De La Salle Fifth Reader - Brothers of the Christian Schools
How did the monks of this convent assist Columbus?
How did the Queen of Spain assist him?
Why is it that in the geography of our country we meet with so many
Catholic names?
* * * * *
Memory Gem:
Press on! There's no such word as fail!
Push nobly on! The goal is near!
Ascend the mountain! Breast the gale!
Look upward, onward,--never fear!
[Illustration:]
* * * * *
_9_
THE LITTLE FERN.
A great many centuries ago, when the earth was even more beautiful than
it is now, there grew in one of the many valleys a dainty little fern
leaf. All around the tiny plant were many others, but none of them so
graceful and delicate as this one I tell you of. Every day the cheery
breezes sought out their playmate, and the merry sunbeams darted in and
out, playing hide-and-seek among reeds and rushes; and when the twilight
shadows deepened, and the sunbeams had all gone away, the little fern
curled itself up for the night with only the dewdrops for company.
So day after day went by: and no one knew of, or found the sweet wild
fern, or the beautiful valley it grew in. But--for this was a very long
time ago--a great change took place in the earth; and rocks and soil
were upturned, and the rivers found new channels to flow in.
Now, when all this happened, the little fern was quite covered up with
the soft moist clay, and perhaps you think it might as well never have
lived as to have been hidden away where none could see it.
But after all, it was not really lost; for hundreds of years afterwards,
when all that clay had become stone, and had broken into many fragments,
a very wise and learned man found the bit of rock upon which was all the
delicate tracery of the little fern leaf, with outline just as perfect
and lovely as when, long, long ago it had swayed to the breezes in its
own beautiful valley.
And so wonderful did it seem to the wise man, that he took the fern leaf
home with him and placed it in his cabinet where all could admire it;
and where, if they were thoughtful and clever enough, they could think
out the story for themselves and find the lesson which was hidden away
with the fern in the bit of rock.
Lesson! did I say? Well, let's not call it a lesson, but only a truth
which it will do every one of us good to remember; and that is, that
none of the beauty in this fair world around us, nor anything that is
sweet and lovely in our own hearts, and lives, will ever be useless and
lost. For, as the little fern leaf lay hidden away for years and years,
and yet finally was found by the wise man and given a place with his
other rare and precious possessions where it could still, though
silently, aid those who looked upon it; so we, as boys and girls, men
and women who are to be, can now, day by day, cultivate all lovely
traits of character, making ourselves ready to take our place in the
world's work. And when that time comes we shall not only be able to aid
others silently, as did the little fern, but may also, by word and deed,
lend a hand to each and every one around us.
_Mara L. Pratt._
From "Fairyland of Flowers." The Educational Publishing Co.
* * * * *
Break up the following words into their syllables, and place the accent
mark where it belongs in each:
outline, tracery, cabinet, delicate, finally, character, hundreds,
centuries, remember, beautiful, possessions. Show the correct use of the
words in original sentences. The dictionary will help you in the work.
Name some of the traits of character that will help a boy or a girl to
be truly successful in life.
* * * * *
Memory Gems:
The child is father of the man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
_Wordsworth_.
Truth alone makes life rich and great.
_Emerson_.
There is a tongue in every leaf--
A voice in every rill--
A voice that speaketh everywhere--
In flood and fire, through earth and air,
A tongue that's never still.
_Anon_.
* * * * *
_10_
blithe
whistler
mellow
replied
cheery
skylark
HELPING MOTHER.
As I went down the street to-day,
I saw a little lad
Whose face was just the kind of face
To make a person glad.
It was so plump and rosy-cheeked,
So cheerful and so bright,
It made me think of apple-time.
And filled me with delight.
I saw him busy at his work,
While blithe as skylark's song
His merry, mellow whistle rang
The pleasant street along.
"Oh, that's the kind of lad I like!"
I thought as I passed by;
"These busy, cheery, whistling boys
Make grand men by and by."
Just then a playmate came along,
And leaned across the gate--
A plan that promised lots of fun
And frolic to relate.
"The boys are waiting for us now,
So hurry up!" he cried;
My little whistler shook his head,
And "Can't come," he replied.
"Can't come? Why not, I'd like to know?
What hinders?" asked the other.
"Why, don't you see," came the reply,
"I'm busy helping mother?
She's lots to do, and so I like
To help her all I can;
So I've no time for fun just now,"
Said this dear little man.
"I like to hear you talk like that,"
I told the little lad;
"Help mother all you can, and make
Her kind heart light and glad."
It does me good to think of him,
And know that there are others
Who, like this manly little boy,
Take hold and help their mothers.
LANGUAGE WORK:
Describe the little lad spoken of in the poem. Do you know any boy like
him?
Tell what this "little man" said to his playmate.
When night came, was the boy sorry that he had missed so much fun? What
kind of man did he very likely grow up to be?
* * * * *
_11_
rid' dle
brand'-new
mys' ter y
un rav' el
like' ness es
A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
Once upon a time, Frederick, King of Prussia, surnamed "Old Fritz," took
a ride, and saw an old laborer plowing his land by the wayside cheerily
singing his song.
"You must be well off, old man," said the king. "Does this land on which
you are working so hard belong to you?"
"No, sir," replied the laborer, who knew not that it was the king; "I am
not so rich as that; I plow for wages."
"How much do you get a day?" asked the king.
"Two dollars," said the laborer.
"That is not much," replied the king; "can you get along with that?"
"Yes; and have something left."
"How is that?"
The laborer smiled, and said, "Well, if I must tell you, fifty cents are
for myself and wife; with fifty I pay my old debts, fifty I lend, and
fifty I give away for the Lord's sake."
"That is a mystery which I cannot solve," replied the king.
"Then I will solve it for you," said the laborer. "I have two old
parents at home, who kept me when I was weak and needed help; and now,
that they are weak and need help, I keep them. This is my debt, towards
which I pay fifty cents a day. The third fifty cents, which I lend, I
spend for my children, that they may receive Christian instruction. This
will come handy to me and my wife when we get old. With the last fifty I
maintain two sick sisters. This I give for the Lord's sake."
The king, well pleased with his answer, said, "Bravely spoken, old man.
Now I will also give you something to guess. Have you ever seen me
before?"
"Never," said the laborer.
"In less than five minutes you shall see me fifty times, and carry in
your pocket fifty of my likenesses."
"That is a riddle which I cannot unravel," said the laborer.
"Then I will do it for you," replied the king. Thrusting his hand into
his pocket, and counting fifty brand-new gold pieces into his hand,
stamped with his royal likeness, he said to the astonished laborer, who
knew not what was coming, "The coin is good, for it also comes from our
Lord God, and I am his paymaster. I bid you good-day."
* * * * *
Memory Gems:
The working men, whatever their task,
Who carve the stone, or bear the hod,
They wear upon their honest brows
The royal stamp and seal of God;
And worthier are their drops of sweat
Than diamonds in a coronet.
Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;
Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall;
Who sows a field, or trains a flower,
Or plants a tree, is more than all.
_Whittier_.
[Illustration: LABOR _Millet_.]
* * * * *
_12_
con' script
in dis pen' sa ble
im' ple ment
in de fea' si bly
TWO LABORERS.
Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil worn craftsman, that with
earth-made implement laboriously conquers the earth, and makes her
man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand, crooked, coarse, wherein,
notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the
scepter of this planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all weather
tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence; for it is the face of a
man living manlike.
Oh, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even because I must
pity as well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For us was thy back
so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed. Thou
wert our conscript on whom the lot fell and, fighting our battles, wert
so marred. Yet toil on, toil on; ... thou toilest for the altogether
indispensable,--for daily bread.
A second man I honor, and still more highly; him who is seen toiling for
the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of life.
Is not he, too, in his duty; endeavoring towards inward harmony;
revealing this, by act or word, through all his outward endeavors, be
they high or low? Highest of all, when his outward and his inward
endeavor are one; when we can name him artist; not earthly craftsman
only, but inspired thinker, that with heaven-made implement conquers
heaven for us!
If the poor and humble toil that we may have food, must not the high and
glorious toil for him, in return, that he may have light and guidance,
freedom, immortality?--these two, in all their degrees, I honor; all
else is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth.
Unspeakably touching it is, however, when I find both dignities united;
and he, that must toil outwardly for the lowest of man's wants, is also
toiling inwardly for the highest. Sublimer in this world know I nothing
than a peasant saint. Such a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself;
thou wilt see the splendor of heaven spring forth from the humblest
depths of earth like a light shining in great darkness.
_Thomas Carlyle._
* * * * *
Laws are like cobwebs, where the small flies are caught, and the great
break through.
_Bacon_.
* * * * *
_13_
gust
thief
mop' ing
awk' ward
pet' tish ly
in dig' nant
un bear' a ble
med' dle some
en light' ened
in quis' i tive
THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
"What's the matter?" said Growler to the gray cat, as she sat moping on
the top of the garden wall.
"Matter enough," said the cat, turning her head another way, "Our cook
is very fond of talking of hanging me. I wish heartily some one would
hang _her_."
"Why, what _is_ the matter?" repeated Growler.
"Hasn't she beaten me, and called me a thief, and threatened to be the
death of me?"
"Dear, dear!" said Growler; "pray what has brought it about?"
"Oh, nothing at all; it is her temper. All the servants complain of it.
I wonder they haven't hanged her long ago."
"Well, you see," said Growler, "cooks are awkward things to hang; you
and I might be managed much more easily."
"Not a drop of milk have I had this day!" said the gray cat; "and such a
pain in my side!"
"But what," said Growler, "what is the cause?"
"Haven't I told you?" said the gray cat, pettishly; "it's her
temper:--oh, what I have had to suffer from it! Everything she breaks
she lays to me; everything that is stolen she lays to me. Really, it is
quite unbearable!"
Growler was quite indignant; but, being of a reflective turn, after the
first gust of wrath had passed, he asked: "But was there no particular
cause this morning?"
"She chose to be very angry because I--I offended her," said the cat.
"How, may I ask?" gently inquired Growler.
"Oh, nothing worth telling,--a mere mistake of mine."
Growler looked at her with such a questioning expression, that she was
compelled to say, "I took the wrong thing for my breakfast."
"Oh!" said Growler, much enlightened.
"Why, the fact is," said the gray cat, "I was springing at a mouse, and
knocked down a dish, and, not knowing exactly what it was, I smelt it,
and it was rather nice, and--"
"You finished it," hinted Growler.
"Well, I believe I should have done so, if that meddlesome cook hadn't
come in. As it was, I left the head."
"The head of what?" said Growler.
"How inquisitive you are!" said the gray cat.
"Nay, but I should like to know," said Growler.
"Well, then, of a certain fine fish that was meant for dinner."
"Then," said Growler, "say what you please; but, now that I've heard the
whole story, I only wonder she did _not_ hang you."
* * * * *
Fill the following blanks with words that will make complete sentences:
Mary -- here, and Susan and Agnes -- coming. They -- delayed on the road.
Mother -- to come with them, but she and father -- obliged to wait till
to-morrow.
Puss said to Growler, "I -- not -- a drop of milk to-day, and -- not -- any
yesterday."
I -- my work well now. Yesterday I -- it fairly well. To-morrow I shall
-- it perfectly.
The boys -- their best, though they -- the game.
John--now the boys he -- last week. He -- not -- them before.
NOTE.--Let two pupils read or recite the conversational parts of this
selection, omitting the explanatory matter, while the other pupils
simply listen. If done with expressive feeling and in a perfectly
natural tone, it will prove quite an interesting exercise. To play or
act the story of a selection helps to develop the imagination.
* * * * *
_14_
scared
swerve
gur' gle
rip' ples
cur' rent
mum' bling ly
THE BROOK SONG.
Little brook! Little brook!
You have such a happy look--
Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook--
And your ripples, one and one,
Reach each other's hands and run
Like laughing little children in the sun!
Little brook, sing to me;
Sing about the bumblebee
That tumbled from a lily bell and grumbled mumblingly,
Because he wet the film
Of his wings, and had to swim,
While the water bugs raced round and laughed at him.
Little brook--sing a song
Of a leaf that sailed along
Down the golden-hearted center of your current swift and strong,
And a dragon fly that lit
On the tilting rim of it,
And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.
And sing--how oft in glee
Came a truant boy like me,
Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,
Till the gurgle and refrain
Of your music in his brain
Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain.
Little brook--laugh and leap!
Do not let the dreamer weep:
Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep;
And then sing soft and low
Through his dreams of long ago--
Sing back to him the rest he used to know!
_James Whitcomb Riley_.
From "Rhymes of Childhood." Used by special permission of the
publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. Copyright, 1900.
* * * * *
[Illustration: BY THE BROOK]
RIPPLES, little curling waves FILM, a thin skin or slight
covering.
CURRENT, the swiftest part of a stream; also applied to _air,
electricity_, etc.
What do the following expressions mean: tilting rim, lilting melody,
softest sleep, gurgle and refrain, a happiness as keen to him as pain?
What is a lullaby? Recite a stanza of one.
Insert _may_ or _can_ properly where you see a dash in the
following: The boy said, "--I leave the room?" "Mother, I--climb the
ladder;--I?"--a dog climb a tree?--I ask a favor?
Copy the following words--they are often misspelled: loving, using,
till, until, queer, fulfil, speech, muscle, quite, scheme, success,
barely, college, villain, salary, visitor, remedy, hurried, forty-four,
enemies, twelfth, marriage, immense, exhaust.
By means of the suffixes, _er, est, ness_, form three new words
from each of the following words: happy, sleepy, lively, greedy,
steady, lovely, gloomy.
Example: From happy,--happier, happiest, happiness. Note the change of
_y_ to _i_.
* * * * *
_15_
rag'ged
crin'kly
rub'bish
fil'tered
protect'ed
disor'derly
disturbed'
imme'diately
THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN.
I.
High above the earth, over land and sea, floated the seed-down, borne on
the autumn wind's strong arms.
"Here shall you lie, little seed-down," said he at last, and put it down
on the ground, and laid a fallen leaf over it. Then he flew away
immediately, because he had much to look after.
That was in the dark evening, and the seed could not see where it was
placed, and besides, the leaf covered it.
Something heavy came now, and pressed so hard that the seed came near
being destroyed; but the leaf, weak though it was, protected it.
It was a human foot which walked along over the ground, and pressed the
downy seed into the earth. When the foot was withdrawn, the earth fell,
and filled the little pit it had made.
The cold came, and the snow fell several feet deep; but the seed lay
quietly down there, waiting for warmth and light. When the spring came,
and the snow melted away, the plant shot up out of the earth.
There was a little gray cottage beside which it grew up. The tiny plant
could not see very far around, because rubbish and brush-heaps lay near
it, and the little window was so gray and dusty that it could not peep
into the cottage either.
"Who lives here?" asked the little thing.
"Don't you know that?" asked the ragged shoe, which lay near. "Why, the
smith who drinks so much lives here, and his wife who wore me out."
And then she told how it looked inside, how life went on there, and it
was not cheering; no, but fearfully sad. The shoe knew it all well, and
told a whole lot in a few minutes, because she had such a well-hung
tongue.
Now there came a pair of ragged children, running--the smith's boy and
girl; he was six years old and the girl eight, so the shoe said, after
they were gone.
"Oh, see, what a pretty little plant!" said the girl. "So now, I shall
pull it up," said the boy, and the plant trembled to the root's heart.
"No, do not do it!" said the girl. "We must let it grow. Do you not see
what pretty crinkly leaves it has? It will have lovely flowers, I know,
when it grows bigger."
And it was allowed to stay there. The children took a stick and dug up
the earth round about, so it looked like a plowed field. Then they threw
the shoe and the sweepings a little way off, because they thought to
make the place look better.
"You cannot think," said the shoe, after the children had gone, "you
cannot think how in the way folks are!"
"The children have to give themselves airs, and pretend to be very
orderly," said the half of a coffee-cup; and she broke in another place
she was so disturbed.
But the sun shone warmly and the rain filtered down in the upturned
earth. Then leaf after leaf unfolded, and in a few days the plant was
several inches high.
"Oh, see!" said the children, who came again; "see how beautiful it is
getting!"
"Come, father, come! brother and I have discovered such a pretty plant!
Come and see it!" begged the girl.
The father glanced at it. The plant looked so lovely on the little rough
bit of soil which lay between the piles of sweepings.
The smith nodded to the children.
"It looks very disorderly here," he said to himself, and stopped an
instant. "Yes, indeed, it does!" He went along, but thought of the
little green spot, with the lovely plant in the midst of it.
* * * * *
II.
pet' als
in' mates
scrubbed
fra' grant
The children ran into the house.
"Mother," said they, "there is such a rare plant growing right by the
window!"
The mother wished to glance out, but the window was so thick with dust
that she could not do so. She wiped off a little spot.
"My! My!" said she, when she noticed how dirty the window looked beside
the cleaned spot; so she wiped the whole window.
"That is an odd plant," said she, looking at it. "But how dreadfully
dirty it is out in the yard!"
Now that the sun shone in through the window it became very light in the
cottage. The mother looked at the ragged children and at the rubbish in
the room, and the blood rushed over her pale cheeks.
"It is a perfect shame!" she murmured. "I have never noticed that it was
so untidy here."
She hurried around, and set the room to rights, and, when that was done,
she washed the dirty floor. She scrubbed it so hard that her hands
smarted as if she had burned them in the fire; she did not stop until
every spot was white.
It was evening; the husband came home from work. The wife sat mending
the girl's ragged dress. The man stopped in the door. It looked so
strange to him within, and the look his wife gave him was brighter than
ever before, he thought.
"Go--God's peace!" he stammered. It was a long time since such a
greeting had been heard in here.
"God's peace!" answered she; "wel--welcome home!" She had not said this
for many years.
The smith stepped forward to the window; on the bed beside it the two
children lay sleeping. He looked at them, then he looked out on the
mound where the little plant stood. After a few minutes he went out.
A deep sigh rose from the woman's breast. She had hoped that he would
stay home that evening. Two great tears fell on the little dress.
In a few minutes she heard a noise outside. She went to the window to
see what it could be. Her husband had not gone away! He was out in the
yard clearing up the brush-heaps and rubbish.
She became more happy than she had been for a long time. He glanced in
through the window and saw her. Then she nodded, he nodded back, and
they both smiled.
"Be careful, above all, of the little plant!" said she.
Warm and sunny days came. The smith stayed at home now every evening. It
was green and lovely round the little cottage, and outside the window
there was a whole flower-bed, with many blossoms; but in the midst stood
the little plant the autumn wind had brought thither.
The smith's family stood around the flower-bed, and talked about the
flowers.
"But the plant that brother and I found is the most beautiful of all,"
said the girl.
"Yes, indeed it is," said the parents.
The smith bent down and took one of the leaves in his hand, but very
carefully, because he was afraid he might hurt it with his thick, coarse
fingers.
Then a bell was heard ringing in the distance. The sound floated out
over field and lake, and rang so peacefully in the eventide, just as the
sun sank behind the tree-tops in the forest. And every one bowed the
head, because it was Saturday evening, and it was a sacred voice that
sounded.
In a little while all was silent in the cottage; the inmates slumbered,
more tired, perhaps, than before, after the week's toils, but also much,
much happier. And round about, all was calm and peaceful.
But when Sunday's sun came up, the plant opened its bud,--and it bore
but a single one. When the cottage folks passed the little
flower-garden, they all stopped and looked at the beautiful, fragrant
blossom.
"It shall go with us to the house of God," said the wife, turning to her
husband. He nodded, and then she broke off the flower. The wife looked
at the husband, and he looked at her, and then their eyes rested on both
children; then their eyes grew dim, but became immediately bright again,
for the tears were not of sorrow, but of happiness.
When the organ's tones swelled and the people sang in the temple, the
flower folded its petals, for it had fulfilled its mission; but on the
waves of song its perfume floated upwards. And in the sweet fragrance
lay a warm thanksgiving from the little seed-down.
From "My Lady Legend," translated from the Swedish by Miss Rydingsvaerd.
Used by the special permission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard
Co.
* * * * *
Memory Gem:
I want it to be said of me by those who know me best that I have always
plucked a thistle and planted a flower in its place wherever a flower
would grow.