{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_18442/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_18442","id":"gutenberg_18442","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18442","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore","History","Readers"],"text":"Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sankar Viswanathan, and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                         FIFTY FAMOUS STORIES\n                                RETOLD\n\n\n                                  BY\n\n                            JAMES BALDWIN\n\n\n\n\n\n                        AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY\n\n                  NEW YORK    CINCINNATI    CHICAGO\n\n\n\n\n                         COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY\n\n                        AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nKing Alfred and the Cakes\n\nKing Alfred and the Beggar\n\nKing Canute on the Seashore\n\nThe Sons of William the Conqueror\n\nThe White Ship\n\nKing John and the Abbot\n\nA Story of Robin Hood\n\nBruce and the Spider\n\nThe Black Douglas\n\nThree Men of Gotham\n\nOther Wise Men of Gotham\n\nThe Miller of the Dee\n\nSir Philip Sidney\n\nThe Ungrateful Soldier\n\nSir Humphrey Gilbert\n\nSir Walter Raleigh\n\nPocahontas\n\nGeorge Washington and his Hatchet\n\nGrace Darling\n\nThe Story of William Tell\n\nArnold Winkelried\n\nThe Bell of Atri\n\nHow Napoleon crossed the Alps\n\nThe Story of Cincinnatus\n\nThe Story of Regulus\n\nCornelia's Jewels\n\nAndroclus and the Lion\n\nHoratius at the Bridge\n\nJulius Caesar\n\nThe Sword of Damocles\n\nDamon and Pythias\n\nA Laconic Answer\n\nThe Ungrateful Guest\n\nAlexander and Bucephalus\n\nDiogenes the Wise Man\n\nThe Brave Three Hundred\n\nSocrates and his House\n\nThe King and his Hawk\n\nDoctor Goldsmith\n\nThe Kingdoms\n\nThe Barmecide Feast\n\nThe Endless Tale\n\nThe Blind Men and the Elephant\n\nMaximilian and the Goose Boy\n\nThe Inchcape Rock\n\nWhittington and his Cat\n\nCasabianca\n\nAntonio Canova\n\nPicciola\n\nMignon\n\n\n\n\nCONCERNING THESE STORIES.\n\n\nThere are numerous time-honored stories which have become so\nincorporated into the literature and thought of our race that a\nknowledge of them is an indispensable part of one's education. These\nstories are of several different classes. To one class belong the\npopular fairy tales which have delighted untold generations of\nchildren, and will continue to delight them to the end of time. To\nanother class belong the limited number of fables that have come down\nto us through many channels from hoar antiquity. To a third belong the\ncharming stories of olden times that are derived from the literatures\nof ancient peoples, such as the Greeks and the Hebrews. A fourth class\nincludes the half-legendary tales of a distinctly later origin, which\nhave for their subjects certain romantic episodes in the lives of\nwell-known heroes and famous men, or in the history of a people.\n\nIt is to this last class that most of the fifty stories contained in\nthe present volume belong. As a matter of course, some of these\nstories are better known, and therefore more _famous_, than others.\nSome have a slight historical value; some are useful as giving point\nto certain great moral truths; others are products solely of the\nfancy, and are intended only to amuse. Some are derived from very\nancient sources, and are current in the literature of many lands; some\nhave come to us through the ballads and folk tales of the English\npeople; a few are of quite recent origin; nearly all are the subjects\nof frequent allusions in poetry and prose and in the conversation of\neducated people. Care has been taken to exclude everything that is not\nstrictly within the limits of probability; hence there is here no\ntrespassing upon the domain of the fairy tale, the fable, or the myth.\n\nThat children naturally take a deep interest in such stories, no\nperson can deny; that the reading of them will not only give pleasure,\nbut will help to lay the foundation for broader literary studies, can\nscarcely be doubted. It is believed, therefore, that the present\ncollection will be found to possess an educative value which will\ncommend it as a supplementary reader in the middle primary grades at\nschool. It is also hoped that the book will prove so attractive that\nit will be in demand out of school as well as in.\n\nAcknowledgments are due to Mrs. Charles A. Lane, by whom eight or ten\nof the stories were suggested.\n\n\n\n\nFIFTY FAMOUS STORIES RETOLD.\n\nKING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nMany years ago there lived in Eng-land a wise and good king whose name\nwas Al-fred. No other man ever did so much for his country as he; and\npeople now, all over the world, speak of him as Alfred the Great.\n\nIn those days a king did not have a very easy life. There was war\nalmost all the time, and no one else could lead his army into battle\nso well as he. And so, between ruling and fighting, he had a busy time\nof it indeed.\n\nA fierce, rude people, called the Danes, had come from over the sea,\nand were fighting the Eng-lish. There were so many of them, and they\nwere so bold and strong, that for a long time they gained every\nbattle. If they kept on, they would soon be the masters of the whole\ncountry.\n\nAt last, after a great battle, the English army was broken up and\nscat-tered. Every man had to save himself in the best way he could.\nKing Alfred fled alone, in great haste, through the woods and swamps.\n\nLate in the day the king came to the hut of a wood-cut-ter. He was\nvery tired and hungry, and he begged the wood-cut-ter's wife to give\nhim something to eat and a place to sleep in her hut.\n\nThe wom-an was baking some cakes upon the hearth, and she looked with\npity upon the poor, ragged fellow who seemed so hungry. She had no\nthought that he was the king.\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, \"I will give you some supper if you will watch these\ncakes. I want to go out and milk the cow; and you must see that they\ndo not burn while I am gone.\"\n\nKing Alfred was very willing to watch the cakes, but he had far\ngreater things to think about. How was he going to get his army\nto-geth-er again? And how was he going to drive the fierce Danes out\nof the land? He forgot his hunger; he forgot the cakes; he forgot that\nhe was in the woodcutter's hut. His mind was busy making plans for\nto-mor-row.\n\nIn a little while the wom-an came back. The cakes were smoking on the\nhearth. They were burned to a crisp. Ah, how angry she was!\n\n\"You lazy fellow!\" she cried. \"See what you have done! You want\nsome-thing to eat, but you do not want to work!\"\n\nI have been told that she even struck the king with a stick; but I can\nhardly be-lieve that she was so ill-na-tured.\n\nThe king must have laughed to himself at the thought of being scolded\nin this way; and he was so hungry that he did not mind the woman's\nangry words half so much as the loss of the cakes.\n\nI do not know whether he had any-thing to eat that night, or whether\nhe had to go to bed without his supper. But it was not many days\nuntil he had gath-ered his men to-geth-er again, and had beaten the\nDanes in a great battle.\n\n\n\n\nKING ALFRED AND THE BEGGAR.\n\n\nAt one time the Danes drove King Alfred from his kingdom, and he had\nto lie hidden for a long time on a little is-land in a river.\n\nOne day, all who were on the is-land, except the king and queen and\none servant, went out to fish. It was a very lonely place, and no one\ncould get to it except by a boat. About noon a ragged beggar came to\nthe king's door, and asked for food.\n\nThe king called the servant, and asked, \"How much food have we in the\nhouse?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said the servant, \"we have only one loaf and a little\nwine.\"\n\nThen the king gave thanks to God, and said, \"Give half of the loaf and\nhalf of the wine to this poor man.\"\n\nThe servant did as he was bidden. The beggar thanked the king for his\nkindness, and went on his way.\n\nIn the after-noon the men who had gone out to fish came back. They had\nthree boats full of fish, and they said, \"We have caught more fish\nto-day than in all the other days that we have been on this island.\"\n\nThe king was glad, and he and his people were more hopeful than they\nhad ever been before.\n\nWhen night came, the king lay awake for a long time, and thought about\nthe things that had happened that day. At last he fancied that he saw\na great light like the sun; and in the midst of the light there stood\nan old man with black hair, holding an open book in his hand.\n\nIt may all have been a dream, and yet to the king it seemed very real\nindeed. He looked and wondered, but was not afraid.\n\n\"Who are you?\" he asked of the old man.\n\n\"Alfred, my son, be brave,\" said the man; \"for I am the one to whom\nyou gave this day the half of all the food that you had. Be strong and\njoyful of heart, and listen to what I say. Rise up early in the\nmorning and blow your horn three times, so loudly that the Danes may\nhear it. By nine o'clock, five hundred men will be around you ready to\nbe led into battle. Go forth bravely, and within seven days your\nen-e-mies shall be beaten, and you shall go back to your kingdom to\nreign in peace.\"\n\nThen the light went out, and the man was seen no more.\n\nIn the morning the king arose early, and crossed over to the mainland.\nThen he blew his horn three times very loudly; and when his friends\nheard it they were glad, but the Danes were filled with fear.\n\nAt nine o'clock, five hundred of his bravest soldiers stood around him\nready for battle. He spoke, and told them what he had seen and heard\nin his dream; and when he had fin-ished, they all cheered loudly, and\nsaid that they would follow him and fight for him so long as they had\nstrength.\n\nSo they went out bravely to battle; and they beat the Danes, and drove\nthem back into their own place. And King Alfred ruled wisely and well\nover all his people for the rest of his days.\n\n\n\n\nKING CANUTE ON THE SEASHORE.\n\n\nA hundred years or more after the time of Alfred the Great there was a\nking of England named Ca-nute. King Canute was a Dane; but the Danes\nwere not so fierce and cruel then as they had been when they were at\nwar with King Alfred.\n\nThe great men and of-fi-cers who were around King Canute were always\npraising him.\n\n\"You are the greatest man that ever lived,\" one would say.\n\nThen an-oth-er would say, \"O king! there can never be an-oth-er man so\nmighty as you.\"\n\nAnd another would say, \"Great Canute, there is nothing in the world\nthat dares to dis-o-bey you.\"\n\nThe king was a man of sense, and he grew very tired of hearing such\nfoolish speeches.\n\nOne day he was by the sea-shore, and his of-fi-cers were with him.\nThey were praising him, as they were in the habit of doing. He thought\nthat now he would teach them a lesson, and so he bade them set his\nchair on the beach close by the edge of the water.\n\n\"Am I the greatest man in the world?\" he asked.\n\n\"O king!\" they cried, \"there is no one so mighty as you.\"\n\n\"Do all things obey me?\" he asked.\n\n\"There is nothing that dares to dis-o-bey you, O king!\" they said.\n\"The world bows before you, and gives you honor.\"\n\n\"Will the sea obey me?\" he asked; and he looked down at the little\nwaves which were lapping the sand at his feet.\n\nThe foolish officers were puzzled, but they did not dare to say \"No.\"\n\n\"Command it, O king! and it will obey,\" said one.\n\n\"Sea,\" cried Canute, \"I command you to come no farther! Waves, stop\nyour rolling, and do not dare to touch my feet!\"\n\nBut the tide came in, just as it always did. The water rose higher and\nhigher. It came up around the king's chair, and wet not only his feet,\nbut also his robe. His officers stood about him, alarmed, and\nwon-der-ing whether he was not mad.\n\nThen Canute took off his crown, and threw it down upon the sand.\n\n\"I shall never wear it again,\" he said. \"And do you, my men, learn a\nlesson from what you have seen. There is only one King who is\nall-powerful; and it is he who rules the sea, and holds the ocean in\nthe hollow of his hand. It is he whom you ought to praise and serve\nabove all others.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE SONS OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.\n\n\nThere was once a great king of England who was called Wil-liam the\nCon-quer-or, and he had three sons.\n\n[Illustration: \"Sea, I command you to come no farther!\"]\n\nOne day King Wil-liam seemed to be thinking of something that made him\nfeel very sad; and the wise men who were about him asked him what\nwas the matter.\n\n\"I am thinking,\" he said, \"of what my sons may do after I am dead.\nFor, unless they are wise and strong, they cannot keep the kingdom\nwhich I have won for them. Indeed, I am at a loss to know which one of\nthe three ought to be the king when I am gone.\"\n\n\"O king!\" said the wise men, \"if we only knew what things your sons\nadmire the most, we might then be able to tell what kind of men they\nwill be. Perhaps, by asking each one of them a few ques-tions, we can\nfind out which one of them will be best fitted to rule in your place.\"\n\n\"The plan is well worth trying, at least,\" said the king. \"Have the\nboys come before you, and then ask them what you please.\"\n\nThe wise men talked with one another for a little while, and then\nagreed that the young princes should be brought in, one at a time, and\nthat the same ques-tions should be put to each.\n\nThe first who came into the room was Robert. He was a tall, willful\nlad, and was nick-named Short Stocking.\n\n\"Fair sir,\" said one of the men, \"answer me this question: If, instead\nof being a boy, it had pleased God that you should be a bird, what\nkind of a bird would you rather be?\"\n\n\"A hawk,\" answered Robert. \"I would rather be a hawk, for no other\nbird reminds one so much of a bold and gallant knight.\"\n\nThe next who came was young William, his father's name-sake and pet.\nHis face was jolly and round, and because he had red hair he was\nnicknamed Rufus, or the Red.\n\n\"Fair sir,\" said the wise man, \"answer me this question: If, instead\nof being a boy, it had pleased God that you should be a bird, what\nkind of a bird would you rather be?\"\n\n\"An eagle,\" answered William. \"I would rather be an eagle, because it\nis strong and brave. It is feared by all other birds, and is\nthere-fore the king of them all.\"\n\nLastly came the youngest brother, Henry, with quiet steps and a sober,\nthought-ful look. He had been taught to read and write, and for that\nreason he was nick-named Beau-clerc, or the Hand-some Schol-ar.\n\n\"Fair sir,\" said the wise man, \"answer me this question: If, instead\nof being a boy, it had pleased God that you should be a bird, what\nkind of a bird would you rather be?\"\n\n\"A star-ling,\" said Henry. \"I would rather be a star-ling, because it\nis good-mannered and kind and a joy to every one who sees it, and it\nnever tries to rob or abuse its neigh-bor.\"\n\nThen the wise men talked with one another for a little while, and when\nthey had agreed among themselves, they spoke to the king.\n\n\"We find,\" said they, \"that your eldest son, Robert, will be bold and\ngallant. He will do some great deeds, and make a name for himself; but\nin the end he will be over-come by his foes, and will die in prison.\n\n\"The second son, William, will be as brave and strong as the eagle;\nbut he will be feared and hated for his cruel deeds. He will lead a\nwicked life, and will die a shameful death.\n\n\"The youngest son, Henry, will be wise and prudent and peaceful. He\nwill go to war only when he is forced to do so by his enemies. He will\nbe loved at home, and re-spect-ed abroad; and he will die in peace\nafter having gained great pos-ses-sions.\"\n\nYears passed by, and the three boys had grown up to be men. King\nWilliam lay upon his death-bed, and again he thought of what would\nbecome of his sons when he was gone. Then he re-mem-bered what the\nwise men had told him; and so he de-clared that Robert should have the\nlands which he held in France, that William should be the King of\nEngland, and that Henry should have no land at all, but only a chest\nof gold.\n\nSo it hap-pened in the end very much as the wise men had fore-told.\nRobert, the Short Stocking, was bold and reckless, like the hawk which\nhe so much admired. He lost all the lands that his father had left\nhim, and was at last shut up in prison, where he was kept until he\ndied.\n\nWilliam Rufus was so over-bear-ing and cruel that he was feared and\nhated by all his people. He led a wicked life, and was killed by one\nof his own men while hunting in the forest.\n\nAnd Henry, the Handsome Scholar, had not only the chest of gold for\nhis own, but he became by and by the King of England and the ruler of\nall the lands that his father had had in France.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WHITE SHIP.\n\n\nKing Henry, the Handsome Scholar, had one son, named William, whom he\ndearly loved. The young man was noble and brave, and every-body hoped\nthat he would some day be the King of England.\n\nOne summer Prince William went with his father across the sea to look\nafter their lands in France. They were wel-comed with joy by all\ntheir people there, and the young prince was so gallant and kind, that\nhe won the love of all who saw him.\n\nBut at last the time came for them to go back to England. The king,\nwith his wise men and brave knights, set sail early in the day; but\nPrince William with his younger friends waited a little while. They\nhad had so joyous a time in France that they were in no great haste to\ntear them-selves away.\n\nThen they went on board of the ship which was waiting to carry them\nhome. It was a beau-ti-ful ship with white sails and white masts, and\nit had been fitted up on purpose for this voyage.\n\nThe sea was smooth, the winds were fair, and no one thought of danger.\nOn the ship, every-thing had been ar-ranged to make the trip a\npleasant one. There was music and dancing, and everybody was merry and\nglad.\n\nThe sun had gone down before the white-winged vessel was fairly out of\nthe bay. But what of that? The moon was at its full, and it would give\nlight enough; and before the dawn of the morrow, the narrow sea would\nbe crossed. And so the prince, and the young people who were with him,\ngave themselves up to mer-ri-ment and feasting and joy.\n\nThe ear-li-er hours of the night passed by; and then there was a cry\nof alarm on deck. A moment after-ward there was a great crash. The\nship had struck upon a rock. The water rushed in. She was sinking. Ah,\nwhere now were those who had lately been so heart-free and glad?\n\nEvery heart was full of fear. No one knew what to do. A small boat was\nquickly launched, and the prince with a few of his bravest friends\nleaped into it. They pushed off just as the ship was be-gin-ning to\nsettle beneath the waves. Would they be saved?\n\nThey had rowed hardly ten yards from the ship, when there was a cry\nfrom among those that were left behind.\n\n\"Row back!\" cried the prince. \"It is my little sister. She must be\nsaved!\"\n\nThe men did not dare to disobey. The boat was again brought along-side\nof the sinking vessel. The prince stood up, and held out his arms for\nhis sister. At that moment the ship gave a great lurch forward into\nthe waves. One shriek of terror was heard, and then all was still save\nthe sound of the moaning waters.\n\nShip and boat, prince and prin-cess, and all the gay com-pa-ny that\nhad set sail from France, went down to the bottom together. One man\nclung to a floating plank, and was saved the next day. He was the only\nperson left alive to tell the sad story.\n\nWhen King Henry heard of the death of his son his grief was more than\nhe could bear. His heart was broken. He had no more joy in life; and\nmen say that no one ever saw him smile again.\n\nHere is a poem about him that your teacher may read to you, and\nperhaps, after a while, you may learn it by heart.\n\nHE NEVER SMILED AGAIN.\n\n    The bark that held the prince went down,\n      The sweeping waves rolled on;\n    And what was England's glorious crown\n      To him that wept a son?\n    He lived, for life may long be borne\n      Ere sorrow breaks its chain:\n    Why comes not death to those who mourn?\n      He never smiled again.\n\n    There stood proud forms before his throne,\n      The stately and the brave;\n    But who could fill the place of one,--\n      That one beneath the wave?\n    Before him passed the young and fair,\n      In pleasure's reckless train;\n    But seas dashed o'er his son's bright hair--\n      He never smiled again.\n\n    He sat where festal bowls went round;\n      He heard the minstrel sing;\n    He saw the tour-ney's victor crowned\n      Amid the knightly ring.\n    A murmur of the restless deep\n      Was blent with every strain,\n    A voice of winds that would not sleep--\n      He never smiled again.\n\n    Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace\n      Of vows once fondly poured,\n    And strangers took the kins-man's place\n      At many a joyous board;\n    Graves which true love had bathed with tears\n      Were left to heaven's bright rain;\n    Fresh hopes were born for other years--\n      _He_ never smiled again!\n\n    MRS. HEMANS.\n\n\n\n\nKING JOHN AND THE ABBOT.\n\nI. THE THREE QUESTIONS.\n\n\nThere was once a king of England whose name was John. He was a bad\nking; for he was harsh and cruel to his people, and so long as he\ncould have his own way, he did not care what became of other folks. He\nwas the worst king that England ever had.\n\nNow, there was in the town of Can'ter-bur-y a rich old abbot who lived\nin grand style in a great house called the Abbey. Every day a hundred\nnoble men sat down with him to dine; and fifty brave knights, in fine\nvelvet coats and gold chains, waited upon him at his table.\n\nWhen King John heard of the way in which the abbot lived, he made up\nhis mind to put a stop to it. So he sent for the old man to come and\nsee him.\n\n\"How now, my good abbot?\" he said. \"I hear that you keep a far better\nhouse than I. How dare you do such a thing? Don't you know that no man\nin the land ought to live better than the king? And I tell you that no\nman shall.\"\n\n\"O king!\" said the abbot, \"I beg to say that I am spending nothing but\nwhat is my own. I hope that you will not think ill of me for making\nthings pleasant for my friends and the brave knights who are with me.\"\n\n\"Think ill of you?\" said the king. \"How can I help but think ill of\nyou? All that there is in this broad land is mine by right; and how do\nyou dare to put me to shame by living in grander style than I? One\nwould think that you were trying to be king in my place.\"\n\n\"Oh, do not say so!\" said the abbot \"For I\"--\n\n\"Not another word!\" cried the king. \"Your fault is plain, and unless\nyou can answer me three questions, your head shall be cut off, and all\nyour riches shall be mine.\"\n\n\"I will try to answer them, O king!\" said the abbot.\n\n\"Well, then,\" said King John, \"as I sit here with my crown of gold on\nmy head, you must tell me to within a day just how long I shall live.\nSec-ond-ly, you must tell me how soon I shall ride round the whole\nworld; and lastly, you shall tell me what I think.\"\n\n\"O king!\" said the abbot, \"these are deep, hard questions, and I\ncannot answer them just now. But if you will give me two weeks to\nthink about them, I will do the best that I can.\"\n\n\"Two weeks you shall have,\" said the king; \"but if then you fail to\nanswer me, you shall lose your head, and all your lands shall be\nmine.\"\n\nThe abbot went away very sad and in great fear. He first rode to\nOxford. Here was a great school, called a u-ni-ver'si-ty, and he\nwanted to see if any of the wise pro-fess-ors could help him. But they\nshook their heads, and said that there was nothing about King John in\nany of their books.\n\nThen the abbot rode down to Cam-bridge, where there was another\nu-ni-ver-si-ty. But not one of the teachers in that great school could\nhelp him.\n\nAt last, sad and sor-row-ful, he rode toward home to bid his friends\nand his brave knights good-by. For now he had not a week to live.\n\nII. THE THREE ANSWERS.\n\nAs the abbot was riding up the lane which led to his grand house, he\nmet his shep-herd going to the fields.\n\n\"Welcome home, good master!\" cried the shepherd. \"What news do you\nbring us from great King John?\"\n\n\"Sad news, sad news,\" said the abbot; and then he told him all that\nhad happened.\n\n\"Cheer up, cheer up, good master,\" said the shepherd. \"Have you never\nyet heard that a fool may teach a wise man wit? I think I can help you\nout of your trouble.\"\n\n\"You help me!\" cried the abbot \"How? how?\"\n\n\"Well,\" answered the shepherd, \"you know that everybody says that I\nlook just like you, and that I have some-times been mis-tak-en for\nyou. So, lend me your servants and your horse and your gown, and I\nwill go up to London and see the king. If nothing else can be done, I\ncan at least die in your place.\"\n\n\"My good shepherd,\" said the abbot, \"you are very, very kind; and I\nhave a mind to let you try your plan. But if the worst comes to the\nworst, you shall not die for me. I will die for myself.\"\n\nSo the shepherd got ready to go at once. He dressed himself with\ngreat care. Over his shepherd's coat he threw the abbot's long gown,\nand he bor-rowed the abbot's cap and golden staff. When all was ready,\nno one in the world would have thought that he was not the great man\nhimself. Then he mounted his horse, and with a great train of servants\nset out for London.\n\nOf course the king did not know him.\n\n\"Welcome, Sir Abbot!\" he said. \"It is a good thing that you have come\nback. But, prompt as you are, if you fail to answer my three\nquestions, you shall lose your head.\"\n\n\"I am ready to answer them, O king!\" said the shepherd.\n\n\"Indeed, indeed!\" said the king, and he laughed to himself. \"Well,\nthen, answer my first question: How long shall I live? Come, you must\ntell me to the very day.\"\n\n\"You shall live,\" said the shepherd, \"until the day that you die, and\nnot one day longer. And you shall die when you take your last breath,\nand not one moment before.\"\n\nThe king laughed.\n\n\"You are witty, I see,\" he said. \"But we will let that pass, and say\nthat your answer is right. And now tell me how soon I may ride round\nthe world.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"You shall live until the day that you die.\"]\n\n\"You must rise with the sun,\" said the shepherd, \"and you must ride\nwith the sun until it rises again the next morning. As soon as you do\nthat, you will find that you have ridden round the world in\ntwenty-four hours.\"\n\nThe king laughed again. \"Indeed,\" he said, \"I did not think that it\ncould be done so soon. You are not only witty, but you are wise, and\nwe will let this answer pass. And now comes my third and last\nquestion: What do I think?\"\n\n\"That is an easy question,\" said the shepherd. \"You think that I am\nthe Abbot of Can-ter-bur-y. But, to tell you the truth, I am only his\npoor shepherd, and I have come to beg your pardon for him and for me.\"\nAnd with that, he threw off his long gown.\n\nThe king laughed loud and long.\n\n\"A merry fellow you are,\" said he, \"and you shall be the Abbot of\nCanterbury in your master's place.\"\n\n\"O king! that cannot be,\" said the shepherd; \"for I can neither read\nnor write.\"\n\n\"Very well, then,\" said the king, \"I will give you something else to\npay you for this merry joke. I will give you four pieces of silver\nevery week as long as you live. And when you get home, you may tell\nthe old abbot that you have brought him a free pardon from King\nJohn.\"\n\n\n\n\nA STORY OF ROBIN HOOD.\n\n\nIn the rude days of King Rich-ard and King John there were many great\nwoods in England. The most famous of these was Sher-wood forest, where\nthe king often went to hunt deer. In this forest there lived a band of\ndaring men called out-laws.\n\nThey had done something that was against the laws of the land, and had\nbeen forced to hide themselves in the woods to save their lives. There\nthey spent their time in roaming about among the trees, in hunting the\nking's deer, and in robbing rich trav-el-ers that came that way.\n\nThere were nearly a hundred of these outlaws, and their leader was a\nbold fellow called Robin Hood. They were dressed in suits of green,\nand armed with bows and arrows; and sometimes they carried long wooden\nlances and broad-swords, which they knew how to handle well. When-ever\nthey had taken anything, it was brought and laid at the feet of Robin\nHood, whom they called their king. He then di-vid-ed it fairly among\nthem, giving to each man his just share.\n\nRobin never allowed his men to harm any-body but the rich men who\nlived in great houses and did no work. He was always kind to the poor,\nand he often sent help to them; and for that reason the common people\nlooked upon him as their friend.\n\nLong after he was dead, men liked to talk about his deeds. Some\npraised him, and some blamed him. He was, indeed, a rude, lawless\nfellow; but at that time, people did not think of right and wrong as\nthey do now.\n\nA great many songs were made up about Robin Hood, and these songs were\nsung in the cot-ta-ges and huts all over the land for hundreds of\nyears after-ward.\n\nHere is a little story that is told in one of those songs:--\n\nRobin Hood was standing one day under a green tree by the road-side.\nWhile he was lis-ten-ing to the birds among the leaves, he saw a young\nman passing by. This young man was dressed in a fine suit of bright\nred cloth; and, as he tripped gayly along the road, he seemed to be as\nhappy as the day.\n\n\"I will not trou-ble him,\" said Robin Hood, \"for I think he is on his\nway to his wedding.\"\n\nThe next day Robin stood in the same place. He had not been there long\nwhen he saw the same young man coming down the road. But he did not\nseem to be so happy this time. He had left his scarlet coat at home,\nand at every step he sighed and groaned.\n\n\"Ah the sad day! the sad day!\" he kept saying to himself.\n\nThen Robin Hood stepped out from under the tree, and said,--\n\n\"I say, young man! Have you any money to spare for my merry men and\nme?\"\n\n\"I have nothing at all,\" said the young man, \"but five shil-lings and\na ring.\"\n\n\"A gold ring?\" asked Robin.\n\n\"Yes?\" said the young man, \"it is a gold ring. Here it is.\"\n\n\"Ah, I see!\" said Robin: \"it is a wedding ring.\"\n\n\"I have kept it these seven years,\" said the young man; \"I have kept\nit to give to my bride on our wedding day. We were going to be married\nyes-ter-day. But her father has prom-ised her to a rich old man whom\nshe never saw. And now my heart is broken.\"\n\n\"What is your name?\" asked Robin.\n\n\"My name is Allin-a-Dale,\" said the young man.\n\n\"What will you give me, in gold or fee,\" said Robin, \"if I will help\nyou win your bride again in spite of the rich old man to whom she has\nbeen promised?\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"I have no money,\" said Allin, \"but I will promise to be your\nservant.\"\n\n\"How many miles is it to the place where the maiden lives?\" asked\nRobin.\n\n\"It is not far,\" said Allin. \"But she is to be married this very day,\nand the church is five miles away.\"\n\nThen Robin made haste to dress himself as a harper; and in the\nafter-noon he stood in the door of the church.\n\n\"Who are you?\" said the bishop, \"and what are you doing here?\"\n\n\"I am a bold harper,\" said Robin, \"the best in the north country.\"\n\n\"I am glad you have come,\" said the bishop kindly. \"There is no music\nthat I like so well as that of the harp. Come in, and play for us.\"\n\n\"I will go in,\" said Robin Hood; \"but I will not give you any music\nuntil I see the bride and bridegroom.\"\n\nJust then an old man came in. He was dressed in rich clothing, but was\nbent with age, and was feeble and gray. By his side walked a fair\nyoung girl. Her cheeks were very pale, and her eyes were full of\ntears.\n\n\"This is no match,\" said Robin. \"Let the bride choose for herself.\"\n\nThen he put his horn to his lips, and blew three times. The very next\nminute, four and twenty men, all dressed in green, and car-ry-ing long\nbows in their hands, came running across the fields. And as they\nmarched into the church, all in a row, the fore-most among them was\nAllin-a-Dale.\n\n\"Now whom do you choose?\" said Robin to the maiden.\n\n\"I choose Allin-a-Dale,\" she said, blushing.\n\n\"And Allin-a-Dale you shall have,\" said Robin; \"and he that takes you\nfrom Allin-a-Dale shall find that he has Robin Hood to deal with.\"\n\nAnd so the fair maiden and Allin-a-Dale were married then and there,\nand the rich old man went home in a great rage.\n\n    \"And thus having ended this merry wedding,\n        The bride looked like a queen:\n    And so they re-turned to the merry green wood,\n        Amongst the leaves so green.\"\n\n\n\n\nBRUCE AND THE SPIDER.\n\n\nThere was once a king of Scot-land whose name was Robert Bruce. He had\nneed to be both brave and wise, for the times in which he lived were\nwild and rude. The King of England was at war with him, and had led a\ngreat army into Scotland to drive him out of the land.\n\nBattle after battle had been fought. Six times had Bruce led his brave\nlittle army against his foes; and six times had his men been beaten,\nand driven into flight. At last his army was scat-tered, and he was\nforced to hide himself in the woods and in lonely places among the\nmoun-tains.\n\nOne rainy day, Bruce lay on the ground under a rude shed, lis-ten-ing\nto the patter of the drops on the roof above him. He was tired and\nsick at heart, and ready to give up all hope. It seemed to him that\nthere was no use for him to try to do anything more.\n\nAs he lay thinking, he saw a spider over his head, making ready to\nweave her web. He watched her as she toiled slowly and with great\ncare. Six times she tried to throw her frail thread from one beam to\nanother, and six times it fell short.\n\n\"Poor thing!\" said Bruce: \"you, too, know what it is to fail.\"\n\nBut the spider did not lose hope with the sixth failure. With still\nmore care, she made ready to try for the seventh time. Bruce almost\nforgot his own troubles as he watched her swing herself out upon the\nslender line. Would she fail again? No! The thread was carried safely\nto the beam, and fas-tened there.\n\n\"I, too, will try a seventh time!\" cried Bruce.\n\nHe arose and called his men together. He told them of his plans, and\nsent them out with mes-sa-ges of cheer to his dis-heart-ened people.\nSoon there was an army of brave Scotch-men around him. Another battle\nwas fought, and the King of England was glad to go back into his own\ncountry.\n\nI have heard it said, that, after that day, no one by the name of\nBruce would ever hurt a spider. The lesson which the little crea-ture\nhad taught the king was never for-got-ten.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BLACK DOUGLAS.\n\n\nIn Scotland, in the time of King Robert Bruce, there lived a brave man\nwhose name was Doug-las. His hair and beard were black and long, and\nhis face was tanned and dark; and for this reason people nicknamed him\nthe Black Douglas. He was a good friend of the king, and one of his\nstrongest helpers.\n\nIn the war with the English, who were trying to drive Bruce from\nScotland, the Black Douglas did many brave deeds; and the English\npeople became very much afraid of him. By and by the fear of him\nspread all through the land. Nothing could frighten an English lad\nmore than to tell him that the Black Douglas was not far away. Women\nwould tell their chil-dren, when they were naughty, that the Black\nDouglas would get them; and this would make them very quiet and good.\n\nThere was a large cas-tle in Scotland which the English had taken\nearly in the war. The Scot-tish soldiers wanted very much to take it\nagain, and the Black Douglas and his men went one day to see what they\ncould do. It happened to be a hol-i-day, and most of the English\nsoldiers in the cas-tle were eating and drinking and having a merry\ntime. But they had left watch-men on the wall to see that the Scottish\nsoldiers did not come upon them un-a-wares; and so they felt quite\nsafe.\n\nIn the e-ven-ing, when it was growing dark, the wife of one of the\nsoldiers went up on the wall with her child in her arms. As she looked\nover into the fields below the castle, she saw some dark objects\nmoving toward the foot of the wall. In the dusk she could not make out\nwhat they were, and so she pointed them out to one of the watch-men.\n\n\"Pooh, pooh!\" said the watchman. \"Those are nothing to frighten us.\nThey are the farmer's cattle, trying to find their way home. The\nfarmer himself is en-joy-ing the hol-i-day, and he has forgotten to\nbring them in. If the Douglas should happen this way before morning,\nhe will be sorry for his care-less-ness.\"\n\nBut the dark objects were not cattle. They were the Black Douglas and\nhis men, creeping on hands and feet toward the foot of the castle\nwall. Some of them were dragging ladders behind them through the\ngrass. They would soon be climbing to the top of the wall. None of the\nEnglish soldiers dreamed that they were within many miles of the\nplace.\n\nThe woman watched them until the last one had passed around a corner\nout of sight. She was not afraid, for in the dark-en-ing twi-light\nthey looked indeed like cattle. After a little while she began to sing\nto her child:--\n\n    \"Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye,\n    Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye,\n    The Black Douglas shall not get ye.\"\n\nAll at once a gruff voice was heard behind her, saying, \"Don't be so\nsure about that!\"\n\nShe looked around, and there stood the Black Douglas himself. At the\nsame moment a Scottish soldier climbed off a ladder and leaped upon\nthe wall; and then there came another and another and another, until\nthe wall was covered with them. Soon there was hot fighting in every\npart of the castle. But the English were so taken by surprise that\nthey could not do much. Many of them were killed, and in a little\nwhile the Black Douglas and his men were the masters of the castle,\nwhich by right be-longed to them.\n\n[Illustration: \"Don't be so sure about that!\"]\n\nAs for the woman and her child, the Black Douglas would not suffer any\none to harm them. After a while they went back to England; and whether\nthe mother made up any more songs about the Black Douglas I cannot\ntell.\n\n\n\n\nTHREE MEN OF GOTHAM.\n\n\nThere is a town in England called Go-tham, and many merry stories are\ntold of the queer people who used to live there.\n\nOne day two men of Go-tham met on a bridge. Hodge was coming from the\nmarket, and Peter was going to the market.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" said Hodge.\n\n\"I am going to the market to buy sheep,\" said Peter.\n\n\"Buy sheep?\" said Hodge. \"And which way will you bring them home?\"\n\n\"I shall bring them over this bridge,\" said Peter.\n\n\"No, you shall not,\" said Hodge.\n\n\"Yes, but I will,\" said Peter.\n\n\"You shall not,\" said Hodge.\n\n\"I will,\" said Peter.\n\nThen they beat with their sticks on the ground as though there had\nbeen a hundred sheep between them.\n\n\"Take care!\" cried Peter. \"Look out that my sheep don't jump on the\nbridge.\"\n\n\"I care not where they jump,\" said Hodge; \"but they shall not go over\nit.\"\n\n\"But they shall,\" said Peter.\n\n\"Have a care,\" said Hodge; \"for if you say too much, I will put my\nfingers in your mouth.\"\n\n\"Will you?\" said Peter.\n\nJust then another man of Gotham came from the market with a sack of\nmeal on his horse. He heard his neigh-bors quar-rel-ing about sheep;\nbut he could see no sheep between them, and so he stopped and spoke to\nthem.\n\n\"Ah, you foolish fellows!\" he cried. \"It is strange that you will\nnever learn wisdom.--Come here, Peter, and help me lay my sack on my\nshoul-der.\"\n\nPeter did so, and the man carried his meal to the side of the bridge.\n\n\"Now look at me,\" he said, \"and learn a lesson.\" And he opened the\nmouth of the sack, and poured all the meal into the river.\n\n\"Now, neighbors,\" he said, \"can you tell how much meal is in my\nsack?\"\n\n[Illustration: \"How much meal is in my sack?\"]\n\n\"There is none at all!\" cried Hodge and Peter together.\n\n\"You are right,\" said the man; \"and you that stand here and quarrel\nabout nothing, have no more sense in your heads than I have meal in my\nsack!\"\n\n\n\n\nOTHER WISE MEN OF GOTHAM.\n\n\nOne day, news was brought to Gotham that the king was coming that way,\nand that he would pass through the town. This did not please the men\nof Gotham at all. They hated the king, for they knew that he was a\ncruel, bad man. If he came to their town, they would have to find food\nand lodg-ing for him and his men; and if he saw anything that pleased\nhim, he would be sure to take it for his own. What should they do?\n\nThey met together to talk the matter over.\n\n\"Let us chop down the big trees in the woods, so that they will block\nup all the roads that lead into the town,\" said one of the wise men.\n\n\"Good!\" said all the rest.\n\nSo they went out with their axes, and soon all the roads and paths to\nthe town were filled with logs and brush. The king's horse-men would\nhave a hard time of it getting into Gotham. They would either have to\nmake a new road, or give up the plan al-to-geth-er, and go on to some\nother place.\n\nWhen the king came, and saw that the road had been blocked up, he was\nvery angry.\n\n\"Who chopped those trees down in my way?\" he asked of two country lads\nthat were passing by.\n\n\"The men of Gotham,\" said the lads.\n\n\"Well,\" said the king, \"go and tell the men of Gotham that I shall\nsend my sher-iff into their town, and have all their noses cut off.\"\n\nThe two lads ran to the town as fast as they could, and made known\nwhat the king had said.\n\nEvery-body was in great fright. The men ran from house to house,\ncarrying the news, and asking one another what they should do.\n\n\"Our wits have kept the king out of the town,\" said one; \"and so now\nour wits must save our noses.\"\n\n\"True, true!\" said the others. \"But what shall we do?\"\n\nThen one, whose name was Dobbin, and who was thought to be the wisest\nof them all, said, \"Let me tell you something. Many a man has been\npunished because he was wise, but I have never heard of any one being\nharmed because he was a fool. So, when the king's sher-iff comes, let\nus all act like fools.\"\n\n\"Good, good!\" cried the others. \"We will all act like fools.\"\n\nIt was no easy thing for the king's men to open the roads; and while\nthey were doing it, the king grew tired of waiting, and went back to\nLondon. But very early one morning, the sheriff with a party of fierce\nsoldiers rode through the woods, and between the fields, toward\nGotham. Just before they reached the town, they saw a queer sight. The\nold men were rolling big stones up the hill, and all the young men\nwere looking on, and grunting very loudly.\n\nThe sheriff stopped his horses, and asked what they were doing.\n\n\"We are rolling stones up-hill to make the sun rise,\" said one of the\nold men.\n\n\"You foolish fellow!\" said the sheriff. \"Don't you know that the sun\nwill rise without any help?\"\n\n\"Ah! will it?\" said the old man. \"Well, I never thought of that. How\nwise you are!\"\n\n\"And what are _you_ doing?\" said the sheriff to the young men.\n\n\"Oh, we do the grunting while our fathers do the working,\" they\nanswered.\n\n\"I see,\" said the sheriff. \"Well, that is the way the world goes\nevery-where.\" And he rode on toward the town.\n\nHe soon came to a field where a number of men were building a stone\nwall.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" he asked.\n\n\"Why, master,\" they answered, \"there is a cuck-oo in this field, and\nwe are building a wall around it so as to keep the bird from straying\naway.\"\n\n\"You foolish fellows!\" said the sheriff. \"Don't you know that the bird\nwill fly over the top of your wall, no matter how high you build it?\"\n\n\"Why, no,\" they said. \"We never thought of that. How very wise you\nare!\"\n\nThe sheriff next met a man who was carrying a door on his back.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" he asked.\n\n\"I have just started on a long jour-ney,\" said the man.\n\n\"But why do you carry that door?\" asked the sheriff.\n\n\"I left my money at home.\"\n\n\"Then why didn't you leave the door at home too?\"\n\n\"I was afraid of thieves; and you see, if I have the door with me,\nthey can't break it open and get in.\"\n\n\"You foolish fellow!\" said the sheriff. \"It would be safer to leave\nthe door at home, and carry the money with you.\"\n\n\"Ah, would it, though?\" said the man. \"Now, I never thought of that.\nYou are the wisest man that I ever saw.\"\n\nThen the sheriff rode on with his men; but every one that they met was\ndoing some silly thing.\n\n\"Truly I believe that the people of Gotham are all fools,\" said one of\nthe horsemen.\n\n\"That is true,\" said another. \"It would be a shame to harm such simple\npeople.\"\n\n\"Let us ride back to London, and tell the king all about them,\" said\nthe sheriff.\n\n\"Yes, let us do so,\" said the horsemen.\n\nSo they went back, and told the king that Gotham was a town of fools;\nand the king laughed, and said that if that was the case, he would not\nharm them, but would let them keep their noses.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MILLER OF THE DEE.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived on the banks of the River Dee a miller,\nwho was the hap-pi-est man in England. He was always busy from morning\ntill night, and he was always singing as merrily as any lark. He was\nso cheerful that he made everybody else cheerful; and people all over\nthe land liked to talk about his pleasant ways. At last the king heard\nabout him.\n\n\"I will go down and talk with this won-der-ful miller,\" he said.\n\"Perhaps he can tell me how to be happy.\"\n\nAs soon as he stepped inside of the mill, he heard the miller\nsinging:--\n\n    \"I envy no-body--no, not I!--\n    For I am as happy as I can be;\n    And nobody envies me.\"\n\n\"You're wrong, my friend,\" said the king. \"You're wrong as wrong can\nbe. I envy you; and I would gladly change places with you, if I could\nonly be as light-hearted as you are.\"\n\nThe miller smiled, and bowed to the king.\n\n\"I am sure I could not think of changing places with you, sir,\" he\nsaid.\n\n\"Now tell me,\" said the king, \"what makes you so cheerful and glad\nhere in your dusty mill, while I, who am king, am sad and in trouble\nevery day.\"\n\nThe miller smiled again, and said, \"I do not know why you are sad, but\nI can eas-i-ly tell why I am glad. I earn my own bread; I love my wife\nand my children; I love my friends, and they love me; and I owe not a\npenny to any man. Why should I not be happy? For here is the River\nDee, and every day it turns my mill; and the mill grinds the corn that\nfeeds my wife, my babes, and me.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Say no more,\" said the king. \"Stay where you are, and be happy still.\nBut I envy you. Your dusty cap is worth more than my golden crown.\nYour mill does more for you than my kingdom can do for me. If there\nwere more such men as you, what a good place this world would be!\nGood-by, my friend!\"\n\nThe king turned about, and walked sadly away; and the miller went back\nto his work singing:--\n\n    \"Oh, I'm as happy as happy can be,\n    For I live by the side of the River Dee!\"\n\n\n\n\nSIR PHILIP SIDNEY.\n\n\nA cruel battle was being fought. The ground was covered with dead and\ndying men. The air was hot and stifling. The sun shone down without\npity on the wounded soldiers lying in the blood and dust.\n\nOne of these soldiers was a no-ble-man, whom everybody loved for his\ngen-tle-ness and kindness. Yet now he was no better off than the\npoorest man in the field. He had been wounded, and would die; and he\nwas suf-fer-ing much with pain and thirst.\n\nWhen the battle was over, his friends hurried to his aid. A soldier\ncame running with a cup in his hand.\n\n\"Here, Sir Philip,\" he said, \"I have brought you some clear, cool\nwater from the brook. I will raise your head so that you can drink.\"\n\nThe cup was placed to Sir Philip's lips. How thank-ful-ly he looked at\nthe man who had brought it! Then his eyes met those of a dying soldier\nwho was lying on the ground close by. The wist-ful look in the poor\nman's face spoke plainer than words.\n\n\"Give the water to that man,\" said Sir Philip quickly; and then,\npushing the cup toward him, he said, \"Here, my comrade, take this. Thy\nneed is greater than mine.\"\n\nWhat a brave, noble man he was! The name of Sir Philip Sidney will\nnever be for-got-ten; for it was the name of a Chris-tian gen-tle-man\nwho always had the good of others in his mind. Was it any wonder that\neverybody wept when it was heard that he was dead?\n\nIt is said, that, on the day when he was carried to the grave, every\neye in the land was filled with tears. Rich and poor, high and low,\nall felt that they had lost a friend; all mourned the death of the\nkindest, gentlest man that they had ever known.\n\n\n\n\nTHE UNGRATEFUL SOLDIER.\n\n\nHere is another story of the bat-tle-field, and it is much like the\none which I have just told you.\n\nNot quite a hundred years after the time of Sir Philip Sidney there\nwas a war between the Swedes and the Danes. One day a great battle was\nfought, and the Swedes were beaten, and driven from the field. A\nsoldier of the Danes who had been slightly wounded was sitting on the\nground. He was about to take a drink from a flask. All at once he\nheard some one say,--\n\n\"O sir! give me a drink, for I am dying.\"\n\nIt was a wounded Swede who spoke. He was lying on the ground only a\nlittle way off. The Dane went to him at once. He knelt down by the\nside of his fallen foe, and pressed the flask to his lips.\n\n\"Drink,\" said he, \"for thy need is greater than mine.\"\n\nHardly had he spoken these words, when the Swede raised himself on his\nelbow. He pulled a pistol from his pocket, and shot at the man who\nwould have be-friend-ed him. The bullet grazed the Dane's shoulder,\nbut did not do him much harm.\n\n\"Ah, you rascal!\" he cried. \"I was going to befriend you, and you\nrepay me by trying to kill me. Now I will punish you. I would have\ngiven you all the water, but now you shall have only half.\" And with\nthat he drank the half of it, and then gave the rest to the Swede.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen the King of the Danes heard about this, he sent for the soldier\nand had him tell the story just as it was.\n\n\"Why did you spare the life of the Swede after he had tried to kill\nyou?\" asked the king.\n\n\"Because, sir,\" said the soldier, \"I could never kill a wounded\nenemy.\"\n\n\"Then you deserve to be a no-ble-man,\" said the king. And he\nre-ward-ed him by making him a knight, and giving him a noble title.\n\n\n\n\nSIR HUMPHREY GILBERT.\n\n\nMore than three hundred years ago there lived in England a brave man\nwhose name was Sir Humphrey Gil-bert. At that time there were no white\npeople in this country of ours. The land was covered with forests; and\nwhere there are now great cities and fine farms there were only trees\nand swamps among which roamed wild In-di-ans and wild beasts.\n\nSir Hum-phrey Gilbert was one of the first men who tried to make a\nset-tle-ment in A-mer-i-ca. Twice did he bring men and ships over the\nsea, and twice did he fail, and sail back for England. The second\ntime, he was on a little ship called the \"Squirrel.\" Another ship,\ncalled the \"Golden Hind,\" was not far away. When they were three days\nfrom land, the wind failed, and the ships lay floating on the waves.\nThen at night the air grew very cold. A breeze sprang up from the\neast. Great white ice-bergs came drifting around them. In the morning\nthe little ships were almost lost among the floating mountains of ice.\nThe men on the \"Hind\" saw Sir Humphrey sitting on the deck of the\n\"Squirrel\" with an open book in his hand. He called to them and\nsaid,--\n\n\"Be brave, my friends! We are as near heaven on the sea as on the\nland.\"\n\nNight came again. It was a stormy night, with mist and rain. All at\nonce the men on the \"Hind\" saw the lights on board of the \"Squirrel\"\ngo out. The little vessel, with brave Sir Humphrey and all his brave\nmen, was swal-lowed up by the waves.\n\n\n\n\nSIR WALTER RALEIGH.\n\n\nThere once lived in England a brave and noble man whose name was\nWalter Ra-leigh. He was not only brave and noble, but he was also\nhandsome and polite; and for that reason the queen made him a knight,\nand called him Sir Walter Ra-leigh.\n\nI will tell you about it.\n\nWhen Raleigh was a young man, he was one day walking along a street in\nLondon. At that time the streets were not paved, and there were no\nsidewalks. Raleigh was dressed in very fine style, and he wore a\nbeau-ti-ful scar-let cloak thrown over his shoulders.\n\nAs he passed along, he found it hard work to keep from stepping in the\nmud, and soiling his hand-some new shoes. Soon he came to a puddle of\nmuddy water which reached from one side of the street to the other. He\ncould not step across. Perhaps he could jump over it.\n\nAs he was thinking what he should do, he happened to look up. Who was\nit coming down the street, on the other side of the puddle?\n\nIt was E-liz-a-beth, the Queen of England, with her train of\ngen-tle-wom-en and waiting maids. She saw the dirty puddle in the\nstreet. She saw the handsome young man with the scar-let cloak,\nstand-ing by the side of it. How was she to get across?\n\nYoung Raleigh, when he saw who was coming, forgot about himself. He\nthought only of helping the queen. There was only one thing that he\ncould do, and no other man would have thought of that.\n\nHe took off his scarlet cloak, and spread it across the puddle. The\nqueen could step on it now, as on a beautiful carpet.\n\nShe walked across. She was safely over the ugly puddle, and her feet\nhad not touched the mud. She paused a moment, and thanked the young\nman.\n\nAs she walked onward with her train, she asked one of the\ngen-tle-wom-en, \"Who is that brave gen-tle-man who helped us so\nhandsomely?\"\n\n\"His name is Walter Raleigh,\" said the gentle-woman.\n\n\"He shall have his reward,\" said the queen.\n\nNot long after that, she sent for Raleigh to come to her pal-ace.\n\nThe young man went, but he had no scarlet cloak to wear. Then, while\nall the great men and fine ladies of England stood around, the queen\nmade him a knight. And from that time he was known as Sir Walter\nRaleigh, the queen's favorite.\n\nSir Walter Raleigh and Sir Humphrey Gilbert about whom I have already\ntold you, were half-broth-ers.\n\nWhen Sir Humphrey made his first voy-age to America, Sir Walter was\nwith him. After that, Sir Walter tried sev-er-al times to send men to\nthis country to make a set-tle-ment.\n\nBut those whom he sent found only great forests, and wild beasts, and\nsav-age In-di-ans. Some of them went back to England; some of them\ndied for want of food; and some of them were lost in the woods. At\nlast Sir Walter gave up trying to get people to come to America.\n\nBut he found two things in this country which the people of England\nknew very little about. One was the po-ta-to, the other was to-bac-co.\n\nIf you should ever go to Ireland, you may be shown the place where Sir\nWalter planted the few po-ta-toes which he carried over from America.\nHe told his friends how the Indians used them for food; and he proved\nthat they would grow in the Old World as well as in the New.\n\nSir Walter had seen the Indians smoking the leaves of the to-bac-co\nplant. He thought that he would do the same, and he carried some of\nthe leaves to England. Englishmen had never used tobacco before that\ntime; and all who saw Sir Walter puff-ing away at a roll of leaves\nthought that it was a strange sight.\n\nOne day as he was sitting in his chair and smoking, his servant came\ninto the room. The man saw the smoke curling over his master's head,\nand he thought that he was on fire.\n\nHe ran out for some water. He found a pail that was quite full. He\nhurried back, and threw the water into Sir Walter's face. Of course\nthe fire was all put out.\n\nAfter that a great many men learned to smoke. And now tobacco is used\nin all countries of the world. It would have been well if Sir Walter\nRaleigh had let it alone.\n\n\n\n\nPOCAHONTAS.\n\n\nThere was once a very brave man whose name was John Smith. He came to\nthis country many years ago, when there were great woods everywhere,\nand many wild beasts and Indians. Many tales are told of his\nad-ven-tures, some of them true and some of them untrue. The most\nfamous of all these is the fol-low-ing:--\n\nOne day when Smith was in the woods, some Indians came upon him, and\nmade him their pris-on-er. They led him to their king, and in a short\ntime they made ready to put him to death.\n\nA large stone was brought in, and Smith was made to lie down with his\nhead on it. Then two tall Indians with big clubs in their hands came\nforward. The king and all his great men stood around to see. The\nIndians raised their clubs. In another moment they would fall on\nSmith's head.\n\nBut just then a little Indian girl rushed in. She was the daugh-ter of\nthe king, and her name was Po-ca-hon'tas. She ran and threw herself\nbetween Smith and the up-lift-ed clubs. She clasped Smith's head with\nher arms. She laid her own head upon his.\n\n\"O father!\" she cried, \"spare this man's life. I am sure he has done\nyou no harm, and we ought to be his friends.\"\n\nThe men with the clubs could not strike, for they did not want to hurt\nthe child. The king at first did not know what to do. Then he spoke to\nsome of his war-riors, and they lifted Smith from the ground. They\nuntied the cords from his wrists and feet, and set him free.\n\nThe next day the king sent Smith home; and several Indians went with\nhim to protect him from harm.\n\nAfter that, as long as she lived, Po-ca-hon-tas was the friend of the\nwhite men, and she did a great many things to help them.\n\n\n\n\nGEORGE WASHINGTON AND HIS HATCHET.\n\n\nWhen George Wash-ing-ton was quite a little boy, his father gave him a\nhatchet. It was bright and new, and George took great delight in going\nabout and chopping things with it.\n\nHe ran into the garden, and there he saw a tree which seemed to say to\nhim, \"Come and cut me down!\"\n\nGeorge had often seen his father's men chop down the great trees in\nthe forest, and he thought that it would be fine sport to see this\ntree fall with a crash to the ground. So he set to work with his\nlittle hatchet, and, as the tree was a very small one, it did not take\nlong to lay it low.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSoon after that, his father came home.\n\n\"Who has been cutting my fine young cherry tree?\" he cried. \"It was\nthe only tree of its kind in this country, and it cost me a great\ndeal of money.\"\n\nHe was very angry when he came into the house.\n\n\"If I only knew who killed that cherry tree,\" he cried, \"I would--yes,\nI would\"--\n\n\"Father!\" cried little George. \"I will tell you the truth about it. I\nchopped the tree down with my hatchet.\"\n\nHis father forgot his anger.\n\n\"George,\" he said, and he took the little fellow in his arms, \"George,\nI am glad that you told me about it. I would rather lose a dozen\ncherry trees than that you should tell one false-hood.\"\n\n\n\n\nGRACE DARLING.\n\n\nIt was a dark Sep-tem-ber morning. There was a storm at sea. A ship\nhad been driven on a low rock off the shores of the Farne Islands. It\nhad been broken in two by the waves, and half of it had been washed\naway. The other half lay yet on the rock, and those of the crew who\nwere still alive were cling-ing to it. But the waves were dashing over\nit, and in a little while it too would be carried to the bottom.\n\nCould any one save the poor, half-drowned men who were there?\n\nOn one of the islands was a light-house; and there, all through that\nstormy night, Grace Darling had listened to the storm.\n\nGrace was the daughter of the light-house keeper, and she had lived by\nthe sea as long as she could re-mem-ber.\n\nIn the darkness of the night, above the noise of the winds and waves,\nshe heard screams and wild cries. When day-light came, she could see\nthe wreck, a mile away, with the angry waters all around it. She could\nsee the men clinging to the masts.\n\n\"We must try to save them!\" she cried. \"Let us go out in the boat at\nonce!\"\n\n\"It is of no use, Grace,\" said her father. \"We cannot reach them.\"\n\nHe was an old man, and he knew the force of the mighty waves.\n\n\"We cannot stay here and see them die,\" said Grace. \"We must at least\ntry to save them.\"\n\nHer father could not say, \"No.\"\n\nIn a few minutes they were ready. They set off in the heavy lighthouse\nboat. Grace pulled one oar, and her father the other, and they made\nstraight toward the wreck. But it was hard rowing against such a sea,\nand it seemed as though they would never reach the place.\n\nAt last they were close to the rock, and now they were in greater\ndanger than before. The fierce waves broke against the boat, and it\nwould have been dashed in pieces, had it not been for the strength and\nskill of the brave girl.\n\nBut after many trials, Grace's father climbed upon the wreck, while\nGrace herself held the boat. Then one by one the worn-out crew were\nhelped on board. It was all that the girl could do to keep the frail\nboat from being drifted away, or broken upon the sharp edges of the\nrock.\n\nThen her father clam-bered back into his place. Strong hands grasped\nthe oars, and by and by all were safe in the lighthouse. There Grace\nproved to be no less tender as a nurse than she had been brave as a\nsailor. She cared most kindly for the ship-wrecked men until the storm\nhad died away and they were strong enough to go to their own homes.\n\nAll this happened a long time ago, but the name of Grace Darling will\nnever be forgotten. She lies buried now in a little church-yard by the\nsea, not far from her old home. Every year many people go there to see\nher grave; and there a mon-u-ment has been placed in honor of the\nbrave girl. It is not a large mon-u-ment, but it is one that speaks of\nthe noble deed which made Grace Darling famous. It is a figure carved\nin stone of a woman lying at rest, with a boat's oar held fast in her\nright hand.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF WILLIAM TELL.\n\n\nThe people of Swit-zer-land were not always free and happy as they are\nto-day. Many years ago a proud tyrant, whose name was Gessler, ruled\nover them, and made their lot a bitter one indeed.\n\nOne day this tyrant set up a tall pole in the public square, and put\nhis own cap on the top of it; and then he gave orders that every man\nwho came into the town should bow down before it. But there was one\nman, named William Tell, who would not do this. He stood up straight\nwith folded arms, and laughed at the swinging cap. He would not bow\ndown to Gessler himself.\n\nWhen Gessler heard of this, he was very angry. He was afraid that\nother men would disobey, and that soon the whole country would rebel\nagainst him. So he made up his mind to punish the bold man.\n\nWilliam Tell's home was among the mountains, and he was a famous\nhunter. No one in all the land could shoot with bow and arrow so well\nas he. Gessler knew this, and so he thought of a cruel plan to make\nthe hunter's own skill bring him to grief. He ordered that Tell's\nlittle boy should be made to stand up in the public square with an\napple on his head; and then he bade Tell shoot the apple with one of\nhis arrows.\n\nTell begged the tyrant not to have him make this test of his skill.\nWhat if the boy should move? What if the bow-man's hand should\ntremble? What if the arrow should not carry true?\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Will you make me kill my boy?\" he said.\n\n\"Say no more,\" said Gessler. \"You must hit the apple with your one\narrow. If you fail, my sol-diers shall kill the boy before your\neyes.\"\n\nThen, without another word, Tell fitted the arrow to his bow. He took\naim, and let it fly. The boy stood firm and still. He was not afraid,\nfor he had all faith in his father's skill.\n\nThe arrow whistled through the air. It struck the apple fairly in the\ncenter, and carried it away. The people who saw it shouted with joy.\n\nAs Tell was turning away from the place, an arrow which he had hidden\nunder his coat dropped to the ground.\n\n\"Fellow!\" cried Gessler, \"what mean you with this second arrow?\"\n\n\"Tyrant!\" was Tell's proud answer, \"this arrow was for your heart if I\nhad hurt my child.\"\n\nAnd there is an old story, that, not long after this, Tell did shoot\nthe tyrant with one of his arrows; and thus he set his country free.\n\n\n\n\nARNOLD WINKELRIED.\n\n\nA great army was marching into Swit-zer-land. If it should go much\nfarther, there would be no driving it out again. The soldiers would\nburn the towns, they would rob the farmers of their grain and sheep,\nthey would make slaves of the people.\n\nThe men of Switzerland knew all this. They knew that they must fight\nfor their homes and their lives. And so they came from the mountains\nand valleys to try what they could do to save their land. Some came\nwith bows and arrows, some with scythes and pitch-forks, and some with\nonly sticks and clubs.\n\nBut their foes kept in line as they marched along the road. Every\nsoldier was fully armed. As they moved and kept close together,\nnothing could be seen of them but their spears and shields and shining\narmor. What could the poor country people do against such foes as\nthese?\n\n\"We must break their lines,\" cried their leader; \"for we cannot harm\nthem while they keep together.\"\n\nThe bowmen shot their arrows, but they glanced off from the soldiers'\nshields. Others tried clubs and stones, but with no better luck. The\nlines were still un-bro-ken. The soldiers moved stead-i-ly onward;\ntheir shields lapped over one another; their thousand spears looked\nlike so many long bris-tles in the sun-light. What cared they for\nsticks and stones and hunts-men's arrows?\n\n\"If we cannot break their ranks,\" said the Swiss, \"we have no chance\nfor fight, and our country will be lost!\"\n\nThen a poor man, whose name was Ar-nold Wink'el-ried, stepped out.\n\n\"On the side of yonder moun-tain,\" said he, \"I have a happy home.\nThere my wife and chil-dren wait for my return. But they will not see\nme again, for this day I will give my life for my country. And do you,\nmy friends, do your duty, and Switzerland shall be free.\"\n\nWith these words he ran forward. \"Follow me!\" he cried to his friends.\n\"I will break the lines, and then let every man fight as bravely as he\ncan.\"\n\nHe had nothing in his hands, neither club nor stone nor other weapon.\nBut he ran straight on-ward to the place where the spears were\nthickest.\n\n\"Make way for lib-er-ty!\" he cried, as he dashed right into the lines.\n\nA hundred spears were turned to catch him upon their points. The\nsoldiers forgot to stay in their places. The lines were broken.\nArnold's friends rushed bravely after him. They fought with whatever\nthey had in hand. They snatched spears and shields from their foes.\nThey had no thought of fear. They only thought of their homes and\ntheir dear native land. And they won at last.\n\nSuch a battle no one ever knew before. But Switzerland was saved, and\nArnold Wink-el-ried did not die in vain.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BELL OF ATRI.\n\n\nA-tri is the name of a little town in It-a-ly. It is a very old town,\nand is built half-way up the side of a steep hill.\n\nA long time ago, the King of Atri bought a fine large bell, and had it\nhung up in a tower in the market place. A long rope that reached\nalmost to the ground was fas-tened to the bell. The smallest child\ncould ring the bell by pulling upon this rope.\n\n\"It is the bell of justice,\" said the king.\n\nWhen at last everything was ready, the people of Atri had a great\nholiday. All the men and women and children came down to the market\nplace to look at the bell of justice. It was a very pretty bell, and\nwas, pol-ished until it looked almost as bright and yellow as the sun.\n\n\"How we should like to hear it ring!\" they said.\n\nThen the king came down the street.\n\n\"Perhaps he will ring it,\" said the people; and everybody stood very\nstill, and waited to see what he would do.\n\nBut he did not ring the bell. He did not even take the rope in his\nhands. When he came to the foot of the tower, he stopped, and raised\nhis hand.\n\n\"My people,\" he said, \"do you see this beautiful bell? It is your\nbell; but it must never be rung except in case of need. If any one of\nyou is wronged at any time, he may come and ring the bell; and then\nthe judges shall come together at once, and hear his case, and give\nhim justice. Rich and poor, old and young, all alike may come; but no\none must touch the rope unless he knows that he has been wronged.\"\n\nMany years passed by after this. Many times did the bell in the market\nplace ring out to call the judges together. Many wrongs were righted,\nmany ill-doers were punished. At last the hempen rope was almost worn\nout. The lower part of it was un-twist-ed; some of the strands were\nbroken; it became so short that only a tall man could reach it.\n\n\"This will never do,\" said the judges one day. \"What if a child should\nbe wronged? It could not ring the bell to let us know it.\"\n\nThey gave orders that a new rope should be put upon the bell at\nonce,--a rope that should hang down to the ground, so that the\nsmallest child could reach it. But there was not a rope to be found in\nall Atri. They would have to send across the mountains for one, and it\nwould be many days before it could be brought. What if some great\nwrong should be done before it came? How could the judges know about\nit, if the in-jured one could not reach the old rope?\n\n\"Let me fix it for you,\" said a man who stood by.\n\nHe ran into his garden, which was not far away, and soon came back\nwith a long grape-vine in his hands.\n\n\"This will do for a rope,\" he said; and he climbed up, and fastened it\nto the bell. The slender vine, with its leaves and ten-drils still\nupon it, trailed to the ground.\n\n\"Yes,\" said the judges, \"it is a very good rope. Let it be as it is.\"\n\nNow, on the hill-side above the village, there lived a man who had\nonce been a brave knight. In his youth he had ridden through many\nlands, and he had fought in many a battle. His best friend through all\nthat time had been his horse,--a strong, noble steed that had borne\nhim safe through many a danger.\n\nBut the knight, when he grew older, cared no more to ride into battle;\nhe cared no more to do brave deeds; he thought of nothing but gold; he\nbecame a miser. At last he sold all that he had, except his horse, and\nwent to live in a little hut on the hill-side. Day after day he sat\namong his money bags, and planned how he might get more gold; and day\nafter day his horse stood in his bare stall, half-starved, and\nshiv-er-ing with cold.\n\n\"What is the use of keeping that lazy steed?\" said the miser to\nhimself one morning. \"Every week it costs me more to keep him than he\nis worth. I might sell him; but there is not a man that wants him. I\ncannot even give him away. I will turn him out to shift for himself,\nand pick grass by the roadside. If he starves to death, so much the\nbetter.\"\n\nSo the brave old horse was turned out to find what he could among the\nrocks on the barren hill-side. Lame and sick, he strolled along the\ndusty roads, glad to find a blade of grass or a thistle. The boys\nthrew stones at him, the dogs barked at him, and in all the world\nthere was no one to pity him.\n\nOne hot afternoon, when no one was upon the street, the horse chanced\nto wander into the market place. Not a man nor child was there, for\nthe heat of the sun had driven them all indoors. The gates were wide\nopen; the poor beast could roam where he pleased. He saw the\ngrape-vine rope that hung from the bell of justice. The leaves and\ntendrils upon it were still fresh and green, for it had not been there\nlong. What a fine dinner they would be for a starving horse!\n\nHe stretched his thin neck, and took one of the tempting morsels in\nhis mouth. It was hard to break it from the vine. He pulled at it, and\nthe great bell above him began to ring. All the people in Atri heard\nit. It seemed to say,--\n\n\"Some one     has done      me wrong!\n Some one     has done      me wrong!\n Oh! come     and judge     my case!\n Oh! come     and judge     my case!\n For I've     been wronged!\"\n\nThe judges heard it. They put on their robes, and went out through the\nhot streets to the market place. They wondered who it could be who\nwould ring the bell at such a time. When they passed through the gate,\nthey saw the old horse nibbling at the vine.\n\n\"Ha!\" cried one, \"it is the miser's steed. He has come to call for\njustice; for his master, as everybody knows, has treated him most\nshame-ful-ly.\"\n\n\"He pleads his cause as well as any dumb brute can,\" said another.\n\n\"And he shall have justice!\" said the third.\n\nMean-while a crowd of men and women and children had come into the\nmarket place, eager to learn what cause the judges were about to try.\nWhen they saw the horse, all stood still in wonder. Then every one was\nready to tell how they had seen him wan-der-ing on the hills, unfed,\nun-cared for, while his master sat at home counting his bags of gold.\n\n\"Go bring the miser before us,\" said the judges.\n\n[Illustration: \"Some one has done me wrong!\"]\n\nAnd when he came, they bade him stand and hear their judg-ment.\n\n\"This horse has served you well for many a year,\" they said. \"He has\nsaved you from many a peril. He has helped you gain your wealth.\nTherefore we order that one half of all your gold shall be set aside\nto buy him shelter and food, a green pasture where he may graze, and a\nwarm stall to comfort him in his old age.\"\n\nThe miser hung his head, and grieved to lose his gold; but the people\nshouted with joy, and the horse was led away to his new stall and a\ndinner such as he had not had in many a day.\n\n\n\n\nHOW NAPOLEON CROSSED THE ALPS.\n\n\nAbout a hundred years ago there lived a great gen-er-al whose name was\nNa-po'le-on Bo'na-parte. He was the leader of the French army; and\nFrance was at war with nearly all the countries around. He wanted very\nmuch to take his soldiers into It-a-ly; but between France and Italy\nthere are high mountains called the Alps, the tops of which are\ncovered with snow.\n\n\"Is it pos-si-ble to cross the Alps?\" said Na-po-le-on.\n\nThe men who had been sent to look at the passes over the mountains\nshook their heads. Then one of them said, \"It may be possible, but\"--\n\n\"Let me hear no more,\" said Napoleon. \"Forward to Italy!\"\n\nPeople laughed at the thought of an army of sixty thousand men\ncrossing the Alps where there was no road. But Napoleon waited only to\nsee that everything was in good order, and then he gave the order to\nmarch.\n\nThe long line of soldiers and horses and cannon stretched for twenty\nmiles. When they came to a steep place where there seemed to be no way\nto go farther, the trum-pets sounded \"Charge!\" Then every man did his\nbest, and the whole army moved right onward.\n\nSoon they were safe over the Alps. In four days they were marching on\nthe plains of Italy.\n\n\"The man who has made up his mind to win,\" said Napoleon, \"will never\nsay 'Im-pos-si-ble.'\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF CINCINNATUS.\n\n\nThere was a man named Cin-cin-na'tus who lived on a little farm not\nfar from the city of Rome. He had once been rich, and had held the\nhighest office in the land; but in one way or another he had lost all\nhis wealth. He was now so poor that he had to do all the work on his\nfarm with his own hands. But in those days it was thought to be a\nnoble thing to till the soil.\n\nCin-cin-na-tus was so wise and just that every-body trusted him, and\nasked his advice; and when any one was in trouble, and did not know\nwhat to do, his neighbors would say,--\n\n\"Go and tell Cincinnatus. He will help you.\"\n\nNow there lived among the mountains, not far away, a tribe of fierce,\nhalf-wild men, who were at war with the Roman people. They per-suad-ed\nanother tribe of bold war-riors to help them, and then marched toward\nthe city, plun-der-ing and robbing as they came. They boasted that\nthey would tear down the walls of Rome, and burn the houses, and kill\nall the men, and make slaves of the women and children.\n\nAt first the Romans, who were very proud and brave, did not think\nthere was much danger. Every man in Rome was a soldier, and the army\nwhich went out to fight the robbers was the finest in the world. No\none staid at home with the women and children and boys but the\nwhite-haired \"Fathers,\" as they were called, who made the laws for the\ncity, and a small company of men who guarded the walls. Everybody\nthought that it would be an easy thing to drive the men of the\nmountains back to the place where they belonged.\n\nBut one morning five horsemen came riding down the road from the\nmountains. They rode with great speed; and both men and horses were\ncovered with dust and blood. The watchman at the gate knew them, and\nshouted to them as they gal-loped in. Why did they ride thus? and what\nhad happened to the Roman army?\n\nThey did not answer him, but rode into the city and along the quiet\nstreets; and everybody ran after them, eager to find out what was the\nmatter. Rome was not a large city at that time; and soon they reached\nthe market place where the white-haired Fathers were sitting. Then\nthey leaped from their horses, and told their story.\n\n\"Only yes-ter-day,\" they said, \"our army was marching through a narrow\nvalley between two steep mountains. All at once a thou-sand sav-age\nmen sprang out from among the rocks before us and above us. They had\nblocked up the way; and the pass was so narrow that we could not\nfight. We tried to come back; but they had blocked up the way on this\nside of us too. The fierce men of the mountains were before us and\nbehind us, and they were throwing rocks down upon us from above. We\nhad been caught in a trap. Then ten of us set spurs to our horses; and\nfive of us forced our way through, but the other five fell before the\nspears of the mountain men. And now, O Roman Fathers! send help to our\narmy at once, or every man will be slain, and our city will be taken.\"\n\n\"What shall we do?\" said the white-haired Fathers. \"Whom can we send\nbut the guards and the boys? and who is wise enough to lead them, and\nthus save Rome?\"\n\nAll shook their heads and were very grave; for it seemed as if there\nwas no hope. Then one said, \"Send for Cincinnatus. He will help us.\"\n\nCincinnatus was in the field plowing when the men who had been sent to\nhim came in great haste. He stopped and greeted them kindly, and\nwaited for them to speak.\n\n\"Put on your cloak, Cincinnatus,\" they said, \"and hear the words of\nthe Roman people.\"\n\nThen Cincinnatus wondered what they could mean. \"Is all well with\nRome?\" he asked; and he called to his wife to bring him his cloak.\n\nShe brought the cloak; and Cincinnatus wiped the dust from his hands\nand arms, and threw it over his shoulders. Then the men told their\nerrand.\n\nThey told him how the army with all the noblest men of Rome had been\nen-trapped in the mountain pass. They told him about the great danger\nthe city was in. Then they said, \"The people of Rome make you their\nruler and the ruler of their city, to do with everything as you\nchoose; and the Fathers bid you come at once and go out against our\nenemies, the fierce men of the mountains.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSo Cincinnatus left his plow standing where it was, and hurried to the\ncity. When he passed through the streets, and gave orders as to what\nshould be done, some of the people were afraid, for they knew that he\nhad all power in Rome to do what he pleased. But he armed the guards\nand the boys, and went out at their head to fight the fierce mountain\nmen, and free the Roman army from the trap into which it had fallen.\n\nA few days afterward there was great joy in Rome. There was good news\nfrom Cincinnatus. The men of the mountains had been beaten with great\nloss. They had been driven back into their own place.\n\nAnd now the Roman army, with the boys and the guards, was coming home\nwith banners flying, and shouts of vic-to-ry; and at their head rode\nCincinnatus. He had saved Rome.\n\nCincinnatus might then have made himself king; for his word was law,\nand no man dared lift a finger against him. But, before the people\ncould thank him enough for what he had done, he gave back the power to\nthe white-haired Roman Fathers, and went again to his little farm and\nhis plow.\n\nHe had been the ruler of Rome for sixteen days.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF REGULUS.\n\n\nOn the other side of the sea from Rome there was once a great city\nnamed Car-thage. The Roman people were never very friendly to the\npeople of Car-thage, and at last a war began between them. For a long\ntime it was hard to tell which would prove the stronger. First the\nRomans would gain a battle, and then the men of Car-thage would gain a\nbattle; and so the war went on for many years.\n\nAmong the Romans there was a brave gen-er-al named Reg'u-lus,--a man\nof whom it was said that he never broke his word. It so happened after\na while, that Reg-u-lus was taken pris-on-er and carried to Carthage.\nIll and very lonely, he dreamed of his wife and little children so far\naway beyond the sea; and he had but little hope of ever seeing them\nagain. He loved his home dearly, but he believed that his first duty\nwas to his country; and so he had left all, to fight in this cruel\nwar.\n\nHe had lost a battle, it is true, and had been taken prisoner. Yet he\nknew that the Romans were gaining ground, and the people of Carthage\nwere afraid of being beaten in the end. They had sent into other\ncountries to hire soldiers to help them; but even with these they\nwould not be able to fight much longer against Rome.\n\nOne day some of the rulers of Carthage came to the prison to talk with\nRegulus.\n\n\"We should like to make peace with the Roman people,\" they said, \"and\nwe are sure, that, if your rulers at home knew how the war is going,\nthey would be glad to make peace with us. We will set you free and let\nyou go home, if you will agree to do as we say.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" asked Regulus.\n\n\"In the first place,\" they said, \"you must tell the Romans about the\nbattles which you have lost, and you must make it plain to them that\nthey have not gained any-thing by the war. In the second place, you\nmust promise us, that, if they will not make peace, you will come back\nto your prison.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Regulus, \"I promise you, that, if they will not make\npeace, I will come back to prison.\"\n\nAnd so they let him go; for they knew that a great Roman would keep\nhis word.\n\nWhen he came to Rome, all the people greeted him gladly. His wife and\nchildren were very happy, for they thought that now they would not be\nparted again. The white-haired Fathers who made the laws for the city\ncame to see him. They asked him about the war.\n\n\"I was sent from Carthage to ask you to make peace,\" he said. \"But it\nwill not be wise to make peace. True, we have been beaten in a few\nbattles, but our army is gaining ground every day. The people of\nCarthage are afraid, and well they may be. Keep on with the war a\nlittle while longer, and Carthage shall be yours. As for me, I have\ncome to bid my wife and children and Rome fare-well. To-morrow I will\nstart back to Carthage and to prison; for I have promised.\"\n\nThen the Fathers tried to persuade him to stay.\n\n\"Let us send another man in your place,\" they said.\n\n\"Shall a Roman not keep his word?\" answered Regulus. \"I am ill, and at\nthe best have not long to live. I will go back, as I promised.\"\n\nHis wife and little children wept, and his sons begged him not to\nleave them again.\n\n\"I have given my word,\" said Regulus. \"The rest will be taken care\nof.\"\n\nThen he bade them good-by, and went bravely back to the prison and the\ncruel death which he ex-pect-ed.\n\nThis was the kind of courage that made Rome the greatest city in the\nworld.\n\n\n\n\nCORNELIA'S JEWELS.\n\n\nIt was a bright morning in the old city of Rome many hundred years\nago. In a vine-covered summer-house in a beautiful garden, two boys\nwere standing. They were looking at their mother and her friend, who\nwere walking among the flowers and trees.\n\n\"Did you ever see so handsome a lady as our mother's friend?\" asked\nthe younger boy, holding his tall brother's hand. \"She looks like a\nqueen.\"\n\n\"Yet she is not so beautiful as our mother,\" said the elder boy. \"She\nhas a fine dress, it is true; but her face is not noble and kind. It\nis our mother who is like a queen.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said the other. \"There is no woman in Rome so much\nlike a queen as our own dear mother.\"\n\nSoon Cor-ne'li-a, their mother, came down the walk to speak with them.\nShe was simply dressed in a plain white robe. Her arms and feet were\nbare, as was the custom in those days; and no rings nor chains\nglit-tered about her hands and neck. For her only crown, long braids\nof soft brown hair were coiled about her head; and a tender smile lit\nup her noble face as she looked into her sons' proud eyes.\n\n\"Boys,\" she said, \"I have something to tell you.\"\n\nThey bowed before her, as Roman lads were taught to do, and said,\n\"What is it, mother?\"\n\n\"You are to dine with us to-day, here in the garden; and then our\nfriend is going to show us that wonderful casket of jewels of which\nyou have heard so much.\"\n\nThe brothers looked shyly at their mother's friend. Was it possible\nthat she had still other rings besides those on her fingers? Could she\nhave other gems besides those which sparkled in the chains about her\nneck?\n\nWhen the simple out-door meal was over, a servant brought the casket\nfrom the house. The lady opened it. Ah, how those jewels dazzled the\neyes of the wondering boys! There were ropes of pearls, white as milk,\nand smooth as satin; heaps of shining rubies, red as the glowing\ncoals; sap-phires as blue as the sky that summer day; and di-a-monds\nthat flashed and sparkled like the sunlight.\n\nThe brothers looked long at the gems.\n\n\"Ah!\" whis-pered the younger; \"if our mother could only have such\nbeautiful things!\"\n\nAt last, how-ever, the casket was closed and carried care-ful-ly away.\n\n\"Is it true, Cor-ne-li-a, that you have no jewels?\" asked her friend.\n\"Is it true, as I have heard it whis-pered, that you are poor?\"\n\n\"No, I am not poor,\" answered Cornelia, and as she spoke she drew her\ntwo boys to her side; \"for here are my jewels. They are worth more\nthan all your gems.\"\n\nI am sure that the boys never forgot their mother's pride and love and\ncare; and in after years, when they had become great men in Rome, they\noften thought of this scene in the garden. And the world still likes\nto hear the story of Cornelia's jewels.\n\n\n\n\nANDROCLUS AND THE LION.\n\n\nIn Rome there was once a poor slave whose name was An'dro-clus. His\nmaster was a cruel man, and so unkind to him that at last An-dro-clus\nran away.\n\nHe hid himself in a wild wood for many days; but there was no food to\nbe found, and he grew so weak and sick that he thought he should die.\nSo one day he crept into a cave and lay down, and soon he was fast\nasleep.\n\nAfter a while a great noise woke him up. A lion had come into the\ncave, and was roaring loudly. Androclus was very much afraid, for he\nfelt sure that the beast would kill him. Soon, however, he saw that\nthe lion was not angry, but that he limped as though his foot hurt\nhim.\n\nThen Androclus grew so bold that he took hold of the lion's lame paw\nto see what was the matter. The lion stood quite still, and rubbed his\nhead against the man's shoulder. He seemed to say,--\n\n\"I know that you will help me.\"\n\nAndroclus lifted the paw from the ground, and saw that it was a long,\nsharp thorn which hurt the lion so much. He took the end of the thorn\nin his fingers; then he gave a strong, quick pull, and out it came.\nThe lion was full of joy. He jumped about like a dog, and licked the\nhands and feet of his new friend.\n\nAndroclus was not at all afraid after this; and when night came, he\nand the lion lay down and slept side by side.\n\nFor a long time, the lion brought food to Androclus every day; and the\ntwo became such good friends, that Androclus found his new life a very\nhappy one.\n\nOne day some soldiers who were passing through the wood found\nAndroclus in the cave. They knew who he was, and so took him back to\nRome.\n\nIt was the law at that time that every slave who ran away from his\nmaster should be made to fight a hungry lion. So a fierce lion was\nshut up for a while without food, and a time was set for the fight.\n\nWhen the day came, thousands of people crowded to see the sport. They\nwent to such places at that time very much as people now-a-days go to\nsee a circus show or a game of base-ball.\n\nThe door opened, and poor Androclus was brought in. He was almost dead\nwith fear, for the roars of the lion could al-read-y be heard. He\nlooked up, and saw that there was no pity in the thou-sands of faces\naround him.\n\nThen the hungry lion rushed in. With a single bound he reached the\npoor slave. Androclus gave a great cry, not of fear, but of gladness.\nIt was his old friend, the lion of the cave.\n\nThe people, who had ex-pect-ed to see the man killed by the lion, were\nfilled with wonder. They saw Androclus put his arms around the lion's\nneck; they saw the lion lie down at his feet, and lick them\nlov-ing-ly; they saw the great beast rub his head against the slave's\nface as though he wanted to be petted. They could not un-der-stand\nwhat it all meant.\n\n[Illustration: Androclus and the Lion.]\n\nAfter a while they asked Androclus to tell them about it. So he\nstood up before them, and, with his arm around the lion's neck, told\nhow he and the beast had lived together in the cave.\n\n\"I am a man,\" he said; \"but no man has ever befriended me. This poor\nlion alone has been kind to me; and we love each other as brothers.\"\n\nThe people were not so bad that they could be cruel to the poor slave\nnow. \"Live and be free!\" they cried. \"Live and be free!\"\n\nOthers cried, \"Let the lion go free too! Give both of them their\nliberty!\"\n\nAnd so Androclus was set free, and the lion was given to him for his\nown. And they lived together in Rome for many years.\n\n\n\n\nHORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE.\n\n\nOnce there was a war between the Roman people and the E-trus'cans who\nlived in the towns on the other side of the Ti-ber River. Por'se-na,\nthe King of the E-trus-cans, raised a great army, and marched toward\nRome. The city had never been in so great danger.\n\nThe Romans did not have very many fighting men at that time, and they\nknew that they were not strong enough to meet the Etruscans in open\nbattle. So they kept themselves inside of their walls, and set guards\nto watch the roads.\n\nOne morning the army of Por-se-na was seen coming over the hills from\nthe north. There were thousands of horsemen and footmen, and they were\nmarching straight toward the wooden bridge which spanned the river at\nRome.\n\n\"What shall we do?\" said the white-haired Fathers who made the laws\nfor the Roman people. \"If they once gain the bridge, we cannot hinder\nthem from crossing; and then what hope will there be for the town?\"\n\nNow, among the guards at the bridge, there was a brave man named\nHo-ra'ti-us. He was on the farther side of the river, and when he saw\nthat the Etruscans were so near, he called out to the Romans who were\nbehind him.\n\n\"Hew down the bridge with all the speed that you can!\" he cried. \"I,\nwith the two men who stand by me, will keep the foe at bay.\"\n\nThen, with their shields before them, and their long spears in their\nhands, the three brave men stood in the road, and kept back the\nhorsemen whom Porsena had sent to take the bridge.\n\nOn the bridge the Romans hewed away at the beams and posts. Their axes\nrang, the chips flew fast; and soon it trembled, and was ready to\nfall.\n\n\"Come back! come back, and save your lives!\" they cried to Ho-ra-ti-us\nand the two who were with him.\n\nBut just then Porsena's horsemen dashed toward them again.\n\n\"Run for your lives!\" said Horatius to his friends. \"I will keep the\nroad.\"\n\nThey turned, and ran back across the bridge. They had hardly reached\nthe other side when there was a crashing of beams and timbers. The\nbridge toppled over to one side, and then fell with a great splash\ninto the water.\n\nWhen Horatius heard the sound, he knew that the city was safe. With\nhis face still toward Porsena's men, he moved slowly back-ward till he\nstood on the river's bank. A dart thrown by one of Porsena's soldiers\nput out his left eye; but he did not falter. He cast his spear at the\nfore-most horseman, and then he turned quickly around. He saw the\nwhite porch of his own home among the trees on the other side of the\nstream;\n\n    \"And he spake to the noble river\n      That rolls by the walls of Rome:\n    'O Tiber! father Tiber!\n      To whom the Romans pray,\n    A Roman's life, a Roman's arms,\n      Take thou in charge to-day.'\"\n\nHe leaped into the deep, swift stream. He still had his heavy armor\non; and when he sank out of sight, no one thought that he would ever\nbe seen again. But he was a strong man, and the best swimmer in Rome.\nThe next minute he rose. He was half-way across the river, and safe\nfrom the spears and darts which Porsena's soldiers hurled after him.\n\nSoon he reached the farther side, where his friends stood ready to\nhelp him. Shout after shout greeted him as he climbed upon the bank.\nThen Porsena's men shouted also, for they had never seen a man so\nbrave and strong as Horatius. He had kept them out of Rome, but he had\ndone a deed which they could not help but praise.\n\nAs for the Romans, they were very grateful to Horatius for having\nsaved their city. They called him Horatius Co'cles, which meant the\n\"one-eyed Horatius,\" because he had lost an eye in defending the\nbridge; they caused a fine statue of brass to be made in his honor;\nand they gave him as much land as he could plow around in a day. And\nfor hundreds of years afterwards--\n\n    \"With weeping and with laugh-ter,\n      Still was the story told,\n    How well Horatius kept the bridge\n      In the brave days of old.\"\n\n\n\n\nJULIUS CAESAR.\n\n\nNearly two thousand years ago there lived in Rome a man whose name was\nJulius Cae'sar. He was the greatest of all the Romans.\n\nWhy was he so great?\n\nHe was a brave warrior, and had con-quered many countries for Rome. He\nwas wise in planning and in doing. He knew how to make men both love\nand fear him.\n\nAt last he made himself the ruler of Rome. Some said that he wished to\nbecome its king. But the Romans at that time did not believe in kings.\n\nOnce when Cae-sar was passing through a little country village, all the\nmen, women, and children of the place came out to see him. There were\nnot more than fifty of them, all together, and they were led by their\nmay-or, who told each one what to do.\n\nThese simple people stood by the roadside and watched Caesar pass. The\nmay-or looked very proud and happy; for was he not the ruler of this\nvillage? He felt that he was almost as great a man as Caesar himself.\n\nSome of the fine of-fi-cers who were with Caesar laughed. They said,\n\"See how that fellow struts at the head of his little flock!\"\n\n\"Laugh as you will,\" said Caesar, \"he has reason to be proud. I would\nrather be the head man of a village than the second man in Rome!\"\n\nAt an-oth-er time, Caesar was crossing a narrow sea in a boat. Before\nhe was halfway to the farther shore, a storm overtook him. The wind\nblew hard; the waves dashed high; the lightning flashed; the thunder\nrolled.\n\nIt seemed every minute as though the boat would sink. The captain was\nin great fright. He had crossed the sea many times, but never in such\na storm as this. He trembled with fear; he could not guide the boat;\nhe fell down upon his knees; he moaned, \"All is lost! all is lost!\"\n\nBut Caesar was not afraid. He bade the man get up and take his oars\nagain.\n\n\"Why should you be afraid?\" he said. \"The boat will not be lost; for\nyou have Caesar on board.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE SWORD OF DAMOCLES.\n\n\nThere was once a king whose name was Di-o-nys'i-us. He was so unjust\nand cruel that he won for himself the name of tyrant. He knew that\nalmost everybody hated him, and so he was always in dread lest some\none should take his life.\n\nBut he was very rich, and he lived in a fine palace where there were\nmany beautiful and costly things, and he was waited upon by a host of\nservants who were always ready to do his bidding. One day a friend of\nhis, whose name was Dam'o-cles, said to him,--\n\n\"How happy you must be! You have here everything that any man could\nwish.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you would like to change places with me,\" said the tyrant.\n\n\"No, not that, O king!\" said Dam-o-cles; \"but I think, that, if I\ncould only have your riches and your pleas-ures for one day, I should\nnot want any greater hap-pi-ness.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the tyrant. \"You shall have them.\"\n\nAnd so, the next day, Damocles was led into the palace, and all the\nservants were bidden to treat him as their master. He sat down at a\ntable in the banquet hall, and rich foods were placed before him.\nNothing was wanting that could give him pleasure. There were costly\nwines, and beautiful flowers, and rare perfumes, and de-light-ful\nmusic. He rested himself among soft cushions, and felt that he was the\nhappiest man in all the world.\n\n[Illustration: The Sword of Damocles.]\n\nThen he chanced to raise his eyes toward the ceiling. What was it that\nwas dangling above him, with its point almost touching his head? It\nwas a sharp sword, and it was hung by only a single horse-hair. What\nif the hair should break? There was danger every moment that it would\ndo so.\n\nThe smile faded from the lips of Damocles. His face became ashy pale.\nHis hands trembled. He wanted no more food; he could drink no more\nwine; he took no more delight in the music. He longed to be out of the\npalace, and away, he cared not where.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" said the tyrant.\n\n\"That sword! that sword!\" cried Damocles. He was so badly frightened\nthat he dared not move.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Di-o-nys-i-us, \"I know there is a sword above your head,\nand that it may fall at any moment. But why should that trouble you? I\nhave a sword over my head all the time. I am every moment in dread\nlest something may cause me to lose my life.\"\n\n\"Let me go,\" said Damocles. \"I now see that I was mis-tak-en, and that\nthe rich and pow-er-ful are not so happy as they seem. Let me go back\nto my old home in the poor little cot-tage among the mountains.\"\n\nAnd so long as he lived, he never again wanted to be rich, or to\nchange places, even for a moment, with the king.\n\n\n\n\nDAMON AND PYTHIAS.\n\n\nA young man whose name was Pyth'i-as had done something which the\ntyrant Dionysius did not like. For this offense he was dragged to\nprison, and a day was set when he should be put to death. His home was\nfar away, and he wanted very much to see his father and mother and\nfriends before he died.\n\n\"Only give me leave to go home and say good-by to those whom I love,\"\nhe said, \"and then I will come back and give up my life.\"\n\nThe tyrant laughed at him.\n\n\"How can I know that you will keep your promise?\" he said. \"You only\nwant to cheat me, and save your-self.\"\n\nThen a young man whose name was Da-mon spoke and said,--\n\n\"O king! put me in prison in place of my friend Pyth-i-as, and let him\ngo to his own country to put his affairs in order, and to bid his\nfriends fare-well. I know that he will come back as he promised, for\nhe is a man who has never broken his word. But if he is not here on\nthe day which you have set, then I will die in his stead.\"\n\nThe tyrant was sur-prised that anybody should make such an offer. He\nat last agreed to let Pythias go, and gave orders that the young man\nDa-mon should be shut up in prison.\n\nTime passed, and by and by the day drew near which had been set for\nPythias to die; and he had not come back. The tyrant ordered the\njailer to keep close watch upon Damon, and not let him escape. But\nDamon did not try to escape. He still had faith in the truth and honor\nof his friend. He said, \"If Pythias does not come back in time, it\nwill not be his fault. It will be because he is hin-dered against his\nwill.\"\n\nAt last the day came, and then the very hour. Damon was ready to die.\nHis trust in his friend was as firm as ever; and he said that he did\nnot grieve at having to suffer for one whom he loved so much.\n\nThen the jailer came to lead him to his death; but at the same moment\nPythias stood in the door. He had been de-layed by storms and\nship-wreck, and he had feared that he was too late. He greeted Damon\nkindly, and then gave himself into the hands of the jailer. He was\nhappy because he thought that he had come in time, even though it was\nat the last moment.\n\nThe tyrant was not so bad but that he could see good in others. He\nfelt that men who loved and trusted each other, as did Damon and\nPythias, ought not to suffer un-just-ly. And so he set them both\nfree.\n\n\"I would give all my wealth to have one such friend,\" he said.\n\n\n\n\nA LACONIC ANSWER.\n\n\nMany miles beyond Rome there was a famous country which we call\nGreece. The people of Greece were not u-nit-ed like the Romans; but\ninstead there were sev-er-al states, each of which had its own rulers.\n\nSome of the people in the southern part of the country were called\nSpar-tans, and they were noted for their simple habits and their\nbrav-er-y. The name of their land was La-co'ni-a, and so they were\nsometimes called La-cons.\n\nOne of the strange rules which the Spartans had, was that they should\nspeak briefly, and never use more words than were needed. And so a\nshort answer is often spoken of as being _la-con-ic_; that is, as\nbeing such an answer as a Lacon would be likely to give.\n\nThere was in the northern part of Greece a land called Mac'e-don; and\nthis land was at one time ruled over by a war-like king named Philip.\n\nPhilip of Mac-e-don wanted to become the master of all Greece. So he\nraised a great army, and made war upon the other states, until nearly\nall of them were forced to call him their king. Then he sent a letter\nto the Spartans in La-co-ni-a, and said, \"If I go down into your\ncountry, I will level your great city to the ground.\"\n\nIn a few days, an answer was brought back to him. When he opened the\nletter, he found only one word written there.\n\nThat word was \"IF.\"\n\nIt was as much as to say, \"We are not afraid of you so long as the\nlittle word 'if' stands in your way.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE UNGRATEFUL GUEST.\n\n\nAmong the soldiers of King Philip there was a poor man who had done\nsome brave deeds. He had pleased the king in more ways than one, and\nso the king put a good deal of trust in him.\n\nOne day this soldier was on board of a ship at sea when a great storm\ncame up. The winds drove the ship upon the rocks, and it was wrecked.\nThe soldier was cast half-drowned upon the shore; and he would have\ndied there, had it not been for the kind care of a farmer who lived\nclose by.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen the soldier was well enough to go home, he thanked the farmer for\nwhat he had done, and promised that he would repay him for his\nkindness.\n\nBut he did not mean to keep his promise. He did not tell King Philip\nabout the man who had saved his life. He only said that there was a\nfine farm by the seashore, and that he would like very much to have\nit for his own. Would the king give it to him?\n\n\"Who owns the farm now?\" asked Philip.\n\n\"Only a churlish farmer, who has never done anything for his country,\"\nsaid the soldier.\n\n\"Very well, then,\" said Philip. \"You have served me for a long time,\nand you shall have your wish. Go and take the farm for yourself.\"\n\nAnd so the soldier made haste to drive the farmer from his house and\nhome. He took the farm for his own.\n\nThe poor farmer was stung to the heart by such treat-ment. He went\nboldly to the king, and told the whole story from beginning to end.\nKing Philip was very angry when he learned that the man whom he had\ntrusted had done so base a deed. He sent for the soldier in great\nhaste; and when he had come, he caused these words to be burned in his\nforehead:--\n\n     \"THE UNGRATEFUL GUEST.\"\n\nThus all the world was made to know of the mean act by which the\nsoldier had tried to enrich himself; and from that day until he died\nall men shunned and hated him.\n\n\n\n\nALEXANDER AND BUCEPHALUS.\n\n\nOne day King Philip bought a fine horse called Bu-ceph'a-lus. He was a\nnoble an-i-mal, and the king paid a very high price for him. But he\nwas wild and savage, and no man could mount him, or do anything at all\nwith him.\n\nThey tried to whip him, but that only made him worse. At last the king\nbade his servants take him away.\n\n\"It is a pity to ruin so fine a horse as that,\" said Al-ex-an'der, the\nking's young son. \"Those men do not know how to treat him.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you can do better than they,\" said his father scorn-ful-ly.\n\n\"I know,\" said Al-ex-an-der, \"that, if you would only give me leave to\ntry, I could manage this horse better than any one else.\"\n\n\"And if you fail to do so, what then?\" asked Philip.\n\n\"I will pay you the price of the horse,\" said the lad.\n\nWhile everybody was laughing, Alexander ran up to Bu-ceph-a-lus, and\nturned his head toward the sun. He had noticed that the horse was\nafraid of his own shadow.\n\nHe then spoke gently to the horse, and patted him with his hand. When\nhe had qui-et-ed him a little, he made a quick spring, and leaped upon\nthe horse's back.\n\nEverybody expected to see the boy killed outright. But he kept his\nplace, and let the horse run as fast as he would. By and by, when\nBucephalus had become tired, Alexander reined him in, and rode back to\nthe place where his father was standing.\n\nAll the men who were there shouted when they saw that the boy had\nproved himself to be the master of the horse.\n\nHe leaped to the ground, and his father ran and kissed him.\n\n\"My son,\" said the king, \"Macedon is too small a place for you. You\nmust seek a larger kingdom that will be worthy of you.\"\n\nAfter that, Alexander and Bucephalus were the best of friends. They\nwere said to be always together, for when one of them was seen, the\nother was sure to be not far away. But the horse would never allow any\none to mount him but his master.\n\nAlexander became the most famous king and warrior that was ever known;\nand for that reason he is always called Alexander the Great.\nBucephalus carried him through many countries and in many fierce\nbattles, and more than once did he save his master's life.\n\n\n\n\nDIOGENES THE WISE MAN.\n\n\nAt Cor-inth, in Greece, there lived a very wise man whose name was\nDi-og'e-nes. Men came from all parts of the land to see him and hear\nhim talk.\n\nBut wise as he was, he had some very queer ways. He did not believe\nthat any man ought to have more things than he re-al-ly needed; and he\nsaid that no man needed much. And so he did not live in a house, but\nslept in a tub or barrel, which he rolled about from place to place.\nHe spent his days sitting in the sun, and saying wise things to those\nwho were around him.\n\nAt noon one day, Di-og-e-nes was seen walking through the streets with\na lighted lantern, and looking all around as if in search of\nsomething.\n\n\"Why do you carry a lantern when the sun is shining?\" some one said.\n\n\"I am looking for an honest man,\" answered Diogenes.\n\nWhen Alexander the Great went to Cor-inth, all the fore-most men in\nthe city came out to see him and to praise him. But Diogenes did not\ncome; and he was the only man for whose o-pin-ions Alexander cared.\n\n[Illustration: Diogenes and Alexander.]\n\nAnd so, since the wise man would not come to see the king, the king\nwent to see the wise man. He found Diogenes in an out-of-the-way\nplace, lying on the ground by his tub. He was en-joy-ing the heat and\nthe light of the sun.\n\nWhen he saw the king and a great many people coming, he sat up and\nlooked at Alexander. Alexander greeted him and said,--\n\n\"Diogenes, I have heard a great deal about your wisdom. Is there\nanything that I can do for you?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Diogenes. \"You can stand a little on one side, so as not\nto keep the sunshine from me.\"\n\nThis answer was so dif-fer-ent from what he expected, that the king\nwas much sur-prised. But it did not make him angry; it only made him\nadmire the strange man all the more. When he turned to ride back, he\nsaid to his officers,--\n\n\"Say what you will; if I were not Alexander, I would like to be\nDiogenes.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE BRAVE THREE HUNDRED.\n\n\nAll Greece was in danger. A mighty army, led by the great King of\nPersia, had come from the east. It was marching along the seashore,\nand in a few days would be in Greece. The great king had sent\nmes-sen-gers into every city and state, bidding them give him water\nand earth in token that the land and the sea were his. But they\nsaid,--\n\n\"No: we will be free.\"\n\nAnd so there was a great stir through-out all the land. The men armed\nthemselves, and made haste to go out and drive back their foe; and the\nwomen staid at home, weeping and waiting, and trembling with fear.\n\nThere was only one way by which the Per-sian army could go into Greece\non that side, and that was by a narrow pass between the mountains and\nthe sea. This pass was guarded by Le-on'i-das, the King of the\nSpartans, with three hundred Spartan soldiers.\n\nSoon the Persian soldiers were seen coming. There were so many of them\nthat no man could count them. How could a handful of men hope to stand\nagainst so great a host?\n\nAnd yet Le-on-i-das and his Spartans held their ground. They had made\nup their minds to die at their post. Some one brought them word that\nthere were so many Persians that their arrows dark-ened the sun.\n\n\"So much the better,\" said the Spartans; \"we shall fight in the\nshade.\"\n\nBravely they stood in the narrow pass. Bravely they faced their foes.\nTo Spartans there was no such thing as fear. The Persians came\nforward, only to meet death at the points of their spears.\n\nBut one by one the Spartans fell. At last their spears were broken;\nyet still they stood side by side, fighting to the last. Some fought\nwith swords, some with daggers, and some with only their fists and\nteeth.\n\nAll day long the army of the Persians was kept at bay. But when the\nsun went down, there was not one Spartan left alive. Where they had\nstood there was only a heap of the slain, all bristled over with\nspears and arrows.\n\nTwenty thousand Persian soldiers had fallen before that handful of\nmen. And Greece was saved.\n\nThousands of years have passed since then; but men still like to tell\nthe story of Leonidas and the brave three hundred who died for their\ncountry's sake.\n\n\n\n\nSOCRATES AND HIS HOUSE.\n\n\nThere once lived in Greece a very wise man whose name was Soc'ra-tes.\nYoung men from all parts of the land went to him to learn wisdom from\nhim; and he said so many pleasant things, and said them in so\ndelightful a way, that no one ever grew tired of listening to him.\n\nOne summer he built himself a house, but it was so small that his\nneighbors wondered how he could be content with it.\n\n\"What is the reason,\" said they, \"that you, who are so great a man,\nshould build such a little box as this for your dwelling house?\"\n\n\"Indeed, there may be little reason,\" said he; \"but, small as the\nplace is, I shall think myself happy if I can fill even it with true\nfriends.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE KING AND HIS HAWK.\n\n\nGen'ghis Khan was a great king and war-rior.\n\nHe led his army into China and Persia, and he con-quered many lands.\nIn every country, men told about his daring deeds; and they said that\nsince Alexander the Great there had been no king like him.\n\nOne morning when he was home from the wars, he rode out into the woods\nto have a day's sport. Many of his friends were with him. They rode\nout gayly, carrying their bows and arrows. Behind them came the\nservants with the hounds.\n\nIt was a merry hunting party. The woods rang with their shouts and\nlaughter. They expected to carry much game home in the evening.\n\nOn the king's wrist sat his favorite hawk; for in those days hawks\nwere trained to hunt. At a word from their masters they would fly high\nup into the air, and look around for prey. If they chanced to see a\ndeer or a rabbit, they would swoop down upon it swift as any arrow.\n\nAll day long Gen-ghis Khan and his huntsmen rode through the woods.\nBut they did not find as much game as they expected.\n\nToward evening they started for home. The king had often ridden\nthrough the woods, and he knew all the paths. So while the rest of the\nparty took the nearest way, he went by a longer road through a valley\nbetween two mountains.\n\nThe day had been warm, and the king was very thirsty. His pet hawk had\nleft his wrist and flown away. It would be sure to find its way home.\n\nThe king rode slowly along. He had once seen a spring of clear water\nnear this path-way. If he could only find it now! But the hot days of\nsummer had dried up all the moun-tain brooks.\n\nAt last, to his joy, he saw some water tric-kling down over the edge\nof a rock. He knew that there was a spring farther up. In the wet\nseason, a swift stream of water always poured down here; but now it\ncame only one drop at a time.\n\nThe king leaped from his horse. He took a little silver cup from his\nhunting bag. He held it so as to catch the slowly falling drops.\n\nIt took a long time to fill the cup; and the king was so thirsty that\nhe could hardly wait. At last it was nearly full. He put the cup to\nhis lips, and was about to drink.\n\nAll at once there was a whir-ring sound in the air, and the cup was\nknocked from his hands. The water was all spilled upon the ground.\n\nThe king looked up to see who had done this thing. It was his pet\nhawk.\n\nThe hawk flew back and forth a few times, and then alighted among the\nrocks by the spring.\n\nThe king picked up the cup, and again held it to catch the tric-kling\ndrops.\n\nThis time he did not wait so long. When the cup was half full, he\nlifted it toward his mouth. But before it had touched his lips, the\nhawk swooped down again, and knocked it from his hands.\n\nAnd now the king began to grow angry. He tried again; and for the\nthird time the hawk kept him from drinking.\n\nThe king was now very angry indeed.\n\n\"How do you dare to act so?\" he cried. \"If I had you in my hands, I\nwould wring your neck!\"\n\nThen he filled the cup again. But before he tried to drink, he drew\nhis sword.\n\n\"Now, Sir Hawk,\" he said, \"this is the last time.\"\n\nHe had hardly spoken, before the hawk swooped down and knocked the cup\nfrom his hand. But the king was looking for this. With a quick sweep\nof the sword he struck the bird as it passed.\n\nThe next moment the poor hawk lay bleeding and dying at its master's\nfeet.\n\n\"That is what you get for your pains,\" said Genghis Khan.\n\nBut when he looked for his cup, he found that it had fallen between\ntwo rocks, where he could not reach it.\n\n\"At any rate, I will have a drink from that spring,\" he said to\nhimself.\n\nWith that he began to climb the steep bank to the place from which the\nwater trickled. It was hard work, and the higher he climbed, the\nthirst-i-er he became.\n\nAt last he reached the place. There indeed was a pool of water; but\nwhat was that lying in the pool, and almost filling it? It was a huge,\ndead snake of the most poi-son-ous kind.\n\nThe king stopped. He forgot his thirst. He thought only of the poor\ndead bird lying on the ground below him.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"The hawk saved my life!\" he cried; \"and how did I repay him? He was\nmy best friend, and I have killed him.\"\n\nHe clam-bered down the bank. He took the bird up gently, and laid it\nin his hunting bag. Then he mounted his horse and rode swiftly home.\nHe said to himself,--\n\n\"I have learned a sad lesson to-day; and that is, never to do\nany-thing in anger.\"\n\n\n\n\nDOCTOR GOLDSMITH.\n\n\nThere was once a kind man whose name was Oliver Gold-smith. He wrote\nmany de-light-ful books, some of which you will read when you are\nolder.\n\nHe had a gentle heart. He was always ready to help others and to share\nwith them anything that he had. He gave away so much to the poor that\nhe was always poor himself.\n\nHe was some-times called Doctor Goldsmith; for he had studied to be a\nphy-si-cian.\n\nOne day a poor woman asked Doctor Goldsmith to go and see her husband,\nwho was sick and could not eat.\n\nGoldsmith did so. He found that the family was in great need. The man\nhad not had work for a long time. He was not sick, but in distress;\nand, as for eating, there was no food in the house.\n\n\"Call at my room this evening,\" said Goldsmith to the woman, \"and I\nwill give you some med-i-cine for your husband.\"\n\nIn the evening the woman called. Goldsmith gave her a little paper box\nthat was very heavy.\n\n\"Here is the med-i-cine,\" he said. \"Use it faith-ful-ly, and I think\nit will do your husband a great deal of good. But don't open the box\nuntil you reach home.\"\n\n\"What are the di-rec-tions for taking it?\" asked the woman.\n\n\"You will find them inside of the box,\" he answered.\n\nWhen the woman reached her home, she sat down by her husband's side,\nand they opened the box; What do you think they found in it?\n\nIt was full of pieces of money. And on the top were the\ndi-rec-tions:--\n\n     \"TO BE TAKEN AS OFTEN AS NE-CES-SI-TY REQUIRES.\"\n\nGoldsmith had given them all the ready money that he had.\n\n\n\n\nTHE KINGDOMS.\n\n\nThere was once a king of Prussia whose name was Frederick William.\n\nOn a fine morning in June he went out alone to walk in the green\nwoods. He was tired of the noise of the city, and he was glad to get\naway from it.\n\nSo, as he walked among the trees, he often stopped to listen to the\nsinging birds, or to look at the wild flowers that grew on every side.\nNow and then he stooped to pluck a violet, or a primrose, or a yellow\nbut-ter-cup. Soon his hands were full of pretty blossoms.\n\nAfter a while he came to a little meadow in the midst of the wood.\nSome children were playing there. They were running here and there,\nand gathering the cow-slips that were blooming among the grass.\n\nIt made the king glad to see the happy children, and hear their merry\nvoices. He stood still for some time, and watched them as they played.\n\nThen he called them around him, and all sat down to-geth-er in the\npleasant shade. The children did not know who the strange gentleman\nwas; but they liked his kind face and gentle manners.\n\n\"Now, my little folks,\" said the king, \"I want to ask you some\nques-tions, and the child who gives the best answer shall have a\nprize.\"\n\nThen he held up an orange so that all the children could see.\n\n\"You know that we all live in the king-dom of Prussia,\" he said; \"but\ntell me, to what king-dom does this orange belong?\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe children were puz-zled. They looked at one another, and sat very\nstill for a little while. Then a brave, bright boy spoke up and\nsaid,--\n\n\"It belongs to the veg-e-ta-ble kingdom, sir.\"\n\n\"Why so, my lad?\" asked the king.\n\n\"It is the fruit of a plant, and all plants belong to that kingdom,\"\nsaid the boy.\n\nThe king was pleased. \"You are quite right,\" he said; \"and you shall\nhave the orange for your prize.\"\n\nHe tossed it gayly to the boy. \"Catch it if you can!\" he said.\n\nThen he took a yellow gold piece from his pocket, and held it up so\nthat it glit-tered in the sunlight.\n\n\"Now to what kingdom does this belong?\" he asked.\n\nAnother bright boy answered quick-ly, \"To the min-er-al kingdom, sir!\nAll metals belong to that kingdom.\"\n\n\"That is a good answer,\" said the king. \"The gold piece is your\nprize.\"\n\nThe children were de-light-ed. With eager faces they waited to hear\nwhat the stranger would say next.\n\n\"I will ask you only one more question,\" said the king, \"and it is an\neasy one.\" Then he stood up, and said, \"Tell me, my little folks, to\nwhat kingdom do I belong?\"\n\nThe bright boys were puz-zled now. Some thought of saying, \"To the\nkingdom of Prussia.\" Some wanted to say, \"To the animal kingdom.\" But\nthey were a little afraid, and all kept still.\n\nAt last a tiny blue-eyed child looked up into the king's smiling face,\nand said in her simple way,--\n\n\"I think to the kingdom of heaven.\"\n\nKing Frederick William stooped down and lifted the little maiden in\nhis arms. Tears were in his eyes as he kissed her, and said, \"So be\nit, my child! So be it.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE BARMECIDE FEAST.\n\n\nThere was once a rich old man who was called the Bar-me-cide. He lived\nin a beautiful palace in the midst of flowery gardens. He had\nevery-thing that heart could wish.\n\nIn the same land there was a poor man whose name was Schac-a-bac. His\nclothing was rags, and his food was the scraps which other people had\nthrown away. But he had a light heart, and was as happy as a king.\n\nOnce when Schac-a-bac had not had anything to eat for a long time, he\nthought that he would go and ask the Bar-me-cide to help him.\n\nThe servant at the door said, \"Come in and talk with our master. He\nwill not send you away hungry.\"\n\nSchacabac went in, and passed through many beautiful rooms, looking\nfor the Barmecide. At last he came to a grand hall where there were\nsoft carpets on the floor, and fine pictures on the walls, and\npleasant couches to lie down upon.\n\nAt the upper end of the room he saw a noble man with a long white\nbeard. It was the Barmecide; and poor Schacabac bowed low before him,\nas was the custom in that country.\n\nThe Barmecide spoke very kindly, and asked what was wanted.\n\nSchacabac told him about all his troubles, and said that it was now\ntwo days since he had tasted bread.\n\n\"Is it possible?\" said the Barmecide. \"You must be almost dead with\nhunger; and here I have plenty and to spare!\"\n\nThen he turned and called, \"Ho, boy! Bring in the water to wash our\nhands, and then order the cook to hurry the supper.\"\n\nSchacabac had not expected to be treated so kindly. He began to thank\nthe rich man.\n\n\"Say not a word,\" said the Barmecide, \"but let us get ready for the\nfeast.\"\n\nThen the rich man began to rub his hands as though some one was\npouring water on them. \"Come and wash with me,\" he said.\n\nSchacabac saw no boy, nor basin, nor water. But he thought that he\nought to do as he was bidden; and so, like the Barmecide, he made a\npretense of washing.\n\n\"Come now,\" said the Barmecide, \"let us have supper.\"\n\nHe sat down, as if to a table, and pre-tend-ed to be carving a roast.\nThen he said, \"Help yourself, my good friend. You said you were\nhungry: so, now, don't be afraid of the food.\"\n\nSchacabac thought that he un-der-stood the joke, and he made pretense\nof taking food, and passing it to his mouth. Then he began to chew,\nand said, \"You see, sir, I lose no time.\"\n\n\"Boy,\" said the old man, \"bring on the roast goose.--Now, my good\nfriend, try this choice piece from the breast. And here are sweet\nsauce, honey, raisins, green peas, and dry figs. Help yourself, and\nremember that other good things are coming.\"\n\nSchacabac was almost dead with hunger, but he was too polite not to do\nas he was bidden.\n\n\"Come,\" said the Barmecide, \"have another piece of the roast lamb. Did\nyou ever eat anything so de-li-cious?\"\n\n\"Never in my life,\" said Schacabac. \"Your table is full of good\nthings.\"\n\n\"Then eat heartily,\" said the Barmecide. \"You cannot please me\nbetter.\"\n\nAfter this came the des-sert. The Barmecide spoke of sweet-meats and\nfruits; and Schacabac made believe that he was eating them.\n\n\"Now is there anything else that you would like?\" asked the host.\n\n\"Ah, no!\" said poor Schacabac. \"I have indeed had great plenty.\"\n\n\"Let us drink, then,\" said the Barmecide. \"Boy, bring on the wine!\"\n\n\"Excuse me, my lord,\" said Schacabac, \"I will drink no wine, for it is\nfor-bid-den.\"\n\nThe Barmecide seized him by the hand. \"I have long wished to find a\nman like you,\" he said. \"But come, now we will sup in earnest.\"\n\nHe clapped his hands. Servants came, and he ordered supper. Soon they\nsat down to a table loaded with the very dishes of which they had\npre-tend-ed to eat.\n\nPoor Schacabac had never had so good a meal in all his life. When they\nhad fin-ished, and the table had been cleared away, the Barmecide\nsaid,--\n\n\"I have found you to be a man of good un-der-stand-ing. Your wits are\nquick, and you are ready always to make the best of everything. Come\nand live with me, and manage my house.\"\n\nAnd so Schacabac lived with the Barmecide many years, and never again\nknew what it was to be hungry.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ENDLESS TALE.\n\n\nIn the Far East there was a great king who had no work to do. Every\nday, and all day long, he sat on soft cush-ions and lis-tened to\nstories. And no matter what the story was about, he never grew tired\nof hearing it, even though it was very long.\n\n\"There is only one fault that I find with your story,\" he often said:\n\"it is too short.\"\n\nAll the story-tellers in the world were in-vit-ed to his palace; and\nsome of them told tales that were very long indeed. But the king was\nalways sad when a story was ended.\n\nAt last he sent word into every city and town and country place,\noffering a prize to any one who should tell him an endless tale. He\nsaid,--\n\n\"To the man that will tell me a story which shall last forever, I will\ngive my fairest daugh-ter for his wife; and I will make him my heir,\nand he shall be king after me.\"\n\nBut this was not all. He added a very hard con-di-tion. \"If any man\nshall try to tell such a story and then fail, he shall have his head\ncut off.\"\n\nThe king's daughter was very pretty, and there were many young men in\nthat country who were willing to do anything to win her. But none of\nthem wanted to lose their heads, and so only a few tried for the\nprize.\n\nOne young man invented a story that lasted three months; but at the\nend of that time, he could think of nothing more. His fate was a\nwarning to others, and it was a long time before another story-teller\nwas so rash as to try the king's patience.\n\nBut one day a stran-ger from the South came into the palace.\n\n\"Great king,\" he said, \"is it true that you offer a prize to the man\nwho can tell a story that has no end?\"\n\n\"It is true,\" said the king.\n\n\"And shall this man have your fairest daughter for his wife, and shall\nhe be your heir?\"\n\n\"Yes, if he suc-ceeds,\" said the king. \"But if he fails, he shall lose\nhis head.\"\n\n\"Very well, then,\" said the stran-ger. \"I have a pleasant story about\nlocusts which I would like to relate.\"\n\n\"Tell it,\" said the king. \"I will listen to you.\"\n\nThe story-teller began his tale.\n\n\"Once upon a time a certain king seized upon all the corn in his\ncountry, and stored it away in a strong gran-a-ry. But a swarm of\nlocusts came over the land and saw where the grain had been put. After\nsearch-ing for many days they found on the east side of the gran-a-ry\na crev-ice that was just large enough for one locust to pass through\nat a time. So one locust went in and carried away a grain of corn;\nthen another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn; then\nanother locust went in and carried away a grain of corn.\"\n\nDay after day, week after week, the man kept on saying, \"Then another\nlocust went in and carried away a grain of corn.\"\n\nA month passed; a year passed. At the end of two years, the king\nsaid,--\n\n\"How much longer will the locusts be going in and carrying away corn?\"\n\n\"O king!\" said the story-teller, \"they have as yet cleared only one\ncubit; and there are many thousand cubits in the granary.\"\n\n\"Man, man!\" cried the king, \"you will drive me mad. I can listen to it\nno longer. Take my daughter; be my heir; rule my kingdom. But do not\nlet me hear another word about those horrible locusts!\"\n\nAnd so the strange story-teller married the king's daughter. And he\nlived happily in the land for many years. But his father-in-law, the\nking, did not care to listen to any more stories.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT.\n\n\nThere were once six blind men who stood by the road-side every day,\nand begged from the people who passed. They had often heard of\nel-e-phants, but they had never seen one; for, being blind, how could\nthey?\n\nIt so happened one morning that an el-e-phant was driven down the road\nwhere they stood. When they were told that the great beast was before\nthem, they asked the driver to let him stop so that they might see\nhim.\n\nOf course they could not see him with their eyes; but they thought\nthat by touching him they could learn just what kind of animal he was.\n\nThe first one happened to put his hand on the elephant's side. \"Well,\nwell!\" he said, \"now I know all about this beast. He is ex-act-ly like\na wall.\"\n\nThe second felt only of the elephant's tusk. \"My brother,\" he said,\n\"you are mistaken. He is not at all like a wall. He is round and\nsmooth and sharp. He is more like a spear than anything else.\"\n\nThe third happened to take hold of the elephant's trunk. \"Both of you\nare wrong,\" he said. \"Anybody who knows anything can see that this\nelephant is like a snake.\"\n\nThe fourth reached out his arms, and grasped one of the elephant's\nlegs. \"Oh, how blind you are!\" he said. \"It is very plain to me that\nhe is round and tall like a tree.\"\n\nThe fifth was a very tall man, and he chanced to take hold of the\nelephant's ear. \"The blind-est man ought to know that this beast is\nnot like any of the things that you name,\" he said. \"He is ex-act-ly\nlike a huge fan.\"\n\nThe sixth was very blind indeed, and it was some time before he could\nfind the elephant at all. At last he seized the animal's tail. \"O\nfoolish fellows!\" he cried. \"You surely have lost your senses. This\nelephant is not like a wall, or a spear, or a snake, or a tree;\nneither is he like a fan. But any man with a par-ti-cle of sense can\nsee that he is exactly like a rope.\"\n\nThen the elephant moved on, and the six blind men sat by the roadside\nall day, and quar-reled about him. Each believed that he knew just how\nthe animal looked; and each called the others hard names because they\ndid not agree with him. People who have eyes sometimes act as\nfoolishly.\n\n\n\n\nMAXIMILIAN AND THE GOOSE BOY.\n\n\nOne summer day King Max-i-mil'ian of Ba-va'ri-a was walking in the\ncountry. The sun shone hot, and he stopped under a tree to rest.\n\nIt was very pleasant in the cool shade. The king lay down on the soft\ngrass, and looked up at the white clouds sailing across the sky. Then\nhe took a little book from his pocket and tried to read.\n\nBut the king could not keep his mind on his book. Soon his eyes\nclosed, and he was fast asleep.\n\nIt was past noon when he awoke. He got up from his grassy bed, and\nlooked around. Then he took his cane in his hand, and started for\nhome.\n\nWhen he had walked a mile or more, he happened to think of his book.\nHe felt for it in his pocket. It was not there. He had left it under\nthe tree.\n\nThe king was already quite tired, and he did not like to walk back so\nfar. But he did not wish to lose the book. What should he do?\n\nIf there was only some one to send for it!\n\nWhile he was thinking, he happened to see a little bare-foot-ed boy in\nthe open field near the road. He was tending a large flock of geese\nthat were picking the short grass, and wading in a shallow brook.\n\nThe king went toward the boy. He held a gold piece in his hand.\n\n\"My boy,\" he said, \"how would you like to have this piece of money?\"\n\n\"I would like it,\" said the boy; \"but I never hope to have so much.\"\n\n\"You shall have it if you will run back to the oak tree at the second\nturning of the road, and fetch me the book that I left there.\"\n\nThe king thought that the boy would be pleased. But not so. He turned\naway, and said, \"I am not so silly as you think.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" said the king. \"Who says that you are silly?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the boy, \"you think that I am silly enough to believe\nthat you will give me that gold piece for running a mile, and\nfetch-ing you a book. You can't catch me.\"\n\n\"But if I give it to you now, perhaps you will believe me,\" said the\nking; and he put the gold piece into the little fellow's hand.\n\nThe boy's eyes spar-kled; but he did not move.\n\n\"What is the matter now?\" said the king. \"Won't you go?\"\n\nThe boy said, \"I would like to go; but I can't leave the geese. They\nwill stray away, and then I shall be blamed for it.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Crack the whip!\"]\n\n\"Oh, I will tend them while you are away,\" said the king.\n\nThe boy laughed. \"I should like to see you tending them!\" he said.\n\"Why, they would run away from you in a minute.\"\n\n\"Only let me try,\" said the king.\n\nAt last the boy gave the king his whip, and started off. He had gone\nbut a little way, when he turned and came back.\n\n\"What is the matter now?\" said Max-i-mil-ian.\n\n\"Crack the whip!\"\n\nThe king tried to do as he was bidden, but he could not make a sound.\n\n\"I thought as much,\" said the boy. \"You don't know how to do\nanything.\"\n\nThen he took the whip, and gave the king lessons in whip cracking.\n\"Now you see how it is done,\" he said, as he handed it back. \"If the\ngeese try to run away, crack it loud.\"\n\nThe king laughed. He did his best to learn his lesson; and soon the\nboy again started off on his errand.\n\nMaximilian sat down on a stone, and laughed at the thought of being a\ngoose-herd. But the geese missed their master at once. With a great\ncac-kling and hissing they went, half flying, half running, across the\nmeadow.\n\nThe king ran after them, but he could not run fast. He tried to crack\nthe whip, but it was of no use. The geese were soon far away. What was\nworse, they had gotten into a garden, and were feeding on the tender\nveg-e-ta-bles.\n\nA few minutes after-ward, the goose boy came back with the book.\n\n\"Just as I thought,\" he said. \"I have found the book, and you have\nlost the geese.\"\n\n\"Never mind,\" said the king, \"I will help you get them again.\"\n\n\"Well, then, run around that way, and stand by the brook while I drive\nthem out of the garden.\"\n\nThe king did as he was told. The boy ran forward with his whip, and\nafter a great deal of shouting and scolding, the geese were driven\nback into the meadow.\n\n\"I hope you will pardon me for not being a better goose-herd,\" said\nMaximilian; \"but, as I am a king, I am not used to such work.\"\n\n\"A king, indeed!\" said the boy. \"I was very silly to leave the geese\nwith you. But I am not so silly as to believe that you are a king.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Maximilian, with a smile; \"here is another gold\npiece, and now let us be friends.\"\n\nThe boy took the gold, and thanked the giver. He looked up into the\nking's face and said,--\n\n\"You are a very kind man, and I think you might be a good king; but if\nyou were to try all your life, you would never be a good gooseherd.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE INCHCAPE ROCK.\n\n\nIn the North Sea there is a great rock called the Inch-cape Rock. It\nis twelve miles from any land, and is covered most of the time with\nwater.\n\nMany boats and ships have been wrecked on that rock; for it is so near\nthe top of the water that no vessel can sail over it without striking\nit.\n\nMore than a hundred years ago there lived not far away a kind-heart-ed\nman who was called the Abbot of Ab-er-broth-ock.\n\n\"It is a pity,\" he said, \"that so many brave sailors should lose their\nlives on that hidden rock.\"\n\nSo the abbot caused a buoy to be fastened to the rock. The buoy\nfloated back and forth in the shallow water. A strong chain kept it\nfrom floating away.\n\nOn the top of the buoy the abbot placed a bell; and when the waves\ndashed against it, the bell would ring out loud and clear.\n\nSailors, now, were no longer afraid to cross the sea at that place.\nWhen they heard the bell ringing, they knew just where the rock was,\nand they steered their vessels around it.\n\n\"God bless the good Abbot of Ab-er-broth-ock!\" they all said.\n\nOne calm summer day, a ship with a black flag happened to sail not far\nfrom the Inch-cape Rock. The ship belonged to a sea robber called\nRalph the Rover; and she was a terror to all honest people both on sea\nand shore.\n\nThere was but little wind that day, and the sea was as smooth as\nglass. The ship stood almost still; there was hardly a breath of air\nto fill her sails.\n\nRalph the Rover was walking on the deck. He looked out upon the glassy\nsea. He saw the buoy floating above the Inchcape Rock. It looked like\na big black speck upon the water. But the bell was not ringing that\nday. There were no waves to set it in motion.\n\n\"Boys!\" cried Ralph the Rover; \"put out the boat, and row me to the\nInchcape Rock. We will play a trick on the old abbot.\"\n\nThe boat was low-ered. Strong arms soon rowed it to the Inchcape Rock.\nThen the robber, with a heavy ax, broke the chain that held the buoy.\n\nHe cut the fas-ten-ings of the bell. It fell into the water. There\nwas a gur-gling sound as it sank out of sight.\n\n\"The next one that comes this way will not bless the abbot,\" said\nRalph the Rover.\n\nSoon a breeze sprang up, and the black ship sailed away. The sea\nrobber laughed as he looked back and saw that there was nothing to\nmark the place of the hidden rock.\n\nFor many days, Ralph the Rover scoured the seas, and many were the\nships that he plun-dered. At last he chanced to sail back toward the\nplace from which he had started.\n\nThe wind had blown hard all day. The waves rolled high. The ship was\nmoving swiftly. But in the evening the wind died away, and a thick fog\ncame on.\n\nRalph the Rover walked the deck. He could not see where the ship was\ngoing. \"If the fog would only clear away!\" he said.\n\n\"I thought I heard the roar of breakers,\" said the pilot. \"We must be\nnear the shore.\"\n\n\"I cannot tell,\" said Ralph the Rover; \"but I think we are not far\nfrom the Inchcape Rock. I wish we could hear the good abbot's bell.\"\n\nThe next moment there was a great crash. \"It is the Inchcape Rock!\"\nthe sailors cried, as the ship gave a lurch to one side, and began to\nsink.\n\n\"Oh, what a wretch am I!\" cried Ralph the Rover. \"This is what comes\nof the joke that I played on the good abbot!\"\n\nWhat was it that he heard as the waves rushed over him? Was it the\nabbot's bell, ringing for him far down at the bottom of the sea?\n\n\n\n\nWHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT.\n\nI. THE CITY.\n\n\nThere was once a little boy whose name was Richard Whit'ting-ton; but\neverybody called him Dick. His father and mother had died when he was\nonly a babe, and the people who had the care of him were very poor.\nDick was not old enough to work, and so he had a hard time of it\nindeed. Sometimes he had no break-fast, and sometimes he had no\ndinner; and he was glad at any time to get a crust of bread or a drop\nof milk.\n\nNow, in the town where Dick lived, the people liked to talk about\nLondon. None of them had ever been to the great city, but they seemed\nto know all about the wonderful things which were to be seen there.\nThey said that all the folks who lived in London were fine gen-tle-men\nand ladies; that there was singing and music there all day long; that\nnobody was ever hungry there, and nobody had to work; and that the\nstreets were all paved with gold.\n\nDick listened to these stories, and wished that he could go to London.\n\nOne day a big wagon drawn by eight horses, all with bells on their\nheads, drove into the little town. Dick saw the wagon standing by the\ninn, and he thought that it must be going to the fine city of London.\n\nWhen the driver came out and was ready to start, the lad ran up and\nasked him if he might walk by the side of the wagon. The driver asked\nhim some questions; and when he learned how poor Dick was, and that he\nhad neither father nor mother, he told him that he might do as he\nliked.\n\nIt was a long walk for the little lad; but by and by he came to the\ncity of London. He was in such a hurry to see the wonderful sights,\nthat he forgot to thank the driver of the wagon. He ran as fast as he\ncould, from one street to another, trying to find those that were\npaved with gold. He had once seen a piece of money that was gold, and\nhe knew that it would buy a great, great many things; and now he\nthought that if he could get only a little bit of the pave-ment, he\nwould have everything that he wanted.\n\nPoor Dick ran till he was so tired that he could run no farther. It\nwas growing dark, and in every street there was only dirt instead of\ngold. He sat down in a dark corner, and cried himself to sleep.\n\nWhen he woke up the next morning, he was very hungry; but there was\nnot even a crust of bread for him to eat. He forgot all about the\ngolden pavements, and thought only of food. He walked about from one\nstreet to another, and at last grew so hungry that he began to ask\nthose whom he met to give him a penny to buy something to eat.\n\n\"Go to work, you idle fellow,\" said some of them; and the rest passed\nhim by without even looking at him.\n\n\"I wish I could go to work!\" said Dick.\n\nII. THE KITCHEN.\n\nBy and by Dick grew so faint and tired that he could go no farther. He\nsat down by the door of a fine house, and wished that he was back\nagain in the little town where he was born. The cook-maid, who was\njust getting dinner, saw him, and called out,--\n\n\"What are you doing there, you little beggar? If you don't get away\nquick, I'll throw a panful of hot dish-water over you. Then I guess\nyou will jump.\"\n\nJust at that time the master of the house, whose name was Mr.\nFitz-war'ren, came home to dinner. When he saw the ragged little\nfellow at his door, he said,--\n\n\"My lad, what are you doing here? I am afraid you are a lazy fellow,\nand that you want to live without work.\"\n\n\"No, indeed!\" said Dick. \"I would like to work, if I could find\nanything to do. But I do not know anybody in this town, and I have not\nhad anything to eat for a long time.\"\n\n\"Poor little fellow!\" said Mr. Fitz-war-ren. \"Come in, and I will see\nwhat I can do for you.\" And he ordered the cook to give the lad a good\ndinner, and then to find some light work for him to do.\n\nLittle Dick would have been very happy in the new home which he had\nthus found, if it had not been for the cross cook. She would often\nsay,--\n\n\"You are my boy now, and so you must do as I tell you. Look sharp\nthere! Make the fires, carry out the ashes, wash these dishes, sweep\nthe floor, bring in the wood! Oh, what a lazy fellow you are!\" And\nthen she would box his ears, or beat him with the broom-stick.\n\nAt last, little Alice, his master's daughter, saw how he was treated,\nand she told the cook she would be turned off if she was not kinder to\nthe lad. After that, Dick had an eas-i-er time of it; but his\ntroubles were not over yet, by any means.\n\nHis bed was in a garret at the top of the house, far away from the\nrooms where the other people slept. There were many holes in the floor\nand walls, and every night a great number of rats and mice came in.\nThey tor-ment-ed Dick so much, that he did not know what to do.\n\nOne day a gentleman gave him a penny for cleaning his shoes, and he\nmade up his mind that he would buy a cat with it. The very next\nmorning he met a girl who was car-ry-ing a cat in her arms.\n\n\"I will give you a penny for that cat,\" he said.\n\n\"All right,\" the girl said. \"You may have her, and you will find that\nshe is a good mouser too.\"\n\nDick hid his cat in the garret, and every day he carried a part of his\ndinner to her. It was not long before she had driven all the rats and\nmice away; and then Dick could sleep soundly every night.\n\nIII. THE VENTURE.\n\nSome time after that, a ship that belonged to Mr. Fitzwarren was about\nto start on a voyage across the sea. It was loaded with goods which\nwere to be sold in lands far away. Mr. Fitzwarren wanted to give his\nservants a chance for good fortune too, and so he called all of them\ninto the parlor, and asked if they had anything they would like to\nsend out in the ship for trade.\n\nEvery one had something to send,--every one but Dick; and as he had\nneither money nor goods, he staid in the kitchen, and did not come in\nwith the rest. Little Alice guessed why he did not come, and so she\nsaid to her papa,--\n\n\"Poor Dick ought to have a chance too. Here is some money out of my\nown purse that you may put in for him.\"\n\n\"No, no, my child!\" said Mr. Fitzwarren. \"He must risk something of\nhis own.\" And then he called very loud, \"Here, Dick! What are you\ngoing to send out on the ship?\"\n\nDick heard him, and came into the room.\n\n\"I have nothing in the world,\" he said, \"but a cat which I bought some\ntime ago for a penny.\"\n\n\"Fetch your cat, then, my lad,\" said Mr. Fitzwarren, \"and let her go\nout. Who knows but that she will bring you some profit?\"\n\nDick, with tears in his eyes, carried poor puss down to the ship, and\ngave her to the captain. Everybody laughed at his queer venture; but\nlittle Alice felt sorry for him, and gave him money to buy another\ncat.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAfter that, the cook was worse than before. She made fun of him for\nsending his cat to sea. \"Do you think,\" she would say, \"that puss will\nsell for enough money to buy a stick to beat you?\"\n\nAt last Dick could not stand her abuse any longer, and he made up his\nmind to go back to his old home in the little country town. So, very\nearly in the morning on All-hal-lows Day, he started. He walked as far\nas the place called Hol-lo-way, and there he sat down on a stone,\nwhich to this day is called \"Whit-ting-ton's Stone.\"\n\nAs he sat there very sad, and wondering which way he should go, he\nheard the bells on Bow Church, far away, ringing out a merry chime. He\nlistened. They seemed to say to him,--\n\n     \"Turn again, Whittington, Thrice Lord Mayor of London.\"\n\n\"Well, well!\" he said to himself. \"I would put up with almost\nanything, to be Lord Mayor of London when I am a man, and to ride in a\nfine coach! I think I will go back and let the old cook cuff and scold\nas much as she pleases.\"\n\nDick did go back, and he was lucky enough to get into the kitchen, and\nset about his work, before the cook came down-stairs to get\nbreak-fast.\n\nIV. THE CAT.\n\nMr. Fitzwarren's ship made a long voyage, and at last reached a\nstrange land on the other side of the sea. The people had never seen\nany white men before, and they came in great crowds to buy the fine\nthings with which the ship was loaded. The captain wanted very much to\ntrade with the king of the country; and it was not long before the\nking sent word for him to come to the palace and see him.\n\nThe captain did so. He was shown into a beautiful room, and given a\nseat on a rich carpet all flow-ered with silver and gold. The king and\nqueen were seated not far away; and soon a number of dishes were\nbrought in for dinner.\n\nThey had hardly begun to eat when an army of rats and mice rushed in,\nand de-voured all the meat before any one could hinder them. The\ncaptain wondered at this, and asked if it was not very un-pleas-ant to\nhave so many rats and mice about.\n\n\"Oh, yes!\" was the answer. \"It is indeed un-pleas-ant; and the king\nwould give half his treas-ure if he could get rid of them.\"\n\nThe captain jumped for joy. He remembered the cat which little\nWhittington had sent out; and he told the king that he had a little\ncreature on board his ship which would make short work of the pests.\n\nThen it was the king's turn to jump for joy; and he jumped so high,\nthat his yellow cap, or turban, dropped off his head.\n\n\"Bring the creature to me,\" he said. \"If she will do what you say, I\nwill load your ship with gold.\"\n\nThe captain made believe that he would be very sorry to part with the\ncat; but at last he went down to the ship to get her, while the king\nand queen made haste to have another dinner made ready.\n\nThe captain, with puss under his arm, reached the palace just in time\nto see the table crowded with rats. The cat leaped out upon them, and\noh! what havoc she did make among the trou-ble-some creatures! Most of\nthem were soon stretched dead upon the floor, while the rest\nscam-pered away to their holes, and did not dare to come out again.\n\nThe king had never been so glad in his life; and the queen asked that\nthe creature which had done such wonders should be brought to her. The\ncaptain called, \"Pussy, pussy, pussy!\" and the cat came up and rubbed\nagainst his legs. He picked her up, and offered her to the queen; but\nat first the queen was afraid to touch her.\n\nHowever, the captain stroked the cat, and called, \"Pussy, pussy,\npussy!\" and then the queen ventured to touch her. She could only say,\n\"Putty, putty, putty!\" for she had not learned to talk English. The\ncaptain then put the cat down on the queen's lap, where she purred and\npurred until she went to sleep.\n\nThe king would not have missed getting the cat now for the world. He\nat once made a bargain with the captain for all the goods on board the\nship; and then he gave him ten times as much for the cat as all the\nrest came to.\n\nThe captain was very glad. He bade the king and queen good-by, and the\nvery next day set sail for England.\n\nV. THE FORTUNE.\n\nOne morning Mr. Fitzwarren was sitting at his desk in his office. He\nheard some one tap softly at his door, and he said,--\n\n\"Who's there?\"\n\n\"A friend,\" was the answer. \"I have come to bring you news of your\nship 'U-ni-corn.'\"\n\nMr. Fitzwarren jumped up quickly, and opened the door. Whom should he\nsee waiting there but the captain, with a bill of lading in one hand\nand a box of jewels in the other? He was so full of joy that he lifted\nup his eyes, and thanked Heaven for sending him such good fortune.\n\nThe captain soon told the story of the cat; and then he showed the\nrich present which the king and queen had sent to poor Dick in payment\nfor her. As soon as the good gentleman heard this, he called out to\nhis servants,--\n\n     \"Go send him in, and tell him of his fame; Pray call him Mr.\n     Whittington by name.\"\n\nSome of the men who stood by said that so great a present ought not to\nbe given to a mere boy; but Mr. Fitzwarren frowned upon them.\n\n\"It is his own,\" he said, \"and I will not hold back one penny from\nhim.\"\n\nDick was scouring the pots when word was brought to him that he should\ngo to the office.\n\n\"Oh, I am so dirty!\" he said, \"and my shoes are full of hob-nails.\"\nBut he was told to make haste.\n\nMr. Fitzwarren ordered a chair to be set for him, and then the lad\nbegan to think that they were making fun of him.\n\n\"I beg that you won't play tricks with a poor boy like me,\" he said.\n\"Please let me go back to my work.\"\n\n\"Mr. Whittington,\" said Mr. Fitzwarren, \"this is no joke at all. The\ncaptain has sold your cat, and has brought you, in return for her,\nmore riches than I have in the whole world.\"\n\nThen he opened the box of jewels, and showed Dick his treasures.\n\nThe poor boy did not know what to do. He begged his master to take a\npart of it; but Mr. Fitzwarren said, \"No, it is all your own; and I\nfeel sure that you will make good use of it.\"\n\nDick then offered some of his jewels to his mistress and little Alice.\nThey thanked him, and told him that they felt great joy at his good\nluck, but wished him to keep his riches for himself.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBut he was too kind-heart-ed to keep everything for himself. He gave\nnice presents to the cap-tain and the sailors, and to the servants in\nMr. Fitz-warren's house. He even remembered the cross old cook.\n\nAfter that, Whittington's face was washed, and his hair curled, and he\nwas dressed in a nice suit of clothes; and then he was as handsome a\nyoung man as ever walked the streets of London.\n\nSome time after that, there was a fine wedding at the finest church in\nLondon; and Miss Alice became the wife of Mr. Richard Whittington. And\nthe lord mayor was there, and the great judges, and the sher-iffs, and\nmany rich mer-chants; and everybody was very happy.\n\nAnd Richard Whittington became a great merchant, and was one of the\nforemost men in London. He was sheriff of the city, and thrice lord\nmayor; and King Henry V. made him a knight.\n\nHe built the famous prison of New-gate in London. On the arch-way in\nfront of the prison was a figure, cut in stone, of Sir Richard\nWhittington and his cat; and for three hundred years this figure was\nshown to all who visited London.\n\n\n\n\nCASABIANCA.\n\n\nThere was a great battle at sea. One could hear nothing but the roar\nof the big guns. The air was filled with black smoke. The water was\nstrewn with broken masts and pieces of timber which the cannon balls\nhad knocked from the ships. Many men had been killed, and many more\nhad been wounded.\n\nThe flag-ship had taken fire. The flames were breaking out from below.\nThe deck was all ablaze. The men who were left alive made haste to\nlaunch a small boat. They leaped into it, and rowed swiftly away. Any\nother place was safer now than on board of that burning ship. There\nwas powder in the hold.\n\nBut the captain's son, young Ca-sa-bi-an'ca, still stood upon the\ndeck. The flames were almost all around him now; but he would not stir\nfrom his post. His father had bidden him stand there, and he had been\ntaught always to obey. He trusted in his father's word, and be-lieved\nthat when the right time came he would tell him to go.\n\nHe saw the men leap into the boat. He heard them call to him to come.\nHe shook his head.\n\n\"When father bids me, I will go,\" he said.\n\nAnd now the flames were leaping up the masts. The sails were all\nablaze. The fire blew hot upon his cheek. It scorched his hair. It was\nbefore him, behind him, all around him.\n\n\"O father!\" he cried, \"may I not go now? The men have all left the\nship. Is it not time that we too should leave it?\"\n\nHe did not know that his father was lying in the burning cabin below,\nthat a cannon ball had struck him dead at the very be-gin-ning of the\nfight. He listened to hear his answer.\n\n\"Speak louder, father!\" he cried. \"I cannot hear what you say.\"\n\nAbove the roaring of the flames, above the crashing of the falling\nspars, above the booming of the guns, he fancied that his father's\nvoice came faintly to him through the scorching air.\n\n\"I am here, father! Speak once again!\" he gasped.\n\nBut what is that?\n\nA great flash of light fills the air; clouds of smoke shoot quickly\nupward to the sky; and--\n\n\"Boom!\"\n\nOh, what a ter-rif-ic sound! Louder than thunder, louder than the roar\nof all the guns! The air quivers; the sea itself trembles; the sky is\nblack.\n\nThe blazing ship is seen no more.\n\nThere was powder in the hold!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA long time ago a lady, whose name was Mrs. Hemans, wrote a poem about\nthis brave boy Ca-sa-bi-an-ca. It is not a very well written poem, and\nyet everybody has read it, and thousands of people have learned it by\nheart. I doubt not but that some day you too will read it. It begins\nin this way:--\n\n    \"The boy stood on the burning deck\n      Whence all but him had fled;\n    The flame that lit the battle's wreck\n      Shone round him o'er the dead.\n\n    \"Yet beautiful and bright he stood,\n      As born to rule the storm--\n    A creature of heroic blood,\n      A proud though childlike form.\"\n\n\n\n\nANTONIO CANOVA.\n\n\nA good many years ago there lived in Italy a little boy whose name was\nAn-to'ni-o Ca-no'va. He lived with his grand-fa-ther, for his own\nfather was dead. His grand-fa-ther was a stone-cut-ter, and he was\nvery poor.\n\nAn-to-ni-o was a puny lad, and not strong enough to work. He did not\ncare to play with the other boys of the town. But he liked to go with\nhis grandfather to the stone-yard. While the old man was busy, cutting\nand trimming the great blocks of stone, the lad would play among the\nchips. Sometimes he would make a little statue of soft clay; sometimes\nhe would take hammer and chisel, and try to cut a statue from a piece\nof rock. He showed so much skill that his grandfather was de-light-ed.\n\n\"The boy will be a sculp-tor some day,\" he said.\n\nThen when they went home in the evening, the grand-moth-er would say,\n\"What have you been doing to-day, my little sculp-tor?\"\n\nAnd she would take him upon her lap and sing to him, or tell him\nstories that filled his mind with pictures of wonderful and beautiful\nthings. And the next day, when he went back to the stone-yard, he\nwould try to make some of those pictures in stone or clay.\n\nThere lived in the same town a rich man who was called the Count.\nSometimes the Count would have a grand dinner, and his rich friends\nfrom other towns would come to visit him. Then Antonio's grandfather\nwould go up to the Count's house to help with the work in the kitchen;\nfor he was a fine cook as well as a good stone-cut-ter.\n\nIt happened one day that Antonio went with his grandfather to the\nCount's great house. Some people from the city were coming, and there\nwas to be a grand feast. The boy could not cook, and he was not old\nenough to wait on the table; but he could wash the pans and kettles,\nand as he was smart and quick, he could help in many other ways.\n\nAll went well until it was time to spread the table for dinner. Then\nthere was a crash in the dining room, and a man rushed into the\nkitchen with some pieces of marble in his hands. He was pale, and\ntrembling with fright.\n\n\"What shall I do? What shall I do?\" he cried. \"I have broken the\nstatue that was to stand at the center of the table. I cannot make the\ntable look pretty without the statue. What will the Count say?\"\n\nAnd now all the other servants were in trouble. Was the dinner to be a\nfailure after all? For everything de-pend-ed on having the table\nnicely arranged. The Count would be very angry.\n\n\"Ah, what shall we do?\" they all asked.\n\nThen little Antonio Ca-no-va left his pans and kettles, and went up to\nthe man who had caused the trouble.\n\n\"If you had another statue, could you arrange the table?\" he asked.\n\n\"Cer-tain-ly,\" said the man; \"that is, if the statue were of the right\nlength and height.\"\n\n\"Will you let me try to make one?\" asked Anto-nio \"Perhaps I can make\nsomething that will do.\"\n\nThe man laughed.\n\n\"Non-sense!\" he cried. \"Who are you, that you talk of making statues\non an hour's notice?\"\n\n\"I am Antonio Canova,\" said the lad.\n\n\"Let the boy try what he can do,\" said the servants, who knew him.\n\nAnd so, since nothing else could be done, the man allowed him to try.\n\nOn the kitchen table there was a large square lump of yellow butter.\nTwo hundred pounds the lump weighed, and it had just come in, fresh\nand clean, from the dairy on the mountain. With a kitchen knife in his\nhand, Antonio began to cut and carve this butter. In a few minutes he\nhad molded it into the shape of a crouching lion; and all the servants\ncrowded around to see it.\n\n\"How beautiful!\" they cried. \"It is a great deal pret-ti-er than the\nstatue that was broken.\"\n\nWhen it was finished, the man carried it to its place.\n\n\"The table will be hand-som-er by half than I ever hoped to make it,\"\nhe said.\n\nWhen the Count and his friends came in to dinner, the first thing they\nsaw was the yellow lion.\n\n\"What a beautiful work of art!\" they cried. \"None but a very great\nartist could ever carve such a figure; and how odd that he should\nchoose to make it of butter!\" And then they asked the Count to tell\nthem the name of the artist.\n\n[Illustration: \"The servants crowded around to see it.\"]\n\n\"Truly, my friends,\" he said, \"this is as much of a surprise to me as\nto you.\" And then he called to his head servant, and asked him where\nhe had found so wonderful a statue.\n\n\"It was carved only an hour ago by a little boy in the kitchen,\" said\nthe servant.\n\nThis made the Count's friends wonder still more; and the Count bade\nthe servant call the boy into the room.\n\n\"My lad,\" he said, \"you have done a piece of work of which the\ngreatest artists would be proud. What is your name, and who is your\nteacher?\"\n\n\"My name is Antonio Canova,\" said the boy, \"and I have had no teacher\nbut my grandfather the stonecutter.\"\n\nBy this time all the guests had crowded around Antonio. There were\nfamous artists among them, and they knew that the lad was a genius.\nThey could not say enough in praise of his work; and when at last they\nsat down at the table, nothing would please them but that Antonio\nshould have a seat with them; and the dinner was made a feast in his\nhonor.\n\nThe very next day the Count sent for Antonio to come and live with\nhim. The best artists in the land were em-ployed to teach him the art\nin which he had shown so much skill; but now, instead of carving\nbutter, he chis-eled marble. In a few years, Antonio Canova became\nknown as one of the greatest sculptors in the world.\n\n\n\n\nPICCIOLA.\n\n\nMany years ago there was a poor gentleman shut up in one of the great\nprisons of France. His name was Char-ney, and he was very sad and\nun-hap-py. He had been put into prison wrong-ful-ly, and it seemed to\nhim as though there was no one in the world who cared for him.\n\nHe could not read, for there were no books in the prison. He was not\nallowed to have pens or paper, and so he could not write. The time\ndragged slowly by. There was nothing that he could do to make the days\nseem shorter. His only pastime was walking back and forth in the paved\nprison yard. There was no work to be done, no one to talk with.\n\nOne fine morning in spring, Char-ney was taking his walk in the yard.\nHe was counting the paving stones, as he had done a thousand times\nbefore. All at once he stopped. What had made that little mound of\nearth between two of the stones?\n\nHe stooped down to see. A seed of some kind had fallen between the\nstones. It had sprouted; and now a tiny green leaf was pushing its way\nup out of the ground. Charney was about to crush it with his foot,\nwhen he saw that there was a kind of soft coating over the leaf.\n\n\"Ah!\" said he. \"This coating is to keep it safe. I must not harm it.\"\nAnd he went on with his walk.\n\nThe next day he almost stepped upon the plant before he thought of it.\nHe stooped to look at it. There were two leaves now, and the plant was\nmuch stronger and greener than it was the day before. He staid by it a\nlong time, looking at all its parts.\n\nEvery morning after that, Charney went at once to his little plant. He\nwanted to see if it had been chilled by the cold, or scorched by the\nsun. He wanted to see how much it had grown.\n\nOne day as he was looking from his window, he saw the jailer go across\nthe yard. The man brushed so close to the little plant, that it seemed\nas though he would crush it. Charney trembled from head to foot.\n\n\"O my Pic-cio-la!\" he cried.\n\nWhen the jailer came to bring his food, he begged the grim fellow to\nspare his little plant. He expected that the man would laugh at him;\nbut al-though a jailer, he had a kind heart.\n\n\"Do you think that I would hurt your little plant?\" he said. \"No,\nindeed! It would have been dead long ago, if I had not seen that you\nthought so much of it.\"\n\n\"That is very good of you, indeed,\" said Char-ney. He felt half\nashamed at having thought the jailer unkind.\n\nEvery day he watched Pic-cio-la, as he had named the plant. Every day\nit grew larger and more beautiful. But once it was almost broken by\nthe huge feet of the jailer's dog. Charney's heart sank within him.\n\n\"Picciola must have a house,\" he said. \"I will see if I can make one.\"\n\nSo, though the nights were chilly, he took, day by day, some part of\nthe firewood that was allowed him, and with this he built a little\nhouse around the plant.\n\nThe plant had a thousand pretty ways which he noticed. He saw how it\nalways bent a little toward the sun; he saw how the flowers folded\ntheir petals before a storm.\n\nHe had never thought of such things before, and yet he had often seen\nwhole gardens of flowers in bloom.\n\nOne day, with soot and water he made some ink; he spread out his\nhand-ker-chief for paper; he used a sharp-ened stick for a pen--and\nall for what? He felt that he must write down the doings of his little\npet. He spent all his time with the plant.\n\n\"See my lord and my lady!\" the jailer would say when he saw them.\n\nAs the summer passed by, Picciola grew more lovely every day. There\nwere no fewer than thirty blossoms on its stem.\n\nBut one sad morning it began to droop. Charney did not know what to\ndo. He gave it water, but still it drooped. The leaves were\nwith-er-ing. The stones of the prison yard would not let the plant\nlive.\n\nCharney knew that there was but one way to save his treasure. Alas!\nhow could he hope that it might be done? The stones must be taken up\nat once.\n\nBut this was a thing which the jailer dared not do. The rules of the\nprison were strict, and no stone must be moved. Only the highest\nofficers in the land could have such a thing done.\n\nPoor Charney could not sleep. Picciola must die. Already the flowers\nhad with-ered; the leaves would soon fall from the stem.\n\nThen a new thought came to Charney. He would ask the great Napoleon,\nthe em-per-or himself, to save his plant.\n\nIt was a hard thing for Charney to do,--to ask a favor of the man whom\nhe hated, the man who had shut him up in this very prison. But for the\nsake of Picciola he would do it.\n\nHe wrote his little story on his hand-ker-chief. Then he gave it into\nthe care of a young girl, who promised to carry it to Napoleon. Ah! if\nthe poor plant would only live a few days longer!\n\nWhat a long journey that was for the young girl! What a long, dreary\nwaiting it was for Charney and Picciola!\n\nBut at last news came to the prison. The stones were to be taken up.\nPicciola was saved!\n\nThe em-per-or's kind wife had heard the story of Charney's care for\nthe plant. She saw the handkerchief on which he had written of its\npretty ways.\n\n\"Surely,\" she said, \"it can do us no good to keep such a man in\nprison.\"\n\nAnd so, at last, Charney was set free. Of course he was no longer sad\nand un-lov-ing. He saw how God had cared for him and the little plant,\nand how kind and true are the hearts of even rough men. And he\ncher-ished Picciola as a dear, loved friend whom he could never\nforget.\n\n\n\n\nMIGNON.\n\n\nHere is the story of Mignon as I remember having read it in a famous\nold book.\n\nA young man named Wil-helm was staying at an inn in the city. One day\nas he was going up-stairs he met a little girl coming down. He would\nhave taken her for a boy, if it had not been for the long curls of\nblack hair wound about her head. As she ran by, he caught her in his\narms and asked her to whom she belonged. He felt sure that she must be\none of the rope-dan-cers who had just come to the inn. She gave him a\nsharp, dark look, slipped out of his arms, and ran away without\nspeaking.\n\nThe next time he saw her, Wil-helm spoke to her again.\n\n\"Do not be afraid of me, little one,\" he said kindly. \"What is your\nname?\"\n\n\"They call me Mignon,\" said the child.\n\n\"How old are you?\" he asked.\n\n\"No one has counted,\" the child an-swered.\n\nWilhelm went on; but he could not help wondering about the child, and\nthinking of her dark eyes and strange ways.\n\nOne day not long after that, there was a great outcry among the crowd\nthat was watching the rope-dan-cers. Wilhelm went down to find out\nwhat was the matter. He saw that the master of the dancers was beating\nlittle Mignon with a stick. He ran and held the man by the collar.\n\n\"Let the child alone!\" he cried. \"If you touch her again, one of us\nshall never leave this spot.\"\n\nThe man tried to get loose; but Wilhelm held him fast. The child crept\naway, and hid herself in the crowd.\n\n\"Pay me what her clothes cost,\" cried the ropedancer at last, \"and you\nmay take her.\"\n\nAs soon as all was quiet, Wilhelm went to look for Mignon; for she now\nbelonged to him. But he could not find her, and it was not until the\nropedancers had left the town that she came to him.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" asked Wilhelm in his kindest tones; but the\nchild did not speak.\n\n\"You are to live with me now, and you must be a good child,\" he said.\n\n\"I will try,\" said Mignon gently.\n\nFrom that time she tried to do all that she could for Wilhelm and his\nfriends. She would let no one wait on him but herself. She was often\nseen going to a basin of water to wash from her face the paint with\nwhich the ropedancers had red-dened her cheeks: indeed, she nearly\nrubbed off the skin in trying to wash away its fine brown tint, which\nshe thought was some deep dye.\n\nMignon grew more lovely every day. She never walked up and down the\nstairs, but jumped. She would spring along by the railing, and before\nyou knew it, would be sitting quietly above on the landing.\n\nTo each one she would speak in a different way. To Wilhelm it was with\nher arms crossed upon her breast. Often for a whole day she would not\nsay one word, and yet in waiting upon Wilhelm she never tired.\n\nOne night he came home very weary and sad. Mignon was waiting for him.\nShe carried the light before him up-stairs. She set the light down\nupon the table, and in a little while she asked him if she might\ndance.\n\n\"It might ease your heart a little,\" she said.\n\nWilhelm, to please her, told her that she might.\n\nThen she brought a little carpet, and spread it upon the floor. At\neach corner she placed a candle, and on the carpet she put a number of\neggs. She arranged the eggs in the form of certain figures. When this\nwas done, she called to a man who was waiting with a violin. She tied\na band about her eyes, and then the dancing began.\n\n[Illustration: \"And then the dancing began.\"]\n\nHow lightly, quickly, nimbly, wonderfully, she moved! She skipped so\nfast among the eggs, she trod so closely beside them, that you would\nhave thought she must crush them all. But not one of them did she\ntouch. With all kinds of steps she passed among them. Not one of them\nwas moved from its place.\n\nWilhelm forgot all his cares. He watched every motion of the child. He\nalmost forgot who and where he was.\n\nWhen the dance was ended, Mignon rolled the eggs together with her\nfoot into a little heap. Not one was left behind, not one was harmed.\nThen she took the band from her eyes, and made a little bow.\n\nWilhelm thanked her for showing him a dance that was so wonderful and\npretty. He praised her, petted her, and hoped that she had not tired\nherself too much.\n\nWhen she had gone from the room, the man with the violin told Wilhelm\nof the care she had taken to teach him the music of the dance. He told\nhow she had sung it to him over and over again. He told how she had\neven wished to pay him with her own money for learning to play it for\nher.\n\nThere was yet another way in which Mignon tried to please Wilhelm, and\nmake him forget his cares. She sang to him.\n\nThe song which he liked best was one whose words he had never heard\nbefore. Its music, too, was strange to him, and yet it pleased him\nvery much. He asked her to speak the words over and over again. He\nwrote them down; but the sweetness of the tune was more delightful\nthan the words. The song began in this way:--\n\n     \"Do you know the land where citrons, lemons, grow,\n      And oranges under the green leaves glow?\"\n\nOnce, when she had ended the song, she said again, \"Do you know the\nland?\"\n\n\"It must be Italy,\" said Wilhelm. \"Have you ever been there?\"\n\nThe child did not answer.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *","title":"Fifty Famous Stories Retold","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":32307}