Biography. Daniel Defoe (1659-1731), an English author, was born in London. He was well educated and devoted himself chiefly to writing. He was active in political life, and many of his early pamphlets were attacks upon the government. Robinson Crusoe, his greatest story, is a world classic. It is founded mainly on the adventures of Alexander Selkirk, who told Defoe about his own experiences as a castaway on an island. Defoe tells his story in simple, direct language, with frequent use of details and illustrations.
Discussion. 1. Why was an ocean voyage so difficult and dangerous at the time when Robinson Crusoe was written? 2. Find the lines that describe what you think was the most difficult work undertaken by Robinson Crusoe. 3. What under king required the most perseverance? Find lines that show this. 4. At what time did Crusoe show the greatest courage? Find lines that seem to yore to prove your answer is correct. 5. What was the greatest disappointment that he had to bear while on the island? 6. What do you think was the greatest happiness he had? 7. Find lines that tell how Robinson Crusoe studied to make something which was very necessary to him. 8. Mention something he made that you have tried to make. 9. How did your result compare with his? What reason can you give for this? 10. This story shows how dependent we are upon the tools, the inventions, and the means of protection that men have devised for making life happy. Crusoe had to make for himself under great difficulties things that we think nothing of. Show from the story how dependent we are upon the cooperation and assistance of others. Imagine the cooperation that has been necessary to give you milk, oranges or bananas, sugar for your dessert, meat for your dinner. What has been done to give you the stove on which your dinner is cooked, the fuel that it burns, the light that you use at night, the telephone that you use? Crusoe had to get along without such assistance. Do you owe anything, any return service, for what you receive and use? If Crusoe's hut had taken fire, what would have happened? What would happen if your home should catch fire? Who would pay for the help given you? If Crusoe had been attacked by robbers, what would have happened? What keeps you safe at night? If Crusoe had wished to go on a long journey, what would have been necessary? Who would help you if you had to take such a journey? 12. Tell a story about your debt to someone for an invention or discovery that makes your life pleasanter or safer. Tell a story about your debt for the sugar you use for your desert. Tell a story to illustrate what the government does for you. 13. Class readings: Select passages to be read aloud in class. 14. Outline for testing silent reading. Tell the story briefly in your own words, using the topic headings given in the book. 15. You will enjoy seeing the pictures in the edition of Robinson Crusoe that is illustrated by N. C. Wyeth. 16. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: stern; bulge; spikes; adz; limes; mute; league; thong; fowling; piece. 17. Pronounce: pursuit; swoon; spars; drought;; sieve; launch; cruise; shoal; tour; jib; gesture; formidable; sheathe; sprites.
Phrases for Study lee of the land, in sooth, spare yards, I found him apt, O drug, standing in for the shore, give me thought for thought, appeared concerned, whole round of my isle, discover myself to them, bound by a spell, specter-like figure.
Now that you have read all of these tales of adventure, perhaps some evening you will curl up in that big chair in a cozy place and will close your eyes and dream a dream. And in that dream you will see-who knows? Ali Baba and Aladdin in their queer dress, and Sindbad, the rich old sailor, and Captain Lemuel Gulliver, and Robin Hood in his Lincoln green, and Robinson Crusoe with his man Friday. All of them will sit down near you, between you and the fire perhaps, and they will talk to each other about the meaning of all the perils and successes that life brought them. And you will doubtless get the idea from them all that every man, rich or poor, ought to feel some responsibility to others. Ali Baba and Aladdin and Sindbad will tell the company, there in the firelight before your very eyes, how they felt that they owed something to' others because of the wealth they had, gained. Aladdin became a serious and public-spirited man, though as a boy he had been of little worth. Ali Baba and Sindbad helped others and did many good deeds.
Then Robin Hood will join in the conversation. He lived in a time, as you can see from his story, when the poor not only had no chance but were oppressed. Robin tried to do away with some of this injustice. He was an outlaw; he did many things that it would not be right to do today; but he did these things in order to help people who were wretched and who had no chance.
And next, Robinson Crusoe has a word to say. His experience, he tells us, showed him how much we depend on each other. If a man is suddenly cut off from his fellows, has to get his own food or starve, build his own house with his own rude tools or freeze, he finds out how much he owes to the cooperation of thousands of other people.
And finally, Captain Gulliver, who has been listening quietly for a long time, knocks the ashes from his pipe as he gets up to go, and says: "You know, it all comes down to this: can a man or a nation stand being rich and strong? You know those Lilliputians, when they conquered the people of Blefuscu, wanted right away to annex the lands of their enemies. They had no right to the lands; they had enough of their own; if I had let them do what they planned, they would have made many people very miserable, But the moment they saw a chance to grab something, they wanted to go right after it.. And it makes me wonder about this America that is so much discussed just now. In my day we scarcely knew there was such a country, but you know how strong and prosperous the Americans are, and what a war they can fight, and how many rich men they have. They seem to me to have found that lamp and ring that friend Aladdin once had; everything they touch seems to turn to gold, and they can build a city over night. I just wonder what they will do with all this power?"
And they all shake their heads, as if to say that they wonder, too. And the fire has grown lower and lower, so that you can hardly see the strange forms.—And then father calls to you to wake up and get your lesson or go to bed, and they all vanish at the sound of that voice.
How would you answer Captain Gulliver's question about America? What did America do with its power in the World War? What good American citizens that you know of have used their wealth to found libraries, hospitals, parks, and other public benefits? Show that boys and girls join together in teamwork for the good of all by organizing clubs, Boy Scouts, Camp Fire Girls, Junior Red Cross, etc. Mention kinds of service these organizations give for the good of all. Show that each of the six stories in Part II has the two values mentioned in the first paragraph on page 146. Which story did you enjoy most? Which gave you the most worth-while ideas? What gains have you made in your ability to read silently with speed and understanding?
A man lives in the last half of life on the memory of things read in the first half of life.
When Mother used to tell you a story about when she was a little girl, you were interested only in the story and in the pictures her words called up in your mind. Suppose some older person had been listening while she told one of these tales, and had been interested not alone in the adventure that she was telling about, as you were, but in the way in which she told it. This person, your uncle, let's say, would notice how Mother planned her story so as to keep the very most exciting thing to the last, and how you grew more and more excited about it, and how your eyes shone, and her eyes too, and how without knowing it she was letting him see what kind of people they were in her story, and what kind of little girl she was-very brave, you know-and when at the end you drew a long breath and had that delightful little thrill that you always have at the end of a perfectly wonderful story-after all this, suppose your uncle should look at Mother in a funny kind of way and should say, "Bless me, Sis, I had no idea you were an author."
What would you say? Mother an author? Why, an author is a person who writes big books in words that no one can understand, but Mother, she-why, she is Mother!
Yet your uncle is right. Mother is an author when she thinks back over her life and picks out something that is interesting, and then tells it in her very most interesting way to please you. If she would only write out that story, and a printer would print it in a book, and in the front of the book you should read "When I Was a Little Girl." By Mother"-that would be a Book, and Mother would be a real author.
Now long, long ago, there weren't any books. When Mother told you a story, if you had lived then, you would remember it and would tell it to other people, and after you grew up you would tell it to your children, and when they had grown up, they would tell it to your grandchildren, and so on and on. Who wrote Cinderella, or Sleeping Beauty, or the Three Bears? You don't know. Nobody knows. They just happened. They were told by mothers to their children and so on and so on, and after centuries, perhaps, when printing had been invented, some printer man thought, like your uncle, that here was a story that ought to be printed and so he made a book of it. But he didn't claim to be the author of it, for he was not.
So, some of the stories you have read in this book do not have any author's name attached to them. And even if they did, you were not thinking, while you were reading, about the man who wrote them. You just thought of the story and whether you liked it or not. Yet no small part of the advantage that you enjoy because you live now, instead of in the days when there were no books, lies in the fact that you can become acquainted with the men and women who have written the stories and poems that you read.
Let's put it this way. In those old days that we have been speaking about, you would have had to depend upon your Mother, or some other mother, or some village weaver of tales, for your stories. But they were busy, and you couldn't get enough stories to satisfy your appetite. Then one-time, let's say, a strange, wandering fellow came to your village. And he had yards and yards of the most wonderful stories to tell. And he went home with you, let's say, and stayed there, and did nothing but tell you stories whenever you wanted them, first thing in the morning, and after school, and bedtime, and all. And he was never too busy. And you learned to know him, what an interesting man he was, and what fine eyes he had, and what a smile that made you smile back before he said a word, and how he loved Truth and hated lies, and loved Honor and hated shameful things. He was your author, your book, your book of books. And he was as dear to you, in himself, as his stories were.
Now you can have just such a friend, no, you can have a whole company of just such friends, for yourself. How? In books, of course. Only they won't be merely books; they will be friends. Washington Irving, teller of wonderful stories, and Robert Louis Stevenson are there, in those books, and you can learn them as well as their stories. And Henry W. Longfellow, writer of stories in verse; and John G. Whittier, writer of poems about barefoot boys and corn huskings; and Benjamin Franklin, a kindly philosopher-there, that word is too hard for you, but it just slipped out, and so you will have to be told that a philosopher is a person who thinks about life and its meaning.
That's what all authors are, in a way. That's what makes them authors. They don't just eat and sleep and do their work, whatever it is-they think about life. And what they see and think they set down for you. To know them is to know delightful friends who will tell you what everything means and will answer all your questions.
There they are, on your bookshelf. They won't speak to you unless you speak first. If you want to do something else and don't wish to be bothered, they won't bother you. But when you want to talk with them, they are ready. Call upon them often, and you will learn one of the blessedest things about life, the companionship of boobs.
Some of them, men of our own America, are to be introduced to you in the following pages. From now on you are to do three things. First, you are to listen and enjoy when they tell you what they have to say. Next, you are to begin to do just what your uncle was doing when he listened to Mother telling you that story-you are to see that there is a way to tell something that is good, and that if one has learned this way, like Mother, he is an author. And last, you are to find that these authors are real persons whom you can learn to know. Then you will love them, just as you love Mother, not alone for what they say, but for what they are.
Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) was born in Boston in the early colonial days. While still a boy, he learned the printer's trade, but, having difficulty with his brother, for whom he worked, he went to Philadelphia,-where later he became owner and editor of the Philadelphia Gazette, the city's leading newspaper. Later he established another periodical, called Poor Richard's Almanac.
Franklin was greatly interested in the study of science. He "snatched lightning from the skies" by the use of a key and a kite with a silk string. This experiment led to his invention of the lightning rod, which was soon placed on public and private buildings not only in America but also in England and France. He invented the "Franklin Stove," which is still in use in some places. This is an open stove made in such a way as to economize heat and save fuel. Franklin invented a street lamp which was used for lighting the streets of Philadelphia.
Franklin was big-hearted and wished to be of real service to his fellow-citizens. He organized a debating club, a night watch, a volunteer fire company, a street-cleaning department, and a public library-the first of its kind in America.
His-services to the new government that the Americans were just setting up were equally noteworthy. He went to England to represent the colonies and did all that he could to patch up the quarrel between the colonies and the mother country. When all these attempts failed, he gave himself heart and soul to the business of making a new government. He was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. Later, as a special minister to France he delighted Frenchmen by his humor and his common sense, and he even succeeded in securing the promise of the French government to acknowledge the independence of the colonies and to send ships and men to their assistance.
In a letter to a friend in 1779, Franklin tells the story, "TheWhistle." "An Ax to Grind" is from his autobiography.
When I was a child seven years old, my friends on a holiday filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children, and, being charmed with the sound of a whistle that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered and gave all my money for one. I then ran home and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family.
My brothers and sisters and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth; put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money; and laughed at me so much for my folly that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure.
This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on my mind; so that often when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, "Don't give too much for the whistle";' and I saved my money.
As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle.
When I saw one too ambitious of court favor, sacrificing his time in attendance on levees-his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it-I have said to myself, "This man gives too much for his whistle."
When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect, "He pays indeed," said I, "too much for his whistle."
If I knew a miser who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth, "Poor man," said I, "you pay too much for your whistle."
When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind or of his fortune to mere corporeal sensations, and ruining his health in their pursuit, "Mistaken man," said I, "you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure; you give too much for your whistle."
If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts and ends his career in a prison, "Alas!" say I, "he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle."
In short, I conceive that a great part of the miseries of mankind are brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistles.
Discussion. 1. Why did Franklin say that lie paid too much for his whistle' 2. How was this incident of use to him afterwards? 3. How does it apply to a man too fond of popularity? To the miser? To the man of pleasure? To the one who cares too much for appearance? 4. Can you think of other incidents that illustrate what Franklin had in mind? 5. Extravagance has been called the great fault of Americans. During the World war what efforts were made by our people to. Correct this fault? Why were the efforts successful? 6. Why is it necessary to continue these efforts now? If all Americans would practice what Franklin advises, what would be the effect on the cost of living, and why? 7. In what ways can you save some of the pennies you might spend foolishly? S. What do you know about Postal Savings deposits? 9. Write a letter to your teacher, proposing that the children in your class save as many pennies as possible for savings accounts, pointing out some ways in which children may save their pennies; bring in a part of Franklin's story in the most interesting way that you can. 10. Tell what you can about the author. 11. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: coppers; voluntarily; vexation; ambitious; esteem; contracts. 12. Pronounce: directly: chagrin; sacrificing; levee; accumulating; laudable; equipage.
Phrases for Study
impression continuing, corporeal sensations, political bustles, above his fortune.
When I was a little boy, I remember, one cold winter morning, I was accosted by a smiling man with an ax on his shoulder. "My pretty boy," said he, "has your father a grindstone?"
"Yes, sir," said I.
"You are a fine little fellow!" said he. "Will you, let me grind my ax on it?"
Pleased with the compliment of "fine little fellow," "Oh, yes, sir," I answered. "It is down in the shop."
"And will you, my man," said he, patting me on the head, "get me a little hot water?"
How could I refuse? I ran, and soon brought a kettleful.
"How old are you-and what's your name?" continued he, without waiting for a reply. "I'm sure you are one of the finest lads that I have ever seen. Will you just turn a few minutes for me?"
Tickled with the flattery, like a little fool, I went to work, and bitterly did I rue the day. It was a new ax, and I toiled and tugged till I was almost tired to death. The school bell rang, and I could not get away. My hands were blistered, and the ax was not half ground.
At length, however, it was sharpened, and the man turned to me with, "Now, you little rascal, you've played truant! Scud to school, or you'll rue it!"
"Alas!" thought I, "it was hard enough to turn a grindstone this cold day, but now to be called a little rascal is too much." It sank deep into my mind, and often have I thought of it since.
Discussion. 1. In this story Franklin advises you to be on your guard against flatterers who wish to make use of you in order to gain their o"-n ends. What made Franklin do as the man wanted him to? What do you think of the man? 2. How would you have sought the boy's help? 3. In what way was this incident of use to Franklin afterwards? 4. What is meant when we say of a person that he has "an ax to grind"? 5. How do you think Franklin valued sincerity? 6. How do you value it? 7. Tell the story as the man would have told it to a friend. 8. Pronounce: accosted.
William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) was born in the rugged hill country of western Massachusetts. From infancy he showed remarkable powers of mind. He could read by the time he was two years old, wrote verses at nine, and when scarcely eighteen wrote his most noted poem, "Thanatopsis," now one of the world's classics. He had a wonderful memory, and it is said he could repeat "by heart" every poem he had written.
Bryant removed to New York, where in 1825 he became editor of the Evening Post. Through the remainder of—his long life he devoted his energy and great gifts to building up one of the most forceful of American newspapers, but he found time also to study Nature and to write so many poems that we now think of him as a poet, not as an editor. He was also a student, and we are indebted to him for some excellent translations from old authors. And, finally, he was a public-spirited American, interested in all matters that have to do with the honor of our country. Imagine yourself in New York City during the latter part of the last century. If you were walking up Broadway almost any morning, your attention would be attracted to a venerable looking man, with heavy, flowing, snow-white hair and beard, whom you would be quite likely to meet swinging along at a vigorous pace. You would not need to be told that this man is our first American poet, with whose verses you are already familiar; and you would probably know, too, that he is also the editor of the Evening Post and that, although now past eighty, he is on his way to his office, walking from his home some two miles away, as he has done, rain or shine, for over half a century.
This great man was not too busy with affairs, or too learned, to look for the joy that comes from companionship with Nature. Like Irving he chose American subjects taken from his own surroundings: the scenes of his boyhood, the flowers, birds, and hills of his old New England home. He found pleasure in the simplest things, and he wrote about this pleasure in the simplest way. In this simplicity and the variety of his interests his wealth consisted; a treasure that made rich not only the poet who possessed it but all Americans, to whom he left his life and works for an inheritance.
When beechen buds begin to swell,And woods the bluebird's warble know,The yellow violet's modest bellPeeps from the last year's leaves below.
Ere russet fields their green resume,Sweet flower, I love, in forest bare,To meet thee, when thy faint perfume;Alone is in the virgin air.
Of all her train, the hands of SpringFirst plant thee in the watery mold;And I have seen thee blossomingBeside the snow-bank's edges cold.
Thy parent sun, who bade thee viewdale-skies, and chilling moisture sip,Has bathed thee in his own bright hue,And streaked with jet thy glowing lip.
Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat,And earthward bent thy gentle eye,Unapt the passing view to meet,When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh.
Oft, in the sunless April day,Thy early smile has stayed my walk,But 'midst the gorgeous blooms of MayI passed thee on thy humble stalk.
So they who climb to wealth forget The friends in darker fortunes tried. I copied them—but I regret That I should ape the ways of pride.
And when again the genial hour Awakes the painted tribes of light, I'll not o'erlook the modest flower That made the weds of April bright.
Discussion. 1. When does the poet say the violet makes its appearance? 2. Why is the violet called a "modest" flower? 3. Why does the violet make glad the heart of the poet? When the woods and fields are full of flowers, does he notice the violet? 4. What does "alone" add to the meaning of line 8, page 298? 5. What is meant by "her train," line 9, page 298? 6. What are "the hands of Spring"? 7. In what sense is the sun the "parent" of the violet? 8. Why does Bryant say the violet's seat is low? 9. What does the poet say the violet's "early smile" has often done for him? 10. Point out the stanzas in which the poet tells you where he finds the violet; the stanzas in which he tells you about the appearance and character of the flower; the stanzas in which he rebukes himself for passing it by, and makes a promise. 11. Why does Bryant stop to view the violet in April and pass it by in May? 12. With what does the poet compare this treatment of the violet? 13. What does the poet say he regrets? 14. What other flowers come very early in the spring? How do you feel when you see them? 15. Which stanza of the poem do you like best? 16. What other poem on the violet have you read? 17. Tell what you can about the author. 18. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: beechen; russet; train; jet; unapt. 19. Pronounce: ere; parent; gorgeous; humble; genial.
Phrases for Study
modest bell, stayed my walk, their green resume, in darker fortunes tried, virgin air, ape the ways of pride, pale skies, genial hour, flaunting nigh, painted tribes of light.
Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,When our Mother Nature laughs around,When even the deep blue heavens look glad,And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?
There are notes of joy from the hangbird and wren,And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;The ground squirrel gayly chirps by his den,And the wilding bee hums merrily by.
The clouds are at play in the azure space,And their shadows at play on the bright green vale,And here they stretch to the frolic chase,And there they roll on the easy gale.
There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower;There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree;There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.
And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smilesOn the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,On the leaping waters and gay young isles,Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away.
Discussion. 1. What season is described here? 2. What are the signs that Nature is glad? How do all these things affect the poet? How do you sometimes feel on a cold, rainy day? 3. What signs of gladness are mentioned in the first two stanzas? 4. Which of these have you seen in springtime? 5. Have you ever seen clouds that seemed to chase one another? 6. What is meant by "a laugh from the brook"? 7. What does the poet say the sun will do for us? 8. Do you think spring is "a time to be cloudy and sad"? Why? 9. Why do city boys and girls like to visit the country? 10. Read again "A Forward Look," pages 19-20, and then point out fancies that Bryant uses in this poem to help us see the beauty and wonder of Nature. 11. Commit to memory the stanza that you like best. 12. Pronounce: wilding; azure; isles; ay.
Phrases for Study
gladness breathes, frolic chase, blossoming ground, aspen bower, gossip of swallows, titter of winds, azure space, broad-faced sun.
John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) was born near the town of Haverhill, Massachusetts, not far from Hawthorne's birthplace. He had very little opportunity for education beyond what the district school afforded, for his parents were too poor to send him away to school. His two years' attendance at Haverhill Academy was paid for by his own work at making ladies' slippers for twenty-five cents a pair. He began writing verses almost as soon as he learned to write at all, but his father discouraged this ambition as frivolous, saying it would never give him bread. His family were Quakers, sturdy of stature as of character. He is called "The Quaker Poet."
Whittier led the life of a New England farm boy, used to hard work and few pleasures. His library consisted of practically one book, the family Bible. Later, a copy of Burns's poems was loaned to him by the district schoolmaster. Like Burns he had great sympathy with the humble and the poor. In his poems. Whittier described the scenes and told the legends of his own locality. Home Ballads and Songs of Labor, in which "The Huskers" and "The Corn-Song" appear, are among his most widely read books. They picture country life and the scenes of the simple occupations common in his part of the country. Whittier was intensely patriotic and religious by nature. His happiness lay in his association with his friends, with children, animals, and the outdoor world.
In these respects he was like Bryant, a man who found pleasure in simple things. Like Bryant, also, he was interested in public affairs. Any injustice to the poor he opposed passionately. He wrote many poems in protest against slavery. He wrote, also, ballads of early New England history, and some of our most beautiful religious poetry comes from his pen. His life was less filled with business cares than that of Bryant, but it was equally full of interests that made him happy and source of help and joy to others.
It was late in mild October, and the long autumnal rain Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again; The first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the woodlands gay With the hues of summer's rainbow or the meadow flowers of May.
Through a thin, dry mist, that morning, the sun rose broad and red; At first a rayless disk of fire, he brightened as he sped; Yet even his noontide glory fell chastened and subdued On the cornfields and the orchards and softly pictured wood.
And all that quiet afternoon, slow sloping to the night, He wove with golden shuttle the haze with yellow light; Slanting through the tented beeches, he glorified the hill; And, beneath it, pond and meadow lay brighter, greener still.
And shouting boys in woodland haunts caught glimpses of that sky, Flecked by the many-tinted leaves, and laughed, they knew not why; And schoolgirls, gay with aster-flowers, beside the meadow brooks, Mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet looks.
From spire and barn looked westerly the patient weathercocks; But even the birches on the hill stood motionless as rocks. No sound was in the woodlands save the squirrel's dropping shell, And the yellow leaves among the boughs, low rustling as they fell.
The summer grains were harvested; the stubble-fields lay dry, WhereJune winds rolled, in light and shade, the pale green waves of rye;But still, on gentle hill-slopes, in valleys fringed with wood,ungathered, bleaching in the sun, the heavy corn crop stood.
Bent low by autumn's wind and rain, through husks that, dry and sear, Unfolded from their ripened charge, shone out the yellow ear; Beneath, the turnip lay concealed in many a verdant fold, And glistened in the slanting light the pumpkin's sphere of gold.
There wrought the busy harvester, and many a creaking wain Bore slowly to the long barn-floor its load of husk and grain; Till broad and red, as when he rose, the sun sank down at last, And like a merry guest's farewell the day in brightness passed.
And lo! as through the western pines, on meadow, stream, and pond, Flamed the red radiance of a sky set all afire beyond, Slowly o'er the eastern sea-bluffs a milder glory shone, And the sunset and the moonrise were mingled into one!
As thus into the quiet night the twilight lapsed away, And deeper in the brightening moon the tranquil shadows lay, From many a brown old farmhouse and hamlet without name, Their milking and their home-tasks done, the merry huskers came.
Swung o'er the heaped-up harvest, from pitchforks in the mow, Shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant scene below, The glowing pile of husks behind, the golden ears before, And laughing eyes and busy hands and brown cheeks glimmering o'er.
Half hidden in a quiet nook, serene of look and heart, Talking their old times over, the old men sat apart; While up and down the unhusked pile, or nestling in its shade, At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, the happy children played.
Urged by the good host's daughter, a maiden young and fair, Lifting to light her sweet blue eyes and pride of soft brown hair, The master of the village school, sleek of hair and smooth of tongue, To the quaint tune of some old psalm, a husking-ballad sung.
Discussion. 1. What is the difference between the sunshine of October and that of May? 2. Why does it seem to the poet as if the sun wove with golden shuttle the yellow haze? 3. What had the frost done that made the woodlands gay? 4. What words in the second stanza make you feel that the wood was some distance away? 5. To whom does "he" in the third stanza refer? 6. What words in the second stanza explain the word "haze" in the third stanza? 7. What gave the beeches the appearance of being painted? 8. What are the colors of the woods and sky in this poem? What colors are they in the poem "The Yellow Violet"? Find the words and phrases that tell you. How many times, in this poem, does the poet use the words golden and yellow, or speak of things that suggest these colors? 9. What do you think was the reason the boys laughed when they looked up to the sky? 10. What "summer grain" is mentioned in line 11, page 304? 11. What crop was still ungathered? 12. Where were the harvesters at work? 13. What was it that set the sky "all afire beyond"? 14. Where did the husking take place? What tells you this? 15.. How did the old men spend the evening? 16. What things that we eat depend on the work of the huskers? 17. Tell what you can about the author. 18. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: shuttle; spire; sear; verdant; wain; lapsed. 19. Pronounce: autumnal; chastened; beneath; sphere; wrought; radiance; tranquil; mow; serene; psalm.
Phrases for Study
hues of summer's rainbow, patient weathercocks, rayless disk of fire, ripened charge, brightened as he sped; sphere of gold, glory fell chastened, milder glory shone, softly pictured wood, mingled into one, slow sloping to the night, hamlet without name, glorified the hill, golden ears before, sunshine of sweet looks, glimmering o'er, looked westerly, serene of look and heart.
Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard!Heap high the golden corn!No richer gift has Autumn pouredFrom out her lavish horn!
Let other lands, exulting, gleanThe apple from the pine,The orange from its glossy green,The cluster from the vine;
We better love the hardy giftOur rugged vales bestow,To cheer us when the storm shall driftOur harvest-fields with snow.
Through vales of grass and meads of flowersOur plows their furrows made,While on the hills the sun and showersOf changeful April played.
We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain,Beneath the sun of May,And frightened from our sprouting grainThe robber crows away.
All through the long, bright days of JuneIts leaves grew green andfair, And waved in hot midsummer's noonIts soft and yellow hair.
And now, with Autumn's moonlit eves,Its harvest-time has come; Wepluck away the frosted leaves,And bear the treasure home.
Then shame on all the proud and vainWhose folly laughs to scornThe blessing of our hardy grain,Our wealth of golden corn!
Let earth withhold her goodly root,Let mildew blight the rye,Give to the worm the orchard's fruit,The wheat-field to the fly;
But let the good old crop adornThe hills our fathers trod;Still let us, for his golden corn,Send up our thanks to God!
Discussion. 1. In "A Forward Look," you read that poets help you to see beauty in things that might otherwise seem common. The yellow violet is less showy than the chrysanthemum, but the poet writes of the violet. The pineapple, the orange, the grape, seem more interesting than the yellow corn of the fields, but here is a poem about one of the commonest of farm crops. To whom is the poet speaking in the first two stanzas? Point out some of the poet's fancies in this poem. 2. Is all corn "golden"? What other kinds have you seen? 3. Name other gifts autumn brings us. 4. Why is the corn a "hardy gift"? What other words or phrases in the poem suggest the same idea? 5. What do we call the "apple from the pine"? 6. What clusters are picked from vines? 7. In what "other lands" do these fruits grow? 8. Where was Whittier's home? 9. What do you know of the soil and climate of New England? 10. Find the line that tells when we plant the corn. 11. Find the lines that tell when we harvest the corn. 12. What is the "yellow hair" the corn waves in summer? 13. What does the poet mean by "frosted leaves"? 14. What does he think of those who scorn the blessing of the corn? 15. What wish does the poet express in the last stanza? 16. What service did our farmers and boys and girls on the farms perform during the World War? 17. On page 291 you were asked to notice the way in which these American authors have expressed their thoughts; does Whittier's use of rime add to the beauty of his "song" about corn? Point out some of the lines that rime. 18. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: glean; hardy; meads; furrows; frosted; mildew; adorn.
Pronounce: hoard; lavish; glossy; root.
Phrases for Study
wintry hoard, rugged vales bestow, lavish horn, changeful April, exulting, glean, folly laughs to scorn, hardy gift, goodly root.
Washington Irving (1783-1859) was a native of New York. He led a happy life, rambling in his boyhood about every nook and corner of the city and the adjacent woods, which at that time were not very far to seek. New York, called New Amsterdam in early colonial times, was then the capital of the country, and here the boy grew up happy, seeing many sides of American life, both in the city and country.
Manhattan Island and the region about it, with its commanding position at the entrance to a great inland waterway, was from the first a prize for which the nations from across the sea had contended. Such a mingling of different people must give rise to interesting experiences, and when someone appears who can put the story of those events into a pleasing sketch, then we begin to have real literature: Irving had not only the experience and observation, but the ability 'to express what he had seen and felt. Therefore, when he grew to manhood and gave his sketches of this region to the world, we had our first real American literature.
Irving is best known as a humorist and a charming storyteller, but he has also written serious and tender works. His life of Washington is a tribute of loving reverence to the great American for whom he was named. As a boy, Irving was of a rather mischievous turn, a trait which perhaps helped to make him the "first American humorist." Indeed, it has been said that "before Irving there was no laughter in the land." He is called the "Father of American Literature," and also the "gentle humorist." "Capturing the Wild Horse" is taken from A Tour of the Prairies, and "The Adventure of the Mason" from The Alhambra.
We left the buffalo camp about eight o'clock and had a toilsome march of two hours over ridges of hills covered with a ragged forest of scrub-oaks and broken by deep gullies. Among the oaks I observed many of the most diminutive size, some not above a foot high, yet bearing abundance of small acorns.
About ten o'clock in the morning we came to where this line of rugged hills swept down into a valley, through which flowed the north fork of the Red River. A beautiful meadow about half a mile wide, colored with yellow autumnal flowers, stretched for two or three miles along the foot of the hills, bordered on the opposite side by the river, whose bank was fringed with cottonwood trees.
The meadow was finely diversified by groves and clumps of trees, so happily arranged that they seemed as if set out by the hand of art. As we cast our eyes over this fresh and delightful valley, we saw a troop of wild horses quietly grazing on a green lawn about a mile distant to our right, while to our left, at nearly the same distance, were several buffaloes—some feeding, others reposing and ruminating among the high, rich herbage under the shade of a clump of cottonwood trees. The whole had the appearance of a broad, beautiful tract of pasture land on the estate of some gentleman farmer, with his cattle grazing about the lawns and meadows. A council of war was now held, and it was determined to profit by the present favorable opportunity and try our hand at the grand hunting-maneuver which is called "ringing the wild horse." This requires a large party of horsemen, well mounted.
They extend themselves in each direction, singly, at certain distances apart, and gradually form a ring of two or three miles in circumference, so as to surround the game. This has to be done with extreme care, for the wild horse is the most readily alarmed inhabitant of the prairie, and can scent a hunter at a great distance, if to windward.
The ring being formed, two or three ride toward the horses, which start off in an opposite direction. Whenever they approach the bounds of the ring, however, a huntsman presents himself and turns them from their course. In this way they are checked and driven back at every point, and kept galloping round and round this magic circle, until, being completely tired down, it is easy for the hunters to ride up beside them and throw the lariat over their heads. The prime horses of most speed and courage, however, are apt to break through and escape, so that in general it is the second-rate horses that are taken.
Preparations were now made for a hunt of this kind. The packhorses were taken into the woods and firmly tied to trees, lest in a rush of the wild horses they should break away with them. Twenty-five men were then sent, under the command of a lieutenant, to steal along the edge of the valley within the strip of wood that skirted the hills. They were to station themselves about fifty yards apart, within the edge of the woods, and not advance or show themselves until the horses dashed in that direction.
Twenty-five men were sent across the valley to steal in like manner along the river bank that bordered the opposite side, and to station themselves among the trees. A third party of about the same number was to form a line stretching across the lower part of the valley, so as to connect the two wings. Beatte and our other half-breed; Antoine, together with the ever-officious Tonish, were to make a circuit through the woods, so as to get to the upper part of the valley in the rear of the horses, and to drive them forward into the kind of sack that we had formed, while the two wings should join behind them and make a complete circle.
The flanking parties were quietly extending themselves, out of sight, on each side of the valley, and the rest were stretching themselves like the links of a chain across it, when the wild horses gave signs that they scented an enemy—snuffing the air, snorting, and looking about.
At length they pranced off slowly toward the river and disappeared behind a green bank. Here, had the rules of the chase been observed, they would have been quietly checked and turned back by the advance of a hunter from among the trees; unluckily, however, we had our wildfire Jack-o'-lantern little Frenchman to deal with.
Instead of keeping quietly up the right side of the valley to get above the horses, the moment he saw them move toward the river he broke out of the thicket of woods and dashed furiously across the plain in pursuit of them, being, mounted on one of the led horses belonging to the Count. This put an end to all system. The half-breeds and half a score of rangers joined in the chase.
Away they all went over the green bank; in a moment or two the wild horses reappeared and came thundering down the valley, with Frenchman, half-breeds, and rangers galloping and yelling like mad behind them. It was in vain that the line drawn across the valley attempted to check and turn back the fugitives. They were too hotly pressed by their pursuers; in their panic they dashed through the line and clattered down the plain.
The whole troop joined in the headlong chase-some of the rangers without hats or caps, their hair flying about their ears; others with handkerchiefs tied round their heads. The buffaloes, which had been calmly ruminating among the herbage, heaved up their huge forms, gazed for a moment with astonishment at the tempest that came scouring down the meadow, then turned and took to heavy-rolling flight. They were soon overtaken; the mixed throng were pressed together by the sides of the valley, and away they went, pell-mell, hurry-scurry, wild buffalo, wild horse, wild huntsman, with clang and clatter, and whoop and halloo, that made the forests ring.
At length the buffaloes turned into a green brake on the river bank, while the horses dashed up a narrow defile of the hills, with their pursuers close at their heels. Beatte passed several of them, having fixed his eye upon a fine Pawnee horse that had his ears slit, and saddle marks upon his back. He pressed him gallantly, but lost him in the woods.
Among the wild horses was a fine black mare. In scrambling up the defile she tripped and fell. A young ranger sprang from his horse and seized her by the mane and muzzle. Another ranger dismounted and came to his assistance. The mare struggled fiercely, kicking and biting, and striking with her forefeet; but a noose was slipped over her head, and her struggles were in vain. It was some time, however, before she gave over rearing and plunging, and lashing out with her feet on every side. The two rangers then led her along the valley by two long lariats, which enabled them to keep at a sufficient distance on each side to be out of the reach of her hoofs; and whenever she struck out in one direction, she was jerked in the other. In this way her spirit was gradually subdued.
As to little Tonish, who had marred the whole scene by his rashness, he had been more successful than he deserved, having managed to catch a beautiful cream-colored colt about seven months old, which had not strength to keep up with its companions. The little Frenchman was beside himself with joy. It was amusing to see him with his prize. The colt would rear and kick and struggle to get free, when Tonish would take him about the neck, wrestle with him, jump on his back, and cut as many antics as a monkey with a kitten.
Nothing surprised me more, however, than to see how soon these poor animals, thus taken from the unbounded freedom of the prairie, yielded to the control of man. In the course of two or three days the mare and colt went with the led horses and became quite docile.
Historical Note. In 1832 Irving made "a tour of the prairies"—that is, of what was then the Far West, beyond the Mississippi, where, he says, "there is neither to be seen the log house of the white man, nor the wigwam of the Indian." Discussion. 1. What picture do the first three paragraphs give you? 2. Tell how "ringing the wild horse" is accomplished. 3. What preparations did Irving's party make for the hunt? 4. Who broke the rules of the chase? 5. What was the effect of this? 6. Tell all you can learn about Tonish, the little Frenchman. 7. What does Irving say about the ease with which the wild horses were tamed? 8. List the words that give ideas of thrilling action in the paragraph beginning, "The whole troop joined in the headlong chase." What words tell the difference between the buffaloes and the horses in flight? 9. Tell what you can about the author. 10. Class readings: Select the passages you like best. 11. Outline for testing silent reading. Tell the story in your own words, using the following topics: (a) the scene of action; (b) the method of approach; (c) the preparations; (d) the mistake of Tonish; (e) the excitement of the chase; (f) the two captures. 12. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: toilsome; gullies; diversified; circumference; prime; skirted; fugitives; brake; defile. 13. Pronounce: diminutive; ruminating; herbage; maneuver; kept; lariat; circuit; reappeared; rangers; handkerchiefs; rearing; marred.
Phrases for Study
swept down into a valley, wildfire Jack-o'-lantern, fringed with trees, thundering down the valley, happily arranged,
hand of art, hotly pressed, council of war, scouring down the meadow, well mounted, heavy-rolling flight, if to windward, spirit was gradually subdued, approach the bounds,
ever-officious Tonish, marred the whole scene, flanking parties, beside himself with joy, extending themselves, unbounded freedom,
There was once upon a time a poor mason, or bricklayer, in Granada, who kept all the saints' days and holidays, and Saint Monday into the bargain, and yet with all his devotion he grew poorer and poorer and could scarcely earn bread for his numerous family. One night he was roused from his first sleep by a knocking at his door. He opened it and beheld before him a tall stranger.
"Hark ye, honest friend!" said the stranger; "I have observed that you are a good Christian and one to be trusted. Will you undertake a job this very night?"
"With all my heart, Senor, on condition that I am paid accordingly."
"That you shall be; but you must suffer yourself to be blindfolded."
To this the mason made no objection. So, being hoodwinked, he was led by the stranger through various rough lanes and winding passages until they stopped before the portal of a house. The stranger then applied a key, turned a creaking lock, and opened what sounded like a ponderous door. They entered; the door was closed and bolted, and the mason was conducted through an echoing corridor and a spacious hall to an interior part of the building. Here the bandage was removed from his eyes, and he found himself in a court dimly lighted by a single lamp. In the center was the dry basin of an old fountain, under which the stranger requested him to form a small vault, bricks and mortar being at hand for the purpose. He worked all night, but without finishing the job. Just before daybreak the stranger put a piece of gold into his hand, and having again blindfolded him, conducted him back to his dwelling.
"Are you willing," said he, "to return and complete your work?"
"Gladly, Senor, provided I am so well paid."
"Well then, tomorrow at midnight I will call again."
He did so, and the vault was completed.
"Now," said the stranger, "you must help me to bring forth the bodies that are to be buried in this vault."
The poor mason's hair rose on his head at these words; he followed the stranger with trembling steps into a retired chamber of the mansion, expecting to behold some ghastly spectacle of death, but was relieved on seeing three or four jars standing in one corner. They were full of money, and it was with great labor that he and the stranger carried them forth and consigned them to their tomb.
The vault was then closed, the pavement replaced, and all traces of the work were obliterated. The mason was again hoodwinked and led forth by a route different from that by which he had come. After they had wandered for a long time through a maze of lanes and alleys, they halted.
The stranger then put two pieces of gold into his hand. "Wait here," said he, "until you hear the cathedral bell toll. If you uncover your eyes before that time, evil will befall you." So saying, he departed. The mason waited faithfully, amusing himself by weighing the gold pieces in his hand and clinking them against each other. The moment the cathedral bell rang its peals he uncovered his eyes and found himself on the banks of the Xenil; whence he made the best of his way home and reveled with his family for a whole fortnight on the profits of his two nights' work; after which he was as poor as ever.
He continued to work a little and pray a good deal and keep saints' days and holidays from year to year, while his family grew up gaunt and ragged as a crew of gypsies. As he was seated one evening at the door of his hovel, he was accosted by a rich old curmudgeon who was noted for owning many houses and being a griping landlord. The man of money eyed him for a moment from beneath a pair of anxious, shaggy eyes.
"I am told, friend, that you are very poor."
"There is no denying the fact, Senor—it speaks for itself."
"I presume then that you will be glad of a job and will work cheap?"
"As cheap, my master, as any mason in Granada."
"That's what I want. I have an old house fallen into decay, which costs me more money than it is worth to keep in repair, for nobody will live in it. So I must patch it up and keep it together at as small expense as possible."
The mason was accordingly conducted to a large deserted house that seemed going to ruin. Passing through several empty halls and chambers, he entered an inner court, where his eye was caught by an old fountain. He paused for a moment, for a dreamy recollection of the place came over him. "Pray," said he, "who occupied this house formerly?"
"A pest upon him!" cried the landlord; "it was an old miserly fellow who cared for nobody but himself. He was said to be immensely rich. He died suddenly, and nothing could they find but a few ducats in a leathern purse. The worst luck has fallen on me, for since his death the old fellow continues to occupy my house without paying rent. The people pretend to hear the clinking of gold all night in the chamber where the old fellow slept, as if he were counting over his money, and sometimes a groaning and moaning about the court. Whether true or false, these stories have brought a bad name on my house, and not a tenant will remain in it."
"Enough," said the mason sturdily; "let me live in your house rent-free until some better tenant appears, and I will put it in repair and quiet the troubled spirit that disturbs it. I am a good Christian and a poor man and am not to be daunted by the Devil himself, even though he should come in the shape of a big bag of money!"
The offer of the mason was gladly accepted. He moved with his family into the house, and fulfilled all of his engagements. By little and little he restored it to its former state; the clinking of gold was no more heard at night in the chamber of the defunct tenant, but began to be heard by day in the pocket of the living mason. In a word, he increased rapidly in wealth, to the admiration of all his neighbors, and became one of the richest men in Granada. He gave large sums to the Church—by way, no doubt, of satisfying his conscience—and never revealed the secret of the vault until on his deathbed to his son and heir.
Discussion. 1. What condition led the mason to undertake the stranger's task? 2. Why was the mason blindfolded? 3. How long did it take him to complete the vault? 4. What was buried in it? 5. How did the mason find his way home? 6. Was the mason's poverty relieved by the pay he received from the stranger? 7. What work did the grasping landlord propose to the mason? 8. What stories had brought a bad name upon the landlord's house? 9. What was the "dreamy recollection"? 10. How did the mason show his quick wit? 11. Why did he say that he was not afraid of the Devil in the shape of a bag of money? 12. What differences do you notice between this story of how the mason came upon great wealth and the stories of Aladdin and Ali Baba? 13. Read again pages 289-291 and tell what makes Irving a real author. Can you tell why you enjoyed this story? 14. Class reading: The second part of the story, page 318, line 20, to the end. 15. Outline for testing silent reading. Tell the story in your own words, using the following topics: (a) how the mason built the vault in the mysterious house; (b) how he unexpectedly came into possession of this vault many years later. 16. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: hoodwinked; vault; maze; cathedral; pest; ducat. 17. Pronounce: Granada; Senor; ponderous; ghastly; obliterated; route; gaunt; hovel; curmudgeon; daunted.
Phrases for Study
retired chamber, troubled spirit, ghastly spectacle, former state, crew of gypsies, defunct tenant, griping landlord, by way of satisfying.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) was a native of Maine and a graduate of Bowdoin College, in the same class with Nathaniel Hawthorne. Longfellow came of early New England ancestry, his mother being a daughter of General Wadsworth of the Revolutionary War.
After his graduation from college he spent several years abroad and upon his return to America held professorships first in Bowdoin and later in Harvard College. When he moved to Cambridge and began his active work at Harvard, he took up his residence in the historic Craigie House, overlooking the Charles River-a house in which Washington had been quartered for some months when in 1775 he took command of the Continental army.
Longfellow is the poet who has spoken most sincerely and sympathetically to the hearts of the common people and to children. His style is notable for its simplicity and grace. His Hiawatha is a national poem that records the picturesque traditions of the American Indian. Its charm and melody are the delight of all children, and in years to come, when the race which it describes has utterly disappeared, we shall value at even higher state; the clinking of gold was no more heard at night in the chamber of the defunct tenant, but began to be heard by day in the pocket of the living mason. In a word, he increased rapidly in wealth, to the admiration of all his neighbors, and became one of the richest men in Granada. He gave large sums to the Church—by way, no doubt, of satisfying his conscience—and never revealed the secret of the vault until on his deathbed to his son and heir.
Discussion. 1. What condition led the mason to undertake the stranger's task? 2. Why was the mason blindfolded? 3. How long did it take him to complete the vault? 4. What was buried in it? 5. How did the mason find his way home? 6. Was the mason's poverty relieved by the pay he received from the stranger? 7. What work did the grasping landlord propose to the mason? 8. What stories had brought a bad name upon the landlord's house? 9. What was the "dreamy recollection"? 10. How did the mason show his quick wit? 11. Why did he say that he was not afraid of the Devil in the shape of a bag of money? 12. What differences do you notice between this story of how the mason came upon great wealth and the stories of Aladdin and Ali Baba? 13. Read again pages 289-291 and tell what makes Irving a real author. Can you tell why you enjoyed this story? 14. Class reading: The second part of the story, page 318, line 20, to the end. 15. Outline for testing silent reading. Tell the story in your own words, using the following topics: (a) how the mason built the vault in the mysterious house; (b) how he unexpectedly came into possession of this vault many years later. 16. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: hoodwinked; vault; maze; cathedral; pest; ducat. 17. Pronounce: Granada; Senor; ponderous; ghastly; obliterated; route; gaunt; hovel; curmudgeon; daunted.
Phrases for Study
retired chamber, troubled spirit, ghastly spectacle, former state, crew of gypsies, defunct tenant, griping landlord, by way of satisfying.