Two boys pushing wheelbarrows
Just as they came near George's home they saw before them a little boy much smaller than Rollo. He was ragged and barefooted.
"There is Tom," said George. "See how I will frighten him."
As he said this, George rolled his wheelbarrow directly toward Tom as if he were going to run over him. Tom was very much frightened and began to scream.
Just at that moment Farmer Cropwellhappened to be coming up the lane on the opposite side of the road. He called out,—
"George!"
George stopped his wheelbarrow.
"Is that right?" said the farmer.
"Why, I was not going to hurt him," said George.
"You did hurt him,—you frightened him."
"Is frightening him hurting him, father?"
"Why, yes; it is giving pain, and a very unpleasant kind of pain, too."
"I did not think of that," said George.
"Besides," said his father, "when you treat boys in that harsh, rough way you make them your enemies. And it is a very bad plan to make enemies."
"Enemies, father!" said George, laughing; "Tom could not do me any harm if he were my enemy."
"That makes me think of the story of the bear and the tomtit," said the farmer. "If you and Rollo will jump into the cart I will tell it to you."
—Jacob Abbott.
One pleasant summer morning a wolf met a bear in a lonely wood. In a tree near by, a bird was singing.
"Brother," said the bear, "that is very good singing, indeed. What kind of bird do you think it is?"
"That is a tomtit," said the wolf.
"I should like to see his nest. Where do you think it is?" asked the bear.
"Perhaps we shall see if we wait until his mate comes home," said the wolf.
Soon the mother bird came flying with some food in her mouth for her children. She went to the tree where her mate was singing.
"Now, I shall climb the tree," said the bear.
"Not yet," said the wolf. "Wait until the birds leave the nest."
They walked away for some distance, but soon returned, for the bear was impatient to see the nest. He scrambled up the tree, intending to frighten the young birds.
"Take care," said the wolf. "The tomtits are very little, but little enemies are sometimes very troublesome."
"Who is afraid of a tomtit?" said the bear, as he poked his black nose into the nest.
"Go away! go away!" screamed the poor little birds in terror.
"What do you mean by making such a noise and talking so to me?" said the bear. "I will teach you better manners."
So he put his great paw on the nest and pressed it down until the poor little birds could hardly breathe. Then he left them and went away.
The young tomtits were terribly frightened, and some of them were hurt. When the old birds came home they were very angry.
They could see the bear walking about among the trees, but they did not know how to punish him.
Not far away there was a glen, surrounded by high rocks, where the bear used to go to sleep because it was a lonely place.
One day, as he was prowling in the woods, he saw two hunters coming with their guns. In fright, he fled to his glen, where he thought he should be safe.
The tomtits saw the bear run to the rocks and hide in terror.
"Why is the bear hiding?" said one bird to the other.
"Do you see those hunters with their guns?" said the mother tomtit. "If only they can find the bear, then our little ones will be safe. Let us help them."
So the tomtits began to flutter around the hunters and fly a little way toward the glen and then back again. The men followed the birds to see what could be the matter.
By and by the bear saw the hunters coming, led on by his little enemies, the tomtits. He ran from one side of the glen to the other. He hid himself in a cave among the rocks. But he could not escape the hunters.
The wolf happened to be near by upon the rocks that overlooked the glen. Hearing the noise, he came and peeped over.
As soon as he saw what had happened to the bear, he thought it would be prudent for him to walk away. This he did, saying to himself as he went:—
"Well, the bear has found out that a friend is better than an enemy, whether he is great or small."
Here the farmer paused. He had ended his story.
"What did they do with the bear?" asked Rollo.
"Oh," said the farmer, "they took off his skin to make caps of, and nailed his claws up on the barn."
—Jacob Abbott.
A dog, with a piece of meat in his mouth, was hurrying home to eat his supper in quiet. On his way he had to pass over a narrow plank which lay across a small stream.
As he looked down into the water he saw his own image in the smooth surface of the brook. This, he thought, was another dog with a larger piece of meat in his mouth.
He put his head down near the water. Behold, the meat, which the other dog carried, was plainly within his reach.
"Now, I shall have a fine dinner," he thought. And with a quick snap of his jaws, he tried to snatch the meat from the dog in the water.
But as he opened his mouth, his own piece of meat fell to the bottom of the brook. And thus, by greed, he lost all that he had.
A group of mice with a bell
Once upon a time some mice met together to find a way to save themselves from their enemy, the cat.
"I have a plan," said a young mouse, "which will save the life of every one of us. You all know that our chief danger lies in the cat's sly and quiet manner of walking. If we could hear her coming, we could easily run away.
"Let us hang a bell to the cat's neck, and when we hear it ring we shall all know that she is near."
"A fine plan! a fine plan!" cried all the mice. "But who will bell the cat?"
"Not I, not I," cried all the mice at once.
A dog once chose to make his bed in a manger full of hay. Now this manger was the feeding place of a pair of oxen who worked hard in the fields all day.
When the tired beasts came for their evening meal, the dog growled and showed his teeth. He could not eat the hay himself, and he would not let the oxen have so much as a mouthful of it.
—Æsop.
An Indian boy sees many things which a white boy passes by without seeing. Can you tell why?
The Indian boy is taught to look at thingsclosely, and to think about everything he sees. He learns to observe. Here is a good story of an Indian who was trained to use his eyes when he was young.
An old Indian once lived in a village among white people. His little hut was near the woods. A white man lived alone in a cabin near by.
One night the white man came home late from his work in the fields. He had left a bag of corn hanging in his cabin. Some one had taken it.
He was very angry. "That lazy Indian who lives in the hut has stolen my corn," he told his neighbors.
"Send for the Indian and let him speak for himself," said one of the neighbors.
When the Indian came he said, "I did not take your corn."
"If you did not take my corn, who did?" asked the angry man.
"I can not tell you his name," the Indian answered. "I have never seen him, but I can tell you something about him.
"Your corn was stolen by a white man. He is an old man, and he is a short man."
One of the neighbors had seen a little old man. He was going to the woods with a bag on his back.
They went out to hunt for him. Soon he was found, and the bag of corn was returned to its owner.
How could the Indian tell who had taken the corn? Every one wanted to know.
"I will tell you," said the Indian. "I knew that the thief was an old man from the heavy mark of his feet in the earth. A young man's step is much lighter.
"I knew he was a white man because he turned his toes out when he walked. An Indian does not walk in that way.
"Did you not see that he stood on a stool to reach the bag of corn? This shows that he was a short man."
"Now see," said the neighbors. "If you had kept your eyes open as the Indian keeps his open, you would not have said that he stole your corn."
One summer morning, a merry group of children was helping to make hay in one of the Clovernook hay fields.
Sweep well with a bucket
Not far away stood a little brown house in the cool shade of cherry trees and apple trees. A sweetbrier clambered over the windows, and in the dooryard grew bushes of large red roses.
Near the house was a deep well of clear, cold water. An old-fashioned well sweep was used to draw up the water, as you see in the picture.
This was the Clovernook home. Herelived the merry children who were helping in the hayfield, and there were nine of them. What if the house was small? There was the barn in which they could play, and there were the fields and woods in which they could wander.
Father with children by a fireplace"He liked to gather his children around him."
"He liked to gather his children around him."
They thought their gentle, blue-eyed mother the most beautiful woman in the world. Their father was one of the kindest of men. Every child loved him, and the horses and the cows followed him all over the farm.
He loved books, and went about his work repeating fine old hymns and lines from grand poems. In the long winter evenings he liked to gather his children around him before the open fire. Then he told them wonderful stories of the olden time.
The Clovernook children learned to know the flowers and the trees by name, and to tell the birds by their songs. In the spring they boiled sap for maple sugar. In the fall they gathered nuts, and helped store away the apples in the cellar.
There were two daughters of the Clovernook household who liked nothing so well as their books. They went to school when their mother could spare them from the work of the home. At night they often wished to study, but they had no lamp. So they put some lard into a saucer and used a piece of cloth for a wick.
Year after year these two girls spent all their spare moments in reading and study. What they did when they were older, and how they came to be called the Poet Sisters, you shall soon learn.
Portrait of Alice CaryAlice Cary.
Alice Cary.
The Clovernook cottage was the home of the Cary family, and the Poet Sisters were Alice Cary and Phœbe Cary.
While the sisters were still little girls, they began to write verses. Phœbe was but fourteen years old when she sent her first poem to a newspaper. She told no one, not even her sister Alice, what she had done.
At last her father brought the paper from the postoffice. When Phœbe saw her poem in print she was so happy that she laughedand cried. After that, she did not care if her clothes were plain, or if she could not go to school as much as she wished.
Portrait of Phoebe CaryPhœbe Cary.
Phœbe Cary.
The Clovernook home was near Cincinnati, Ohio. When Alice and Phœbe grew older they left the home of their childhood and went to live in New York city.
They were now able to earn money by writing stories and poems for books and papers. At last they could make their home beautiful with the books and pictures which they had so long wished for.
Alice and Phœbe loved children, and they wrote many beautiful verses for their little friends. In their charming stories they tell us about their life in Clovernook, and of their plays in hayfield and barn.
Our old brown homestead reared its wallsFrom the wayside dust aloof,Where the apple boughs could almost castTheir fruit upon its roof;And the cherry tree so near it grewThat when awake I've lain,In the lonesome nights, I've heard the limbsAs they creaked against the pane.The sweetbrier, under the window sill,Which the early birds made glad,And the damask rose, by the garden fence,Were all the flowers we had.We had a well, a deep old well,Where the spring was never dry,And the cool drops down from the mossy stonesWere falling constantly.And there never was water half so sweetAs the draught which filled my cup,Drawn up to the curb by the rude old sweepThat my father's hand set up.—Phœbe Cary.
Our old brown homestead reared its wallsFrom the wayside dust aloof,Where the apple boughs could almost castTheir fruit upon its roof;
And the cherry tree so near it grewThat when awake I've lain,In the lonesome nights, I've heard the limbsAs they creaked against the pane.
The sweetbrier, under the window sill,Which the early birds made glad,And the damask rose, by the garden fence,Were all the flowers we had.
We had a well, a deep old well,Where the spring was never dry,And the cool drops down from the mossy stonesWere falling constantly.
And there never was water half so sweetAs the draught which filled my cup,Drawn up to the curb by the rude old sweepThat my father's hand set up.—Phœbe Cary.
Suppose, my little lady,Your doll should break her head,Could you make it whole by cryingTill your eyes and nose are red?And wouldn't it be pleasanterTo treat it as a joke,And say you're glad 'twas dolly'sAnd not your head that broke?Suppose you're dressed for walking,And the rain comes pouring down,Will it clear off any soonerBecause you scold and frown?And wouldn't it be betterFor you to smile than pout,And so make sunshine in the house,When there is none without?Suppose your task, my little man,Is very hard to get,Will it make it any easierFor you to sit and fret?And wouldn't it be wiserThan waiting like a dunce,To go to work in earnestAnd learn the thing at once?Suppose the world doesn't please you,Nor the way some people do,Do you think the whole creationWill be altered just for you?And isn't it, my boy or girl,The wisest, bravest planWhatever comes or doesn't come,To do the best you can?—Phœbe Cary.
Suppose, my little lady,Your doll should break her head,Could you make it whole by cryingTill your eyes and nose are red?And wouldn't it be pleasanterTo treat it as a joke,And say you're glad 'twas dolly'sAnd not your head that broke?
Suppose you're dressed for walking,And the rain comes pouring down,Will it clear off any soonerBecause you scold and frown?And wouldn't it be betterFor you to smile than pout,And so make sunshine in the house,When there is none without?
Suppose your task, my little man,Is very hard to get,Will it make it any easierFor you to sit and fret?And wouldn't it be wiserThan waiting like a dunce,To go to work in earnestAnd learn the thing at once?
Suppose the world doesn't please you,Nor the way some people do,Do you think the whole creationWill be altered just for you?And isn't it, my boy or girl,The wisest, bravest planWhatever comes or doesn't come,To do the best you can?—Phœbe Cary.
The air for the wing of the sparrow,The bush for the robin and wren,But always the path that is narrowAnd straight, for the children of men.—Alice Cary.
The air for the wing of the sparrow,The bush for the robin and wren,But always the path that is narrowAnd straight, for the children of men.—Alice Cary.
Capital T
he leaves are fading and falling,The winds are rough and wild,The birds have ceased their calling,But let me tell you, my child,Though day by day, as it closes,Doth darker and colder grow,The roots of the bright red rosesWill keep alive in the snow.And when the winter is over,The boughs will get new leaves,The quail come back to the clover,And the swallow back to the eaves.The robin will wear on his bosomA vest that is bright and new,And the loveliest wayside blossomWill shine with the sun and dew.So, when some dear joy losesIts beauteous summer glow,Think how the roots of the rosesAre kept alive in the snow.—Alice Cary.
he leaves are fading and falling,The winds are rough and wild,The birds have ceased their calling,But let me tell you, my child,
Though day by day, as it closes,Doth darker and colder grow,The roots of the bright red rosesWill keep alive in the snow.
And when the winter is over,The boughs will get new leaves,The quail come back to the clover,And the swallow back to the eaves.
The robin will wear on his bosomA vest that is bright and new,And the loveliest wayside blossomWill shine with the sun and dew.
So, when some dear joy losesIts beauteous summer glow,Think how the roots of the rosesAre kept alive in the snow.—Alice Cary.
Columbus landing in the New WorldColumbus in the New World.
Columbus in the New World.
When Columbus reached the New World, he landed on a beautiful green island. He tells us that the island was covered with trees like an orchard. The trees and the flowers and the fruits were different from any that he had ever seen before.
All day he remained on shore with his men. They were delighted with the warm air, the clear streams, the bright flowers, and the fresh fruit.
The natives were friendly and gentle. They wore no clothes, but their bodies were painted with many colors. They came near the strangers and seemed to wonder at their white faces.
Some of the natives wore rings of gold in their noses and ears. Columbus tried to learn from them where they had found the gold. They pointed to the south and said "Cuba." By signs they led him to believe that Cuba was a land where there was much gold.
Columbus was in haste to reach the mines of gold and the rich cities about which he had read. The next day he sailed with all his ships and sailors toward the south.
They passed by many green islands as beautiful as the one on which they had landed. Columbus sat on deck, watching the shore. He hoped and he believed that he shouldsoon see the towers of a city rise toward the sky.
The news of the visit of the white men spread from island to island. The natives ran to the shore to see the wonderful ships with sails like white wings. They paddled out to the ships in their canoes, and they brought fruit and balls of cotton yarn.
Columbus and his men were looking everywhere for gold. Whenever they saw a village of huts they visited the chief and asked him where gold could be found. They traded bells and beads for the gold ornaments which the natives wore.
Soon Columbus reached the shores of Cuba. Everywhere he saw beautiful flowers and fruits. He found gentle natives living in poor huts. But he saw no cities and he found no mines of gold.
Columbus supposed that he had reached some small islands on the coast of India. For this reason he called the dark-skinned people living there Indians. He did not know that he had found the New World.
At last Columbus gave up the search for gold, and decided to return to Spain. He wished to tell King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of the islands he had visited.
He was sure that he had discovered a new way to India, and he wished to ask the king for more ships and more men. He believed that great riches could be found on these islands which he had visited.
Early in January he gave a farewell feast to the natives. Then he sailed for Spain, taking with him six Indians.
His flagship, theSanta Maria, had been wrecked. One of his captains had sailed away in thePintaand had not returned. And so Columbus was obliged to cross the ocean in theNina, which was the smallest of his three ships.
The voyage was long and the storms were many. The little ship was tossed about by the waves and was often in great danger. But at last the shores of Spain were seen by the sailors, and great was their joy.
At noon, on the fifteenth of March, 1493, they sailed into the harbor which they had left more than seven months before. All the people in the town crowded to the shore. For a long time they had thought that Columbus was lost at sea, and that they would never see him and his sailors again.
The first act of Columbus was to lead his men to the church, where they gave thanks to God for their safe return.
Very soon the good news spread over all Spain. Bells were rung, and great fires were lighted on the hilltops.
King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella were several hundred miles from the seaport town where Columbus landed with his sailors. As soon as the king and queen heard of his safe return, they sent Columbus a letter asking him to come without delay to their court.
The time of year was delightful for the long journey through Spain. Every mile of the way Columbus and his men received a welcome. As they passed along the plains and over the mountains, men, women, and children came to see the brave sailors who had dared to cross the ocean.
When they reached the end of their journey, they were met by officers of the king. Then all marched into the city through crowded streets where banners were flying.
First came Columbus riding a fine horse. Next walked six Indians, painted and wearing feathers in their hair.
The sailors followed, carrying strange birds and animals from across the sea. Some had live parrots which they had caught and tamed.
One man carried a turtle shell almost as large as himself. Others showed with great pride the curious rings and crowns of gold which they had brought from the islands.
The king and queen sat on their throne awaiting Columbus. When he came near, they rose to greet him, and they asked him to take a seat by their side.
In the great room were the lords and ladies of the court and the chief men of the kingdom. Every one looked with wonder at the painted Indians and at the strange gifts which were carried by the sailors.
Columbus then gave an account of his wonderful voyage. When his story was done, the king and queen knelt in thanks to God. Then the great crowd of people joined them in thanksgiving and in a grand song of praise.
So great was the honor paid to Columbus that he rode with the king and his son through the streets of the city. The people thronged to see him, and they called him the third king.
COLUMBUS BEFORE THE KING AND QUEEN.Painting by R. Baluac.COLUMBUS BEFORE THE KING AND QUEEN.
Painting by R. Baluac.
COLUMBUS BEFORE THE KING AND QUEEN.
Almost a year had passed since the first company of Pilgrims had come to America. About fifty of those who had crossed the ocean in the Mayflower were now living in their new home.
They had laid out a village street and had built a few houses in the place which they called Plymouth. Their houses were made of logs. The roofs were very steep and were covered with grass and rushes.
It had been a busy summer for the Pilgrims. They had worked hard in the gardens and the fields. But the harvests were good and there would be food enough for the coming winter. How thankful they were!
"Let us set aside a day in which to give thanks for this great harvest," they said."It is God who has sent the sunshine and the rain to make the seeds grow. We will have a day of thanksgiving, and ask the friendly Indians to come and rejoice with us."
So the Indian chief and his band were invited to the feast. Such a busy time as that was for the Pilgrims! The men went to the forest to hunt deer, wild turkeys, and other game. All the women were at work, and the smoke of the ovens rose from the chimneys.
Even the children helped. Some of them gathered the cranberries that were turning red in the lowlands. Some picked the wild grapes that were growing purple on the vines. Others brought home the nuts which were falling from the trees. The older boys were sent to the beach for clams.
The Indians were invited to come on Thursday. At sunrise on that day the Pilgrims were awakened by whoops and yells which told them that their guests had already arrived.
It was in the month of November, but the weather was mild and lovely, and a soft blue haze seemed to veil the woods.
Late wild flowers were blooming. Bright leaves were falling from the trees. It was the time of year that we call Indian summer.
A great fire was built out of doors for the cooking, and long tables were spread in the open air. When the loud roll of the drum was heard, all the people went to the log fort on the hill which was used as a meeting house. There they gave thanks to God for the rich harvest of the year.
Everybody, young and old, was there. The little children must have grown very tired of the long sermon. They must have wanted to go home to the good dinner which they knew was waiting for them.
At last the Thanksgiving feast was ready.In the middle of the long table stood a huge bowl of stew made of different kinds of game.
Pilgrims and Indians at Thanksgiving feast
There were great roasts of deer and roasted turkeys stuffed with nuts. There were the cakes and puddings made by the Pilgrim mothers. And it is said that the Indians brought a large basket of popcorn which they poured on the table just as the meal began.
In this way the Pilgrims passed their first Thanksgiving Day in America.
—Marian M. George.
Over the river and through the wood,To grandfather's house we go;The horse knows the wayTo carry the sleighThrough the white and drifted snow.Over the river and through the wood,Oh, how the wind does blow!It stings the toesAnd bites the nose,As over the ground we go.Over the river and through the wood,To have a first-rate play;Here the bells ring,"Ting-a-ling-ding!"Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!Over the river and through the wood,Trot fast, my dapple-gray!Spring over the ground,Like a hunting hound!For this is Thanksgiving Day.Over the river and through the wood,And straight through the barnyard gate.We seem to goExtremely slow,It is so hard to wait!
Over the river and through the wood,To grandfather's house we go;The horse knows the wayTo carry the sleighThrough the white and drifted snow.
Over the river and through the wood,Oh, how the wind does blow!It stings the toesAnd bites the nose,As over the ground we go.
Over the river and through the wood,To have a first-rate play;Here the bells ring,"Ting-a-ling-ding!"Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river and through the wood,Trot fast, my dapple-gray!Spring over the ground,Like a hunting hound!For this is Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river and through the wood,And straight through the barnyard gate.We seem to goExtremely slow,It is so hard to wait!
Family in a sled
Over the river and through the wood,Now grandmother's cap I spy!Hurrah for the fun!Is the pudding done?Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!—Lydia Maria Child.
Over the river and through the wood,Now grandmother's cap I spy!Hurrah for the fun!Is the pudding done?Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!—Lydia Maria Child.
Hundreds and hundreds of miles away in the white frozen north, there is a wonderful land of snow and ice. There strange little yellow people, called Eskimos, live in snow houses, and dress in the skins of animals.In summer, in this wonderful land, the sun never sets, but shines all the time, day and night. Flowers spring up, and soft-eyed reindeer wander about cropping the short grass.The ice breaks up and drifts out to sea. Great rivers of ice push forward into the water. Enormous icebergs break off from them and float away like white ships.The blue waves dance and sparkle in the sun. Singing brooks rush down the mountains. Thousands of noisy sea birds come to the rocky cliffs to lay their eggs.
Hundreds and hundreds of miles away in the white frozen north, there is a wonderful land of snow and ice. There strange little yellow people, called Eskimos, live in snow houses, and dress in the skins of animals.
In summer, in this wonderful land, the sun never sets, but shines all the time, day and night. Flowers spring up, and soft-eyed reindeer wander about cropping the short grass.
The ice breaks up and drifts out to sea. Great rivers of ice push forward into the water. Enormous icebergs break off from them and float away like white ships.
The blue waves dance and sparkle in the sun. Singing brooks rush down the mountains. Thousands of noisy sea birds come to the rocky cliffs to lay their eggs.
Glossy seals swim in the water, and once in a while a shaggy white bear goes running over the floating ice in search of seals.
The Eskimos, paddling swiftly through the water in their strange skin boats, hunt these animals for food and clothing.
In winter there is no sunshine at all in Eskimo land. For four long, long months it is dark all the time, just as it is here in the night. The ground is covered deep with snow, and the poor deer must dig through it with their hoofs for grass and moss.
The sea is covered thick with ice, and the birds fly away. The cold is so terrible that the Eskimos would freeze to death were it not for their thick, warm fur coats.
Here in this wonderful land there was found, one September day, a snow-white baby with big blue eyes.