their heads. Then one
of them said, “ It may be possible, but ” —

“Let me hear no more,” said Napoleon. “ For-
ward to Italy!”

People laughed at the thought of an army of
sixty thousand men crossing the Alps where there
was no road. But Napoleon waited only to see
that everything was in good order, and then he
gave the order to march.

The long line of soldiers and horses and cannon
stretched for twenty miles. When they came to a
steep place where there seemed to be no way to go
farther, the trum-pets sounded “Charge!” Then
every man did his best, and the whole army moved
right onward.

Soon they were safe over the Alps. In four days
they were marching on the plains of Italy.

“The man who has made up his mind to win,”
said Napoleon, “ will never say ‘ Im-pos-si-ble.’”

THE STORY OF CINCINNATUS.

THERE was a man named Cin-cin-na’tus who lived
on a little farm not far from the city of Rome. He
had once been rich, and had held the highest office
77

in the land; but in one way or another he had lost
all his wealth. He was now so poor that he had to
do all the work on his farm with his own hands.
But in those days it was thought to be a noble
thing to till the soil.

Cin-cin-na-tus was so wise and just that every-
body trusted him, and asked his advice; and when
any one was in trouble, and did not know what to
do, his neighbors would say,—

“Go and tell Cincinnatus. He will help you.”

Now there lived among the mountains, not far
away, a tribe of fierce, half-wild men, who were at
war with the Roman people. They per-suad-ed .
another tribe of bold war-riors to help them, and -
then marched toward the city, plun-der-ing and
robbing as they came. They bvasted that they
would tear down the walls of Rome, and burn the
houses, and kill all the men, and make slaves of
the women and children.

At first the Romans, who were very proud and
brave, did not think there was much danger.
Every man in Rome was a soldier, and the army
which went out to fight the robbers was the finest
in the world. No one staid at home with the
women and children and boys but the white-haired
“ Fathers,” as they were called, who made the laws
for the city, and a small company of men who
78

guarded the walls. Everybody thought that it
would be an easy thing to drive the men of the
mountains back to the place where they belonged.

But one morning five horsemen came riding
down the road from the mountains. They rode
with great speed; and both men and horses were
covered with dust and blood. The watchman at
the gate knew them, and shouted to them as they
gal-loped in. Why did they ride thus? and what
had happened to the Roman army?

- They did not answer him, but rode into the city
and along the quiet streets; and everybody ran
after them, eager to find out what was the matter,
" Rome was not a large city at that time; and soon
they reached the market place where the white-
haired Fathers were sitting. Then they leaped
from their horses, and told their story.

“Only yes-ter-day,” they said, “our army was
marching through a narrow valley between two
steep mountains. All at once a thou-sand sav-
age men sprang out from among the rocks before
us and above us.. They had blocked up the way;
and the pass was so narrow that we could not
fight. We tried to come back; but they had
blocked up the way on this side of us too. The
fierce men of the mountains were before us and
behind us, and they were throwing rocks down’
79

upon us from above. We had been caught in a
trap. Then ten of. us set spurs to our horses; and
five of us forced our way through, but the other
five fell before the spears of the mountain men.
And now, O Roman Fathers! send help to our
army at once, or every man will be slain, and our
city will be taken.”

“What shall we do?” said the white-haired
Fathers. “Whom can we send but the guards
and the boys? and who is wise enough to lead
them, and thus save Rome?”

All shook their heads and were very grave; for
it seemed as if there was no hope. Then one said,
“Send for Cincinnatus. He will help us.”

Cincinnatus was in the field plowing when the
men who had been sent to him came in great haste.
He stopped and greeted them kindly, and waited
for them to speak.

“Put on your cloak, Cincinnatus,” they said,
“and hear the words of the Roman people.”

Then Cincinnatus wondered what they could
mean, “Is all well with Rome?” he asked; and
he called to his wife to bring him his cloak. _

She brought the cloak; and Cincinnatus wiped
the dust from his hands and arms, and threw it over
his shoulders. Then the men told their errand.

They told him how the army with all the noblest
80

men of Rome had been en-trapped in the mountain
pass. They told him about the great danger the







city was in. Then they said, ‘‘ The people of Rome
make you their ruler and the ruler of their city, to
do with everything as you choose; and the Fathers
81

bid you come at once and go out against our ene-
mies, the fierce men of the mountains.”

So Cincinnatus left his plow standing where it
was, and hurried to the city. When he passed
through the streets, and gave orders as to what
should be done, some of the people were afraid, for
they knew that he had all power in Rome to do
what he pleased. But he armed the guards and
the boys, and went out at their head to fight the
fierce mountain men, and free the Roman army
from the trap into which it had fallen.

A few days afterward there was. great joy in
Rome. There was good news from Cincinnatus.
The men of the mountains had been beaten with
great loss. They had been driven back into their
own place.

And now the Roman army, with the boys and
the guards, was coming home with banners flying,
and. shouts of vic-to-ry; and at their head rode
Cincinnatus. He had saved Rome. ©

Cincinnatus might then have made himself king;
for his word was law, and no man dared lift a finger
against him. But, before the people could thank
him enough for what he had done, he gave back
the power to the white-haired Roman Fathers, and
went again to his little farm and his plow.

He had been the ruler of Rome for sixteen days.

FIFTY FAM. STO.— 6
82

THE STORY OF REGULUS.

On the other side of the sea from Rome there
was once a great city named Car-thage. The
Roman people were never very friendly to the peo-
ple of Car-thage, and at last a war began between
them. For a long time it was hard to tell which
would prove the stronger. First the Romans
would gain a battle, and then the men of Car-
thage would gain a battle; and so the war went on
for many years.

Among the Romans there was a brave gen-er-al
named Reg’u-lus,—a man of whom it was said
that he never broke his word. It so happened
after a while, that Reg-u-lus was taken pris-on-er
and carried to Carthage. Ill and very lonely, he
dreamed of his wife and little children so far
away beyond the sea; and he had but little hope
of ever seeing them again. He loved his home
dearly, but he believed that his first duty was to
his country; and so he had left all, to fight in
this cruel war.

He had lost a battle, it is true, and had been
taken prisoner. Yet he knew that the Romans
were gaining ground, and the people of Carthage
were afraid of being beaten in the end. They had
sent into other countries to hire soldiers to help
83

them; but even with these they would not be able
to fight much longer against Rome. -

One day some of the rulers of Carthage came to
the prison to talk with Regulus. .

‘“ We should like to make peace with the Roman
people,” they said, “and we are sure, that, if your
rulers at home knew how the war is going, they
would be glad to make peace with us. We will set
you free and let you go home, if you will agree to
do as we say.”

“What is that?” asked Regulus.

“In the first place,” they said, “you must tell
the Romans about the battles which you have
lost, and you must make it plain to them that
they have not gained any-thing by the war. In
the second place, you must promise us, that, if
they will not make peace, you will come back to
your prison.”

“Very well,” said Regulus, “I promise you, that,
if they will not make peace, I will come back to
prison.”

And so they let him go; for they knew that a
great Roman would keep his word. | .

When he came to Rome, all the people greeted
him gladly. His wife and children were very

happy, for they thought that now they would not
be parted again. The white-haired Fathers who
84

made the laws for the city came to see him.
They asked him about the war.

“T was sent from Carthage to ask you to make
peace,” he said. “ But it will not be wise to make
peace. True, we have been beaten in a few battles,
but our army is gaining ground every day. The
people of Carthage are afraid, and well they may
be. Keep on with the war a little while longer,
and Carthage shall be yours. As for me, I have
come to bid my wife and children and Rome fare-
~well. To-morrow I will start back to Carthage and
to prison; for I have promised.”

Then the Fathers tried to persuade him to stay.

“Let us send another man in your place,” they
said. .

“Shall a Roman not keep: his word?” answered
Regulus. “I am ill, and at the best have not long
to live. I will go back, as I promised.”

His wife and little children wept, and his sons
begged him not to leave them again.

“I have given my word,” said Regulus. “The
rest will be taken care of.”

Then he bade them good-by, and went bravely
back to the prison and the cruel death which he
ex-pect-ed.

This was the kind of courage that made Rome
_ the greatest city in the world.
85

CORNELIA’S JEWELS.

Ir was a bright morning in the old city of Rome
many hundred years ago. In a vine-covered sum-
mer-house in a beautiful garden, two boys were
standing. They were looking at their mother and
her friend, who were walking among the flowers
and trees.

“Did you ever see so handsome a lady as our
mother’s friend?” asked the younger boy, holding
his tall brother's hand. “She looks like a queen.”

“Vet she is not so beautiful as our mother,” said
the elder boy. “She has a fine dress, it is true; but
her face is not noble and kind. It is our mother
who is like a queen.”

“That is true,’ said the other. “There is no
woman in Rome so much like a queen as our own
dear mother.”

Soon Cor-ne’li-a, their mother, came down the
walk to speak with them. She was simply dressed
in a plain white robe. Her arms and feet were
bare, as was the custom in those days; and no
rings nor chains glit-tered about her hands and
neck. For her only crown, long braids of soft
brown hair were coiled about her head; and a
tender smile lit up her noble face as she looked
into her sons’ proud eyes.
86

“ Boys,” she said, “I have something to tell
you.”

They bowed before her, as Roman lads were
taught to do, and said, “ What is it, mother?”

“You are to dine with us to-day, here in the gar-
den; and then our friend is going to show us that
wonderful casket of jewels of which you have heard
so much.” .

The brothers looked: shyly at their mother’s -
friend. Was it possible that she had still other
‘rings besides those on her fingers? Could she
have other gems besides those which sparkled in
the chains about her neck?

When the simple out-door meal was over, a serv-
ant brought the casket from the house. The lady
opened it. Ah, how those jewels dazzled the eyes
of the wondering boys! There were ropes of pearls,
white as milk, and smooth as satin; heaps of shining
rubies, red as the glowing coals; sap-phires as blue
as the sky that summer day; and di-a-monds that
flashed and sparkled like the sunlight.

The brothers looked long at the gems.

“Ah!” whis-pered the younger; “if our mother
could only have such beautiful things!”

At last, how-ever, the casket was closed and
carried care-ful-ly away.

“Ts it true, Cor-ne-li-a, that you have no jewels?”
‘ 87
asked her friend. “Is it true, as I have heard it
whis-pered, that you are poor?” .

“No, I am not poor,” answered Cornelia, and as
she spoke she drew her two boys to her side; “for
here are my jewels. They are worth more than all
your gems.”

I am sure that the boys never forgot their
mother’s pride and love and care; and in after
years, when they had become great men in Rome,
they often thought of this scene in the garden.
And the world still likes to hear the story of Cor-
nelia’s jewels,

ANDROCLUS AND THE LION.

In Rome there was once a poor slave whose
name was An/‘dro-clus. His master was a cruel
man, and so unkind to him that at last An-dro-clus
ran away.

He hid himself in a wild wood for many days;
but there was no food to be found, and he grew so
weak and sick that he thought he should die. So
one day he crept into a cave and lay down, and
soon he was fast asleep.

After a while a great noise woke him up. A lion
had come into the cave, and was roaring loudly.
838

Androclus was very much afraid, for he felt sure
that the beast would kill him. Soon, however, he
saw that the lion was not angry, but that he limped
_ as though his foot hurt him.

Then Androclus grew so bold that he took hold
of the lion’s lame paw to see what was the matter.
The lion stood quite still, and rubbed his head
against the man’s shoulder. He seemed to say, —

“TI know that you will help me.”

Androclus lifted the paw from the ground, and
saw that it was a long, sharp thorn which hurt the
lion so much. He took the end of the thorn in
his fingers; then he gave a strong, quick pull, and
out it came. The lion was full of joy. He jumped
about like a dog, and licked the hands and feet of
his new friend.

Androclus was not at all afraid after this; and
when night came, he and the lion lay “oan and
slept side by side.

For a long time, the lion brought food to An-
droclus every day; and the two became such good
friends, that Androclus found his new life a very
happy one.

One day some soldiers who were. passing
through the wood found Androclus in the cave.
They knew who he was, and so took him back to
Rome. .
89

It was the law at that time that every slave
who ran away from his master should be made
to fight a hungry lion. So a fierce lion was shut
up for a while without food, and a time was set
for the fight.

When the day came, thousands of people
crowded to see the sport. They went to such
places at that time very much as people now-a-days
go to see a circus show or a game of base-ball.

The door opened, and poor Androclus was
brought in. _ He was almost dead with fear, for the
roars of the lion could al-read-y be heard. He
looked up, and saw that there was no pity in the
thou-sands of faces around him.

Then the hungry lion rushed in. With a single
bound he reached the poor slave. Androclus gave
a great cry, not of fear, but of gladness. It was his
old friend, the lion of the cave.

The people, who had ex-pect-ed to see the man
killed by the lion, were filled with wonder. They
saw Androclus put his arms around the lion’s neck;
they saw the lion le down at his feet, and lick them
lov-ing-ly; they saw the great beast rub his head
against the slave’s face as though he wanted to be
petted. They could not un-der-stand what it all
meant.

After a while they asked Androclus to tell them
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about it. So he stood up before them, and, with
his arm around the lion’s neck, told how he and
the beast had lived together in the cave,

“T am a man,” he said; “but no man has ever
befriended me. This poor lion alone has been kind
‘to me; and we love each other as brothers.” :

The people were not so bad that they could be
cruel to the poor slave now. “Live and be free!”
they cried. “Live and be free!”

Others cried, “Let the lion go free too! Give
both of them their liberty!”

And so Androclus was set free, and the lion was
given to him for his own. And they lived together
in Rome for many years.

HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE.

Once there was a war between the Roman people
and the E-trus’cans who lived in the towns on the
other side of the Ti-ber River. Por’se-na, the King
of the E-trus-cans, raised a great army, and marched
toward Rome. The city had never been in so great
danger.

The Romans did not have very many fighting
men at that time, and they knew that they were
not strong enough to meet the Etruscans in open
92

battle. So they kept themselves inside of their
walls, and set guards to watch the roads.

One morning the army of Por-se-na was seen
coming over the hills from the north. There were
thousands of horsemen and footmen, and they were
marching straight toward the wooden bridge which
spanned the river at Rome.

“What shall we do?” said the white-haired
Fathers who made the laws for the Roman peo-
ple. “If they once gain the bridge, we cannot
- hinder them from crossing; and then what hope
will there be for the town?”

Now, among the guards at the bridge, there was
a brave man named Ho-ra'ti-us. He was on the
farther side of the river, and when he saw that
the Etruscans were so near, he called out to the
Romans who were behind him.

“Hew down the bridge with all the speed that
you can!” he cried. “I, with the two men who
stand by me, will keep the foe at bay.”

Then, with their shields before them, and their
long spears in their hands, the three brave men
stood in the road, and kept back the horsemen
whom Porsena had sent to take the bridge.

On the bridge the Romans hewed away at the
beams and posts. Their axes rang, the chips dew
fast; and soon it trembled, and was ready to fall.
93

“Come back! come back, and-save your lives!”
they cried to Ho-ra-ti-us and the two who were with
him. :

But just then Porsena’s horsemen dashed toward
them again.

“ Run for your lives!” said Horatius to his friends.
“J will keep the road.”

They turned, and ran back across the bridge.
They had hardly reached the other side when there
was a crashing of beams and timbers. The bridge
toppled over to one side, and then fell with a great
splash into the water.

When Horatius heard the sound, he knew that .
the city was safe. With his face. still toward
Porsena’s men, he moved slowly back-ward till he
stood on the river’s bank. A dart thrown by one
of Porsena’s soldiers put out his left eye; but he
did not falter. He cast his spear at the fore-most
horseman, and then he turned quickly around. He
saw the white porch of his own home among the
trees on the other side of the stream;

“ And he spake to the noble river
That rolls by the walls of Rome:
*O Tiber! father Tiber !
To whom the Romans pray,
A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms,
Take thou in charge to-day.’”
94

He leaped into the deep, swift stream. He still
had his heavy armor on; and when he sank out of
sight, no one thought that he would ever be seen
again. But he was a strong man, and the best
swimmer in Rome. The next minute he rose. He
was half-way across the river, and safe from the
_spears and darts which Porsena’s soldiers hurled
after him.

Soon he reached the farther side, where his
friends stood ready to help him. Shout after shout
greeted him as he climbed upon the bank. Then
Porsena’s men shouted also, for they had never seen
a man so brave and strong as Horatius. He had
kept them out of Rome, but he had done a deed
which they could not help but praise.

As for the Romans, they were very grateful to
Horatius for having saved their city. They called
him Horatius Co’cles, which meant the “one-eyed
Horatius,” because he had lost an eye in defending
the bridge; they caused a fine statue of brass to
be made in his honor; and they gave him as much
land as he could plow around in a day. And for
hundreds of years afterwards —

“With weeping and with laugh-ter,
Still was the story told,
How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.”
95

JULIUS CAESAR.

NEARLY two thousand years ago there lived in
Rome a man whose name was Julius Cz’sar. He
was the greatest of all the Romans,

Why was he so great?

He was a brave warricr, and had con-quered
many countries for Rome. He was wise in plan-
ning and in doing. He knew how to make men
both love and fear him.

At last he made himself the ruler'of Rome.
Some said that he wished to become its king.
But the Romans at that time did not believe in
kings.

Once when Ce-sar was passing through a little
country village, all the men, women, and children of
the place, came out to see him. There were not
more than fifty of them, all together, and they were
led by their may-or, who told each one what to do.

These simple people stood by the roadside and
watched Czesar pass. The may-or looked very
proud and happy; for was he not the ruler of this
village? He felt that he was almost as great a man
as Ceesar himself.

Some of the fine of-fi-cers who were with Cesar
laughed. They said, “See how that fellow struts at
the head of his little flock!”
06

“Laugh as you will,” said Ceesar, “he has reason
to be proud. I would rather be the head man of a
village than the second man in Rome!”

At an-oth-er time, Ceesar was crossing a narrow
sea ina boat. Before he was halfway to the farther
shore, a storm overtook him. The wind blew hard;
the waves dashed high; the lightning flashed; the
thunder rolled.

It seemed every minute as though the boat would
sink. The captain was in great fright. He had
crossed the sea many times, but never in such a
storm as this. He trembled with fear; he could
not guide the boat; he fell down upon his knees;
he moaned, “ All is lost! all is lost!”

But Ceesar was not afraid. He bade the man get
up and take his oars again.

“Why should you be afraid?” he said. “The
boat will not be lost; for you have Czeesar on
board.”

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES.

THERE was once a king whose name was Di-o-
nysi-us. He was so unjust and cruel that he won
for himself the name of tyrant. He knew that
almost everybody hated him, and so he was always
in dread lest some one should take his life.
97

But he was very rich, and he lived in a fine
palace where there were many beautiful and costly
things, and he was waited upon by a host of serv-
ants who were always ready to do his bidding.
One day a friend of his, whose name was Dam/o-
cles, said to him, —

“How happy you must be! You have here
everything that any man could wish.”

“Perhaps you would like to change places with
me,” said the tyrant. .

“No, not that, O king!” said Dam-o-cles; “but
I think, that, if I could only have your riches and
your pleas-ures for one day, I should not want any
greater hap-pi-ness.”

“Very well,” said the tyrant. ‘You shall have
them.”

And so, the next day, Damocles was led into the
palace, and all the servants were bidden to treat
him as their master. He sat down at a table in the
banquet hall, and rich foods were placed before him.
Nothing was wanting that could give him pleasure.
There were costly wines, and beautiful flowers, and
rare perfumes, and de-light-ful music. He rested
himself among soft cushions, and felt that he was
the happiest man in all the world.

Then he chanced to raise his eyes toward the
ceiling. What was it that was dangling above him,

FIFTY FAM. STO.— 7




































The Sword of Damocles,
99

with its point almost touching his head? It was
a sharp sword, and it was hung by only a single
horse-hair. What if the hair should break? There
was danger every moment that it would do so.

The smile faded from the lips of Damocles. His
face became ashy pale. His hands trembled. He
wanted no more food; he could drink no more
wine; he took no more delight in the music. He
longed to be out of the palace, and away, he cared
_not where.

“ What is the matter?” said the tyrant.

“ That sword! that sword!” cried Damocles. He
was so badly frightened that he dared not move.

“Yes,” said Di-o-nys-i-us, “ I know there is a sword
above your head, and that it may fall at any moment.
But why should that trouble you? I have a sword
over my head all the time. I am every moment
in dread lest something may cause me to lose my
life” i.

“ Let me go,” said Damocles. “I now see that I
was mis-tak-en, and that the rich and pow-er-ful are
not so happy as they seem. Let me go back to my
old home in the poor little cot-tage among the
mountains.”

And so long as he lived, he never again wanted
to be rich, or to change places, even for a moment,
with the king.
100

DAMON AND PYTHIAS.

A younG man whose name was Pyth’i-as had
done something which the tyrant Dionysius did
not like. For this offense he was dragged to
prison, and a day was set when he should be put
to death. His home was far away, and he wanted
very much to see his father and mother and friends
before he died.

“ Only give me leave to go home and say good-by
to those whom I love,” he said, “and then I will
come back and give up my life.”

The tyrant laughed at him.

“ How can I know that you will keep your prom-
ise?” he said. “You only want to cheat me, and
save your-self.”

_ Then a young man whose name was Da-mon
spoke and said, —

“O king! put me in prison in place of my friend
Pyth-i-as, and let him go to his own country to put
his affairs in order, and to bid his friends fare-well.
I know that he will come back as he promised, for
he is aman who has never broken his word. But
if he is not here on the day which you have set,
then I will die in his stead.” |

The tyrant was sur-prised that anybody should
make such an offer. He at last agreed to let
IoI

Pythias go, and gave orders that the young man
Da-mon should be shut up in prison.

Time passed, and by and by the day drew near
which had been set for Pythias to die; and he had
not come back. The tyrant ordered the jailer to
keep ‘close watch upon Damon, and not let him
escape. . But Damon did not try to escape. He
still had faith in the truth and honor of his friend.
He said, “If Pythias does not come back in time,
it will not be his fault. It will be because he is
hin-dered against his will.”

At last the day came, and then the very hour.
Damon was ready to die. His trust in his friend
was as firm as ever; and he said that he did not
grieve at having to suffer for one whom he loved
so much.

Then the jailer came to lead him to his death;
but at the same moment Pythias stood in the door.
He had been de-layed by storms and ship-wreck,
and he had feared that he was too late. He greeted
Damon kindly, and then gave himself into the hands
of the jailer. He was happy because he thought
that he had come in time, even though it was at
the last moment.

The tyrant was not so bad but that he could see
good in others. He felt that men who loved
and trusted each other, as did Damon and Pythias,

/
102

ought not to suffer un-just-ly. And so he set them
both free.

“T would give all my wealth to have one such
friend,” he said.

A LACONIC ANSWER.

Many miles beyond Rome there was a famous
country which we call Greece. The people of
Greece were not u-nit-ed like the Romans; but in- |
stead there were sev-er-al states, each of which had
its own rulers. |

Some of the people in the southern part of the
country were called Spar-tans, and they were noted
for their simple habits and their brav-er-y. The
name of their land was La-co’ni-a, and so they
were sometimes called La-cons.

One of the strange rules which the Spartans had,
was that they should speak briefly, and never use
more words than were needed. And so a short.
answer is often spoken of as being /a-con-2c ; that
is, as being such an answer as a Lacon mond be
likely to give.

There was in the northern part of Greece a land
called Mac’e-don; and this land was at one time
ruled over by a war-like king named Philip.
103

Philip of Mac-e-don wanted to become the master
of all Greece. So he raised a great army, and made
war upon the other states, until nearly all of them
were forced to call him their king. Then he sent a
letter to the Spartans in. La-co-ni-a, and said,“ If I
go down into your country, I will level your great
city to the ground.”

In a few days, an answer was brought back to
him. When he opened the letter, he found only
one word written there.

That word was “ Ir.”

It was as much as to say, ‘We are not afraid of
you so long as the little word ‘if’ stands in your

»

way.”

THE UNGRATEFUL GUEST.

Amonc the soldiers of King Philip there was a
poor man who had done some brave deeds. He
had pleased the king in more’ ways than one, and
so the king put a good deal of trust in him.

One day this soldier was on board of a ship at
sea when a great storm came up. The winds drove
the ship upon the rocks, and it was wrecked. The
soldier was cast half-drowned upon the shore; and
he would have died there, had it. not been for the
kind care of a farmer who lived close by.


enough to go home, he thanked the
farmer for what he had done, and prom-

ised that he would repay him for his kindness.
But he did not mean to keep his promise. He
did not tell King Philip about the man who had
saved his life. He only said that there was a fine
105

farm by the seashore, and that he would like very
much to have it for his own. Would the king give
it to him?

“Who owns the farm now?” asked Philip.

“ Only a churlish farmer, who has never done any-
thing for his country,” said the soldier.

“Very well, then,” said Philip. “You have served
me for a long time, and you shall have your wish.
Go and take the farm for yourself.”

And so the soldier made haste to drive the farmer
from his house and home. He took the farm for
his own.

The poor farmer was stung to the heart by such
treat-ment.. He went boldly to the king, and told
the whole story from beginning to end. King
Philip was very angry when he learned that the
man whom he had trusted had done so base a
deed. He sent for the soldier in great haste; and
when he had come, he caused these words to be
burned in his forehead : —

“THE UNGRATEFUL GUEST.”

Thus all the world was made to know of the
mean act by which the soldier had tried to en-
rich himself; and from that day until he died all
men shunned and hated him.
106

ALEXANDER AND BUCEPHALUS.

One day King Philip bought a fine horse called
Bu-ceph’a-lus. He was a noble an-i-mal, and the king
paid a very high price for him. But he was wild

‘and savage, and no man could mount him, or do
anything at all with him.

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

“Tt is a pity to ruin so fine a horse as that,” said
Al-ex-an’der, the king’s young son. “Those men

~ do not know how to treat him.”

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

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

“And if you fail to do so, what then?” asked —
Philip.

“T will pay you the price of the horse,” said the
lad.

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

He then spoke gently to the horse, and patted
107

him with his hand. When he had qui-et-ed him
a little, he made a quick spring, and leaped upon
the horse’s back.

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

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

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

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

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

Alexander became the most famous king and war-
rior that was ever known; and for that reason he
is always called Alexander the Great. Bucephalus
carried him through many countries and in many
fierce battles, and more than once did he save his _
master’s life.
108

DIOGENES THE WISE MAN.

At Cor-inth, in Greece, there lived a very wise
man whose name was Dtog’e-nes. Men came
from all parts of the land to see him and hear
him talk.

But wise as he was, he had some very queer ways.
He did not believe that any man ought to have
more things than he re-al-ly needed; and he said
that no man needed much. And so he did not live
in a house, but slept in a tub or barrel, which he
rolled about from piace to place. He spent his days
_ sitting in the sun, and saying wise things to those
who were around him.

At noon one day, Di-og-e-nes was seen walking
through the streets with a lighted lantern, and look- »
ing all around as if in search of something.

“Why do you carry a lantern when the sun is
shining?” some one said.

“IT am looking for an honest man,” answered
Diogenes.

When Alexander the Great went to Cor-inth, all
the fore-most men in the city came out to see him
and to praise him. But Diogenes did not come;
and he -was the only man for whose o-pin-ions
Alexander cared.

And so, since the wise man would not come to
Wy HY

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Diogenes and Alexander.


1io

see the king, the king went to see the wise man.
He found Diogenes in an out-of-the-way place, lying
on the ground by his tub. He was en-joy-ing the
heat and the light of the sun.

When he saw the king and a great many people
coming, he sat up and looked at-Alexander. Alex-
ander greeted him and said, — ~

“Diogenes, I have heard a great deal about your
wisdom. Is there anything that I can do for you?”

“Yes,” said Diogenes. ‘‘ You can stand a little
on one side, so as not to keep the sunshine from
me.” |

This answer was so dif-fer-ent from what he
expected, that the king was much sur-prised. _ But
it did not make him angry; it only made him
admire the strange man all the more. When he
turned to ride back, he said to his officers, —

“Say what you will; if I were not Alexander,
I would like to be Diogenes.”

THE BRAVE THREE HUNDRED.

ALL Greece was in danger. A mighty. army, led
by the great King of Persia, had come from the
east. It was marching along the seashore, and in
‘a few days would be in Greece. The great king |
Tir

had sent mes-sen-gers into every city and state,
bidding them give him water and earth in token
that the land and the sea were his. But they
said, —

“No: we will be free.”

And so there was a. great stir through-out all the
land. The men armed themselves, and made haste
to go out and drive back their foe; and the women
staid at home, weeping and waiting, and trembling |
with fear.

There was only one way by which the Per-sian
army could go into Greece on that side, and that
was by a narrow pass between the mountains and
the sea. This pass was guarded by Le-on’l-das, the
King of the Spartans, with three hundred Spartan
soldiers.

Soon the Persian soldiers were seen coming.
There were so many of them that no man could
count them. How could a handful of men hope to
stand against so great a host?

And yet Le-on-i-das and his Spartans held their
ground. They had made up their minds to die at
their post. Some one brought them word that
there were so many Persians that their arrows
dark-ened the sun.

“So much the better,” said the Spartans; “we
shall fight in the shade.”
112

Bravely they stood in the narrow pass. Bravely
they faced their foes. To Spartans there was no |
such thing as fear. The Persians came forward,
only to meet death at the points of their spears.

But one by one the Spartans fell. At last their
spears were broken; yet still they stood side by
side, fighting to the last. Some fought with swords,
some with daggers, and some with only their fists
and teeth. .

All day long the army of the Persians was kept
at bay. But when the sun went down, there was
not one Spartan left alive. Where they had stood
there was only a heap of the slain, all bristled over
with spears and arrows.

Twenty thousand Persian soldiers had fallen
before that handful of men. And Greece was
saved.

Thousands of years have passed since then; but
men still like to tell the story of Leonidas and the
brave three hundred who died for their country’s
sake.

SOCRATES AND HIS’ HOUSE.

THERE once lived in Greece a very wise man
whose name was Soc’ra-tes. Young men from all
parts of the land went to him to learn wisdom from
113
him; and he said so many pleasant things, and said
them in so delightful a way, that no one ever grew
tired of listening to him.

One summer he built himself a house, but it was
so small that his neighbors wondered how he could
be content with it.

“ What is the reason,” said they, “that you, who
are so great a man, should build such a little box as
this for your dwelling house?” :

/ “Indeed, there may be little reason,” said he;
“ but, small as the place is, I shall think myself
happy if I can fill even it with true friends.”

THE KING AND HIS HAWK.

Gen’cuis Kuan was a great king and war-rior.

He led his army into China and Persia, and he
con-quered many lands. In every country, men
told about his daring deeds; and they said that
since Alexander the Great there had been no king
like him. m

One morning when he was home from the wars,
he rode out into the woods to have a day’s sport.
Many of his friends were with him. They rode
out gayly, carrying their bows and arrows. Behind
them came the servants with the hounds.

FIFTY FAM. STO.—8
114

It was a merry hunting party. The woods rang
with their shouts and laughter. They expected to
carry much game home in the evening. __

On the king’s wrist sat his favorite hawk; for in
those days hawks were trained to hunt. At a word
from their masters they would fly high up into the
air, and look around for prey. If they chanced to
see a deer or a rabbit, they would swoop down upon
it swift as any arrow.

All day long Gen-ghis Khan and his seen
rode through the woods. But they did not find as
much game as they expected.

Toward evening they started for home. The
king had often ridden through the woods, and he
knew all the paths. So while the rest of the party
took the nearest way, he went by a longer road
through a valley between two mountains.

The day had been warm, and the king was very
thirsty. His pet hawk had left his wrist and
flown away. It would be sure to find its way
home. -

The king rode slowly along. He had once seen
a spring of clear water near this path-way. If he
could only find it now! But the hot days of sum-
mer had dried up all the moun-tain brooks.

At last, to his joy, he saw some water tric-kling
down over the edge of a rock. He knew that there
T15

was a spring farther up. In the wet season, a swift
stream of water always poured down here; but now
it came only one drop at a time.

The king leaped from his horse. He took a little
silver cup from his hunting bag. He held. it So as
to catch the slowly falling drops. ©

It took a long time to fill the cup; and the king
was so thirsty that he could hardly wait. At last it
was nearly full. He put the cup to his lips, and
was about to drink.

All at once there was a whir-ring sound in the
air, and the cup was knocked from his hands. The
water was all spilled upon the ground.

The king looked up to see who had done this
thing. It was his pet hawk.

The hawk flew back and forth a few times, and
then alighted among the rocks by the spring.

The king picked up the cup, and again held it to
catch the tric-kling drops.

‘This time he did not wait so long. When the
cup was half full, he lifted it toward his mouth.
‘But before it had touched his lips, the hawk swooped
down again, and knocked it from his hands.

And now the king began to grow angry. He
_ tried again; and for the third time the hawk kept
him from drinking.

The king was now very angry indeed.
116

“How do you dare to act so?” he cried. “If I
had you in my hands, I would wring your neck!” |

Then he filled the cup again. But before he
tried to drink, he drew his sword.

“Now, Sir Hawk,” he said, “this is the last
time.”

He had hardly spoken, before the hawk swooped :
down and knocked the cup from his hand. But the
king was looking for this. With a quick sweep of
the sword he struck the bird as it passed.

The next moment the poor hawk lay pleas and
dying at its master’s feet.

“ That is what you get for your pains,” said Gen-
ghis Khan.

But when he looked for his cup, he found that it
had fallen between two ‘rocks, where he could not
reach it.

“ At any rate, I will have a drink from that spring,”
he said to himself.

With that he began to climb the steep bank to
the place from which the water trickled. It was
hard work, and the higher he climbed, the thirst-i-er
he became.

At last he reached the place. There indeed was
a pool of water; but what was that lying in the pool,
and almost filling it? It was a huge, dead snake of
the most poi-son-ous kind.
117

The king stopped. He forgot his thirst. He
thought only of the poor dead bird lying on the
ground below him.

a



“ The hawk saved my life!” he cried; “and how
did I repay him? He was my best friend, and I
have killed him.”
118

He clam-bered down the bank. He took the bird
up gently, and laid it in his hunting bag. Then he
mounted his horse and rode swiftly home. He-said
to himself, — ;

“T have learned asad peo to-day; and that i is,
never to do any-thing in ane

DOCTOR GOLDSMITH.

THERE was once a kind man whose name was Oli-
ver Gold-smith. He wrote many de-light-ful books,
some of which you will read when you are older.

He had a gentle heart. He was always ready to
help others and to share with them anything that he
had. He gave away so much to the poor that he -
was always poor himself. _

He was some-times called Doctor Goldsmith; for
he had studied to be a phy-si-cian.

One day a poor woman asked Doctor Goldsmith
to go and see her husband, who was sick and could
not eat. mae

Goldsmith did so. He found that the family was
in great need. The man had not had work for a
long time. He was not sick, but in distress; and,
as for eating, there was no food in the house.

“Call at my room this evening,” said Goldsmith
119
to the woman, “and I will give you some med-i-cine
for your husband.”

‘In the evening the woman called. Goldsmith
gave her a little paper box that was very heavy.

“ Here is the med-i-cine,” he said. “ Use it faith-
ful-ly, and I think it will do your husband a great
deal of good. But don’t open the box until you
reach home.”

“What are the di-rec-tions for taking it?” asked
the woman.

“You will find them inside ei the box,” he an-
swered.

When the woman teach her home, she sat
down by her husband’s side, and they opened the
box. What do you think they found in it?

_ It was full of pieces of money. And on the top
were the di-rec-tions : —

“TO BE TAKEN AS OFTEN AS NE-CES-SI-TY REQUIRES.”

Goldsmith had given them all the ready money
that he had.

THE KINGDOMS.

THERE was once a king of Prussia whose name
was Frederick William.

On a fine morning in June he went out alone to
walk in the green woods. He was tired of the
120

noise of the city, and he was glad to get away
from it.

So, as he walked among the trees, he often stopped
to listen to the singing birds, or to look at the wild
flowers that grew on every side. Now and then he
stooped to pluck a violet, or a primrose, or a yellow
_but-ter-cup. Soon his hands were full of pretty
blossoms.

After a while he came to a little meadow in the
midst of the wood. Some children were playing
there. They were running here and there, and
gathering the cow-slips that were blooming among
the grass.

It made the king glad to see the happy children,
and hear their merry voices. He stood still for
some time, and watched them as they played.

Then he called them around him, and all sat
down to-geth-er in the pleasant shade. The chil-
dren did not know who the strange gentleman
was; but they liked his kind face and gentle
manners.

“ Now, my little folks,” said the king, “I want to
ask you some ques-tions, and the child who gives
the best answer shall have a prize.”

Then he held up an orange so that all the chil-
dren could see.

“You know that we all live in the king-dom of
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Prussia,” he said; « but tell me, to what king-dom
does this orange belong?”
The children were puz-zled. They looked at one
122

another, and sat very still for a little while. Then
a brave, bright boy spoke up and said, —

“Tt belongs to the veg-e-ta-ble kingdom, sir.”

. Why so, my lad?” asked the king. .

“Tt is the fruit of a plant, and all plants belong
to that kingdom,” said the boy.

The king was pleased. “You are quite right,”
he said; “and you shall have the orange for your
prize.”

He tossed it gayly to the boy. “Catch it if you
can!” he said. .
Then he took a yellow gold piece from his pocket,

and held it up so that it glit-tered in the sunlight.
‘““Now to what kingdom does this belong?” .he
asked.

Another bright boy answered act ly, “To the’
min-er-al kingdom, sir! All metals belong to that
kingdom.”.

“That is a-good answer,” said the i) “ The
gold piece is your prize.”

The children were de-light-ed. With eager faces
they waited to hear what the stranger would say
next.
“T will ask you only one more question,” said the
king, “and it is an easy one.” Then he stood up,
and said, “ Tell me, my little folks, to what kingdom
do I belong?”
123

The bright boys were puz-zled now. Some
thought of saying, “To the kingdom of Prussia.”
' Some wanted to say, “To the animal kingdom.”
But they were a little afraid, and all kept still.

At last a tiny blue-eyed child looked up into the
king’s smiling face, and said in her simple way, —

“T think to the kingdom of heaven.”

King Frederick William stooped down and lifted
the little maiden in his arms. Tears were in his
eyes as he kissed her, and said, “So be it, my
child! So be it.”

THE BARMECIDE FEAST.

THERE was once a rich old man who was called
the Bar-me-cide. He lived in a beautiful palace in
the midst of flowery gardens. He had every-thing
that heart could wish.

In the same land there was a poor man whose
name was Schac-a-bac. His clothing was rags, and
his food was the scraps which other people had
thrown away. But he had a light heart, and was
as happy as aking.

Once when Schac-a-bac had not had anything to
eat for a long time, he thought that he would go
and ask the Bar-me-cide to help him.
124

The servant at the door said, “Come in and talk
with our master. He will not send you away hun-
gry.”

Schacabac went in, and passed. through many
beautiful rooms, looking for the Barmecide. At
last he came to a grand hall where there were soft
carpets on the floor, and fine pictures on the walls,
and pleasant couches to lie down upon.

At the upper end of the room he saw a noble
man with a long white beard. It was the Barme-
cide; and poor Schacabac bowed low before him,
as was the custom in that country.

The Barmecide spoke very kindly, and asked
what was wanted.

Schacabac told him about all his troubles, and
said that.it was now two days since he had tasted
bread. |

“Is it possible?” said the Barmecide. “ You’
must be almost dead with hunger; and here I have
plenty and to spare!”

Then he turned and called, “Ho, boy! Bring in
the water to wash our hands, and then order the
cook to hurry the supper.”

'Schacabac had not expected to be treated so
kindly. He began to thank the rich man,

“Say not a word,” said the Barmecide, “ but let
us get ready for the feast.”
125

Then the rich man began to rub his hands as
_though some one was pouring water on them.
“Come and wash with me,” he said.

Schacabac saw no boy, nor basin, nor water.
But he thought that he ought to do as he was
bidden; and so, like the Barmecide, he made a
pretense of washing,
at oe now,” said the Barmecide, “let us have
supper.”

He sat down, as if to a table, a7 pre-tend-ed to
be carving a roast. Then he said, “ Help yourself,
my good friend. You said you were hungry: so,
now, don’t be afraid of the food.”

Schacabac thought that he un-der-stood the joke,
and he made pretense of taking food, and passing it
to his mouth. Then he began to chew, and said,
“You see, sir, I lose no time.”

“Boy,” said the old man, “bring on the roast
goose. — Now, my good friend, try this choice piece
from the breast. And here are sweet sauce, honey,
raisins, green peas, and:dry figs. Help yourself,
and remember that other good things are coming.”

Schacabac was almost dead with hunger, but he
was too polite not to do as he was bidden.

“Come,” said the Barmecide, “ have another piece
of the roast lamb. Did you ever eat anything so
de-li-cious ?”
126

“ Never in my life,” said Schacabac. “Your table
is full of good things.”

“Then eat heartily,” said the Barmecide. “ You
cannot please me better.”

After this came the des-sert. The Barmecide
spoke of sweet-meats and fruits; and Schacabac
made believe that he was eating them. .

“Now is there anything else that you would
like?” asked the host.

« Ah, no!” said poor Schacabac. “I have indeed
had great plenty.”

“ Let us drink, then,” said the Barmecide. “ Boy,
bring on the wine!” ,

. “Excuse me, my lord,” said Schacabac, “I will
drink no wine, for it is for-bid-den.”

The Barmecide seized him by the hand. “I have
long wished to find a man like you,” he said. “ But
come, now we will sup in earnest.”

He clapped his hands. Servants came, and he
ordered supper. Soon they sat down to a table
loaded with the very dishes of which they had pre-
tend-ed to eat.

Poor Schacabac had never had so good a meal in
all his life. When they had fin-ished, and the table
had been cleared away, the Barmecide said, — ,

“T have found you to be a man of good un-der-
stand-ing. Your wits are quick, and you are ready ~
127

always to make the best of everything. Come and
live with me, and manage my house.”

And so Schacabac lived with the Barmecide many
_ years, and never again knew one it was to be

hungry.

THE ENDLESS TALE.

In the Far East there was a great king who had
no work to do. Every day, and all day long, he sat
on soft cush-ions and lis-tened to stories. And no
matter what the story was about, he never grew
tired of hearing it, even though it was very long.

“There is only one fault that I find with your
story,” he often said: “it is too short.”

All the story-tellers in the world were in-vit-ed to
his palace; and some of them told tales that were
very long indeed. But the king was always sad

_when a story was ended.

At last he sent word into every city and town
and country place, offering a prize to any one who
should tell him an endless tale. He said, —

“ To the man that will tell me a story which shall
last forever, I will give my fairest daugh-ter for his
wife; and I will make him my heir, and he shall be
king after me.”

But this was not all. He added a very hard con-
128

di-tion. ‘If any man shall try to tell such a story
and then fail, he shall have his head cut off.”

The king’s daughter was very pretty, and there
were many young men in that country who were
willing to do anything to win her. But none of
them wanted to lose their heads, and so only a few
tried for the prize. .

One young man invented a story that lasted three
months; but at the end of that time, he could think
of nothing more. His fate was a warning to others,
and it was a long time before another story-teller
was so rash as to try the king’s patience.

But one day a stran-ger from the South came into
the palace. .

“Great king,” he said, “is it true that you offer a
prize to the man who can tell a story that has no
end?” :

“Tt is true,” said the king.

“ And shall this man have your fairest daughter
for his wife, and shall he be your heir?”

“ Yes, if he suc-ceeds,” said the king. “ But if he
fails, he shall lose his head.”

“Very well, then,” said the stran-ger. “I have a
pleasant story about locusts which I would like to
relate.”

“Tell it,” said the king. “I will listen to you.” ‘
The story-teller began his tale.
129

“Once upon a time a certain king seized upon
all the corn in his country, and stored it away in a
strong gran-a-ry. But a swarm of locusts came
over the land and saw where the grain had been
put. After search-ing for many days they found
on the east side of the gran-a-ry a crev-ice that was
just large enough for one locust to pass through at-
atime. So one locust went in and carried away a
grain of corn; then another locust went in and car-
ried away a grain of corn; then another locust went
in and carried away a grain of corn.” |

Day after day, week after week, the man kept on
saying, “ Then another locust went in and carried
away a grain of corn.”

A month passed; a year passed. At the end of
_ two years, the king said, —

“How much longer will the locusts be going in
and carrying away corn?”

“O king!” said the story-teller, “they have as yet
cleared only one cubit; and there are many thou-
sand cubits in the granary.”

“Man, man!” cried the king, “ you will drive me
mad. I can listen to it no longer. Take my
daughter; be my heir; rule my kingdom. But do
not let me hear another word about those horrible
locusts!” .

And so the strange story-teller married the

FIFTY FAM. STO.—9
130

king’s daughter. And he lived happily in the land
for many years. But his father-in-law, the king,
did not care to listen to any more stories.

THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT.

THERE were once six blind men who stood by the
road-side every day, and begged from the people
who passed. They had often heard of el-e-phants,
but they had never seen one; for, being blind,
how could they?

It so happened one morning that an el-e-phant
was driven down the road where they stood.
When they were told that the great beast was
before them, they asked the driver to let him stop
so that they might see him.

Of course they could not see him with their eyes ;
but they thought that by touching him they could
learn just what kind of animal he was.

The first one happened to put his hand on the
elephant’s side. “ Well, well!” he said, “now I know
all about this beast. He is ex-act-ly like a wall.”

The second felt only of the elephant’s tusk. “My
brother,” he said, “ you are mistaken. He is not at
all like a wall. He is round and smooth and sharp.
He is more like a spear than anything else.”
131

The third happened to take hold of the elephant’s
trunk. “Both of you are wrong,” he said. “ Any-
body who knows anything can see that this elephant
is like a snake.”

The fourth reached out his arms, and grasped
one of the elephant’s legs. “Oh, how blind you
are!” he said. “It is very plain to me that he is
' round and tall like a tree.”

The fifth was a very tall man, and he chanced to
take hold of the elephant’s ear. “The blind-est man
ought to know that this beast is not like any of the
things that you name,” he said. “He is ex-act-ly
like a huge fan.”

The sixth was very blind indeed, and it was some
time before he could find the elephant at all. At
last he seized the animal’s tail. “O foolish fel-
lows!” he cried. “ You surely have lost your senses.
This elephant is not like a wall, or a spear, or a
snake, or a tree; neither is he like a fan. But any
man with a par- af cle of sense can see that he is ex-
actly like a rope.”

Then the elephant moved on, and the six blind
men sat by the roadside all day, and quar-reled
about him. Each believed that he knew just how
the animal looked; and each called the others
hard names because they did not agree with him.
People who have eyes sometimes act as foolishly.
132

MAXIMILIAN AND THE GOOSE BOY.

OnE summer day King Max-i-mil‘ian of Ba-va’ri-a
was walking in the country. The sun shone hot
and he stopped under a tree to rest.

It was very pleasant in the cool shade. The
king lay down onthe soft grass, and looked up
at the white clouds sailing across the sky. Then
he took a little book from his pocket and tried to
read.

But the king could not keep his mind on his book.
Soon his eyes closed, and he was fast asleep.

It was past noon when he awoke. He got up
from his grassy bed, and looked around. Then he
took his cane in his hand, and started for home.

When he had walked a mile or more, he happened
to think of his book. He felt for it in his pocket.
It was not there. He had left it under the tree.

' The king was already quite tired, and he did not
like to walk back so far. But he did not wish to
lose the book. What should he do?

If there was only some one to send for it!

While he was’ thinking, he happened to see a
little bare-foot-ed boy in the open field near the
road. He was tending a large flock of geese that
were picking the short grass, and wading in a shal-
low brook.

%
133

The king went toward the boy. He held a gold
piece in his hand.

“ My boy,” he said, “ how sould you like to have
this piece of money?”

“T would like it,” said the boy; “but I never hope
to have so much.” _

“You shall have it if you will run back to the oak
tree at the second turning of the road, and fetch me
the book that I left there.”

The king thought that the boy would be pleased.
But not so. He turned away, and said, “I am not
so silly as you think.”

“What do you mean?” said the king. “Who
says that you are silly?”

“Well,” said the boy, “you think that I am silly
enough to believe that you will give me that gold
piece for running a mile, and fetch-ing you a book.
You can’t catch me.”

“ But if I give it to you now, perhaps you will be-
lieve me,” said the king; and he put the gold piece
into the little fellow’s hand.

The boy’s eyes spar-kled; but he did not move.

“What is the matter now?” said the king.
“Won't you go?”

The boy said, “I would like to go; but I can’t
leave the geese. They will stray away, and ye "
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‘Crack the whip!”
135

“Oh, I will tend them while you are away,” said
the king.

The boy laughed. “I should like to see you
tending them!” he said. “Why, they would run
away from you in a minute.” .

“Only let me try,” said the king.

At last the boy gave ‘the king his whip, and
started off. He had gone but a little way, when he
turned and came back.

“What is the matter now?” said Max-i-mil-ian.

o Crack the whip!” .

The king tried to do as he was bidden, but he
could not make a sound.

“T thought as much,” said the boy. ‘ You don’t
know how to do anything.” .

Then he took the whip, and gave the king lessons
in whip cracking. “Now, you see how it is done,”
he said, as he handed it back. “If the geese try
to run away, crack it loud.”

The king laughed. He did his best to learn his
lesson; and soon the boy again started off on his
errand.

Maximilian sat down on a stone, and laughed at
the thought of being a goose-herd. But the geese
missed their master at once. With a great cac-kling
and hissing they went, half flying, half running,
across the meadow.
136

The king ran after them, but he could not run
fast. He tried to crack the whip, but it was of no
use. The geese were soon far away. What was
worse, they had gotten into a garden, and were feed-
ing on the tender veg-e-ta-bles.

A few minutes after-ward, the goose boy came
back with the book.

“Just as I thought,” he said. “Ihave found the
book, and you have lost the geese.”

“Never mind,” said the king, “I will help you
get them again.” .

“Well, then, run around that way, and stand
by the brook while I drive them out of the gar-
den.”

The king did as he was told. The boy ran for-
ward with his whip, and after a great deal of shout-
ing and scolding, the geese were driven back into
the meadow.

“I hope you will pardon me for not being a bet-
ter goose-herd,” said Maximilian; “but, as I ama
king, I am not used to such work.”

“A king, indeed!” said the boy. “I was very
silly to leave the geese with you. But I am not so
silly as to believe that you are a king.”

“Very well,” said Maximilian, with a smile;
“here is another gold piece, and now let us be
friends.”
137

The boy took the gold, and thanked the giver.
He looked up into the king’s face and said, —

“You are a very kind man, and I think you
might be a good king; but if you were to try all
your life, you would never be a good gooseherd.”

THE INCHCAPE ROCK.

In the North Sea there is a great rock called the
Inch-cape Rock. It is twelve miles from any land,
and is covered most of the time with water.

Many boats and ships have been wrecked on that
rock; for it is so near the top of the water that no
vessel can sail. over it without striking it.

More than a hundred years ago there lived not
far away a kind-heart-ed man who was :called the
Abbot of Ab-er-broth-ock.

“It is a pity,” he said, “that so many brave sail-
ors should lose their lives on that hidden rock.”

So the abbot caused a buoy to be fastened to the
rock. The buoy floated back and forth in the shal-
low water. A strong chain kept it from floating
away.

On the top of the buoy the abbot placed a bell;
and when the waves dashed against it, the bell
would ring out loud and clear.
138

Sailors, now, were no longer afraid to cross the
sea at that place. When they heard the bell ring-
ing, they knew just where the rock was, and they
steered their vessels around it.

“God bless the good Abbot of Ab-er-broth-ock!”
they all said.

One calm summer day, a ship with a black flag
happened to sail not far from the Inch-cape Rock.
The ship belonged to a sea robber called Ralph the
Rover; and she was a terror to all honest people both
on sea and shore.

There was but little wind that day, and the sea
was as smooth as glass. The ship stood almost
still; there was hardly a breath of air to fill her sails.

Ralph the Rover was walking on the deck. He
looked out upon the glassy sea. He saw the buoy
floating above the Inchcape Rock. It looked like
a big black speck upon the water. But the bell
was not ringing that day. There were no waves to
set it in motion.

“Boys!” cried Ralph the Rover; “put out the
boat, and row me to the Inchcape Rock. We will
play a trick on the old abbot.”

The boat was low-ered. Strong arms soon rowed
it to the Inchcape Rock. Then the robber, with a
heavy ax, broke the chain that held the buoy.

He cut the fas-ten-ings of the bell. It fell into the
139

water. There was a gur-gling sound as it sank out
of sight.

“The next one that comes this way will not bless
the abbot,” said Ralph the Rover.

Soon a breeze sprang up, and the black ship sailed
away. The sea robber laughed as he looked back
and saw that there was nothing to mark the place
of the hidden rock.

For many days, Ralph the Rover scoured the
seas, and many were the ships that he plun-dered.
At last he chanced to sail back toward the place
from which he had started.

The wind had blown hard all day. The waves
rolled high. The ship was moving swiftly. But
in the evening the wind died away, and a thick fog
came on.

‘Ralph. the Rover walked the deck. He could
not see where the ship was going. “If the fog
would only clear away!” he said.

“J thought I heard the roar of breakers,” said
the pilot. “We must be near the shore.”

“T cannot tell,” said Ralph the Rover; “but I
think we are not far from the Inchcape Rock. I
wish we could hear the good abbot’s bell.”

The next moment there was a great crash. “It
is the Inchcape Rock!” the sailors cried, as the
ship gave a lurch to one side, and began to sink.
140

“Oh, what a wretch am I!” cried Ralph the
Rover. “This is what comes of the joke that I
played on the good abbot!”

What was it that he heard as the waves rushed
over him? Was it the abbot’s bell, ringing for him
far down at the bottom of the sea?

WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT.

I. THE CITY.

THERE was once a little boy whose name was
Richard Whit’ting-ton; but everybody called him
Dick. His father and mother had died when he
was only a babe, and the people who had the care
of him were very poor. Dick was not old enough
to work, and so he had a hard time of it indeed.
Sometimes he had no break-fast, and sometimes he
had no dinner; and he was glad at any time to get
w crust of bread or a drop of milk.

Now, in the town where Dick lived, the people
liked to talk about London. None of them had
ever been to the great city, but they seemed to
know all about the wonderful things which were to
be seen there. They said that all the folks who
lived in London were fine gen-tle-men and ladies;
that there was singing and music there all day
141

long; that nobody was ever hungry there, and no-
body had to work; and that the streets were all |
paved with gold.

Dick listened to these stories, and wished that he
could go to London.

One day a big wagon drawn by eight horses, all
with bells on their heads, drove into the little town.
Dick saw the wagon standing by the inn, and he
thought that it must be going to the fine city of
London.

When the driver came out and was ready to start,
the lad ran up and asked him if he might walk by
the side of the wagon. The driver asked him
some questions; and when he learned how poor
Dick was, and that he had neither father nor
mother, he told him that he might do as he liked.

It was a long walk for the little lad; but by and
by he came to the city of London. He was in such
a hurry to see the wonderful sights, that he forgot
to thank the driver of the wagon. He ran as
fast as he could, from one street to another, try-
ing to find those that were paved with gold. He
had once seen a piece of money that was gold, and
he knew that it would buy a great, great many
things; and now he thought that if he could get
only a little bit of the pave-ment, he would have
everything that he wanted.
142

Poor Dick ran till he was so tired that he could
run no farther. It was growing dark, and in every
street there was only dirt instead of gold. He sat
down in a dark corner, and cried himself to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he was very
hungry; but there was not even a crust of bread for
him to eat. He forgot all about the golden pave-
ments, and thought only of food. He walked about
from one street to another, and at last grew so
hungry that he began to ask those whom he met
to give him a penny to buy something to eat.

“Go to work, you idle fellow,” said some of them;
and the rest passed him by without even looking at
him.

“J wish I could go to work!” said Dick.

Il. THE KITCHEN.

By and by Dick grew so faint and tired that he .
could go no farther. He sat down by the door of a
fine house, and wished that he was back again in
the little town where he was born. The cook-maid,
who was just getting dinner, saw him, and called
out, —

“What are you doing there, you little beggar? If
you don’t get away quick, I'll throw a panful of hot
dish-water over you. Then I guess you will jump.”
143

Just at that time the master of the house, whose .
name was Mr. Fitz-war’ren, came home to dinner.
When he saw the ragged little fellow at his door,
he said, —

“My lad, what are you doing here? I am. afraid
you are a lazy fellow, and that you want to live
without work.”

“ No, indeed!” said Dick. “I would like to work, if
T could find anything to do. But I do not know
anybody in this town, and I have not had anything
to eat for a long time.”

“ Poor little fellow!” said Mr. Fitz-war-ren. “Come
- in, and I will see what I can do for you.” And he
ordered the cook to give the lad a good dinner, and
then to find some light work for him to do.

Little Dick would have been very happy in the
new home which he had thus found, if it had not
been for the cross cook. She would often say, —

“You are my boy now, and so you must do as I
telk you. Look sharp there! Make the fires, carry
out the ashes, wash these dishes, sweep the floor,
bring in the wood! Oh, what a lazy fellow you
are!” And then she would box his ears, or beat
him with the broom-stick.

At last, little Alice, his master’s daughter, saw
how he was treated, and she told the cook she
would be turned off if she was not kinder to the
144

lad. After that, Dick had an eas-i-er time of it; but
his troubles were not over yet, by any means.

His bed was in a garret at the top of the house,
far away from the rooms where the other people
slept. There were many holes in the floor and
walls, and every night a great number of rats and
mice came in. They tor-ment-ed Dick so much,
that he did not know what to do.

One day a gentleman gave him a penny for
cleaning his shoes, and he made up his mind that
he would buy a cat with it. The very next morn-
ing he met a girl who was car-ry-ing a cat in
her arms.

“J will give you a penny for that cat,” he said.

“ All right,” the girl said. “You may have her,
and you will find that she is a good mouser
too.”

Dick hid his cat in the garret, and every day he
carried a part of his dinner to her, It was not long
before she had driven all the rats and mice away ;
and then Dick could sleep soundly every night.

Ill. THE VENTURE.

Some time after that, a ship that belonged to
Mr. Fitzwarren was about to start on a voyage
across the sea. It was loaded with goods which
145

were to be sold in lands far away. Mr. Fitzwarren
wanted to give his servants a chance for good
fortune too, and so he called all of them into the
parlor, and asked if they had anything they would
like to send out in the ship for trade.

Every one had something to send, — every one
but Dick; and as he had neither money nor goods,
he staid in the kitchen, and did not come in with
the rest. Little Alice guessed why he did not
come, and so she said to her papa, —

“Poor Dick ought to have a chance too. Here
is Some money out of my own purse that you may
put in for him.”

“No, no, my child!” said Mr. Fitzwarren. “He
must risk something of his own.” And then he
called very loud, ‘Here, Dick! What are you
going to send out on the ship?” |

Dick heard him, and came into the room.

“J have nothing in the world,” he said, “but
a cat which I bought some time ago for a
penny.”

“Fetch your cat, then, my lad,” said Mr. Fitz-
warren, “and let her go out. Who knows but that
she will bring you some profit?”

Dick, with tears in his eyes, carried poor puss
down to the ship, and gave her to the cap-
tain. Everybody laughed at his queer venture;

FIFTY FAM, STO,— IO
146

but jittle Alice felt sorry for him, and gave him
money to buy another cat.



After that, the cook was worse than before. ° She
made fun of him for sending his cat to sea. “ Do
you think,” she would say, “that puss will sell for
enough money to buy a stick to beat you?”
147

At last Dick could not stand her abuse any longer,
and he made up his mind to go back to his old
home in the little country town. So, very early in
the morning on All-hal-lows Day, he started. He
walked as far as the place called Hol-lo-way, and
there he sat down on a stone, which to this day is
called “ Whit-ting-ton’s Stone.”

As he sat there very sad, and wondering which

sway he should go, he heard the bells on Bow
Church, far away, ringing out a merry chime. He
' listened. They seemed to say to him,—
“Turn again, Whittington, :
Thrice Lord Mayor of London.”

“Well, well!” he said to himself. “I would put
up with almost anything, to be Lord Mayor of
London when I am a man, and to ride in a fine
coach! JI think I will go back and let the old cook
cuff and scold as much as she pleases.”

Dick did go back, and he was lucky enough to
get into the kitchen, and set about his work, before
the cook came down-stairs to get break-fast.

IV. THE CAT.

Mr. Fitzwarren’s ship made a long voyage, and
at last reached a strange land on the other side of
the sea. The people had never seen any white men
148

before, and they came in great crowds to buy the
fine things with which the ship was loaded. The
captain wanted very much to trade with the king
of the country; and it was not long before the
king sent word for him to come to the palace
and see him.

The captain didso. Hewas shown into a beauti-
ful room, and given a seat on a rich carpet all
flow-ered with silver and gold. The king and queen
were seated not far away; and soon a number of
dishes were brought in for dinner.

They had hardly begun to eat when an army of
rats and mice rushed in, and de-voured all the meat
before any one could hinder them. The captain
wondered at this, and asked if it was not very un-
pleas-ant to have so many rats and mice about.

“Oh, yes!” was the answer. “It is indeed un-
pleas-ant; and the king would give half his treas-
ure if he could get rid of them.”

The captain jumped for joy. He remembered
the cat which little Whittington had sent out; and
he told the king that he had a little creature on ~
board his ship which would make short work of the
‘pests.

Then it was the king’s turn to jump for joy; and
he jumped so high, that his yellow cap, or turban,
dropped off his head.
149

“ Bring the creature to me,” he said. “If she
will do what you say, I will load your ship with
gold.”

The captain made believe that he would be very
sorry to part with the cat; but at last he went down
to the ship to get her, while the king and queen
made haste to have another dinner made ready.

The captain, with puss under his arm, reached
the palace just in time to see the table crowded
with rats. The cat leaped out upon them, and
oh! what havoc she did make among the trou-ble-
some creatures! Most of them were soon stretched
dead upon the floor, while the rest scam-pered away
to their holes, and did not dare to come out again.

The king had never been so glad in his life; and
the queen asked that the creature which had done
such wonders should be brought to her. The cap-
tain called, “ Pussy, pussy, pussy!” and the cat came
up and rubbed against his legs. He picked her up,
and offered her to the queen; but at first the queen
was afraid to touch her.

However, the captain stroked the cat, and called,
“ Pussy, pussy, pussy!” and then the queen ventured
to touch her. She could only say, “ Putty, putty,
putty!” for she had not learned to talk English,
The captain then put the cat down on the queen’s lap,
where she purred and purred until she went to sleep.
150

The king would not have missed getting the cat
now for the world. He at once made a bargain
with the captain for all the goods on board the
ship; and then he gave him ten times as much for
the cat as all the rest came to.

The captain was very glad. He bade the king
and queen good-by, and the very next day set sail
for England.

V. THE FORTUNE,

One morning Mr. Fitzwarren was sitting at his
desk in his office. He heard some one tap softly at
his door, and he said, —

“Who's there?”

“A friend,” was the answer. “I have come to
bring you news of your ship ‘ U-ni-corn.’”

Mr. Fitzwarren jumped up quickly, and opened
the door. Whom should he see waiting there but
the captain, with a bill of lading in one hand and
a box of jewels in the other? He was so full of
joy that he lifted up his eyes, and thanked Heaven
for sending him such good fortune.

The captain soon told the story of the cat; and
then he showed’ the rich present which the king
and queen had sent to poor Dick in payment for
her. As soon as the good gentleman heard this,
he called out to. his servants, —
151

“Go send him in, and tell him of his fame ;
Pray call him Mr. Whittington by name.”

Some of the men who stood by said that so great
a present ought not to be given to a mere boy; but
Mr. Fitzwarren frowned upon them.

“Tt is his own,” he said, “and I will not hold back
one penny from him.”

Dick was scouring the pots when word was
brought to him that he should go to the office.

“Oh, I am so dirty!” he said, “ and my shoes are
full of hob-nails.” But he was told to make haste.

Mr. Fitzwarren ordered a chair to be set for him,
and then the lad began to think that they were
making fun of him.

“T beg that you won't play tricks with a poor
boy like me,” he said. ‘“ Please let me go back to
my work.”

“Mr. Whittington,” said Mr. Fitzwarren, “this is
no joke at all. The captain has sold your cat, and
has brought you, in return for her, more riches
than I have in the whole world.”

Then he opened the box of jewels, and showed
Dick his treasures.

The poor boy did not know what to do. He
begged his master to take a part of it; but Mr. Fitz-
warren said, “ No, it is all your own; and I feel sure
that you will make good use of it.”
152

Dick then offered some of his jewels to his mis-
tress and little Alice. They thanked him, and told
him that they felt great joy at his good luck, but
wished him to keep his riches for himself.



But he was too kind-heart-ed to keep everything
for himself. He gave nice presents to the cap-
tain and the sailors, and to the servants in Mr. Fitz-
warren’s house. He even remembered the cross

old cook.
153

After that, Whittington’s face was washed, and
his hair curled, and he was dressed in a nice suit
of clothes; and then he was as handsome a young
man as ever walked the streets of London.

Some time after that, there was a fine wedding
at the finest church in London; and Miss Alice
became the wife of Mr. Richard Whittington. And
the lord mayor was there, and the great judges,
and the sher-iffs, and many rich mer-chants; and
everybody was very happy.

And Richard Whittington became a great mer-
chant, and was one of the foremost men in London. .
He was sheriff of the city, and thrice lord mayor;
and King Henry V. made him a knight.

He built the famous prison of New-gate in
London. On the arch-way in front of the prison
was a figure, cut in stone, of Sir Richard Whit-
tington and his cat; and for three hundred years
this figure was shown to all who visited London.

CASABIANCA.

THERE was a great battle at sea. One could
hear nothing but the roar of the big guns. The
air was filled with black smoke. The water was
strewn with broken masts and pieces of timber
154

which the cannon balls had knocked from the
ships. Many men had been killed, and many
more had been wounded.

The flag-ship had taken fire. The flames were
breaking out from below. The deck was all ablaze.
The men who were left alive made haste to launch
a small boat. They leaped into it, and rowed swiftly
away. Any other place was safer now than on
board of that burning ship. There was powder
in the hold.

But the captain’s son, young Ca-sa-bi-an’ca, still
stood upon the deck. The flames were almost all .
around him now; but he would not stir from his
post. His father had bidden him stand there, and
he had been taught always to obey. He trusted in
his father’s word, and be-lieved that when the right
time came he would tell him to go.

He saw the men leap into the boat. He heard
them call to him to come. He shook his head.

“When father bids me, I will go,” he said.

And now the flames were leaping up the masts.
The sails were all ablaze. The fire blew hot upon
his cheek. It scorched his hair. It was before him,
behind him, all around him.

“O father!” he cried, “may I not go now? The
men have all left the ship. Is it not time that we
too should leave it?”
155

He did not know that his father was lying in the
burning cabin below, that a cannon ball had struck
him dead at the very be-gin-ning of the fight. He
listened to hear his answer.

“Speak louder, father!” he cried. “I cannot
hear what you say.”

- Above the roaring of the flames, above the crash-
ing of the falling spars, above the booming of the
guns, he fancied that his father’s voice came faintly
to him through the scorching air.

“T am here, father! Speak once again!” he
gasped.

But what is that?

A great flash of light fills the air; clouds of
smoke shoot quickly upward to the sky; and—

“ Boom !”

Oh, what a ter-rif-ic sound! Louder than thun-
der, louder than the roar of all the guns! The
air quivers; the sea itself trembles; the sky is
black.

The blazing ship is seen no more.

There was powder in the hold!

A long time ago a lady, whose name was Mrs.
Hemans, wrote a poem about this brave boy Ca-sa-bi-
an-ca. It is not a very well written poem, and yet
everybody has read it, and thousands of people have
156

learned it by heart. I doubt not but that some day
you too will read it. It begins in this way:— ©

“The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but him had fled ;
The flame that lit the battle’s wreck
Shone round him o’er the dead.

“Vet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm —
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud though childlike form.”

ANTONIO CANOVA.

A Goop many years ago there lived in Italy a
little boy whose name was An-to’ni-o Ca-no’va. . He
lived with his grand-fa-ther, for his own father was
dead. His grand-fa-ther was a stone-cut-ter, and he
was very poor.

An-to-ni-o was a puny lad, and not strong enough
to work. He did not care to play with the other
boys of the town. But he liked to go with his grand-
father to the stone-yard. While the old man was
busy, cutting and trimming the great blocks of stone,
the lad would play among the chips. Sometimes .
he would make a little statue of soft clay; some-
times he would take hammer and chisel, and try to
157

cut a statue from a piece of rock. He showed so
- much skill that his grandfather was de-light-ed.

“ The boy will be a sculp-tor some day,” he said.

Then when they went home in the evening, the
grand-moth-er would say, “ What have you been
doing to-day, my little sculp-tor?”

And she would take him upon her lap and sing
to him, or tell him stories that filled his mind with
pictures of wonderful and beautiful things. And
the next day, when he went back to the stone-yard,
he would try to make some of those pictures in
stone or clay.

There lived in the same town a rich man who was
called the Count. Sometimes the Count would
have a grand dinner, and his rich friends from other
towns would come to visit him. Then Antonio’s
grandfather would go up to the Count’s house to
help with the work in the kitchen; for he was a
fine cook as well as a good stone-cut-ter.

It happened one day that Antonio went with his
grandfather to the Count’s great house. Some
people from the city were coming, and there was
to be a grand feast. The boy could not cook,
and he was not old enough to wait on the table;
but he could wash the pans and kettles, and as he
was smart and quick, he could help in many other
ways. ; .
158

All went well until it was time to spread the table
for dinner. Then there was a crash in the dining

room, and a man rushed into the kitchen with some . .

pieces of marble in his hands. He was pale, and
trembling with fright.

“What shall Ido? What shall I do?” he cried.
“T have broken the statue that was to stand at the
center of the table. I cannot make the table look
pretty without the statue. What will the Count
say?”

And now all the other servants were in trouble.
Was the dinner to be a failure afterall? For every-
thing de-pend-ed on having the table nicely arranged.
The Count would be very angry.

“ Ah, what shall we do?” they all asked.

Then little Antonio Ca-no-va left his pans and
kettles, and went up to the man who had caused the
trouble.

“Tf you had another statue, could you arrange
the table?” he asked.

“Cer-tain-ly,” said the man; “that is, if the
statue were of the right length and height.”

“Will you let me try to make one?” asked Anto-
nio. “Perhaps I can make something that will do.”

The man laughed.

“Non-sense!” he cried. “Who are you, that you
talk of making statues on an hour’s notice?”
159.

* T am Antonio Canova,” said the lad.

“Let the boy try what he can do,” said the serv-
ants, who knew him.

And so, since nothing else could be done, the
man allowed him to try.

On the kitchen table there was a large square
lump of yellow butter. Two hundred pounds the
lump weighed, and it had just come in, fresh and
clean, from the dairy on the mountain. With a
kitchen knife in his hand, Antonio began to cut
and carve this butter. In a few minutes he had
molded it into the shape of a crouching lion; and
all the servants crowded around to see it.

“How beautiful!” they cried. “It is a great
deal pret-ti-er than the statue that was broken.”

When it was finished, the man carried it to its
place.

“The table will be hand-som-er by half than I
ever hoped to make it,” he said.

When the Count and his friends came in to
dinner, the first thing they saw was the yellow
lion.

“What a beautiful work of art!” they cried.
“None but a very great artist could ever carve
such a figure; and how odd that he should choose
to make it of butter!” And then they asked the
Count to tell them the name of the artist.




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“The servants crowded around to see it.”’
161

“ Truly, my friends,” he said, “ this is as much of
a surprise to me as to you.” And then he called
to his head servant, and asked him where he had
found so wonderful a statue.

“Tt was carved only an hour ago by a little boy
in the kitchen,” said the servant.

This made the Count’s friends wonder still more;
and the Count bade the servant call the boy into
the room.

“My lad,” he said, “you have done a piece of
work of which the greatest artists would be proud.
What is your name, and who is your teacher?”

“My name is Antonio Canova,” said the boy,
“and I have had no teacher but my grandfather
the stonecutter.”

By this time all the guests had crowded around
Antonio. There were famous artists among them,
and they knew that the lad was a genius. They
could not say enough in praise of his work; and
when at last they sat down at the table, nothing
would please them but that Antonio should have a
seat with them; and the dinner was made a feast
in his honor.

The very next day the Count sent for Antonio
to come and live with him. The best artists in
the land were em-ployed to teach him the art in
which he had shown so much skill; but now, instead

FIFTY FAM. STO.—II
162

of carving butter, he chis-eled marble. In a few
years, Antonio Canova became known as one of
the greatest sculptors in the world.

PICCIOLA.

Many years ago there was a poor gentleman shut
up in one of the great prisons of France. His
name was Char-ney, and he was very sad and un-
hap-py. He had been put into prison wrong-ful-ly,
and it seemed to him as though there was no one
in the world who cared for him.

He could not read, for there were no books in
the prison. He was not allowed to have pens or
paper, and so he could not write. The time
dragged slowly by. There was nothing that he
could do to make the days seem shorter. His only
pastime was walking back and forth in the paved
prison yard. There was no work to be done, no
one to talk with.

One fine morning in spring, Char-ney was tak-
ing his walk in the yard. He was counting the
paving stones, as he had done a thousand times
before. All at once he stopped. What had made
that little mound of earth between two of the
stones ?
163

He stooped down to see. A seed of some kind
had fallen between the stones. It had sprouted;
and now a tiny green leaf was pushing its way up
out of the ground. Charney was about to crush
it with his foot, when he saw that there was a kind
of soft coating over the leaf.

“Ah!” said he. “This coating is to keep it
safe. I must not harm it.” And he went on with
his walk. ,

The next day he almost stepped upon the plant
before he thought of it. He stooped to look at it.
There were two leaves now, and the plant was
much stronger and greener than it was the day
before. He staid by it a long time, looking at all
its parts.

Every morning after that, Charney went at once
to his little plant. He wanted to see if it had been
chilled by the cold, or scorched by the sun. He
wanted to see how much it had grown, _

One day as he was looking from his window, he
saw the jailer go across the yard. The man brushed
so close to the little plant, that it seemed as though |
he would crush it. Charney trembled from head to
foot. .

“O my Pic-cio-la!” he cried.

When the jailer came to bring his food, he
begged the grim fellow to spare his little plant.
164

He expected that the man would laugh at him;
but al-though a jailer, he had a kind heart. +
“Do you think that I would hurt your little
plant?” he said. “No, indeed! It would have
been dead long ago, if I had not seen that you

thought so much of it.”

“That is very good of you, indeed,” said Char-
ney. He felt half ashamed at having thought the
jailer unkind.

Every day he watched Pic-cio-la, as he had
named the plant. Every day it grew larger and.
more beautiful. But once it was almost broken by
the huge feet of the jailer’s dog. Charney’s heart
sank within him.

“Picciola must have a house,” he said. “I will
see if I can make one.”

So, though the nights were chilly, he took, day
by day, some part of the firewood that was allowed
him, and with this he built a little house around
the plant.

The plant had a thousand pretty ways which
he noticed. He saw how it always bent a little
toward the sun; he saw how the flowers folded
their petals before a storm,

He had never thought of such things Before and
yet he had often seen whole gardens of flowers in
bloom.
165

One day, with soot and water he made some ink;
he spread out his hand-ker-chief for paper; he used
a sharp-ened stick for a pen—and all for what?
He felt that he must write down the doings of his
little pet. He spent all his time with the plant.

“See my lord and my lady!” the jailer would say
when he saw them.

As the summer passed by, Picciola grew more
. lovely every day. There were no fewer than thirty
blossoms on its stem.

But one sad morning it began to droop. Char-
ney did not know what todo. He gave it water,
but still it drooped. The leaves were with-er-ing.
The stones of the prison yard would not let the
plant live.

Charney knew that there was but one way to
save his treasure. Alas! how could he hope that
it might be done? The stones must be taken up
at once.

But this was a thing which the jailer dared not
do. The rules of the prison were strict, and no
stone must be moved. Only the highest officers in
the land could have such a thing done.

Poor Charney could not sleep. Picciola must die.
Already the flowers had with-ered ; the leaves would
soon fall from the stem.

Then a new thought came to Charney. He
166

would ask the great Napoleon, the em-per-or him-
self, to save his plant.

It was a hard thing for Charney to do, —to ask
a favor of the man whom he hated, the man who
had shut him up in this very prison. But for the
sake of Picciola he would do it. .

He wrote his little story on his hand-ker-chief.
Then he gave it into the care of a young girl, who
promised to carry it to Napoleon. Ah! if the poor |
plant would only live a few days longer!

What a long journey that was for the young girl!
What a long, dreary Wale it was for Charney and
Picciola!

But at last news came to the prison. The stones
were to be taken up. Picciola was saved!

. The em-per-or’s kind wife had heard the story
of Charney’s care for the plant. She saw the
handkerchief on which he had written of its
pretty ways.

“ Surely,” she said, “it can do us no io Bood to keep.
such a man in prison.”

And so, at last, Charney was set free. Of course
' he was no longer sad and un-lov-ing. He saw how
God had cared for him and the little plant, and how
kind and true are the hearts of even rough men.
And he cher-ished Picciola as a dear, loved friend
whom he could never forget. .
167 .

MIGNON.

Here is the story of Mignon as I remember hav-
ing read it in a famous old book.

A young man named Wilhelm was staying at an
inn in the city. One day as he was going up-stairs
he met a little girl coming down. He would have
taken her for a boy, if it had not been for the long
curls of black hair wound about her head. As she
ran by, he caught her in his arms and asked her to
whom she belonged. He felt sure that she must be
one of the rope-dan-cers who had just come to the
inn. She gave him a sharp, dark look, slipped out:
-of his arms, and ran away without speaking.

The next time he saw her, Wil-helm spoke to her
again. .

“Do not be afraid of me, little one,” he said
kindly. “What is your name?”

“ They call me Mignon,” said the child.

“ How old are you?” he asked.

“No one has counted,” the child an-swered.

Wilhelm went on; but he could not help wonder-
ing about the child, and thinking of her dark eyes
and strange ways.

One day not long after that, there was a great
outcry among the crowd that was watching the
rope-dan-cers. Wilhelm went down to find out
168

what was the matter. He saw that the master of
the dancers was beating little Mignon with a stick.
He ran and held the man by the collar.

“ Let the child alone!” he cried. “If you touch
her again, one of us shall never leave this spot.”

The man tried to get loose; but Wilhelm held
him fast. The child crept away, and hid herself in
the crowd.

“Pay me what her clothes cost,” cried the rope-
-dancer at last, “and you may take her.”

As soon as all was quiet, Wilhelm went to look
for Mignon; for she now belonged to him. But he
could not find her, and it was not until the rope-
dancers had left the town that she came to him.

“Where have you been?” asked Wilhelm in his
kindest tones; but the child did not speak.

“ You are to live with me now, and you must be
a good child,” he said.

“J will try,” said Mignon gently.

From that time she tried to do all that she could
for Wilhelm and his friends. She would let no one
wait on him but herself. She was. often seen going
to a basin of water to wash from her face the paint
with which the ropedancers had red-dened her
cheeks: indeed, she nearly rubbed off the skin in
trying to wash away its fine brown tint, which she
thought was some deep dye.
169

Mignon grew more lovely every day. She never
walked up and down the stairs, but jumped. She
would spring along by the railing, and before you
_knew it, would be sitting quietly above on the
landing.

To each one she would speak in a different way.
To Wilhelm it was with her arms crossed upon her
breast. Often for a whole day she would not say
one word, and yet in waiting upon Wilhelm she
never tired. ,

One night he came home very weary and sad.
Mignon was waiting for him. She carried the light
before him up-stairs. She set the light down upon
the table, and in a little while she asked him if she
might dance.

“Jt might ease your heart a little,” she said.

Wilhelm, to please her, told her that she might.

Then she brought a little carpet, and spread it
upon the floor. At each corner she placed a
candle, and on the carpet she put a number of eggs.
She arranged the eggs in the form of certain figures.
When this was done, she called to a man who was
waiting with a violin. She tied a band about her
eyes, and then the dancing began.

How lightly, quickly, nimbly, wonderfully, she
moved! She skipped so fast among the eggs, she
trod so closely beside them, that you would have




















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171

thought she must crush them all. But not one of
them did she touch. With all kinds of steps she
passed among them. Not one of them was moved
from its place.

Wilhelm forgot all his cares. He watched every
motion of the child. He almost forgot who and
where he was. ;

When the dance was ended, Mignon rolled the
eggs together with her foot into a little heap. Not
one was left behind, not one was harmed. Then
she took the band from her eyes, and made a little
bow.

Wilhelm thanked her for showing him a dance
that was so wonderful and pretty. He praised her,
petted her, and hoped that a had not tired her-
self too much.

When she had gone from the room, the man
with the violin told Wilhelm of the care she had
taken to teach him the music of the dance. He
told how she had sung it to him over and over
again. He told how she had even wished to pay
him with her own money for learning to play it
for her. |

There was yet another way in which Mignon tried
to please Wilhelm, and make him forget his cares.
She sang to him.

The song which he liked best was one whose
172

words he had never heard before. Its music, too,
was strange to him, and yet it pleased him very
much. He asked her to speak the words over and
over again. He wrote them down; but the sweet-
ness of the tune was more delightful than the
words. The song began in this way:—

“Do you know the land where citrons, lemons, grow,
And oranges under the green leaves glow?”

Once, when she had ended the song, she said
again, “ Do you know the land?”

“Tt must be Italy,” said Wilhelm. “Have you
ever been there?”

The child did not answer.

peeeessrass pees sie easeener ete