Read Ebook: Third Reader: The Alexandra Readers by Dearness John McIntyre W A William Albert Saul John C John Cameron

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 1728 lines and 96215 words, and 35 pages

Then the old moon looked out of her left eye, And laughed when she thought of the fun, For she knew that the moonbeam he sat on Would soon melt away in the sun; So she gave a slight shrug of her shoulder, And winked at a bright little star-- The moon was remarkably knowing, As old people always are.

"Great madam," then answered the fairy, "No doubt you are mightily wise, And know possibly more than another Of the ins and the outs of the skies. But to think that we don't in our own way An interest in sky-things take Is a common and fatal blunder That sometimes you great ones make.

"For I've looked up from under the heather, And watched you night after night, And marked your silent motion And the fall of your silvery light. I have seen you grow larger and larger, I have watched you fade away; I have seen you turn pale as a snowdrop At the sudden approach of day.

"So don't think for a moment, great madam, Though a poor little body I be, That I haven't my senses about me, Or am going to drop into the sea. I have had what you only could give me-- A pleasant night ride in the sky; But a new power arises to eastwards, So, useless old lady, good-by."

He whistled a low, sweet whistle, And up from the earth so dark, With its wings bespangled with dewdrops, There bounded a merry lark. He's mounted the tiny singer And soared through the heavens away, With his face all aglow in the morning, And a song for the rising day.

--FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT.

A CRUST OF BREAD

The boy was lying under a big shady tree eating a large crust of bread. He had been romping with his dog in the garden, enjoying the sweet flowers and the bright sunshine. Now he rested in the cool shade of the apple-tree with the dog curled up at his feet. The birds were warbling their gayest songs in the topmost branches, and the leaves cast their dancing shadows on the soft carpet of green below.

As the dog was fast asleep, the boy had no one with whom to play. Just then a lady, beautifully dressed and holding a wand in her hand, stood before him. She smiled, and then placed her wand on the crust of bread, after which she at once vanished. She had no sooner gone than the boy rubbed his eyes in wonder, for the crust of bread was talking in a gentle voice.

"Would you like to hear my story?" it said. The boy nodded his head, as if to say yes, and the crust began:--

"Once upon a time I was a little baby seed. I lived in a large home called a granary. In this home were many other baby seeds just like me. No one could tell one from the other, as we all belonged to the same family and looked so much alike. We lived there very quietly until one day my sister cried, 'Hark! do you hear that noise? The mice are coming!' Then she told us the mice were fond of little grains of wheat, and that if they were to eat us we would never grow to be like our mother. We heard them many times after that, but we never saw them.

"One day a farmer came and put us into a large sack. It was so dark in the sack, and we lay so very near together that I thought we should smother. Soon I felt myself sliding. I tried to cling to the sack, but the other grains in their rush to the sunlight took me along with them. In our wild race we ran into a tube, and, going faster and faster, we soon fell into the seed-drill.

"Then I felt myself sliding again, for the seed-drill was moving forward. I could hear the driver call out in loud tones to the horses, 'Get up!' and round and round went the big wheels of the drill. All at once I went under cover in the rich ground. At first I did not like to be shut in from the sunlight. But one day when I heard the crows, I was glad that I was under the coverlet of the ground. I heard their cry of 'Caw, caw,' and how frightened I was! I knew that the crows were near, and that they liked the little baby wheat grains. This made me thank the farmer and Mother Nature for giving me such a good home. The crows could not find me, and by and by they flew away.

"Mother Nature now warmed me, and the rains fed me. I went to sleep, but one bright morning I awoke. The rain had been tapping on our great brown house, telling us to awake from our nap. I had grown so large while sleeping that my brown coat burst open. The sun had warmed my bed. I put a little white rootlet out and sent it down into the ground. The gentle spring breeze and the warm days brought my first blade into the sunlight above the ground, and peeping out I was glad to see everything growing fresh and green. I could see the tender sprouting grass and the opening buds. I could hear the bluebird's song and the robin's warble. I could smell the balmy air of spring.

"Mother Nature sent her children every day to help me. The rain came through the soil, and brought me food and drink. The sun fairies warmed my sprouting leaves, and the wind brought me fresh air. In June I wore a dainty green dress of slender, graceful leaves. As my sisters and I stood in the great field on the plain, and were wafted to and fro by the winds, we looked like the waves of the rolling deep.

"So I grew and grew, and one morning after the dew had given me my cool bath, and the sun fairies had dried my leaves, the south wind whispered her song to me, and I found myself a full-grown plant. I was proud of my spikelets of flowers, and now could wave with my sisters in the rolling seas of wheat. Down at the base of our little spikelets were seed cups in which slept the little baby seeds. The wind rocked them to sleep, and, sleeping, they grew to the full-sized wheat grain.

"At last we reached the mills. There we were turned into beautiful white flour and shipped to the market. So in time we, as flour, reached the housewife's or baker's well-stocked kitchen, where we were put into trays, and, being mixed with a little salt, yeast, and some water, were kneaded into loaves of bread and baked. This is the story of my life from a little grain of wheat until I became the crust of bread that you are eating."

The sun was sinking in the west, the birds were winging their flight homewards, and night was fast coming on. The dog yawned, and, stretching himself out, was ready for another romp with his master. The boy awoke from his dream and hurried home to help with the evening meal, and to do his share of the world's work.--SELECTED.

TWO SURPRISES

A workman plied his clumsy spade As the sun was going down; The German king with his cavalcade Was coming into town.

The king stopped short when he saw the man-- "My worthy friend," said he, "Why not cease work at eventide, When the laborer should be free?"

"I do not slave," the old man said, "And I am always free; Though I work from the time I leave my bed Till I can hardly see."

"How much," said the king, "is thy gain in a day?" "Eight groschen," the man replied. "And canst thou live on this meagre pay?"-- "Like a king," he said with pride.

"Two groschen for me and my wife, good friend, And two for a debt I owe; Two groschen to lend and two to spend For those who can't labor, you know."

"Thy debt?" said the king. Said the toiler, "Yea, To my mother with age oppressed, Who cared for me, toiled for me, many a day, And now hath need of rest."

"To whom dost lend of thy daily store?" "To my three boys at school. You see, When I am too feeble to toil any more, They will care for their mother and me."

"And thy last two groschen?" the monarch said. "My sisters are old and lame; I give them two groschen for raiment and bread, All in the Father's name."

Tears welled up in the good king's eyes-- "Thou knowest me not," said he; "As thou hast given me one surprise, Here is another for thee.

"I am thy king; give me thy hand"-- And he heaped it high with gold-- "When more thou needest, I command That I at once be told.

"For I would bless with rich reward The man who can proudly say, That eight souls he doth keep and guard On eight poor groschen a day."

--ANONYMOUS.

THE RICH MAN AND THE COBBLER

In old Paris, very rich people and quite poor people used to live close by each other. Up one stair might be found a very rich man; up two stairs a man not quite so rich; up three stairs a man who had not very much money. On the very lowest floor, a little below the street, were to be found the poorest folks of all. It was on this low floor that a cobbler used to live and mend shoes and sing songs. For he was a very happy cobbler, and went on singing all day, and keeping time with his hammer or his needle.

Up one stair, or on what is called the first floor, lived a very rich man, so rich that he did not know how rich he was--so rich that he could not sleep at nights for trying to find out how much money he had, and if it were quite safe.

Everybody knows that it is easier to sleep in the morning than at night. So nobody will wonder when I say that this rich man lay awake all night and always fell asleep in the morning. But no sooner did he fall asleep than he was wakened again. It was not his money that wakened him this time--it was the cobbler. Every morning, just as the rich man fell asleep the cobbler awoke, and in almost no time was sitting at his door, sewing away and singing like a lark.

The rich man went to a friend and said, "I can't sleep at night for thinking of my money, and I can't sleep in the morning for listening to that cobbler's singing. What am I to do?" This friend was a wise man, and told him of a plan.

Next forenoon, while the cobbler was singing away as usual, the rich man came down the four steps that led from the pavement to the cobbler's door.

"Now here's a fine job," thought the happy cobbler. "He's going to get me to make a grand pair of boots, and won't he pay me well!"

But the rich man did not want boots or anything. He had come to give, not to get. In his hand he had a leather bag filled with something that jingled. "Here, cobbler," said the rich man, "I have brought you a present of a hundred crowns."

"A hundred crowns!" cried the cobbler; "but I've done nothing. Why do you give me this money?"

"Oh, it's because you're always so happy."

"And you'll never ask it back?"

"Never."

"Nor bring lawyers about it and put me in prison?"

"No, no. Why should I?"

"Well, then, I'll take the money, and I thank you very, very much."

When the rich man had gone the cobbler opened the bag, and was just about to pour out the money into his leather apron to count how much it was, when he saw a man in the street looking at him. This would never do, so he went into the darkest part of his house and counted the hundred crowns. He had never seen so much money in his life before, but somehow he did not feel so happy as he felt he should.

Just then his wife came in quietly, and gave the poor cobbler such a fright that he lost his temper and scolded her, a thing he had never done in his life.

Next he hid the bag below the pillow of the bed, because he could see that place from the door where he worked. But by and by he began to think that if he could see it from the door so could other people. So he went in and changed the bag to the bottom of the bed. Two or three times every hour he went in to see that the bag was all right. His wife wanted to know what was the matter with the bed, but he told her to mind her own business. The next time she was not looking he slipped the bag into the bottom of an old box, and from that time he kept changing it about from place to place whenever he got a chance. If he had told his wife it would not have been so bad, but he was afraid even of her.

Next morning the rich man fell asleep as usual, and was not disturbed by the cobbler's song. The next morning was the same, and the next, and the next. Everybody noticed what a change had come over the cobbler. He no longer sang. He did little work, for he was always running out and in to see if his money was all right; and he was very unhappy.

On the sixth day he made up his mind what to do. I think he talked it over with his wife at last, but I am not sure. Anyway, he went up his four steps, and then up the one stair that led to the rich man's room. When he had entered, he went up to the table and laid down the bag, and said, "Sir, here are your hundred crowns; give me back my song."

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet