Chapter IX: Part 9

His grinning brothers, Reuben and Burke 10
And Nathan and Jotham and Solomon, lurk
Around the corner to see him work--
Sitting cross-legged, like a Turk,
Drawing the waxed end through with a jerk,
And boring the holes with a comical quirk 15
Of his wise old head, and a knowing smirk.
But vainly they mounted each other's backs,
And poked through knot holes and pried through cracks;
With wood from the pile and straw from the stacks
He plugged the knot holes and calked the cracks; 20
And a bucket of water, which one would think
He had brought up into the loft to drink
When he chanced to be dry,
Stood always nigh,
For Darius was sly! 25
And whenever at work he happened to spy
At chink or crevice a blinking eye,
He let a dipper of water fly.

So day after day
He stitched and tinkered and hammered away, 30
Till at last 'twas done,--
The greatest invention under the sun!
"An' now," says Darius, "hooray fer some fun!"

'Twas the Fourth of July,
And the weather was dry, 5
And not a cloud was on all the sky,
Save a few light fleeces, which here and there,
Half mist, half air,
Like foam on the ocean went floating by,--
Just as lovely a morning as ever was seen 10
For a nice little trip in a flying machine.

Thought cunning Darius: "Now I shan't go
Along 'ith the fellers to see the show:
I'll say I've got sich a terrible cough!
An' then, when the folks 'ave all gone off, 15
I'll have full swing
Fer to try the thing,
An' practice a little on the wing."

"Ain't goin' to see the celebration?"
Says brother Nate. "No; botheration! 20
I've got sich a cold--a toothache--I--
My gracious!--feel's though I should fly!"
Said Jotham, "'Sho!
Guess ye better go."
But Darius said, "No! 25
Shouldn't wonder 'f you might see me, though,
'Long 'bout noon, if I get red
O' this jumpin', thumpin' pain 'n my head."
For all the while to himself he said:
"I tell ye what!
I'll fly a few times around the lot,
To see how't seems, then soon's I've got
The hang o' the thing, ez likely's not,
I'll astonish the nation, 5
An' all creation,
By flyin' over the celebration!
Over their heads I'll sail like an eagle;
I'll balance myself on my wings like a sea gull;
I'll dance on the chimbleys; I'll stand on the steeple; 10
I'll flop up to winders an' scare the people!
I'll light on the liberty pole an' crow;
An' I'll say to the gawpin' fools below,
'What world's this 'ere
That I've come near?' 15
Fer I'll make 'em b'lieve I'm a chap f'm the moon;
An' I'll try a race 'ith their ol' balloon!"

He crept from his bed,
And seeing the others were gone, he said:
"I'm a gittin' over the cold 'n my head." 20
And away he sped,
To open the wonderful box in the shed.

His brothers had walked but a little way,
When Jotham to Nathan chanced to say,
"What is the feller up to, hey?" 25
"Don'o',--the' 's suthin' er other to pay,
Er he wouldn't 'a' stayed to hum to-day."
Says Burke, "His toothache's all 'n his eye!
_He_ never'd miss a Fo'th o' July,
Ef he hedn't got some machine to try." 30
Then Sol, the little one, spoke: "By darn!
Le's hurry back an' hide 'n the barn,
An' pay him fer tellin' us that yarn!"

"Agreed!" Through the orchard they creep back,
Along by the fences, behind the stack, 5
And one by one, through a hole in the wall,
In under the dusty barn they crawl,
Dressed in their Sunday garments all.
And a very astonishing sight was that,
When each in his cobwebbed coat and hat 10
Came up through the floor like an ancient rat.

And there they hid;
And Reuben slid
The fastenings back, and the door undid.
"Keep dark!" said he, 15
"While I squint an' see what the' is to see."

As knights of old put on their mail,--
From head to foot
An iron suit,
Iron jacket and iron boot, 20
Iron breeches, and on the head
No hat, but an iron pot instead,
And under the chin the bail
(I believe they called the thing a helm);
And, thus accoutered, they took the field, 25
Sallying forth to overwhelm
The dragons and pagans that plagued the realm,--
So this modern knight
Prepared for flight,
Put on his wings and strapped them tight,--
Jointed and jaunty, strong and light,--
Buckled them fast to shoulder and hip,--
Ten feet they measured from tip to tip!
And a helm had he, but that he wore, 5
Not on his head, like those of yore,
But more like the helm of a ship.

"Hush!" Reuben said,
"He's up in the shed!
He's opened the winder,--I see his head! 10
He stretches it out,
An' pokes it about,
Lookin' to see 'f the coast is clear,
An' nobody near;--
Guess he don'o' who's hid in here! 15
He's riggin' a springboard over the sill!
Stop laffin', Solomon! Burke, keep still!
He's climbin' out now. Of all the things!
What's he got on? I van, it's wings!
An' that t'other thing? I vum, it's a tail!
An' there he sets like a hawk on a rail! 20
Steppin' careful, he travels the length
Of his springboard, and teeters to try its strength.

"Now he stretches his wings like a monstrous bat;
Peeks over his shoulder, this way an' that, 25
Fer to see 'f the' 's anyone passin' by;
But the' 's on'y a ca'f an' a goslin' nigh.
_They_ turn up at him a wonderin' eye,
To see--the dragon! he's goin' to fly!
Away he goes! Jiminy! what a jump!
Flop--flop--an' plump
To the ground with a thump,
Flutt'rin' an' flound'rin', all 'n a lump!"

As a demon is hurled by an angel's spear, 5
Heels over head, to his proper sphere,
Heels over head, and head over heels,
Dizzily down the abyss he wheels,--
So fell Darius. Upon his crown,
In the midst of the barnyard, he came down, 10
In a wonderful whirl of tangled strings,
Broken braces and broken springs,
Broken tail and broken wings,
Shooting stars and various things,
Barnyard litter of straw and chaff. 15
Away with a bellow fled the calf,
And what was that? Did the gosling laugh?

'Tis a merry roar
From the old barn door,
And he hears the voice of Jotham crying, 20
"Say, D'rius! how do you like flyin'?"

Slowly, ruefully, where he lay,
Darius just turned and looked that way,
As he stanched his sorrowful nose with his cuff.
"Wall, I like flyin' well enough," 25
He said, "but the' ain't sich a awful sight
O' fun in't when ye come to light."

_Moral_

I just have room for the moral here:
And this is the moral,--Stick to your sphere.
Or, if you insist, as you have the right,
On spreading your wings for a loftier flight,
The moral is,--Take care how you light. 5

1. Tell the story of Icarus and Dædalus. Compare
Darius's flying machine with a modern airplane.
When and by whom was the airplane perfected as a
practical flyer?

2. How much of the story is told from Darius's
standpoint? Through whose eyes do we see the rest?

3. Describe Darius. Is he really a clever lad? Why
do we laugh at his experiment?

4. The poem is written partially in dialect.
Explain what "dialect" is. What other poems do you
know that are in dialect?

5. J. T. Trowbridge (1827-1916) was a clever
American writer of verse and fiction, chiefly boys'
books. Can you find anything of interest about him?

AUNT DOLEFUL'S VISIT

How do you do, Cornelia? I heard you were sick, and
I stepped in to cheer you up a little. My friends
often say, "It's such a comfort to see you, Aunt Doleful.
You have such a flow of conversation, and are _so_ lively."
Besides, I said to myself as I came up the stairs, "Perhaps 5
it's the last time I'll ever see Cornelia Jane alive."

_You don't mean to die yet, eh?_ Well, now, how do you
know? You can't tell. You think you are getting better;
but there was poor Mrs. Jones sitting up, and everyone
saying how smart she was, and all of a sudden she was taken 10
with spasms in the heart and went off like a flash.

But you must be careful and not get anxious or excited.
Keep quite calm and don't fret about anything. Of course
things can't go just as if you were downstairs; and I
wondered whether you knew your little Billy was sailing
about in a tub on the mill pond, and that your little Sammy 5
was letting your little Jimmy down from the veranda
roof in a clothes basket.

Goodness! what's the matter? I guess Providence'll
take care of them. Don't look so. You thought Bridget
was watching them? Well, no, she isn't. I saw her talking 10
to a man at the gate. He looked to me like a burglar.
No doubt she let him take the impression of the door key
in wax, and then he'll get in and murder you all. There
was a family at Murray Hill all killed last week.

How is Mr. Kobble? Well, but finds it warm in town, eh? 15
Well, I should think he would. They are dropping down by
hundreds there with sunstroke. You must prepare your
mind to have him brought home any day. Anyhow, a
trip on these railroad trains is just risking your life every
time you take one. Back and forth every day as he is, 20
is just trifling with danger.

Scarlet fever has broken out in the village, Cornelia.
Little Isaac Potter has it, and I saw your Jimmy playing
with him last Saturday.

Well, I must be going now. I've got another sick 25
friend, and I sha'n't consider my duty done unless I cheer
her up a little before I sleep. You don't look so well as you did
when I came in. But if anything happens, send for me at
once. If I can't do anything else, I can cheer you up a little.

1. This is an old, favorite recitation. What do you
think of this type of humor as compared with Mark
Twain's?

GRADGRIND'S IDEA OF EDUCATION

BY CHARLES DICKENS

Thomas Gradgrind was proud of himself. He was a
"self-made" man who attributed his own successes in
life to his mastery of Facts. He is here
represented as officially testing a school upon its
knowledge of his favorite Facts.

"Now what I want is Facts. Teach these boys and
girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted
in life. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals
upon Facts; nothing else will ever be of any service to
them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own 5
children. Stick to Facts, sir; nothing but Facts."

The speaker, and the schoolmaster, and the third grown
person present, all backed a little and swept with their eyes
the inclined plane of little vessels then and there arranged
in order, ready to have gallons of facts poured into them 10
until they were full to the brim.

Thomas Gradgrind, sir. A man of realities. A man of
facts and calculations. A man who proceeds upon the
principle that two and two are four and nothing over,
and who is not to be talked into allowing for anything over. 15
Thomas Gradgrind, sir, with a rule and a pair of scales
and the multiplication table always in his pocket, sir,
ready to weigh and measure any parcel of human nature
and tell you exactly what it comes to.

It is a mere question of figures, a case of simple arithmetic. 20
You might hope to get some other nonsensical
belief into the head of George Gradgrind, or Augustus
Gradgrind, or John Gradgrind, or Joseph Gradgrind; but
into the head of Thomas Gradgrind--no, sir!

Indeed, he seemed to be a kind of cannon loaded to the
muzzle with facts.

"Girl number twenty," said Mr. Gradgrind, squarely 5
pointing with his square forefinger. "I don't know that
girl. Who is that girl?"

"Sissy Jupe, sir," explained number twenty, blushing,
standing up, and curtsying.

"Sissy is not a name," said Mr. Gradgrind. "Don't 10
call yourself Sissy. Call yourself Cecilia."

"Father calls me Sissy, sir," returned the young girl in a
trembling voice and with another curtsy.

"Then he has no business to do it," said Mr. Gradgrind.
"Tell him he mustn't. Cecilia Jupe. Let me see. What 15
is your father?"

"He belongs to the horse riding, if you please, sir."

Mr. Gradgrind frowned, and waved off the objectionable
calling with his hand.

"We don't want to know anything about that, here. 20
You mustn't tell us about that, here. Your father breaks
horses, don't he?"

"If you please, sir, when they can get any to break, they
do break horses in the ring, sir."

"You mustn't tell us about the ring, here. Very well, 25
then. Describe your father as a horse breaker. He
doctors sick horses, I dare say."

"Oh, yes, sir!"

"Very well, then. He is a veterinary surgeon, a farrier,
and a horse breaker. Give me your definition of a horse." 30

Sissy Jupe was thrown into the greatest alarm by this
demand.

"Girl number twenty unable to define a horse!" said
Mr. Gradgrind. "Girl number twenty possessed of no
facts in reference to one of the commonest of animals!
Some boy's definition of a horse. Bitzer, yours."

The square finger, moving here and there, lighted suddenly 5
on Bitzer, perhaps because he chanced to sit in the
same ray of sunlight which irradiated Sissy.

"Bitzer," said Thomas Gradgrind, "your definition of a
horse."

"Quadruped. Graminivorous. Forty teeth: namely, 10
twenty-four grinders, four eyeteeth, and twelve incisors.
Sheds coat in the spring; in marshy countries, sheds hoofs
too. Hoofs hard, but requiring to be shod with iron.
Age known by marks in the mouth."

"Now, girl number twenty," said Mr. Gradgrind, "you 15
know what a horse is."

She curtsied again and would have blushed deeper, if she
could have blushed deeper than she had blushed all this
time.

The third gentleman now stepped forth. A mighty man at 20
cutting and drying, was he; a government officer; always
in training, always with a system to force down the general
throat, always to be heard of at the bar of his little public
office.

"Very well," said this gentleman briskly, smiling and 25
folding his arms. "That's a horse. Now, let me ask you,
girls and boys, would you paper a room with representations
of horses?"

After a pause, one half the children cried in a chorus,
"Yes, sir!" Upon which the other half, seeing in the 30
gentleman's face that "yes" was wrong, cried out in a
chorus, "No, sir!"--as the custom is in these examinations.

"Of course not. Why wouldn't you?"

A pause. One corpulent slow boy, with a wheezy manner
of breathing, ventured to answer, "Because I wouldn't
paper a room at all; I'd paint it."

"You _must_ paper it," said the gentleman rather warmly. 5

"Yes, you must paper it," said Thomas Gradgrind,
"whether you like it or not. Don't tell _us_ you wouldn't
paper it. What do you mean, boy?"

"I'll explain to you, then," said the gentleman, after a
dismal pause, "why you wouldn't paper a room with representations 10
of horses. Do you ever see horses walking
up and down the sides of a room in reality--in fact?
Do you?"

"Yes, sir!" from one half. "No, sir!" from the other.

"Of course not," said the gentleman, with an indignant 15
look at the wrong half. "Why, then, you are not to see
anywhere what you don't see in fact; you are not to have
anywhere what you don't have in fact. What is called
taste is only another name for fact. This is a new principle,
a discovery, a great discovery," said the gentleman. "Now 20
I'll try you again. Suppose you were going to carpet a
room, would you use a carpet having a representation of
flowers upon it?"

There being a general conviction by this time that "No,
sir!" was always the right answer to this gentleman, the 25
chorus of "No," was very strong. Only a few feeble
stragglers said, "Yes"; among them Sissy Jupe.

"Girl number twenty," said the gentleman, smiling in
the calm strength of knowledge.

Sissy blushed and stood up. 30

"So you would carpet your room with representations of
flowers, would you?" said the gentleman. "Why?"

"If you please, sir, I am very fond of flowers," returned
the girl.

"And is that why you would put tables and chairs upon
them and have people walking over them with heavy
boots?" 5

"It wouldn't hurt them, sir. They wouldn't crush and,
wither, if you please, sir. They would be the pictures of
what was very pretty and pleasant, and I fancy--"

"Aye, aye, aye! But you mustn't fancy," cried the
gentleman, quite elated by coming so happily to his point. 10
"That's it! You are never to fancy."

"You are not, Cecilia Jupe," Thomas Gradgrind solemnly
repeated, "to do anything of that kind."

"You are to be in all things regulated and governed,"
said the gentleman, "by Fact. You must discard the word 15
'fancy' altogether. You have nothing to do with it.
You don't walk upon flowers in fact; you cannot be allowed
to walk upon flowers in carpets. You never meet with
quadrupeds going up and down the walls; you must not
have quadrupeds represented upon the walls. You must 20
use," said the gentleman, "for all these purposes, combinations
and modifications (in primary colors) of mathematical
figures which are susceptible of proof and demonstration.
This is the new discovery. This is Fact. This
is taste." 25

--_Hard Times._

1. Make a list of adjectives that fit the character
of Gradgrind.

2. Does Dickens agree with Gradgrind's ideas of
teaching? Prove your answer. Define irony; sarcasm.
Does either of these words apply to Dickens's
presentation of Gradgrind?

3. What do you think of Gradgrind's theories? How
far do you agree with him? In what do you disagree?

THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE,
OR THE WONDERFUL "ONE-HOSS SHAY"

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894) was born at
Cambridge, Mass. Although he practiced his
profession of medicine, was Professor of Anatomy
and Physiology at the Harvard Medical School, and
wrote some scientific works, he is best known as
the author of poems and essays, mostly humorous,
light, and fanciful. He was very popular in his
time as a witty conversationalist and a brilliant
speech maker.

Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
That was built in such a logical way?
It ran a hundred years to a day,
And then, of a sudden, it--ah, but stay,
I'll tell you what happened without delay-- 5
Scaring the parson into fits,
Frightening people out of their wits--
Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
_Georgius Secundus_ was then alive-- 10
Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
That was the year when Lisbon town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down,
And Braddock's army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown. 15
It was on the terrible Earthquake day
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

Now in building of chaises I tell you what,
There is always _somewhere_ a weakest spot--
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
In panel or crossbar or floor or sill,
In screw, bolt, thorough-brace,--lurking still, 5
Find it somewhere you must and will--
Above or below or within or without--
And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,
A chaise _breaks down_, but doesn't _wear out_.

But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, 10
With an "I dew vum" or an "I tell _yeou_")
He would build one shay to beat the taown
'N' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun';
It should be so built that it _couldn't_ break daown.

"Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's mighty plain 15
Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain;
'N' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain,
Is only jest
T' make that place uz strong uz the rest."

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk 20
Where he could find the strongest oak,
That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke--
That was for spokes and floor and sills;
He sent for lancewood to make the thills;
The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees 25
The panels of whitewood, that cuts like cheese
But lasts like iron for things like these;
The hubs, of logs from the "Settler's ellum"--
Last of its timber--they couldn't sell 'em--

Never an ax had seen their chips,
And the wedges flew from between their lips,
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery tips;
Step and prop iron, bolt and screw,
Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too, 5
Steel of the finest, bright and blue;
Thorough-brace, bison skin, thick and wide;
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide
Found in the pit when the tanner died.
That was the way he "put her through." 10
"There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew!"

Do! I tell you, I rather guess
She was a wonder, and nothing less!
Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,
Deacon and deaconess dropped away, 15
Children and grandchildren--where were they?
But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay,
As fresh as on Lisbon-Earthquake day!

_Eighteen hundred_--it came and found
The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound. 20
Eighteen hundred increased by ten--
"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then.
Eighteen hundred and twenty came--
Running as usual; much the same.
Thirty and Forty at last arrive, 25
And then come Fifty--and _Fifty-five_.

Little of all we value here
Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year
Without both feeling and looking queer.

In fact there's nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
(This is a moral that runs at large;
Take it.--You're welcome.--No extra charge.)

_First of November_--the Earthquake day-- 5
There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,
A general flavor of mild decay,
But nothing local, as one may say.
There couldn't be--for the Deacon's art
Had made it so like in every part 10
That there wasn't a chance for one to start.

For the wheels were just as strong as the thills,
And the floor was just as strong as the sills,
And the panels just as strong as the floor,
And the whippletree neither less nor more, 15
And the back crossbar as strong as the fore,
And spring, and axle, and hub _encore_.
And yet, _as a whole_, it is past a doubt
In another hour it will be _worn out_!

First of November, Fifty-five! 20
This morning the parson takes a drive.
Now, small boys, get out of the way!
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.
"Huddup!" said the parson.--Off went they. 25

The parson was working his Sunday's text--
Had got to _fifthly_, and stopped perplexed
At what the--Moses--was coming next.

All at once the horse stood still,
Close by the meet'n'house on the hill.
First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Then something decidedly like a spill--
And the parson was sitting upon a rock, 5
At half past nine by the meet'n'house clock--
Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!

What do you think the parson found
When he got up and stared around?
The poor old chaise in a heap, or mound, 10
As if it had been to the mill and ground!
You see, of course, if you're not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once--
All at once, and nothing first--
Just as bubbles do when they burst. 15

End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.
Logic is logic. That's all I say.

1. What kind of vehicle did the Deacon build? What
was his theory as to building a "shay"?

2. How did he carry out his theory? Read the
passages that answer this question. Make a list of
the special parts of the chaise named.

3. On what day did the Deacon complete his task? Is
Holmes correct as to the dates of Braddock's defeat
and the Lisbon earthquake?

4. Explain lines 10-11, page 286; 8, 17, 27, page
289; 17, page 290.

5. What happened finally to the "masterpiece"? Was
the Deacon still living? How did the chaise happen
to go to pieces? Was the Deacon's theory of
building correct?

6. Suggested readings: Holmes's "How the Old Horse
Won the Bet"; Lowell's "The Courtin'."

THE SCHOOLMASTER'S RIDE

BY WASHINGTON IRVING

The time of this story is post-Revolutionary.
Ichabod Crane, a lean, awkward schoolmaster, has
been courting the village belle, Katrina Van
Tassel, his rival being Brom Bones, a powerful
fellow, noted for his pugnacity. He has frequently
threatened Ichabod for aspiring to the charming
Katrina. Here, Ichabod, at a late hour, is leaving
the Van Tassel home after a "quilting frolic" where
he took occasion to propose to Katrina. Judge of
the young lady's answer!

Ichabod, heavy-hearted and crestfallen, pursued his
travel homewards, along the sides of the lofty hills
which rise above Tarrytown. The hour was as dismal as
himself. Far below him the Tappan Zee spread its dusky
and indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the 5
tall mast of a sloop riding quietly at anchor under the
land. In the dead hush of midnight he could even hear
the barking of the watchdog from the opposite shore of the
Hudson; but it was so vague and faint as only to give an
idea of his great distance from this faithful companion of 10
man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a
cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off,
from some farmhouse away among the hills. No signs of
life occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholy
chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bullfrog 15
from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably
and turning suddenly in his bed.

The night grew darker and darker, the stars seemed to
sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid
them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and 20
dismal. In the center of the road stood an enormous tulip
tree, which towered like a giant above all the other trees
of the neighborhood and formed a kind of landmark. It
was connected with the tragical story of the unfortunate
André, who had been taken prisoner hard by, and was 5
universally known by the name of Major André's Tree.
The common people regarded it with a mixture of respect
and superstition.

As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to
whistle. He thought his whistle was answered. It was 10
but a blast sweeping through the dry branches. As he
approached a little nearer, he thought he saw something
white hanging in the midst of the tree. He paused and
ceased whistling; but on looking more narrowly, perceived
that it was a place where the tree had been scathed by 15
lightning and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard
a groan. His teeth chattered, and his knees smote against
the saddle. It was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon
another as they were swayed about by the breeze. He
passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him. 20

About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook
crossed the road and ran into a marshy and thickly wooded
glen, known by the name of Wiley's Swamp. A few rough
logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream.
To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was at this 25
identical spot that the unfortunate André was captured,
and this has ever since been considered a haunted stream,
and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who has to
pass it alone after dark.

As he approached the stream his heart began to thump. 30
He summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave his
horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to
dash briskly across the bridge. But instead of starting
forward, the perverse old animal made a lateral movement
and ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears
increased with the delay, jerked the reins on the other side
and kicked lustily with the contrary foot. It was all in 5
vain. His steed started, it is true, but it was only to
plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket of
brambles and alder bushes.

The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel
upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed 10
forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just
by the bridge with a suddenness which had nearly sent his
rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a
plashy tramp on the bank of the stream, by the side of
the bridge, caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the 15
dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the murmuring
brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, and
towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathering up in the
gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the
traveler. 20

The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head
with terror. What was to be done? To turn and fly was now
too late. Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he
demanded, in stammering tones, "_Who are you?_" He
received no reply. 25

He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice.
Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgeled the sides
of the inflexible Gunpowder, and shutting his eyes, broke
forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then
the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a 30
scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road.

Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form of
the unknown might now, in some degree, be ascertained.
He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions and
mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He made
no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on
one side of the road. Ichabod, who had no relish for this 5
strange midnight companion, now quickened his steed in
hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger quickened
his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up and fell
into a walk, thinking to lag behind. The other did the
same. His heart began to sink within him. He endeavored 10
to resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove to
the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave.

There was something in the moody and dogged silence
of this pertinacious companion that was mysterious and
appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On 15
mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his
fellow traveler in relief against the sky, gigantic in height
and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving
that he was headless! But his horror was still more
increased on observing that the head which should have 20
rested on his shoulders was carried before him on the
pommel of his saddle! His terror rose to desperation.
He rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder,
hoping by a sudden movement to give his companion the
slip. But the specter started full jump with him. Away 25
then they dashed, through thick and thin, stones flying
and sparks flashing at every bound.

An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopes
that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection
of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that 30
he was not mistaken. "If I can but reach that bridge,"
thought Ichabod, "I am safe." Just then he heard the
black steed panting and blowing close behind him; he
even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive
kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang
upon the bridge; he thundered over the resounding
planks; he gained the opposite side; and now Ichabod 5
cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish,
according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. Just
then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very
act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored to
dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered 10
his cranium with a tremendous crash. He was tumbled
headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed,
and the goblin rider passed by like a whirlwind.

The next morning the old horse was found without his
saddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping 15
the grass at his master's gate, while near the bridge, on
the bank of a broad part of the brook where the water
ran deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate
Ichabod, and close beside it--_a shattered pumpkin_!

--_A Legend of Sleepy Hollow._

1. You should read the entire "Legend" (see
Irving's _Sketch Book_) and enjoy the detailed
incidents leading up to this climax. Of course
Ichabod leaves Sleepy Hollow, never to return. What
evidence is there that Brom Bones was the ghost?

2. A ghost was supposed not to be able to cross
running water. What evidence of this do you find in
the story?

3. Why was Ichabod "heavy-hearted and crestfallen"?
Give two reasons.

4. Pick out the elements of the first two
paragraphs that make the situation appear lonely.

5. Who was Major André? Why should Ichabod have
especially feared the André tree?

6. What is there in this selection that is
humorous?

SIGNING PETITIONS

"Another petition!" exclaimed the banker. "No, I
never sign them offhand--not any more. I used to
do so--once to my sorrow and to the amusement of my
friends. Leave yours with me till day after to-morrow and
I'll consider it. I have at least four more now on the waiting 5
list, ranging in subject from the Removal of a Soap Factory
to a Bridge Across the Pacific. Every business man is
hounded week in and week out with petitions."

I reluctantly surrendered my long scroll with its formidable
list of signatures. "But _the_ one that you once signed--what 10
of that?"

"Oh, that one? Well, there was a bright newsboy down
on the square whose booth had been removed from a street
corner because of a petition to the Police Commissioner.
Of course everybody had signed the petition; for signing 15
petitions was considered the proper thing if certain names
headed the list. It came to be a roster of the best families
in town. This newsboy retaliated--in kind. He drafted
and circulated a petition that was in due form. Everybody,
including myself, signed it. Next day it was published in 20
full with the names of its signers, by all our city papers, and
by night everybody in the state was laughing at us.

"The petition recited that a sundial in Central Park, the
gift of a wealthy citizen, was weathering badly. It should
be protected. That sounded reasonable, so everybody 25
signed just below the name of everybody else. And what
had we petitioned for? _A roof to cover that sundial!_

"You'll get no hasty signatures to a petition in this
city--we remember the sundial!"

_IN TIME OF WAR_

_Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;
Dream of battled fields no more,
Days of danger, nights of waking. . . ._

_Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Dream of fighting fields no more;
Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking,
Morn of toil, nor night of waking._

--SIR WALTER SCOTT.

GREAT LITTLE RIVERS

BY FRAZIER HUNT

The armies of the world were contending on the
battlefields of France in a death struggle, known
in history as the World War. It was a mighty clash
of ideas and ideals. Frazier Hunt, a war
correspondent and journalist, selected the Little
Rivers of France as a subject to carry his theme:
that little things sometimes set apart great
differences, and that littleness and greatness are
not matters of physical size.

For miles along the hard white road that had helped
save France a tiny river ran. But it was such a quiet
race with life and time. It had no steep banks; only gentle,
green, silent slopes that fell gracefully back from its edges.
Here and there fragrant woods wandered almost to its 5
drowsy waters.

A cuckoo sounded its call, and far off its mate sent
back the echo. On sun-splashed mornings the thrush
came, and in the moonlight the nightingale sang to
this little stream. 10

It was a tiny river, and if in great America, only the
countryside that knew its winding ways could have told
its name. It was a brook for poets to dream by. Little
islands of willows, weeping for France, slept in its heart.
One could almost whisper across it, and as a French schoolgirl 15
of fourteen wrote, "Birds could fly over it with one
sweep of their wings. And on the two banks there were
millions of men, the one turned towards the other, eye to
eye. But the distance which separated them was greater
than the stars in the sky; it was the distance which separates
right from injustice."

It was a tiny river; it was the Yser.

* * * * *

Oxen drawing the cultivating plows that will help feed
France and win the war almost splash into its shallow edges 5
as they turn the furrow. And on hot July days, the old
man who prods them with his pointed stick and the sturdy
woman who handles the plow let them drink their fill of
its cooling waters--not plunging their noses deep like
thirsty horses but gently drawing in the water with the lips, 10
after the manner of oxen.

It is a quiet stream that a child could ford without danger.
It flows slowly and sweetly from the mother hills to the
embracing sea. A few arched bridges leap from one low
bank to another. It has not cut deep into the land of 15
France but it has cut deep into the heart of France. It is
one of the ribbons of victory and glory that France will
always wear across her breast. And it is a ribbon made red
by the blood of the men of France who have died for France.

And yet we of America would call it a little stream, and 20
old men would fish all day in it from a shaded velvet point,
and boys swimming would hunt some favorite Devil's Hole
where they might dive.

It is the Marne.

* * * * *

For four years now it has flowed peacefully on while 25
men have fought to scar its banks with trenches--burrowing
themselves into the earth as only the muskrat had done
in the forgotten days of peace. Strong, unafraid men came
from the ends of the world to die by its side. And it would
have gladly sung them a sweet, low lullaby, crooning a song 30
with which mothers on the shores of all the seven seas had
once rocked them to sleep--only now the sound of heavy
firing, dull booms of the cannon, and the spit and nervous
drum of the machine gun, made its song as futile and indistinguishable
as the whisper of a child in the roar of a mob. 5

What a story its sweet waters had to tell to all the rivers
of the world when they met in the broad sea: a tale of
strange men who fought and died that it might still be a
part of France; a tale of deeds of glory and of valor and
of sacrifice. And some of these men had come from faraway 10
America to this little river, this stream so tiny and so
modest that it might have forever remained unknown and
unsung.

It was the Somme.

* * * * *

After all, what does size matter--except the size of the 15
heart and of the soul?

The great Mississippi, the mystic Amazon, the majestic
Hudson, the wide Danube--all mighty in power and commerce!

The Yser, the Aisne, the Oise, the Somme, the Marne--little 20
streams of France; old brooks as precious as Thermopylæ
or Bunker Hill!

Tiny are they--and so was Bethlehem!

--_Red Cross Magazine._

1. What three rivers are discussed? For what does
each stand?

2. Explain the French schoolgirl's letter. Which
party, to her, represented justice?

3. What great general is called the "Hero of the
Marne"? Why?

4. Why are Thermopylæ and Bunker Hill "previous"?
Name some other "precious" places in the world.

5. What lesson do you get from this selection?

(Used by permission of the _Red Cross Magazine_.)

THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE

BY CHARLES WOLFE

Sir John Moore (1761-1809) was a British general.
His last engagement was at the head of the British
forces in Spain, fighting against Napoleon. Upon
word that Napoleon with an army of 70,000 was
marching against him, he decided to make for the
coast with his 25,000 men. They were obliged to
march for 250 miles over slippery mountain roads,
and were forced into battle before they could
embark. The French were repulsed with heavy losses,
but Moore was fatally wounded. This fine poem
describes his burial on that foreign shore.

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the ramparts we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

We buried him darkly at dead of night, 5
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.

No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; 10
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest
With his martial cloak around him.

Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 15
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head.
And we far away on the billow.

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 5
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on,
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

But half of our heavy task was done
When the bell tolled the hour for retiring; 10
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, 15
But we left him alone with his glory!

1. Give synonyms for: corse, ramparts, martial,
upbraid, tolled, reck, gory, random.

2. Describe this simple burial in your own words.
What are the customary rites at a soldier's burial?
Why did Sir John Moore not receive a military
funeral?

3. Compare this burial with the one described on
page 329.

4. Report briefly on Napoleon: who he was, what he
did, and what finally became of him.

5. Memorize the poem. Time yourself to see how
quickly you can do this.

LEXINGTON AND CONCORD

BY WILLIAM EMERSON

The Reverend William Emerson, grandfather of Ralph
Waldo Emerson, was pastor of the Congregational
Church at Concord. The battle of April 19, 1775,
was fought near his residence. He was called the
"patriot preacher" and died while serving in the
Revolutionary army.

This morning between one and two o'clock we were
alarmed by the ringing of the church bell, and upon
examination found that the troops, to the number of eight
hundred, had stolen their march from Boston in boats and
barges from the bottom of the Common over to a point 5
in Cambridge near to Inman's farm, and were at Lexington
meetinghouse half an hour before sunrise, where they had
fired upon a body of our men, and as we afterward heard,
had killed several. This intelligence was brought to us at
first by Dr. Samuel Prescott, who narrowly escaped the 10
guard that were sent before on horses purposely to prevent
all posts and messengers from giving us timely information.
He, by the help of a very fleet horse, crossing several walls
and fences, arrived at Concord at the time above mentioned,
when several posts were immediately dispatched, 15
that, returning, confirmed the presence of the regular
army at Lexington, and that they were on their way to
Concord. Upon this a number of our minutemen belonging
to this town and Acton and Lincoln, with several others
that were in readiness, marched out to meet them. 20

While the alarm company were preparing to meet them
in the town, Captain Minot, who commanded them,
thought it proper to take possession of the hill above the
meetinghouse as the most advantageous situation. No
sooner had we gained it than we were met by the company
that were sent out to meet the troops, who informed us 5
they were just upon us and that we must retreat, as their
number was more than thribble to ours. We then retreated
from the hill near Liberty Pole and took a new post
back of the town upon a rising eminence, where we formed
into two battalions and waited the arrival of the enemy. 10
Scarcely had we formed before we saw the British troops
at the distance of a quarter of a mile, glittering in arms,
advancing toward us with the greatest celerity.

Some were for making a stand notwithstanding the
superiority of their numbers, but others more prudent 15
thought best to retreat till our strength should be equal
to the enemy by recruits from neighboring towns who were
continually coming in to our assistance. Accordingly we
retreated over the bridge; when the troops came into the
town, set fire to several carriages for the artillery, destroyed 20
sixty barrels of flour, rifled several houses, took possession
of the Town House, destroyed five hundred pounds of
ball, set a guard of a hundred men at the North Bridge,
and sent up a party to the house of Colonel Barrett, where
they were in expectation of finding a quantity of warlike 25
stores; but these were happily secured just before their
arrival by transfer into the woods and other by-places.
In the meantime, the guard set by the enemy to secure the
pass at the North Bridge were alarmed by the approach
of our people, who had retreated, as mentioned before, 30
and were now advancing with special orders not to fire
upon the troops unless fired upon.

These orders were so punctually observed that we received
the fire of the enemy in three several and separate
discharges of their pieces before it was returned by our
commanding officer. The firing then soon became general
for several minutes, in which skirmish two were killed on 5
each side and several of the enemy wounded. It may here
be observed, by the way, that we were the more careful
to prevent beginning a rupture with the King's troops as
we were then uncertain what had happened at Lexington
and knew not that they had begun the quarrel there by 10
first firing upon our party and killing eight men upon the
spot. The British troops soon quitted their post at the
bridge and retreated in great disorder and confusion to the
main body, who were soon upon the march to meet them.
For half an hour the enemy, by their marches and countermarches, 15
discovered great fickleness and inconstancy of
mind, sometimes advancing, sometimes returning to their
former posts, till at length they quitted the town and retreated
by the way they came. In the meantime a party of
our men (one hundred and fifty) took the back way through 20
the great fields into the East Quarter and had placed themselves
to advantage, lying in ambush behind walls, fences,
and buildings, ready to fire upon the enemy on their retreat.

--_Journal._

1. This entry in Mr. Emerson's journal was made on
the day of the Lexington-Concord battle. Give the
date of it.

2. What poem did the Reverend Mr. Emerson's
grandson write about the battle of Concord? Bring
it to class and read it.

3. What famous ride is connected with this battle?

4. Describe the fight. Was Mr. Emerson actually
engaged in the battle? Give proof of your answer.

HERVÉ RIEL

BY ROBERT BROWNING

Robert Browning (1812-1889) is one of the great
poets of England. The following incident of a
simple French sailor performing a deed of heroism
appealed to Browning's dramatic sense; hence this
stirring ballad. The poem was written in 1871, when
France was suffering defeat in the Franco-Prussian
War. The proceeds from its sale (one hundred
pounds) were contributed to French war sufferers.

On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred
ninety-two,
Did the English fight the French,--woe to France!
And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,
Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks 5
pursue,
Came crowding ship on ship to Saint Malo on the Rance,
With the English fleet in view.

'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full
chase; 10
First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship,
Damfreville;
Close on him fled, great and small,
Twenty-two good ships in all;
And they signaled to the place-- 15
"Help the winners of a race!
Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick--or, quicker
still,
Here's the English can and will!"

Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on
board.
"Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?"
laughed they.
"Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred 5
and scored,
Shall the _Formidable_ here, with her twelve and eighty guns,
Think to make the river mouth by the single narrow way,
Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons,
And with flow at full beside? 10
Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide.
Reach the mooring? Rather say,
While rock stands or water runs,
Not a ship will leave the bay!"

Then was called a council straight. 15
Brief and bitter the debate:
"Here's the English at our heels; would you have them
take in tow
All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow,
For a prize to Plymouth Sound? 20
Better run the ships aground!"--
(Ended Damfreville his speech)--
"Not a minute more to wait!
Let the captains all and each
Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the 25
beach!
France must undergo her fate.

"Give the word!" But no such word
Was ever spoke or heard;
For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck, amid all these-- 30
A captain? A lieutenant? A mate--first, second, third?
No such man of mark, and meet
With his betters to compete,
But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the
fleet-- 5
A poor coasting pilot he, Hervé Riel the Croisickese.
And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Hervé
Riel.
"Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or
rogues? 10
Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings,
tell
On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell,
'Twixt the offing here and Grève where the river
disembogues? 15
Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's
for?
Morn and eve, night and day,
Have I piloted your bay,
Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor. 20
Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than
fifty Hogues!
Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's
a way!
Only let me lead the line, 25
Have the biggest ship to steer;
Get this _Formidable_ clear,
Make the others follow mine,
And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well,
Right to Solidor past Grève, 30
And there lay them safe and sound;
And if one ship misbehave--
Keel so much as grate the ground--
Why, I've nothing but my life--here's my head!" cries
Hervé Riel.

Not a minute more to wait.
"Steer us in, then, small and great! 5
Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its
chief.
"Captains, give the sailor place!
He is admiral, in brief."
Still the north wind, by God's grace! 10
See the noble fellow's face
As the big ship, with a bound,
Clears the entry like a hound,
Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide seas
profound! 15
See, safe through shoal and rock,
How they follow in a flock,
Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the
ground,
Not a spar that comes to grief! 20
The peril, see, is past,
All are harbored to the last,
And just as Hervé Riel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate,
Up the English come--too late!