Chapter III

The Emperor promised to do this, although he could not believe he had been deceived.

Just then all the attendants came running across the field, for they had waked up and missed the Emperor.

Tears ran down their cheeks. They wished to have the Emperor think they were weeping because he was gone. He did not know each one had an onion in his handkerchief.

“Command them to stop where they are,” the peasant whispered.

The Emperor made them stop about twenty feet away, right in the middle of a ditch.

“We are weeping because of your absence, beloved Emperor,” said the chief attendant. He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief, and all the others did the same thing.

“How do you dare to stand beside the Emperor, you peasant,” said the Lord Marshal. “Go back to your plow!”

“Say that I am standing beside my plow,” whispered the peasant. He was really standing beside the Emperor, and the plow was thirty feet away.

“Do you not see,” said the Emperor, “that he is standing beside the plow?”

“Oh, yes,” said one, “he is holding the plow with one hand.”

“Yes, yes,” said another, “he is surely driving his oxen.”

“Ask them,” whispered the peasant, “if they ever saw such white oxen.”

Now the peasant’s oxen were coal black, without a single white spot on them.

“Have you ever seen such beautiful white oxen?” said the Emperor, pointing to the black ones.

“No, never,” said one, “they are indeed snow white.”

“Yes,” said another, “they are whiter than snow. It hurts my eyes to look at them, they are so white.”

The Emperor knew now that they were not telling the truth, and he decided to punish them.

“Come here,” he called to some peasants who were plowing in the next field.

“There is nothing so pleasant as plowing,” he said to his attendants.

“It is a great pleasure,” said one.

“I enjoy it more than anything in the world,” said another.

“I would rather plow than dance,” said a third.

“I am very glad you think so, my lords,” said the Emperor. “These peasants will be glad to have you plow for them. This is my command. Begin at once!”

There was no help for it. The courtiers did not dare to disobey, so they took hold of the plows and tried to drive the oxen across the long fields.

I do not believe they plowed very well, for they had never touched a plow before, and did not know how to drive oxen.

But the peasant went to the palace and became the Emperor’s chief counsellor.

The Emperor had this story written on a block of marble in golden letters, but few people can read it because it is written in Chinese, and it is very hard to have to read Chinese.

—_Anna von Rydingsvärd._

THE CHRISTMAS MONKS

I—THE GARDEN

Have you always wondered where the Christmas presents come from? Well, I am going to tell you.

Of course, every one knows that Santa Claus brings them. He comes in a sleigh, driving eight reindeer, and carries the presents down the chimney in a pack on his back.

But where does _he_ get them? That is the question. And the answer is,—in the garden of the Christmas Monks.

This garden is in a beautiful valley far away. But I must not tell you the name of the valley, for if I did you would all want to go there to live.

The Christmas Monks live in a stone castle covered with ivy and evergreen vines. There are holly wreaths in every window, and over the door is an arch, with “Merry Christmas” in evergreen letters.

The Christmas Monks wear white robes embroidered with gold, and they never go without a Christmas wreath on their heads. Every morning they sing a Christmas carol, and every evening they ring a Christmas chime on the bells.

For dinner every day they have roast goose and plum pudding and mince pie, and at night they set lighted candles in all of the windows.

But the best place of all is the garden, for that is where the Christmas presents grow.

It is a very large garden and is divided into beds, just like our vegetable gardens. Every spring the Monks go out to plow the ground and plant the Christmas present seeds.

There is one big bed for rocking-horses, another for drums, and another for sleds. The bed for the balls is not so large, and the top bed is quite small, because tops do not need much room when they are growing.

The rocking-horse seed looks like tiny rocking-horses. The Monks drop these seeds quite far apart, then they cover them up neatly with earth, and put up a signpost with “Rocking-horses” on it in evergreen letters.

Just so with the penny-trumpet seed, and the toy-furniture seed, the sled seed, and all the others.

Perhaps the prettiest part of the garden is the wax-doll bed. There are other beds for the rag dolls and the china dolls, and the rubber dolls, but, of course, wax dolls look much handsomer growing.

Wax dolls have to be planted very early in the season. The Monks sow them in rows in April and they begin to come up by the middle of May.

First there is a glimmer of gold, or brown, or black hair. Then the snowy foreheads appear, and the blue eyes and black eyes, and at last all the pretty heads are out of the ground and nodding and smiling to each other.

With their pink cheeks and bright eyes and curly hair, there is nothing so pretty as these little wax-doll heads peeping out of the ground.

Slowly the dolls grow taller and taller, and by Christmas they are all ready to gather. There they stand, swaying to and fro, their dresses of pink or blue or white fluttering in the breeze.

Just about the prettiest sight in the world is the bed of wax dolls in the garden of the Christmas Monks at Christmas time.

II—PETER AND THE PRINCE

All the children for miles around knew about this garden, of course, but they had never seen it. There is a thick hedge of Christmas trees all around it, and the gate where Santa Claus drives out is always locked with a golden key the moment he goes through.

So you can imagine what excitement there was among the boys when this notice was hung out on the hedge of Christmas trees:—

_Wanted_:—By the Christmas Monks, two _good_ boys to
help in garden work. Apply at the garden on April tenth.

The notice was hung out about five o’clock in the evening, one day in February. By noon the next day all the neighborhood had seen it and read it.

Oh, what fun it would be to work in the garden of the Christmas Monks! There would be the dinner of roast goose and plum pudding every day. There would be the Christmas bells and the Christmas candles every night. And, of course, one could have all the toys he wanted, and pick them out himself.

So, from that very minute until the tenth of April, the boys were as good,—as good as gold.

Then, on the tenth of April, the big Santa Claus gate was opened, and _such_ a crowd poured into the garden! The ground was plowed, but the seed had not been planted, so they could walk about everywhere.

Two of the Christmas Monks sat on a throne trimmed so thick with evergreens that it looked like a bird’s nest. They wore Christmas wreaths on their heads, and their eyes twinkled merrily.

The little boys stood in a long row before them, and the fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts, grandmothers, and grandfathers looked on.

It was very sad! One boy had taken eggs from a bird’s nest; and another had frightened a cat. One boy didn’t help his mother, and another didn’t take good care of his little brother.

At last there were only two boys left,—Peter and the Prince.

Now Peter was really and truly a good boy, and always had been. And of course every one said the Prince was a good boy, because a King’s son must be good. So the Monks chose Peter and the Prince to work in the garden.

The next morning the two boys were dressed in white robes and green wreaths like the Monks. Then the Prince was sent to plant Noah’s-Ark seed and Peter was given picture-book seed.

Up and down they went, scattering the seeds. Peter sang a little song to himself, but the Prince grumbled because they had not given him gold-watch seed.

By noon Peter had planted all his picture books and fastened up the card to mark them, but the Prince had planted only two rows of Noah’s Arks.

“We are going to have trouble with this boy,” said the Monks to each other. “We shall have to punish him.”

So that day the Prince had no Christmas dinner, and the next morning he finished planting the Noah’s-Ark seed.

But the very next day he was cross because he had to sow harmonicas instead of toy pianos, and had to be punished again. And so it was every other day through the whole summer.

So the Prince was very unhappy and wished he could run away, but Peter had never been so happy in his life. He worked like a bee all day, and loved to watch the Christmas gifts grow and blossom.

“They grow so slowly,” the Prince would say. “I thought I should have a bushel of new toys every month and not one have I had yet.” Then he would cry, and Peter would try to comfort him.

At last one day the Prince found a ladder in the tool house. The Monks were in the chapel, singing Christmas carols, and Peter was tuning the penny trumpets. It was a fine chance to run away. The Prince put the ladder against the Santa Claus gate, climbed up to the top, and slid down on the outside.

III—THE PRETTIEST DOLL

It was nearly Christmas now, and most of the toys had been gathered. The rocking-horses were still growing, and a few of the largest dolls; but the tops, balls, guns, blocks, and drums were all packed in baskets ready for Santa Claus.

One morning Peter was in the wax-doll bed, dusting the dolls. All of a sudden he heard a sweet voice saying, “Oh, Peter!”

He thought at first it was one of the dolls, but they could only say “Papa!” and “Mamma!”

“Here I am, Peter,” said the voice again, and what do you suppose Peter saw? It was his own dear little lame sister.

She was not any taller than the dolls around her, and she looked just like one of them with her pink cheeks and yellow hair. She stood there on her crutches, poor little thing, smiling lovingly at Peter.

“Oh, you darling,” cried Peter, catching her up in his arms. “How did you get in here?”

“I saw one of the Monks going past our house, so I ran out and followed him. When he came through the gate I came in, too, but he did not see me.”

“Well,” said Peter, “I don’t see what I can do with you. I can’t let you out, because the gate is locked, and I don’t know what the Monks will say.”

“Oh, I know!” cried the little girl. “I’ll stay out here in the garden. I can sleep every night in one of those beautiful dolls’ cradles over there, and you can bring me something to eat.”

“But the Monks come out every morning to look at the Christmas gifts, and they will see you,” said her brother.

“No, I’ll hide! Oh, Peter, here is a place where there isn’t any doll.”

“Yes, that doll didn’t come up.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do! I’ll stand here where the doll didn’t come up and try to look like one.”

“Perhaps you can do that,” said Peter. He was such a good boy that he didn’t want to do anything wrong, but he couldn’t help being glad to see his dear little sister.

He took food out to her every day, and she helped him in the garden. At night he tucked her into one of the dolls’ cradles with lace pillows and a quilt of rose-colored silk.

So they went on, day after day, and they were just as happy as they could be. Finally the day came for gathering the very last of the Christmas gifts, because in six days it would be Christmas, and Santa Claus had to start out in a day or two.

So the Monks went into the garden to be sure that everything was perfect, and one of them wore his spectacles. When he came to the bed where the biggest dolls were growing, there stood Peter’s sister, smiling and swinging on her crutches.

“Why, what is that!” said the Monk. “I thought that doll didn’t come up. There is a doll there—and a doll on crutches, too.”

Then he put out his hand to touch the doll and she jumped,—she couldn’t help it. The Monk jumped too, and his Christmas wreath fell off his head.

“The doll is alive!” he exclaimed. “I will pick her and show her to my brothers.”

Then the good father put on his Christmas wreath, took Peter’s little sister, crutches and all, in his arms, and carried her into the chapel.

IV—CHRISTMAS GIFTS

Soon the Monks came into the chapel to practise singing some new Christmas carols. There sat the near-sighted Monk, holding the big doll in his arms.

“Behold a miracle,” he said, holding up the doll. “Thou wilt remember that there was one doll planted which did not come up. Behold, in her place I have found this doll on crutches, which is—alive!”

“It is indeed a miracle,” said the Monk who was a doctor. He took the child in his arms and looked at the twisted ankle. “I think I can cure this lameness,” he said.

“Take her, then,” said the abbot, “and we will sing our Christmas carols joyously in her honor.”

Peter, of course, heard the Monks talking about the miracle, and he knew what it meant. He was very unhappy to think that he was deceiving them. At the same time he did not dare to tell them for fear the doctor would not try to cure his sister.

He worked hard picking the Christmas presents, and getting them ready for Santa Claus.

On Christmas Eve he was called into the chapel. The walls were covered with evergreen, and Christmas candles shone everywhere. There were Christmas wreaths in all the windows, and the Monks were singing a Christmas carol.

On a chair covered with green branches sat Peter’s little sister, dressed in white, with a wreath of holly berries on her head.

When the carol was ended, the Monks formed in a line with the abbot at the head. Each one had his hands full of the most beautiful Christmas presents. The abbot held a wax doll, the biggest and prettiest that grew in the garden.

When he held it out to the little girl, she drew back, and said in her sweet little voice, “Please, I’m not a miracle; I’m only Peter’s little sister.”

“Peter?” said the abbot; “the Peter who works in our garden?”

“Yes,” said the little sister.

The Monks looked at each other in dismay. This was not a miracle, it was only Peter’s little sister!

But the abbot of the Christmas Monks spoke to them. “This little girl did not come up in the place of the wax doll, and she is not a miracle. But she is sweet and beautiful, and we all love her.”

“Yes,” said the Christmas Monks, and they laid their presents down before her.

Peter was so happy he danced for joy. And when he found his little sister was cured of her lameness, he did not know what to do.

In the afternoon he took his sister and went home to see his father and mother. Santa Claus filled his sleigh with gifts and drove his reindeer down to the cottage.

Oh! it was such a happy day. There was so much to tell that they all talked at once. There was so much to see that their eyes ached with looking.

But in the palace of the King it was very different. The Prince was cross and unhappy. His old toys were broken. He was tired of his old games. There was no one for him to play with, and he didn’t have one single Christmas gift.

—_Mary E. Wilkins (abridged and adapted)._

PRONOUNCING KEY AND WORD LIST

The words in this list are divided into syllables and marked according to Webster’s International Dictionary. The list includes all the more difficult words which occur in the text.

ā gāte
ă băt
ä cär
[a:] b[a:]ll
â câre
ȧ ȧsk
ạ whạt
[a=] anim[a=]l
[+a] sen[+a]te

ē wē
ĕ gĕt
ẽ hẽr
[+e] [+e] vent
ê=ă thêre
[e=]=ā th[e=]y

ī pīne
ĭ pĭn
ĩ sĩr

ō nōte
ŏ nŏt
[o:] d[o:]
ọ wọlf
ȯ sȯn
ô ôr
[+o] [+o] bey

ū ūse
ŭ cŭp
ṳ frṳit
û fûr
ụ fụll
[+u] [+u] nite

ȳ mȳ
[)y] cit[)y]

[=oo] b[=oo]t
[)oo] f[)oo]t
[oi)] [oi)]l
[oy)] b[oy)]
[ou)] [ou)]t
[ow)] c[ow)]

c can
ç çent
g get
ġ ġem
s so
[s+] a[s+]
ṉ iṉk
th think
[th)] [th)]em

The silent letters are printed in italic.

ăb´bȯt
ăc c[ou)]nt´
ăc quā_i_nt´ĕd
ăd mīr_e_d´
ăd vĕn´t[+u]r_e_
ăd vī[s+]_e_d´
ȧ fär´
ăf fōrd´
ȧ flō_a_t´
ȧ frā_i_d´
ȧft´ẽr wards (wẽrdz)
ȧ gainst´ (gĕnst)
Ä_h_´mō_w_
ȧ līv_e_´
[a:]l´mōst
ȧ lŏft´
ȧ lōn_e_´
ăl´pha bĕt (fȧ)
[)A]lps
[a:]l thō_ugh_´
[a:]l t[o:] gĕth´ẽr
ăm´[+e] th[)y]st
ăm´[+u] lĕts
ăṉ´chored (kẽrd)
ān´ġĕl
ăn ȯth´ẽr
ăn´s_w_ẽred
anx´ious (ăṉk´shŭs)
ăp prō_a_ch´ĭng
[)A]r´[+a] răt
Ärc´tĭc
ȧ rĭth´m[+e] tĭc
Är mē´nĭ ȧ
är´tĭ cl_e_[s+]
ȧ shām_e_d´
ȧ shōr_e_
ȧs sur_e_´ (shṳr)
ȧ stĩr´
ăs tŏn´ĭsh_e_d
ăt´tĭc
[a:]_w_l

băck´ward (wẽrd)
băl´[a=]nç_e_d
băl´c[+o] n[)y]
băn´nẽr[s+]
bâr_e_´f[)oo]t
bär´l_e_[)y]
băr´ren
b[+e] l_i_ēv_e_d´
bĕnt
b[+e] wĭ_t_ch_e_d´
bĩrch
blăck´bō_a_rd
blād_e_[s+]
blē_a_k
blŏs´sȯm[s+]
blŭn´dẽr
blŭs´tẽr_e_d
bŏb´[+o] lĭṉk
bôn´bôn[s+]
brā_i_d´ĕd
Brȧ zĭl´
brĕ_a_k´f[a=]st
brĕ_a_st´_k_nŏt
brĕ_a_th
br[=ee]z_e_
brĭ_d_ġ_e_
brī´ẽr
brĭs´_t_l_e_
br[=oo]d[s+]
bū´reau (rō)
bûrst
bŭt´tĕd

cä_l_f
căl´ĭ c[+o]
cȧ năl´
cȧ nā´r[)y]
cȧ n[o:]_e_´
cā´pẽr
cär´nĭ v[a=]l
căr´ȯl
cär´pĕn tĕr
căr´r[)y] [a:]ll
cärv_e_
cȧsk
căs´_t_l_e_
căt´ẽr pĭl lar
(lẽr)
căt´_t_le
çē_a_s_e_d
çē_i_l´ĭng
çĕl´lar (lẽr)
çẽr´t_a_ĭn l[)y]
cha let (shȧ l[+a]´)
chām´bẽr[s+]
chȧnç_e_
chăp´ĕl
c_h_ă[s+]m
chăt´tẽr_e_d
chē_e_r´fụl l[)y]
chĭm´n_e_[)y]
Chī nē[s+]_e_´
chĭp´mŭṉk
chĭ[s+]´ĕl
ch[=oo][s+]_e_
chŏp´stĭcks
clăck´ĭng
clăm´bẽr
cl[a:]_w_[s+]
clā_y_
clĕv´ẽr
cl[ow)]n
clŭm´[s+][)y]
clŭ_t_ch
cō_a_x
cŏb´wĕb
cō´c[+o]_a_ nŭt
c[+o] c[=oo]n´
c[oi)]n[s+]
cŏl´lĕġ_e_
Cŏl [+o] rä´dō
C[+o] lŭm´bŭs
cȯm´fort ȧ bl_e_ (fẽrt)
cŏm mȧnd´
cȯm´pȧ n[)y]
cŏn di´tion (dĭsh´ŭn)
cŏn sĕnt´
cŏn tā_i_n[s+]´
cŏn vẽr sā´tion (shŭn)
c[=oo]´ĭng
côrn´st[a:]_l_k
cŏs´tūm_e_
cō´[s+][)y]
c[ou)]n´sĕl or(ẽr)
cō_u_rt´ier (yẽr)
crā´dl_e_
crăn´bĕr r[)y]
crē_a_´t[+u]r_e_
crĭck´ĕt
crō_a_k
cr[)oo]k´ĕd
crō_w_ed
cr[ow)]n_e_d
crṳ´ĕl
crŭm_b_
crŭ_t_ch´ĕs
cŭd´dl_e_
cū rĭ ŏs´ĭ t[)y]
cū´rĭ _o_ŭs
cûrl_e_d
cŭr´r_e_nt
cûr´t_a_ĭn
cụ´sh_i_ȯn

dăf´f[+o] dĭl
dā_i_n´t[)y]
därk´_e_n ĭng
därt´ĕd
d[a:]_ugh_´tẽr
dē_a_´c_o_n
d[+e] çē_i_v´ĭng
D[+e] çĕm´bẽr
d[+e] çīd´ĕd
dĕc´[+o] rāt ĕd
dē fȳ´
d[+e] li´cious (lĭsh´ŭs)
d[+e] lī_gh_t´fụl
d[e+] mūr_e_´
dĕ[s+]´ẽrt
dĕs´[+o] l[+a]t_e_
dĕs´tĭn_e_d
dĭm´plĭng
dĭ rĕc´tion (shŭn)

ē_a_´gẽr
ē_a_´gẽr l[)y]
ẽ_a_r´l[)y]
ẽ_a_rn
ē_a_´[s+]ĭ l[)y]
[=E]´ġ[)y]pt
[+e] lĕv´_e_n
ĕlv_e_[s+]
ĕm br[oi)]d´ẽr
ĕm´er [a=]ld
ĕm´pẽr or (ẽr)
ĕm pl[oy)]´er
ĕn´[+e] m[)y]
Eng´land (ĭṉ´gl[a=]nd)
Eng´lish (ĭṉ´glĭsh)
ĕn j[oy)]´
[+e] nôr´m_o_ŭs
ē nough´ (nŭf)
ĕn´tẽr
ĕn tẽr tā_i_n´
ĕr´r[a=]nd
[)E]s´kĭ mō
ĕv´ẽr [)y] where (hwâr)
ĕv´ĭ dĕnt l[)y]
ex ăct´l[)y] (ĕgz)
ĕx çĕpt´
ĕx çīt_e_´m_e_nt
ĕx cûr´sion (shŭn)
ĕx pĕct´ĕd
ĕx plā_i_ned´
eye´lȧsh (ī)

făc´t[+o] r[)y]
fā_i_nt´l[)y]
fâ_i_r´[)y]
făm´ĭ l[)y]
făn tȧs´tĭc
fā´vor ĭt_e_ (vẽr)
fē_a_st
fĕr´r[)y]
fĕs´tĭ v[a=]l
fĕ_t_ch
fĕz
fī´bre (bẽr)
f_i_ērç_e_
fī´n[a=]l l[)y]
fīr_e_´plāç_e_
fīrm´ẽr
fl[=ee]´çy
flĭck´ẽr ĭng
flȯ_o_d
flŭf´f[)y]
flŭt´tẽr ĭng
fō_l_k
fŏl´l[)y]
f[=oo]l´ĭsh
fŏnd
fōr_e_
fŏr gŏt´t_e_n
Fôr´nĭ cȧ Rṳ´fȧ
fôr´ward (wẽrd)
f[ou)]n´t_a_ĭn
frā´gr[a=]nç_e_
Frȧnç_e_
frī_gh_t´_e_n
frī_gh_t´fụl
frŏst´ĭng
frō´z_e_n
fū´rĭ _o_ŭs l[)y]
fûrl_e_d
fûr´n[+a]ç_e_
fûr´nĭsh
fûr´nĭ t[+u]r_e_
fûr´r[)y]

gāl_e_[s+]
găl´lẽr [)y]
Găr´[+a] bĕt
gär´l[a=]nd
gär´nẽr_e_d
gä_u_nt
gā_y_´l[)y]
ġĕn´ẽr [a=]l
ġĕn´tl_e_ m[a=]n
ġ[+e] ŏg´rȧ phy (f[)y])
Ġẽr´m[a=]n [)y]
g_h_ōsts
ġī´[a=]nt
gĭfts
gĭld´ĕd
ġĭl´l[)y] fl[ow)]´ẽr
glăd´l[)y]
glē_a_m´ĭng
gl[=ee]
glĭm´mẽr
glĭs´_te_n ĭng
gl[=oo]m
gŏb´bl_e_
gôr´ġ_eo_ŭs
g[ow)]n[s+]
Grĕt´chĕn

Hā´gŏp
hăm´mŏck
hănd´sȯm_e_
Hăn[s+]
hăr´bor (bẽr)
härd´_e_n_e_d
här mŏn´ĭ cȧ
här´nĕss
hās´tĭ l[)y]
hā´trĕd
h[a:]_w_k
hā_y_´cŏck
h_e_ärth
hĕ_a_v´[)y]
hẽrd
hĭd´[+e] _o_ŭs
Hŏl´l[a=]nd
hŏl´l[)y]
hōm_e_´-crȧft
hōst
h[ou)]s_e_´wīf_e_
h[ow)]l
hūġ_e_
hŭm´bl_e_
hū´mor (mẽr)
humph (hŭmf)
hŭn´drĕd
hŭṉ´gr[)y]
hŭn´tẽr

ĭm´[+a]ġ_e_
ĭm ăġ´ĭn_e_
ĭm pā´tient (sh_e_nt)
ĭm pôr´t[a=]nt
ĭn quīr_e_´
ĭn sān_e_´
ĭn´st[a=]nt l[)y]
ĭn stĕ_a_d´
ĭn tĕnd´ĕd
ĭn´tẽr ĕst ĭng
ĭn´tĭ m[+a]t_e_
[)I]´t[a=]l [)y]
[)I] tăl´ian (y[a=]n)

jăck´ĕt
jăg´gĕd
J[+a] păn´
jĭn rĭk´ĭ shȧ
jŏg´gl_e_d
j[ou)]nç_e_
j_o_ûr´n_e_[)y]
j[oy)]

k[=ee]l[s+]
kẽr´nĕl
_k_n[=ee]l
_k_nŏck
Kō´r[a=]n

lăṉ´guag_e_ (gw[+a]j)
lăsh_e_d
lăt´tĭç_e_
l[a:]_w_n
lā´z[)y]
lĕ_a_th´ẽr
lĕg´gĭng[s+]
l_e_ī´t[+e]
lĭd
liq´uid (lĭk´wĭd)
lĭṉ´gẽr ĭng
lĭmp
lĭs´_te_n
lōn_e_´l[)y]
l[ow)]´ẽr_e_d
lŭl´lȧ bȳ
lŭnch´_e_ȯn

măġ´ĭc
măg´nĭ fȳ ĭng
măn´[+a]ġ_e_
măn [+u] făc´t[+u]r_e_
mär´bl_e_
Mâr ĭ k[e=]´nȧ
măsk
mȧ tē´rĭ [a=]l
măt´trĕss
mĕ_a_nt
meas´[+u]r_e_ (mĕzh)
mĭd´dā_y_
mĭṉ´gl_e_
mĭn´ute (ĭt)
mĭr´ȧ cl_e_
mĭr´ĭg
mĭ[s+]´_t_le tō_e_
mō_a_n
mȯṉ´k_e_[)y]
mȯṉk
m[ou)]n´t_a_ĭn _o_ŭs
m[ou)]th´fụl
mō_w_´ẽr
mŭl tĭ plĭ cā´tion (shŭn)
mŭnch´ĭng
mū [s+]ĭ´cian (sh[a=]n)
mŭs´_c_l_e_

Nȧ´kȧ
Năn n[)oo]k´
năr´rō_w_
n[a:]_ugh_´t[)y]
nē_a_r´l[)y]
n[e=]_igh_´bor h[)oo]d (bẽr)
nī_gh_t´ĭn gāl_e_
nĭm´bl[)y]
nĭp´pẽr[s+]
Nĭp´p[+o]n
Nō´ȧ_h_
n[oi)][s+]_e_´lĕss l[)y]
nŏn´sĕns_e_
nō´tĭç_e_
nûr´sẽr [)y]

[+o] bē´dĭ _e_nt
[+o] b[e=]_y_´
ō´dor (dẽr)
ŏf´_te_n
[+o] pŏs´sŭm
ō´rĭ ōl_e_
[ou)]t lănd´ĭsh
ō vẽr hĕ_a_d´
ō vẽr rŭn´

pāç_e_
Pȧ çĭf´ĭc
păck´[+a]ġ_e_
păd´_d_l_e_
păl´[+a]ç_e_
pä_l_m
pān_e_
pâr´_e_nt
păr´rȯt
pā´tient (sh_e_nt)
păt´tẽr ĭng
păt´tẽrn
pē_a_k
pẽ_a_rl
pẽ_a_[s+]´[a=]nt
p[+e] cūl´iar (yẽr)
pĕlt
pĕn´çĭl
pẽr hăps´
pẽr sĭm´mȯn
pẽr´sȯn
Pĭl´grĭm[s+]
pĭnch_e_d
plăṉk
plȧs´tẽr_e_d
plĕa[s+]´[a=]nt
plŏd´dĕd
plūm_e_d
plŭnġ_e_d
pō´lar (lẽr)
p[+o] lic_e_´m[a=]n (lēs)
p[+o] līt_e_´
pō´n[)y]
p[ou)]nç´ĭng
prăc´tĭç_e_
prā_i_[s+]_e_
prăt´_t_le
pre´cious (prĕsh´ŭs)
pr[+e] fẽr´
prĕ[s+]´_e_nt l[)y]
pr[+e] tĕnd´ĭng
prīd_e_
pr_i_ēst
prĭnç_e_
prĭn´çĕss
prŏb´ȧ bl[)y]
prŏm´ĭs_e_d
pr[+o] tĕcts´
pr[ou)]d
pr[ow)]´lĭng
pŭn´ĭsh_e_d
pûr´pl_e_

qu[a:]r´rĕl
qu[=ee]r´ĕst
quĭlt´ĕd

rā_i_´[s+]_i_n
răp´ĭd
r[a:]_w_
rē´[a=]l l[)y]
rē_a_´[s+]_o_n
rĕck´lĕss
r[=ee]f_e_d
r[e=]_i_n´d[=ee]r
r[+e] mĕm´bẽr
r[+e] pē_a_t´
rĕst´lĕss
rō_a_r_e_d
rŏck´ẽr[s+]
rough´ĕst (rŭf)
r[oy)]´[a=]l
rṳ´bĭ_e_[s+]
rŭd´d[)y]
rṳl´ẽr
rŭs´sĕt
rŭs´_t_l_e_

săm´păn[s+]
săn´d[a=]l
sap´phire (săf´īr)
scăm´pẽr_e_d
scärf
scär´lĕt
s_c_ĕp´tẽr_e_d
scôrn
sc[ou)]t
scrăm´bl_e_d
scr[=ee]n
scrŭb
scŭr´rĭ_e_d
sē_a_l´skĭn
sē_a_m[s+]
s[+e] cūr_e_´l[)y]
sē_i_z_e_
sĕlf´ĭsh
sē´p[a=]l
sẽrv_e_d
sẽr´vĭç_e_
sĕv´ẽr [a=]l
s[+e] vēr_e_´
shȧfts
shăn´t[)y]
shō_a_l[s+]
sh[o:]_e_´māk ẽr
shōn_e_
sīd_e_´w[a:]_l_k
sī_gh_
sī´l_e_nt l[)y]
sĭlk´_e_n
sĭl´vẽr [)y]
skĭm´mĭng
slĕ_d_ġ_e_
sl[e=]_igh_
slīç_e_
snärl_e_d
snĭff
sn[ou)]t
snŭg
sōl´dier (jẽr)
sȯm´ẽr s[a:]_u_lt
sȯm_e_´what (hwŏt)
sŏr´r[+o]_w_ fụl
sȯv´er _e_ĭ_g_n
Spā_i_n
spär´kl_e_d
spär[s+]
spē_a_r
spĕc´tȧ cl_e_[s+]
spī_e_d
splȧsh
splĕn´dor (dẽr)
spŏt´lĕss l[)y]
spr[a:]_w_l´ĭng
sprĭg
sprīt_e_s
spr[ou)]t´ĭng
sprṳç_e_
squ[a:]t´tĕd
squē_a_k
squīr_e_
squĩrm_e_d
stā_i_n
stâ_i_r´cās_e_
stâ_i_r´wā_y_
st[a:]_l_k
stāt_e_´l[)y]
stĕ_a_d´ĭ l[)y]
stĕ_a_lth
stẽrn´l[)y]
St. Nich´[+o] l[a=]s (sānt nĭk)
st[ou)]t
străg´glĭng
strā_igh_t
strănd
strānġ_e_
strānġ_e_´l[)y]
strĕngth
strīp_e_s
strĭp´p_e_d
strŭg´glĭng
stŭd´dĕd
sŭd´dĕn ly
sŭg ġĕst´ĕd
sŭn´bē_a_m
sŭp plī_e_d´
sŭp pō[s+]_e_´
sŭr r[ou)]nd´ĕd
sw[a:]n
sw[a:]rm
swā_ye_d
swĭft´l[)y]
Swĭss
Switz´ẽr l[a=]nd (swĭts)
s[)y]r´ŭp

tȧsk
tăs´s_e_l
t[a:]_ugh_t
tĕn´dẽr l[)y]
thă_t_ch_e_d
th[a:]_w_
Thĕk´lȧ
there´fōr_e_ ([th)]âr)
th_i_ēf
thĭck´ĕt
thĭm´bl_e_ fụl
th[ou)]´s[a=]nd
thrĕ_a_d
thrĭf´t[)y]
thrōn_e_
thrŭsh´ĕ[s+]
tĭf´fĭn
tĭlt´ĕd
tĭṉ´kl_e_
tī´n[)y]
tĭp´pĕt
tŏd´dl_e_
tŏp´mȧst
tôr´t_o_ĭs_e_
tō´ward (ẽrd)
t[ow)]´ẽr
trĕ_a_d´ĭng
trĕm´bl_e_d
trou´bled (trŭb´l_e_d)
tr[ou)]´[s+]ẽr[s+]
trŭm´pĕt
trṳth
tŭg´gĭng
Tûr´k_e_[)y]
Tûr´kĭsh
tū´tor (tẽr)
tw[=ee]´zẽr[s+]
twĭṉ´klĭng
twĭ_t_ch_e_d

ŭg´l[)y]
ŭn çĭv´ĭl
ŭn cȯv´ẽr
ŭn dẽr stănd´
ŭn fôr´t[+u] n[+a]t_e_
ŭn hăp´p[)y]
ŭn här´nĕss_e_d
ūn´ĭ fôrm
ŭn kīnd´
[=U] rȧ shi´mȧ (shē)
ūs_e_´fụl
ūs_e_´lĕss

vā cā´tion
vā_i_n
vȧst
vĕġ´[+e] tȧ bl_e_
vĕl´vĕt
vĭl´l[+a]ġ_e_
vĭn_e_´yard (yẽrd)
vī´ō lĕt
vŏl cā´nō

wā_i_t
w[a:]l´nŭt
w[a:]l´rŭs
w[a:]nd
w[a:]n´dẽr ẽr
wē_a_´r[)y]
wē_a_v_e_
wĕl´cȯm_e_
wĕpt
wharf (hw[a:]rf)
what ĕv´ẽr (hwŏt)
wheth´ẽr (hwĕth)
whirl´ĭng (hwĩrl)
whis´pẽr_e_d (hwĭs)
wĭg´w[a:]m
wī[s+]_e_´l[)y]
wọlv_e_[s+]
wȯn´dẽr fụl
wȯn´dẽr l[a=]nd
wȯn´dr_o_ŭs
w[)oo]d´pĕck ẽr
worse (wûrs)
wound (w[=oo]nd)
wō´v_e_n
_w_rē_a_th[s+]
_w_rĭg´gl_e_d
_w_rĭṉ´kl_e_d

yĕs´tẽr dā_y_
yūl_e_

* * * * *

Transcriber’s Notes:

Page 210, [on)] changed to [ou)]

Page 219, the final “e” was made italic to match form of silent letters (ȧs sur_e_´)

Page 219, italics removed from e as it is not silent (băr´ren)

Page 221, the final “e” was made italic to match form of silent letters (lăṉ´guag_e_)

Page 222, the final “e” was made italic to match form of silent letters (p[+o] lic_e_´m[a=]n)

End of Project Gutenberg's The Wide Awake Third Reader, by Clara Murray