THE FIRST POTTER

Please Bite My Finger

"Please Bite My Finger"

"Where am I, then?" he cried. "What has happenedto me? Everything looks as if I were in the Caliph's palace. Or have I become Caliph myself over night?"

While scolding himself for his foolish thoughts, he was trying all the time to go to sleep again. But suddenly the lofty double doors of his chamber opened, and a troop of wonderfully beautiful women and black slaves stepped in. One band of women began to sing and play charming music on different instruments. The others threw themselves down before him, and one of the black slaves stepped to the bedside and said: "Commander of the Faithful, it is time for early prayers. May it please you to get up?"

"Whether I'm Caliph or not, I will get up at least just to see how this adventure turns out!"

Hardly did he show his intention of raising himself when the slaves jumped in a hurry to help him, and to dress him in the golden morning gown. At the same time all those present shouted: "Commander of the Faithful, God give you a blessed day!"

Now, this was too much for poor Abu Hassan. He called one of the women to him, and said: "Please bite my finger, so I can see if I am dreaming or not."

The slave that he called knew that Harun Alrashid was watching everything from the next room, and wished to amuse the real Commander of the Faithful. So she bitAbu Hassan's finger sharply. The quickness with which Abu Hassan pulled back his finger made the hidden Caliph almost split his sides with laughing, and he congratulated himself that he had found such an enjoyable diversion by carrying his plan through. He said to himself: "Abu Hassan could hardly be more curious than I am to know how the story will end."

But Abu Hassan was thinking: "I cannot understand this surprising change, but it seems to me that the queer Hassan of yesterday has become the real Caliph of today." So he let them put his clothes on him without resistance, and with a certain dignified manner which the Caliph noticed with great pleasure. Then they washed his head, face and hands with deliciously scented water. Finally the Grand Vizier announced, with many a bow of respect, that the great people of the court and of the realm were assembled and expecting the appearance of the Commander of the Faithful. So Abu Hassan drew himself up to his full height, and, preceded by armed soldiers and a number of chamberlains resplendent in gold, walked to the great throne room, where he was led to the throne by the chamberlains.

The doors of the hall opened, and the Commanders-in-Chief of the Army, the Governors of the Provinces and the nobles of the country marched in in a wonderful parade and greeted Abu Hassan as Caliph. They stepped forward to the throne, dropped on their knees, and touched the carpet before him with their foreheads. Abu Hassan took all of this as quietly as if he had been Caliph since youth. He listened to the Grand Vizier's address, took part in the consultations over matters of state, and decided difficult points with such a sound understanding of human nature that the real Caliph, who stood disguised among theofficers, was greatly pleased. Suddenly Abu Hassan made a sign to the Grand Vizier to interrupt his address.

"Where is the Chief of Police of our capital city?" he cried. "Let him be brought here immediately."

When the man called for had appeared and announced himself, "at the command of his mighty master," Abu said: "In the mosque of the new quarter you will find an Imam and four other old men. I wish you to arrest them and give each one hundred stripes with the bastinado. Then let them be mounted backwards on camels and led through the city accompanied by a herald, who shall call out these words: 'In this way the Commander of the Faithful punishes those who meddle in matters that do not concern them, and who know nothing better to do than bring trouble and pain to their neighbors.' After this sentence is completed, however, you are then to tell them that they must leave that quarter of the city, and not set foot in it again under penalty of death."

While the magistrate hurried away to carry out Abu Hassan's command, the Grand Vizier went on with his address. An hour later the Chief of Police came back with the news that the Caliph's orders had been conscientiously fulfilled, at which Abu Hassan felt the greatest satisfaction, while Harun Alrashid thoroughly enjoyed seeing his substitute arrive so quickly at the realization of his long cherished wish.

After the business matters were finished, there took place another stately reception of numerous foreign ambassadors, and finally the new Caliph betook himself with his whole court to dinner. It consisted of a selection of the most delicate food and wine, and lasted late into the evening, with music and all kinds of dancing.

Abu Hassan had behaved in such a dignified manner forall this time that now he showed every favor to the people in his neighborhood, and even condescended to talk with the slaves. It was fairly late when one of the most beautiful of the slave girls came up to Abu Hassan and offered him a glass of the sweetest wine prepared especially for the Caliph. Abu Hassan was charmed, and had not any suspicion that the delicious mixture contained a potent sleeping powder. He drank it off, and in a few minutes fell into a sound sleep.

As quickly as he was brought away the day before, just so speedily now was he transported into his own dwelling. Next morning the Caliph for One Day woke up again as Abu Hassan, and found himself in his old circumstances. In spite of all his calls and shouts, neither the slaves nor the court officers of yesterday hurried to him to ask his wishes. He was sadly perplexed at first at this new change, but he soon got over it, and consoled himself with thinking that at least he had had a beautiful dream. When his mother told him that he had in fact disappeared for a whole day, and when he also learned that the Imam and his fellows had been punished exactly as he had ordered when Caliph, he did not know what to think of the whole adventure at all.

Finally, he leaned to his mother's view, who explained it by saying that some spirit had taken him away and had executed the Imam's punishment. He was thankful indeed to be rid of his rascally neighbors, but he could never give himself an explanation of what had moved the spirit to help him. In the end, however, he put the whole story out of his mind, and became again what he had been before—Queer Abu Hassan, or the Caliph for One Day.

—Arabian Nights.

Ang was a mighty hunter and also a priest of Odin, but Oma was a famous housewife or cave-wife, and not only Suta, the wife of Wang, came to take lessons of her, but many other women who had heard of her wonderful skill in cooking old food in new ways and discovering new foods which the magic of the fire made palatable. She had learned not merely how to cook the meat which Ang brought, but to dry it so that it would keep for a long time. She discovered how to make a coarse flour from nuts and acorns and to bake cakes on flat stones. At the fire feast the cooking of Oma made as great an impression as the wisdom and strength of Ang.

But her greatest discovery was the art of making pottery dishes out of clay and baking them before the fire. For a long time women had made baskets of reeds and willow twigs in which they could carry dry foods, but the problem was to get something in which they could carry liquids. Sometimes they used skin bottles, but they soon leaked and the water rotted them out. Then some clever woman smeared the inside of a closely woven basket with resinous pitch. Another lined her baskets with clay and baked them in the sun, but water would soon soften the clay. Then came Oma and the fire and the art of baking clay. This is the way it happened. Oma had been lining some baskets with clay, and little Om tried to imitate her. Since it was cold he sat as near to the fire as he could, and after he had finished one, he would put it on a stone near the fire until he had a row of them. Then the wind changed suddenly and blew the fire towards him, and he had to move quickly, leaving his clay baskets on the rock. He called to his mother to get them, but she had no notion ofgetting burned for so small a cause and she was too busy to bother, as mothers often are.

That night after Om had gone to sleep she sat by the fire with Ang, and her eyes spied the little row of clay baskets. She picked one up to show the father what a clever boy his son was getting to be. As she touched the clay, she found it dry and hard as no clay she had ever touched before. Some of the baskets were dry and crumbly, but two or three in the center were hard as stone. A thought came to her. She ran to the brook and filled the hardest with water and brought them back to the fire. They did not soften or leak. Then she put them on a flat stone and pushed them almost into the fire. Soon the water in them began to bubble and steam.

"Look!" cried Oma. "At the touch of the Red One a little Cloud Spirit goes up to the great Cloud Spirits that fly in the blue above us."

Then Ang knew that Odin had given a new gift. "This time the Red One has spoken to you; what has he said?"

Oma carefully drew the little clay pots from the fire, and after they had cooled she examined them. Two of them were cracked, but one was firm and solid as if it had been cut from stone. She held it up before Ang in triumph. "This is what we have been waiting for since the beginning of time. The Red One has worked magic on the clay, and its old enemy, the water, cannot eat through it."

The next day Oma made baskets lined with clay, and then, putting them on flat stones, pushed them into the heat of the fire. Some of them crumbled, but others baked hard and firm. As the heat burned off the inclosing basket, the pattern was left molded on the clay.

After many experiments Oma learned just what clay to use and how to bake it. And she made pots of all sizes andarranged them on ledges of her cave and filled them with nuts and seeds. Then she learned how to use the clay pots for cooking. In the old days she had placed scraps of meat and bone and roots in a pitch-lined basket and then added water and hot stones from the fire. Of course the pitch softened and gave an unpleasant taste to the stew, and often the hot water softened it so much that the basket became like a sieve. But now Oma could mix her stews and brews and boil them until they were soft and delicious, and the clay dish was just as good as before.

And Suta and other women came to look; and they wondered and tasted, and smacked their lips, and asked how it was done, then went home to do likewise. And the fame of Ang and Oma grew in the north land, and men said, "They are loved by the Great One".

But if Oma made the first pottery and the most useful, Suta, wife of Wang, made the most beautiful. After she had learned to bake the clay so that neither fire nor water would harm it, she amused herself by making dishes of queer shapes. Then she discovered it was not necessary to make the basket molds, and that if she made marks on the clay they would be baked in. She began by making a little row of nail prints about the rim—((((((((((. Then she made rough pictures of animals and men with a sharpened stick. And the fame of Suta went out also through the north land, and they came from far away to see the wonderful things which she had done. Others tried, but no one could make such beautiful dishes as Suta.

Before the great fire feast an idea came to Suta like a dream in the night, she knew not from where. She would make a great bowl for Odin and she would mold on it pictures of his gifts, so that all who saw would remember from whom the good things came. With great care she shaped a bowl as high as a five-year-old child and so large that a grown man could not circle it with his arms. On it she pictured the man who shot the first deer with a stone-tipped arrow, the man who made the first snare for the wild birds, the man who first crossed the deep water in a hollowed log, Ang striking fire from the flints, Oma baking the clay dishes. Then she hesitated. These and many things more the Great One had given; what would He give next? What did she want most?

The First Potter

Now Suta was not like Ang or Wang or even like Oma.Wang had thought sometimes that she was not so good a cook as Oma, and that she spent too much time listening to the song of the birds and watching the play of the light on the water and the woods and the far-off hills. She did these things sometimes when he thought she ought to get wood for the fire or cook something for him, and he grumbled a little. But now that she made dishes of clay which no one else could make and all men said, "What a fortunate man Wang is to have a woman that can make such things!" Wang began to be very proud of her. He even went so far as to get wood for the fire, which he did not think man's work.

And what did Suta the dreamer want? She did not want more food or more clothes or a bigger cave; she wanted the power to mold in clay the things she saw and loved. So she put on the great bowl for the All-Father a picture of a woman, with her back turned on the lookers and a sharpened stick in her hand, just ready to work the soft clay, but waiting for the power to draw on clay the picture in her mind. It was the first expression of the unsatisfied yearning of the artist for beauty and the power to express it. For Suta was the mother of those who love the beautiful and long to give it permanent form.

When the bowl for the Giver was finished, it was placed on a stone foundation in front of the stone altar, which Ang and Wang had made. At the feast it was filled with sparkling water from a spring near by, and as the men danced about the fire they dipped their hands in it as they passed by and sprinkled the water on the fire and on themselves and sang:

Singing water of the brook,Shining laughter of the wood,Talking picture of the clay,Earth and fire and water, allAre voices of the Great.

All who saw the great bowl which Suta had made were filled with wonder, and they wanted her to make something for them. Then the great idea came to Wang. Now Wang was not so strong as Ang or so good a hunter, but he wanted just as much to eat and just as warm furs to wear. He liked better to sit talking with some crony in the shade in summer or by the fire in winter. Talking and sitting were the two things of which he never tired. Now when the world was young, such men went hungry and cold, and Wang had done so often, and, more's the pity, Suta and little Sut; but then came the idea. Every one wanted Suta's clay dishes; he wanted deer's meat and bear's, and furs, and the choicest seeds and nuts. He would barter the things which Suta made for the things he wanted. Suta would do the work; others would bring food and furs and fruits; he would sit in front of the cave and give as little of the first for as much of the second as possible. And the idea worked. Suta loved to mold the plastic clay and decorate it. Many wanted the things which she had made, and Wang's wily tongue multiplied the number of those who were willing to pay for what they wanted.

So Wang became the father of a long line of traders, and the Wang family had more food than they could eat and more furs than they could wear. Wang grew thick in the belly and thin in the calf, but it suited him, and Suta was too busy with her clay to care. And Wang the trader became almost as great a man as Ang the priest.

And Oma, wife of Ang, grew envious of Suta, wife of Wang. And she grumbled to Ang: "Did not you find the Red One and bring Wang and Suta so that they should not perish from the cold? Have you not fed them with meat of your own hunting? Did not I learn from the Red One how to harden and mold the clay? Did I not show Suta? Do I not work harder than she? Am I not a better cook? Can I not make better coats of fur? But see, little Sut has finer furs than Om and is fatter. And all who come now pass by our cave, except at the great feasts, or when they are sick and in trouble, and go to talk with Wang and look at Suta. Is she so much better to look at than Oma?"

But Ang comforted her with wisdom that had come from long broodings under the shadow of the Keeper of Secrets. "The Giver has differing gifts. To the fire he gives one, to the water another, to the earth another. To Suta he gave the love of beauty; to you he gave the love of doing and making; and the joy of doing is greater than the joy of having. To each her gifts as the Great One wills. And I would rather be the man of Oma than of Suta." So Oma was comforted, though she often sighed wistfully as she saw men and women go by to the cave of Wang or watched Suta deftly mold some new thought into the yielding clay.

—From "Around the Fire", by Hanford M. Burr.Courtesy of Association Press.

This drill will not only test your ability to follow printed directions, but also your ability to exercise a careful choice of words. Follow the directions very closely.1. Arrange your paper with your name on the first and your grade on the second line. Beginning with the fourth line, in the margin, write the figures 1 to 10.2. Below are ten sets of words. In each case, the first word is followed by four other words, one of which is exactly opposite in meaning to the first word. You are going to find these opposites. Look at group one.highis the first word. Of the four words that follow it, which do you think is the exact opposite ofhigh? Of course it islow. Write this pair of opposites after figure 1 on your paper as follows:1.high low3. After figure 2, write the second pair of opposites:2.great smallComplete the exercise by selecting the opposites from each remaining group, and writing them after the proper figure on your paper. When you have finished put down your pencil and wait quietly for the others.1.high(sky, low, above, deep).2.great(less, large, small, beautiful).3.hill(mountain, valley, high, river).4.many(few, more, plenty, less).5.gradual(quick, slowly, sudden, degree).6.wound(sword, nurse, heal, bind).7.light(bright, sun, shadow, darkness).8.straight(long, uneven, twist, crooked).9.land(plain, water, farm, river).10.spring(fall, cool, October, green).

This drill will not only test your ability to follow printed directions, but also your ability to exercise a careful choice of words. Follow the directions very closely.

1. Arrange your paper with your name on the first and your grade on the second line. Beginning with the fourth line, in the margin, write the figures 1 to 10.

2. Below are ten sets of words. In each case, the first word is followed by four other words, one of which is exactly opposite in meaning to the first word. You are going to find these opposites. Look at group one.highis the first word. Of the four words that follow it, which do you think is the exact opposite ofhigh? Of course it islow. Write this pair of opposites after figure 1 on your paper as follows:

1.high low

3. After figure 2, write the second pair of opposites:

2.great small

Complete the exercise by selecting the opposites from each remaining group, and writing them after the proper figure on your paper. When you have finished put down your pencil and wait quietly for the others.

1.high(sky, low, above, deep).2.great(less, large, small, beautiful).3.hill(mountain, valley, high, river).4.many(few, more, plenty, less).5.gradual(quick, slowly, sudden, degree).6.wound(sword, nurse, heal, bind).7.light(bright, sun, shadow, darkness).8.straight(long, uneven, twist, crooked).9.land(plain, water, farm, river).10.spring(fall, cool, October, green).

This story might have been named "Gossip". When you have read it through, tell why this would be a good name for it.You should all begin reading at the same moment. Your teacher will divide you into three groups, as explained before the story on page 106, and ask you the questions at the end of the story.

This story might have been named "Gossip". When you have read it through, tell why this would be a good name for it.

You should all begin reading at the same moment. Your teacher will divide you into three groups, as explained before the story on page 106, and ask you the questions at the end of the story.

"That is a terrible affair!" said a Hen; and she said it in a quarter of the town where the occurrence had not happened. "That is a terrible affair in the poultry-house. I cannot sleep alone to-night! It is quite fortunate that there are many of us on the roost together!" And she told a tale, at which the feathers of the other birds stood on end, and the cock's comb fell down flat. It's quite true!

But we will begin at the beginning; and the beginning begins in a poultry-house in another part of the town. The sun went down, and the fowls jumped up on their perch to roost. There was a Hen, with white feathers and short legs, who laid her right number of eggs, and was a respectable hen in every way; as she flew up on to the roost she pecked herself with her beak, and a little feather fell out.

"There it goes!" said she; "the more I peck myself the handsomer I grow!" And she said it quite merrily, for she was a joker among the hens, though, as I have said, she was very respectable; and then she went to sleep.

It was dark all around; hen sat by hen; but the one that sat next to the merry hen did not sleep: she heard and she didn't hear, as one should do in this world if one wishes to live in quiet; but she could not refrain from telling it to her next neighbor.

"Did you hear what was said here just now? I name no names; but here is a hen who wants to peck her feathers outto look well. If I were a cock I should despise her." Then she too went to sleep.

And just above the hens sat the Owl, with her husband and her little owlets; the family had sharp ears, and they all heard every word that the neighboring Hen had spoken, and they rolled their eyes, and the Mother-Owl clapped her wings and said:

"Don't listen to it! But I suppose you heard what was said there? I heard it with my own ears, and one must hear much before one's ears fall off. There is one among the fowls who has so completely forgotten what is becoming conduct in a hen that she pulls out all her feathers, and then lets the cock see her."

"Prenez garde aux enfants," said the Father-Owl. "That's not fit for the children to hear."

"I'll tell it to the neighbor owl; she's a very proper owl to associate with." And she flew away.

"Hoo! hoo! to-whoo!" they both screeched in front of the neighbor's dovecote to the doves within. "Have you heard it? Have you heard it? Hoo! hoo! there's a hen who has pulled out all her feathers for the sake of the cock. She'll die with cold, if she not dead already."

"Coo! coo! Where, where?" cried the Pigeons.

"In the neighbor's poultry-yard. I've as good as seen it myself. It's hardly proper to repeat the story, but it's quite true!"

"Believe it! believe every single word of it!" cooed the Pigeons, and they cooed down into their own poultry-yard. "There's a hen, and some say that there are two of them that have plucked out all their feathers, that they may not look like the rest, and that they may attract the cock's attention. That's a bold game, for one may catch cold and die of a fever, and they are both dead."

"Wake up! wake up!" crowed the Cock, and he flew up on the plank; his eyes were still very heavy with sleep, but yet he crowed. "Three hens have died of an unfortunate attachment to a cock. They have plucked out all their feathers. That's a terrible story. I won't keep it to myself; let it travel farther."

"Let it travel farther!" piped the bats; and the fowls clucked and the cocks crowed, "Let it go farther! let it go farther!" And so the story traveled from poultry-yard to poultry-yard, and at last came back to the place from which it had gone forth.

"Five fowls," it was told, "have plucked out all their feathers to show which of them had become thinnest out of love to the cock; and then they have pecked each other, and fallen down dead to the shame and disgrace of their families, and to the great loss of the proprietor."

And the hen who had lost the little loose feather, of course did not know her own story again; and as she was a very respectable hen, she said:

"I despise those fowls; but there are many of that sort. One ought not to hush up such a thing, and I shall do what I can that the story may get into the papers, and then it will be spread over all the country, and that will serve those fowls right, and their families too."

It was put into the newspaper; it was printed; and it's quite true—that one little feather may swell till it becomes five fowls.

—Hans Christian Andersen.

Questions

1. Are you in the same group you were the last time the class was divided in this way?2. What was the remark out of which all the gossip grew?3. How may "one little feather become five fowls"?

1. Are you in the same group you were the last time the class was divided in this way?

2. What was the remark out of which all the gossip grew?

3. How may "one little feather become five fowls"?

This exercise is given to see if you can follow directions. Follow each direction as you read it. Do not wait for others to start, but begin now.

1. Arrange your paper with your name on the first line and your grade on the second. At the left hand side of your paper number the next ten lines from number 1 to number 10.

2. The wordsname is a John boy'sdo not make a good sentence, but if the words are arranged in order they form a good sentence:John is a boy's name. This sentence is true. In the same way, the wordsbooks made of iron are, in this order do not make a good sentence, but arranged in the right order they form a good sentence:Books are made of iron. This sentence is not true.

3. Here are ten groups of words which can be rearranged into good sentences. When they are rearranged in their right order, some will be true and some will be false. Look at the first set of words. Do not write the words in their right order, but see what they would say if rearranged. If what they would say is true, write the wordtrueafter figure 1 on your paper; but if what they would say is not true, write the wordfalseafter figure 1. Do this with each group of words.

1. Brazil for noted coffee is its2. largest Rhode Island in the state is the Union3. the John Hancock signed Independence Declaration of4. sugar products and rice of are the South5. Columbus the New York discovered of city6. important San Francisco on city Pacific coast is an the7. famous a William Tell American was8. Camel tusks the has like an and elephant a trunk9. return songbirds the spring time the in10. snow Panama land of is a ice and

You have heard about the early peoples who found out how to use tools, how to build fires, how to make clothes out of skins of animals, and how to do all the other everyday things that once had to be done for the very first time. Science has found out for us the facts about how all these things were done first. But in the old days, before there was any knowledge of science, people had to explain such matters as best they could, by means of legends, such as that of Prometheus, who, as you have heard, stole fire from heaven. Here is a legend that suggests how water was first tamed and made a servant of man.

In the days of old, when wonderful things happened, there lived in a pleasant dwelling beside a brook in the forest a young girl named Sella, a name which means "a shadow". Although she was very beautiful, so that everyone admired her, she did not like to stay very much of the time with other people. She liked better to gather flowers on the bank of the stream, or to sit in the shade of a great rock listening to the sweet murmur of the flowing water. It was her delight to wander up the stream, tracing to the source in the mountains each of the little brooks that fed the larger one. She knew every little spring that stole forth from under a hanging rock, and every little rill that came trickling down the bare hillside. Often she rowed her little boat out on the lake or on the wide river into which the stream ran.

In the days when Sella lived girls were not taught anything except the things that it was thought belonged to woman's place, such as sewing, the keeping of the house, and the art of making one's self charming and agreeable. For a girl to go out into the world to make her own way as girls do now was an unheard-of thing. Girls must stayat home and leave adventure to the men of the family. Sella was not at all contented with such an arrangement. She looked at her two brothers enviously, thinking, "If I were only a boy, I could follow the river down to the sea and see all the strange peoples and customs in other parts of the world. I should like to see what kind of houses they have, and how they build their stately ships, what kind of flowers grow in their gardens, and what fruits ripen in their orchards. Here men make their living by raising sheep, but there I hear they sprinkle the great plains with corn, which springs up and ripens and is harvested to give bread to all the nations. I long to see all these things, and I would have seen them, long ago, if I were not so unlucky as to be a girl."

One morning in early spring Sella came to her mother in breathless excitement. "See, mother dear," she said, "what I have found on the bank of the stream!" And she showed a pair of white slippers, spangled and embroidered in silver. "See, my name is worked on the edge; and just look, mother, they fit me!"

"To be sure, they are very dainty," said her prudent mother. "But they do not belong to you. Perhaps some careless passer-by dropped them there, or perhaps they were put there as a snare to lead you into harm. I don't like the look of the letters embroidered on them; they don't seem to me to spell your name, but rather to look like magic signs that may work you evil. Nay, daughter, you must not wear them."

So Sella hung the slippers in the porch, so that anyone who had lost them could see them as she passed by. No one claimed them, however. At last, one day in May, Sella did not appear at the noonday meal. They looked for her in all her favorite places and shouted her namethrough the woods, but all in vain. At night they went out with torches still seeking her. All the next day they searched, climbing high into the mountains. Towards evening of the second day, when they had given up hope, suddenly Sella appeared at her mother's side where she sat alone and sad.

"Oh, mother, forgive me," she cried. "I just tried the slippers on for a moment, and before I could take them off again I found them carrying me along as if my feet had wings. At the bank of the stream there waited for me a lovely creature, with flowing hair and filmy green garments. She took my hand and led me right into the stream, and together we went along in the midst of it. Gayly we leaped the crag and swam the pool and glided between shady meadow banks. The stream broadened and became a river, and still we went onward, past stately towns, and under leaning masts of gallant ships, till at last we reached the sea and passed below its waves. The seaweed grew on tall stems like trees, and I could see the coral, the gleaming fish, and the rosy shells lying on the white sand at the bottom. Herds of sea creatures went by us, dolphins and whales and even sharks, but they turned aside to make room for us."

Bella's mother interrupted her. "This is just a dream, dear Sella, a vain dream."

"No, mother, for here is what my guide gave me to prove my story true." And Sella showed a sea-green scarf, adding, "And she told me to keep the slippers, and that whenever I put them on I could go down to the bottom of the ocean again and see all the lovely things. Oh, mother, it is so beautiful there! But after we had wandered about a long time I grew weary, and longed for my dear mountain home. And so she brought me back; and now I will neverleave your side again." And she flung her arms about her mother and kissed her, begging forgiveness once again.

Sella kept her promise. But, sadly enough, she did not have to keep it long, for in less than two years from that May day her mother died. The little mountain home was very sad. But after her first grief passed, Sella was very often absent from the household, and her father and brothers and older sister knew that she was away in the world of waters with her friends the water-nymphs. When she was at home she often sat looking blankly into space, with her thoughts far away. Her brothers tried to persuade her not to go away from them so often, but she only looked at them sorrowfully, and wept, saying never a word in answer to their pleading.

At last there came a day of merriment and good cheer in the quiet home. Bella's sister was to be married. The guests came from hill and valley in all the country round. Sella welcomed them, beautiful and calm as usual, with her clear blue eyes, fair hair, and skin as white as the water-lily. She looked like a water nymph herself, so much of her time had been spent in her beloved water.

Now it happened that that very morning the older of her two brothers had been out upon the hillside and had seen Sella come out from the stream, and had noticed where she put her slippers in a cleft of rock behind a tree. Now, under cover of the merriment of the wedding while all the youths and maidens were dancing, the two brothers stole away to the spot where the slippers lay hidden, took them out, followed the brook down a little way to where its current flowed very rapidly, and dropped them in. The stream seemed to lift welcoming hands to catch them, and they slid rapidly out of sight. Then the brothers returned to the house.

As evening came near, Sella grew tired of the feasting and dancing and noise and longed for the quiet that she could find below the sea. So she ran out to the brook to get her slippers. They were gone! She searched all along the brookside, but could not find them. Frightened, she ran wildly from place to place, and searched in the same spots over and over. Someone had taken them; and it did not take her long to think who the someone was. She ran to the house and charged her brothers with the theft. They frankly told her all that they had done, saying that it was because they loved her so. "We could not bear to have the cold world of waters steal our sister from us. Now you can never go away from us again."

When Sella heard how the stream had seized and carried away her precious slippers, she gave a broken-hearted shriek. "They are gone forever! Oh, how cruel you have been to me!" And she left them and ran away to her room, locked her door, and would not let anyone in to comfort her. All night she wept and mourned, knowing that never again could she visit the sea caves and meadows where she so loved to roam, nor talk with the gentle sea-nymphs. All the next day she wandered alone by the brook, envying its shining waters which danced along on their way to the sea. But by the next day she became more used to her loss, and began to resolve that since it was no use to mourn for what was gone, she would begin a new life whose days should be given to quiet tasks of good in the great world. She knew that she had learned many things about the water that men everywhere would be glad to know. In patient, loving service she would forget her loss.

So the years passed. Sella still loved to haunt the springs and brooks as in her cheerful childhood. She taught men to know the right places in which to dig wells,so as to be sure to find water beneath the earth. She showed them how to build aqueducts by which to bring the water from the mountain streams to towns far away from any water. She showed them how to tame the rushing stream and make its water drive the millwheel. She bade them build cisterns and pools and reservoirs to catch the rain-water in the wet season, so that in the dry months of the year it could be carried in canals into the parched fields to irrigate them. Everywhere Sella's name was loved and honored.

Bryant, our first American poet, who has told this story in lovely verses which you must read some day, speaks of Sella's age and death in the lines which follow.

"Still she kept, as age came on,Her stately presence; still her eyes looked forthFrom under their calm brows as brightly clearAs the transparent wells by which she satSo oft in childhood. Still she kept her fairUnwrinkled features, though her locks were white.A hundred times had summer, since her birth,Opened the water-lily on the lakes,So old traditions tell, before she died.A hundred cities mourned her.——By the brookThat rippling ran beside the cottage doorWhere she was born, they reared her monument.Ere long the current parted and flowed roundThe marble base, forming a little isle,And there the flowers that love the running stream,Iris and orchid, and the cardinal flower,Crowded and hung caressingly aroundThe stone engraved with Sella's honored name."

—Mabel Dodge Holmes.

Here is a real boy story in real boy talk.It is a first-class story to outline. Read it through—you will be so much interested that you can't help reading fast—then close the book and make an outline.

Here is a real boy story in real boy talk.

It is a first-class story to outline. Read it through—you will be so much interested that you can't help reading fast—then close the book and make an outline.

I am the ghost of Terrible Terry! I have murdered ten men in cold blood and buried their bones, in the dark of the moon, on the crest of Death-Rattle Hill! You will meet me there at dark on the evening of October 30! If you fail me BEWARE. (Following which was a crudely drawn skull and cross bones.)

"Gosh!"

That was all George Taylor could say as he read the letter which his father had just brought home in the evening mail. The mere thought of Death-Rattle Hillafter darkwas enough to make a fellow's heart jump into his throat, for Death-Rattle Hill had received its name from a popular superstition that grew out of the murder there, in pioneer days, of an old trapper.

This trapper, "Dad" Smith, as he was known on the frontier, was returning to his cabin in the wilderness, after selling his winter catch of furs, when he was attacked at dusk by "Terrible Terry", a notorious desperado of the early days. He was found the next day with more than a score of knife-wounds in his body.

Legend credited Terry with numerous other ghastly crimes until at last he met his fate in a manner which remains a mystery. His body was found in the woods not far from the spot where Smith was murdered. A rifle ball had passed through his throat. From then on stories were circulated concerning peculiar noises that could be heard at dusk on the hill. These noises, so the tales agreed, resembleda choking, gasping sound—such as a man might make in struggling for breath. So it came about that this hill came to be known throughout all the country as "Death-Rattle Hill."

"Gosh!" said Taylor once more as these thoughts went racing through his head. Then he jerked his cap from its hook in the hall and ran down the alley to see if any other of the boys had received a similar message.

Carrots Crawford, Pepper Perkins and several other members of the troop were talking excitedly.

"Hey, George," they called as the scout appeared, "did you get one, too?"

"Do you mean a letter from Terrible Terry?"

"Sure thing," said Pepper; "all the fellows got them. It's just another of Mr. James' stunts. Say, Scouts, remember that party we had at headquarters last Hallowe'en? Didn't we have a circus! And I'll bet this year we'll have a bigger time yet!"

After much discussion the group broke, and only Taylor and Pepper Perkins remained. If the departing scouts had been thinking less about the queer noises that were supposed to be heard on Death-Rattle Hill, they might have observed that these two leading lights of Glenwood troop had their heads together in earnest consultation.

It was ten days until the last of October; ten days filled with the greatest anticipation for the members of Glenwood troop; although every scout in the troop felt a peculiar sinking feeling at the pit of the stomach at the thought of Death-Rattle Hill, not one of them would have admitted it, and not one of them thought of failing to keep his appointment with "Terrible Terry", especially after the rumor was spread that each scout should go armed with a fork, a spoon and a tin cup. The boys agreed among themselvesthat they would meet at troop headquarters and march in a body to Death-Rattle Hill.

Hallowe'en evening came at last. The members of Glenwood Troop reported at their headquarters to a man, quaking inwardly if the truth were known, but prepared to keep their rendezvous with the ghost of a cut-throat in the most haunted spot in all the land! Great was their relief when Mr. James appeared and said he had thought it best to accompany the boys on such a dangerous undertaking.

They started out, rather more boisterously than usual, laughing, shouting and singing, but the nearer they got to Death-Rattle Hill the quieter they became. By the time they reached the crest of the hill they were huddled together like sheep.

"Here we are, boys," came the Scoutmaster's cheery voice at last as the scouts reached a little clearing between two tall Norway pines. Not far from one of the trees a huge bonfire had been built. Mr. James struck a match, the flames ran quickly through the dry sticks and logs, and in almost no time the clearing was light as day.

With the lighting of the fire, the spell that had been cast over the boys by thoughts of Terrible Terry was partially broken, and they entered into the games and stunts that Mr James had planned for them with their customary spirit.

With their hands tied behind their backs they tried to bite apples suspended from the branches of the pine by long strings and bobbed for apples in a big tub of water. They had boxing and wrestling bouts, dug pennies with their teeth out of shallow pans partly filled with flour, held a war-dance around the fire and yelled as only hungry boys can yell when Mr. James produced a pail of steaming cocoa,a big box of "dogs", a pan full of doughnuts, and a box of red apples.

But in spite of all they could do to forget the stories of Death-Rattle Hill they could not escape a vague, uneasy feeling, and many a furtive glance was cast into the surrounding trees and bushes.

When the last drop of cocoa had disappeared and the last red apple had followed the "dogs" and doughnuts to their doom, the boys crawled close to the glowing embers of the fire and, following their usual custom, begged Mr. James for a story.

The fire was slowly dying, and the occasional flickering flames cast fantastic shadows on the hazel bushes and the trees.

"We have all heard more or less about strange sights and sounds in places where men have met with violent death," said Mr. James by way of beginning his yarn. "For instance, I have been told that in this very clearing there grows a peculiar red moss which traces in exact outline the spots on the earth where the old trapper Smith's life-blood dyed the sod. Hunters have told me that no animals ever cross this clearing—that in the dead of winter not even a rabbit track breaks the smooth expanse of snow which is marred only by a ghastly crimson stain where poor old Smith's body was found.

"But let me get on with my story. Thirteen years ago this very night an old hunchback peddler, who had been selling his wares in the backwoods settlements, lost his bearings in the forest and found himself at dusk in this very clearing. Being completely exhausted from his wanderings, he decided to make himself as comfortable as possible for the night. He built a fire in the early evening, and, as the embers slowly settled into ashes fell into a half sleep leaning against his pack.

"Just how long he dozed by the fire he could not tell, nor could he remember exactly what wakened him, yet suddenly he was startled into consciousness, every nerve a-tingle with a sense of impending danger. Some power he could not sense drew his attention irresistibly to a huge pine tree—that one right there!

"With his eyes starting from their sockets he sat incapable of movement, waiting—waiting—when suddenly——"

Out of the pine on which every scout was focusing his gaze came an unmistakable choking, gasping sound.

An instant later a faintly glowing light appeared.

"Great goodness! Look there!" exclaimed Patrol Leader Crawford in a husky voice.

With a piercing shriek a horrible apparition floated out of the branches of the pine. Its white hair was covered with ghastly clots of red. Its arms waved wildly, moving the folds of a flowing white garment splotched with blood.

Transfixed with horror, the boys sat frozen in their tracks as THE THING rushed toward them.

Then there came a huge splash in the bobbing tub behind them and an unmistakably human voice exclaimed, "Oh, thunder!" The voice belonged to Pepper Perkins, and the Scoutmaster's flashlight revealed its owner in a sitting posture in the tub of water, whence he had fallen from a low branch of a tree directly over his head.

Meanwhile the "ghost" that had floated out of the pine was having troubles of its own. It stopped floating with a sudden jerk and hung suspended in mid-air, with a pair of khaki legs dangling beneath the flowing garment and kicking around for something solid to stand on, while a very unghostly voice pleaded, "Gosh, sakes! Can't you help a feller down?"

A few turns of the flashlight revealed the whole plot.The "ghost" had floated on a wire stretched from the huge pine to the smaller one across the clearing. The faintly glowing light was a flashlight enclosed in a paper sack, the horrible head-dress a piece of old fur robe smeared with red paint, and the "shriek" a siren whistle.

You have heard how Death-Rattle Hill came by its name. And now you know how it came about that George Taylor of the Glenwood Scouts acquired the name of "Terry"—a name which he bears to this day.

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