De La Salle Fifth Reader - Brothers of the Christian Schools
They had not gone far, when they passed a field where some haymakers
were at work, mowing down the tall grass, and spreading it out in the
sun to dry. Daffy-down-dilly was delighted with the sweet smell of the
new-mown grass, and thought how much pleasanter it must be to make hay
in the sunshine, under the blue sky, and with the birds singing sweetly
in the neighboring trees and bushes, than to be shut up in a dismal
schoolroom, learning lessons all day long, and continually scolded by
Mr. Toil.
But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he was stopping to peep over
the stone wall, he started back, caught hold of his companion's hand,
and cried, "Quick, quick! Let us run away, or he will catch us!"
"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.
"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffy-down-dilly. "Don't you
see him among the haymakers?"
"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil, the
schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer; and people
say he is the more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't
trouble you, unless you become a laborer on the farm."
They went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum and
fife. Daffy-down-dilly besought his companion to hurry forward, that
they might not miss seeing the soldiers.
"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.
Little Daffy-down-dilly started in great dismay; and, turning his eyes
to the captain of the company, what should he see but the very image of
old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and feather on his head, a pair
of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a laced coat on his back, a purple
sash round his waist, and a long sword, instead of a birch rod, in his
hand! Though he held his head high and strutted like a rooster, still he
looked quite as ugly and disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in
the schoolroom.
"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffy-down-dilly, in a trembling
voice. "Let us run away, for fear he will make us enlist in his
company!"
"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the stranger, very
composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but a brother of
his, who has served in the army all his life. People say he's a very
severe fellow, but you and I need not be afraid of him."
"Well, well," said Daffy-down-dilly, "but, if you please, sir, I don't
want to see the soldiers any more."
So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by and by,
they came to a house by the roadside, where some people were making
merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their faces,
were dancing to the sound of a fiddle.
"Let us stop here," cried Daffy-down-dilly to his companion; "for Mr.
Toil will never dare to show his face where there is a fiddler, and
where people are dancing and making merry. We shall be quite safe here."
But these last words died away upon Daffy-down-dilly's tongue, for,
happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he behold again,
but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle bow instead of a birch
rod.
"Oh, dear!" whispered he, turning pale, "it seems as if there was nobody
but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of his playing on a
fiddle!"
"This is not your old schoolmaster," said the stranger, "but another
brother of his, who was bred in France, where he learned the profession
of a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and generally calls himself
Mr. Pleasure; but his real name is Toil, and those who have known him
best, think him still more disagreeable than his brother."
"Pray let us go a little farther," said Daffy-down-dilly. "I don't like
the looks of this fiddler."
Thus the stranger and little Daffy-down-dilly went wandering along the
highway, and in shady lanes, and through pleasant villages; and,
whithersoever they went, behold! there was the image of old Mr. Toil.
He stood like a scarecrow in the cornfields. If they entered a house, he
sat in the parlor; if they peeped into the kitchen, he was there. He
made himself at home in every cottage, and, under one disguise or
another, stole into the most splendid mansions.
"Oh, take me back!--take me back!" said poor little Daffy-down-dilly,
bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but Toil all the world over, I
may just as well go back to the schoolhouse."
"Yonder it is,--there is the schoolhouse!" said the stranger; for,
though he and little Daffy-down-dilly had taken a great many steps, they
had traveled in a circle, instead of a straight line. "Come; we will go
back to school together."
There was something in his companion's voice that little
Daffy-down-dilly now remembered; and it is strange that he had not
remembered it sooner. Looking up into his face, behold! there again was
the likeness of old Mr. Toil; so the poor child had been in company with
Toil all day, even while he was doing his best to run away from him.
When Daffy-down-dilly became better acquainted with Mr. Toil, he began
to think that his ways were not so very disagreeable, and that the old
schoolmaster's smile of approbation made his face almost as pleasant as
the face of his own dear mother.
_Nathaniel Hawthorne._
"Little Daffy-down-dilly and Other Stories." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
Publishers.
* * * * *
How will the following sentences read if you change the name-words from
the singular to the plural form: The old schoolmaster has a rod in his
hand. The boy likes his teacher. The girl goes cheerfully on an errand
for her mother. The pupil attends to his book, and knows his lesson
perfectly. Under the blue sky, and while the bird was singing sweetly in
tree and bush, the farmer was making hay in his meadow. The man won't
trouble him unless he becomes a laborer on his farm. The captain had a
smart cap and feather on his head, a laced coat on his back, a purple
sash round his waist, and a long sword instead of a birch rod in his
hand.
From points furnished by your teacher, write a short composition on "Our
School." Be careful as to spelling, capitals, punctuation, paragraphs,
margin, penmanship, neatness and general appearance.
Memory Gems:
Evil is wrought by want of thought,
As well as want of heart.
_Hood._
It is not where you are, but what you are, that determines your
happiness.
* * * * *
_63_
su' macs
char' coal
of fi' cial
fres' coes
in i' tial
rest' less ly
IN SCHOOL DAYS
Still sits the schoolhouse by the road,
A ragged beggar sunning;
Around it still the sumacs grow
And blackberry vines are running.
Within, the master's desk is seen,
Deep scarred by raps official;
The warping floor, the battered seats,
The jackknife's carved initial;
The charcoal frescoes on its wall;
Its door's worn sill, betraying
The feet that, creeping slow to school,
Went storming out to playing!
Long years ago a winter sun
Shone over it at setting;
Lit up its western window-panes,
And low eaves' icy fretting.
It touched the tangled golden curls,
And brown eyes full of grieving,
Of one who still her steps delayed
When all the school were leaving.
For near her stood the little boy
Her childish favor singled;
His cap pulled low upon a face
Where pride and shame were mingled.
Pushing with restless feet the snow
To right and left, he lingered;
As restlessly her tiny hands
The blue-checked apron fingered.
He saw her lift her eyes; he felt
The soft hand's light caressing,
And heard the tremble of her voice,
As if a fault confessing:
"I'm sorry that I spelt the word;
I hate to go above you,
Because,"--the brown eyes lower fell,--
"Because, you see, I love you!"
Still memory to a gray-haired man
That sweet child-face is showing.
Dear girl! the grasses on her grave
Have forty years been growing!
He lives to learn, in life's hard school,
How few who pass above him
Lament their triumph and his loss,
Like her,--because they love him.
_Whittier._
From "Child Life in Poetry." Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.
[Illustration: _John G. Whittier._]
* * * * *
_64_
Mars
so' lar (ler)
Ve' nus
plan' ets
Mer' cu ry
di am' e ter
com' pass es
sat' el lite
tel' e scope
grad' u al ly
in' ter est ing
cir cum' fer ence
THE SUN'S FAMILY
"Please tell me a story, Frank" said Philip, as the two boys sat in the
shade of a large tree.
"I have heard and read many wonderful stories. I will try to recall
one," said Frank.
"Let me see. Well--perhaps--I think that the most wonderful story I have
ever read is that of the solar system, or the sun's family."
"Solar system!" repeated Philip. "That certainly sounds hard enough to
puzzle even a fairy. Please tell me all about it."
"That I should find much too hard" answered Frank. "But I'll try to tell
you what little I know. You see the sun there, don't you--the great
shining sun? Do you think the sun moves?"
"Of course it moves," said Philip. "I always see it in the morning when
I am in the garden. It rises first above the bushes, then over the trees
and houses; by evening it has traveled across the sky, when it sinks
below the houses and trees, out of sight on the other side of the town."
"Now that is quite a mistake," said Frank, "You think that the sun is
traveling all that way along the sky, whereas it is really we--we on
this big ball of earth--who are moving. We are whirling around on the
outer surface, rushing on at the rate--let me think--at the rate of more
than one thousand miles a minute!"
"Frank, what do you mean?" cried Philip.
"I mean that the earth is moving many times faster than a ball moves
when shot from the mouth of a cannon!"
"Do you expect me to believe that, Frank! I can hardly believe that this
big, solid earth moves at all; but to think of it with all the cities,
towns, and people whirling round and round faster than a ball from the
mouth of a cannon, while we never feel that it stirs one inch,--this is
much harder to believe than all that the fairies have ever told us."
"Yes, but it is quite true for all that," replied Frank.
"I have learned much about the motions of the planets, and viewed the
stars one night through a telescope. As I looked through this
instrument, the stars appeared to me much larger than ever before. The
earth is a planet, and there are besides our earth seven large planets
and many small ones, which also whirl around the sun. Some of these
planets are larger than our world. Some of them also move much faster.
"The sun is in the middle with the planets moving around him. The one
nearest to the sun is Mercury."
"It must be hot there!" cried Philip.
"I dare say that if we were in Mercury we should be scorched to ashes;
but if creatures live on that planet, God has given them a different
nature from ours, so that they may enjoy what would be dreadful to us.
"The next planet to Mercury is Venus. Venus is sometimes seen shining so
bright after sunset; then she is called the evening star. Some of the
time, a little before sunrise, she may be seen in the east; she is then
called the morning star.
"Venus can never be an evening star and a morning star at the same time
of the year. If you are watching her this evening before or after
sundown, there is no use getting up early to-morrow to look for her
again. For several weeks Venus remains an evening star, then gradually
disappears. Two months later you may see her in the east--a bright
morning star.
"Our earth is the third planet, and Mars is the fourth from the sun. Now
let us make a drawing of what we have been talking about.
"First open the compasses one inch; describe a circle, and make a dot on
its circumference, naming it Mercury. Write on this circle eighty-eight
days; this shows the time it takes Mercury to travel around the sun.
Make another circle three and one-half inches in diameter and make a dot
on it. This represents Venus. It takes Venus two hundred twenty-five
days to journey around the sun.
"The next circle we have to draw is a very interesting one to us. The
compasses must be opened two and one-half inches. The path made
represents the journey we take in three hundred sixty-five days.
"One more circle must be drawn to complete our little plan. This circle
must be eight inches in diameter. You see Mars is much farther from the
sun than our earth is. It takes him six hundred eighty-seven days to
make the trip around the sun. The other planets are too far away to be
put in this plan."
"O, Frank, you have missed the biggest of all--the moon!" said Philip.
"O, no, no!" exclaimed Frank. "The moon is quite a little ball. It is
less than seven thousand miles around her, while our earth is
twenty-five thousand miles around."
"Is that a little ball, Frank?"
"Yes, compared with the sun and the planets. The moon is what is called
a satellite--that is, a servant or an attendant. She is a satellite of
our earth. She keeps circling round and round our earth, while we go
circling round and round the sun.
"How fast the moon must travel! If I were to go rushing round a field,
and a bird should keep flying around my head, you see that the movements
of the bird would be much quicker than mine."
"I can't understand it, Frank," said Philip. "The moon always looks so
quiet in the sky. If she is darting about like lightning, why is it that
she scarcely seems to move more than an inch in ten minutes?"
"I suppose," said Frank, after a thoughtful silence, "that what to us
seems an inch in the sky is really many miles. You know how very fast
the steam cars seem to go when one is quite near them, yet I have seen a
train of cars far off which seemed to go so slowly that I could fancy it
was painted on the sky."
"Yes, that must be the reason; but how do people find out these curious
things about the sun and the stars--to know how large they are and how
fast they go?" asked Philip.
"That is something we shall understand when we are older," said Frank.
"We must gain a little knowledge every day."
"Is the earth the only planet that has a moon?" asked Philip.
"Mercury and Venus have no moons. Mars has two, and Jupiter has four,
but we can see them only when we look through a telescope." replied
Frank.
"Are all the twinkling stars which one sees on a fine clear night,
planets?" inquired Philip.
"Those that twinkle are not planets; they are fixed stars," said Frank.
"A planet does not twinkle. It has no light of its own. It shines just
as the moon shines, because the sun gives it light."
"But our earth does not shine!" said Philip.
"Indeed it does," explained Frank. "Our earth appears to Venus and Mars
as a shining planet."
"There must be many more fixed stars than planets, then, for almost
every star that I can see twinkles and sparkles like a diamond. Do these
fixed stars all go around the sun?" asked Philip.
"O, Philip! haven't you noticed that they are called fixed stars to show
that they do not move like planets? The word _planet_ means to _wander._
These fixed stars are suns themselves, which may have planets of their
own. They are so very far away that we cannot know much about them,
except that they shine of themselves just as our sun does.
"We know that our sun gives light and heat to the planets and satellites
with which he is surrounded. We know that without his warm rays there
would not be any flowers or birds or any living thing on the earth. So
we can easily imagine that all other suns are shining in the same way
for the worlds that surround them."
* * * * *
Make a drawing of the sun and the three planets nearest it, as directed
in the lesson.
Fill each blank space in the following sentences with the correct form
of the action-word _draw_:
My boys like to --.
Yesterday they -- the picture of an old mill.
They are now -- a picture of the solar system.
The lines on the blackboard were -- by John.
He -- well.
* * * * *
_65_
dew' y
clos'es
ca ress'
twined
wreaths
weath'er
brook' let
togeth'er
WILL AND I
We roam the hills together,
In the golden summer weather,
Will and I;
And the glowing sunbeams bless us,
And the winds of heaven caress us,
As we wander hand in hand
Through the blissful summer land,
Will and I.
Where the tinkling brooklet passes
Through the heart of dewy grasses,
Will and I
Have heard the mock-bird singing,
And the field lark seen upspringing,
In his happy flight afar,
Like a tiny winged star--
Will and I.
Amid cool forest closes,
We have plucked the wild wood-roses,
Will and I;
And have twined, with tender duty,
Sweet wreaths to crown the beauty
Of the purest brows that shine
With a mother-love divine,
Will and I.
Ah! thus we roam together,
Through the golden summer weather,
Will and I;
While the glowing sunbeams bless us,
And the winds of heaven caress us,
As we wander hand in hand
O'er the blissful summer land,
Will and I.
_Paul H. Hayne._
* * * * *
CLOSES, small inclosed fields.
Write about what you and Will _saw, heard,_ and _did,_ as you roamed
together over the hills, through the woods, along the brooklet, on a
certain bright, clear day in early summer. You are a country boy and
Will is your city cousin. If you begin your composition by saying, "It
was a beautiful afternoon towards the end of June," keep the image of
the day in mind till the end of the paragraph; tell what _made_ the day
beautiful,--such as the sun, the sky, the trees, the grass. In other
paragraphs tell the things you saw and heard in the order in which you
saw and heard them. Give a paragraph to what you did in the "closes" of
the cool forest, and why you plucked the wild flowers. Conclude by
telling what a pleasant surprise you gave mother on your return home;
and how she surprised you two hungry boys during supper.
In your composition, use as many of the words and phrases of the poem as
you can.
* * * * *
_66_
themes
her' e sy
ramp' ant
a chieved'
es cort ed
po ta'toes
trem' u lous
lux u' ri ous
cre du' li ty
in cred' i ble
phe nom' e non
pre ma ture' ly
CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'.
[Illustration: Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit.]
Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned
gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap; and she laid the cloth,
assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in
ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of
potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's
private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day)
into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired. And now
two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that
outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their
own; and, basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onions, they danced
about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while
he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked him) blew the fire,
until the potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to
be let out and peeled.
"What has ever kept your precious father, then?" said Mrs. Cratchit.
"And your brother, Tiny Tim? And Martha wasn't as late last Christmas
Day by half an hour!"
"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's
_such_ a goose, Martha!"
"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said Mrs.
Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet
for her with officious zeal.
"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night, and had to clear away this
morning, mother!"
"Well, never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye
down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!"
"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were
everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha, hide!"
So Martha hid herself, and in came the father, with at least three feet
of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him; and his
threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny
Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and
had his limb supported by an iron frame.
"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.
"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.
"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits;
for he had been Tim's blood-horse all the way from church, and had come
home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!"
Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so
she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his
arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off
to the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.
"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had
rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his
heart's content.
"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful,
sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever
heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the
church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to
remember, upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men
see."
Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when
he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.
His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny
Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister
to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob compounded some hot mixture
in a jug, and put it on the hob to simmer, Master Peter and the two
ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon
returned in high procession.
Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of
all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of
course--and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs.
Cratchit made the gravy hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes
with incredible vigor; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce; Martha
dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at
the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not
forgetting themselves, and, mounting guard upon their posts, crammed
spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their
turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was
said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking
slowly all along the carving knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast;
but when she did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued
forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny
Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the
handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!
Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its
tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal
admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a
sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said
with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish),
they hadn't eaten it all at last! Yet every one had had enough, and the
youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and onion to the
eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs.
Cratchit left the room alone--too nervous to bear witnesses--to take the
pudding up and bring it in.
Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning
out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the backyard and
stolen it, while they were merry with the goose--a supposition at which
the two young Cratchits became livid. All sorts of horrors were
supposed.
Halloa! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A
smell like a washing day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating
house and a pastry cook's next door to each other, with a laundress's
next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit
entered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with the pudding like a speckled
cannon ball, so hard and firm, smoking hot, and bedight with Christmas
holly stuck into the top.
Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he
regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since
their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that, now the weight was off her
mind, she would confess she had her doubts about the quantity of flour.
Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it
was at all a small pudding for so large a family. It would have been
flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a
thing.