Part 17

Then I did not feel so sorry for the gentleman's ignorance as I did for my own. I never told anybody that story until I wrote it down on these pages the other day; but I have thought of it a thousand times and always with a 10 blush for my boldness. Nor was it the only time that I was perfectly sure of things that really were not so. It is hard for a boy to learn that he may be mistaken; but unless he is a fool, he learns it after a while. The sooner he finds it out, the better for him. 15

If I were a boy, I would not think that I and the boys of my times were an exception to the general rule--a new kind of boys, unlike all who have lived before, having different feelings and different ways. To be honest, I must own that I used to think so myself. I was quite inclined 20 to reject the counsel of my elders by saying to myself, "That may have been well enough for boys thirty or fifty years ago, but it isn't the thing for me and my set of boys." Of course that was nonsense. The boys of one generation are not very different from the boys of any 25 other generation.

If we say that boyhood lasts fifteen or sixteen years, I have known three generations of boys, some of them city boys and some of them country boys, and they are all substantially alike--so nearly alike that the old rules of 30 industry and patience and perseverance and self-control are as applicable to one generation as to another. The fact is, that what your fathers and teachers have found by experience to be good for boys will be good for you; and what their experience has taught them is bad for boys will be bad for you. You are just boys, nothing more nor less.

1. Why would a boy of fifteen be more likely to "think he knew all about it" than an equally honest and intelligent man of fifty? Apply to your answer the preceding story about the two knights. What is the value of experience?

2. Retell the story of the boy's mistake about the river. Why was he so ashamed?

3. What is meant by saying that all boys are substantially alike? What four rules does the author say are always applicable? Compare the training of a boy in ancient Sparta and of a page in medieval times with that of a modern schoolboy.

THE LESSON OF THE WATER MILL

BY SARAH DOUDNEY

Listen to the water mill; Through the livelong day, How the clicking of its wheel Wears the hours away! Languidly the autumn wind 5 Stirs the forest leaves, From the field the reapers sing, Binding up their sheaves; And a proverb haunts my mind As a spell is cast, 10 "The mill cannot grind With the water that is past."

Autumn winds revive no more Leaves that once are shed, And the sickle cannot reap Corn once gatherèd; Flows the ruffled streamlet on, 5 Tranquil, deep, and still, Never gliding back again To the water mill; Truly speaks the proverb old, With a meaning vast-- 10 "The mill cannot grind With the water that is past."

Take the lesson to thyself, True and loving heart! Golden youth is fleeting by, 15 Summer hours depart; Learn to make the most of life, Lose no happy day, Time will never bring thee back Chances swept away! 20 Leave no tender word unsaid, Love while love shall last; "The mill cannot grind With the water that is past."

Work while yet the daylight shines, 25 Man of strength and will! Never does the streamlet glide Useless by the mill; Wait not till to-morrow's sun Beams upon thy way, 30

All that thou canst call thine own Lies in thy to-day; Power and intellect and health May not always last; "The mill cannot grind 5 With the water that is past."

Oh, the wasted hours of life That have drifted by! Oh, the good that might have been-- Lost, without a sigh! 10 Love that we might once have saved By a single word; Thoughts conceived but never penned, Perishing unheard; Take the proverb to thine heart, 15 Take, and hold it fast-- "The mill cannot grind With the water that is past."

1. How does a water mill work? Find a picture of one. What was this mill probably used to grind? Why is it appropriate to have the reapers in the picture in the first stanza?

2. What other proverbs with the same meaning as this one can you find?

A MOTTO OF OXFORD

This stanza is engraved over one of the old colleges of Oxford University, a great seat of learning in England.

He who reads and reads And does not what he knows, Is he who plows and plows And never sows.

SAILING AND FAILING

BY HAMILTON W. MABIE

There are two kinds of men in the world: those who sail and those who drift; those who choose the ports to which they will go and skillfully and boldly shape their course across the seas, with the wind or against it, and those who let winds and tides carry them where they will. The 5 men who sail, in due time arrive; those who drift, often cover greater distances but they never make port.

The men who sail know where they want to go and what they want to do; they do not wait on luck or fortune or favorable currents; they depend on themselves and 10 expect no help from circumstances. Success of the real kind is always in the man who wins it, not in conditions. No man becomes great by accident; great things are never done by chance; a man gets what he pays for it, in character, in work, and in energy. A boy would better put 15 luck out of his mind if he means to accomplish anything. There are few really fine things which he cannot get if he is willing to pay the price.

Keep ahead of your work, and your work will push your fortunes for you. Our employers do not decide whether we 20 shall stay where we are or go on and up; we decide that matter ourselves. We can drift along, doing our work fairly well; or we can set our faces to the front and do our work so well that we cannot be kept back. In this way we make or mar our own fortunes. Success or failure is not 25 chosen for us; we choose for ourselves.

USE AND ABUSE OF TIME

BY ARCHER BROWN

Time is the stuff life is made of, says Benjamin Franklin. Every man has exactly the same amount of it in a year. One improves it and reaps great results. Another wastes it and reaps failure. The first class, they call lucky; the second, unfortunate. 5

To use time aright, have a system. Shape everything to it. Divide the twenty-four hours between work, recreation, sleep, and mental culture according to a scheme that suits your judgment and circumstances. Then make things go that way. The scheme will quickly go to pieces 10 unless backed by persistent purpose.

When you work, work. Put the whole mind and heart in it. Know nothing else. Do everything the very best. Distance everybody about you. This will not be hard, for the other fellows are not trying much. Master details and 15 difficulties. Be always ready for the next step up. If a bookkeeper, be an expert. If a machinist, know more than the boss. If an office boy, surprise the employer by model work. If in school, go to the head and stay there. All this is easy when the habit of conquering takes possession. 20

It is wholesome in this connection to read what men have accomplished who have once learned the art of redeeming time. Study the causes of the success of Benjamin Franklin, of Lincoln, of McKinley, of Sir Michael Faraday, of Agassiz, of Edison. Learn the might of minutes. 25 "Every day is a little life, and our whole life is a day repeated. Those that dare lose a day are dangerously prodigal; those that dare misspend it, desperate." Emerson says, "The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn."

Sound and wholesome recreation is important in our scheme; but in this age of athletic frenzy the danger of 5 neglect on that line is not excessive. The real fact is that athletic sports are educating the muscles too often at the expense of the brain.

It is the mind work that differentiates you from the herd. Mental culture calls for study--carefully planned, regular, 10 persistent. One or two hours a day, aiming at some distinct object, mastering what you learn, adding little by little, like a miser to his store, will in a few years make of you a broad, educated man, no matter what your schooling.

To abuse time, have no system. Chance everything. 15 Do your work indifferently. Growl if too much is asked. Hunt for an easy job. Change often. Dodge obstacles. Always come a little short of the standard. Fritter away in silly things the few golden moments left for self-culture. Then you will not crowd anybody very hard in the contest 20 for leadership.

Time abused is bad luck.

1. What great men do you know of who divided up their day in the way suggested here? Make out a timetable for yourself and see how you can improve it and how long you can stick to its use.

2. In what did the "success" of each of the men mentioned in the fourth paragraph consist? Make one of the studies suggested and report your findings to the class.

3. What out-of-door exercises educate both brain and muscles? What is the special value of games played by a team? What great people of ancient times trained the body as well as the mind?

4. Which paragraphs define bad luck? What is it?

HIDDEN TREASURE

BY CHARLES READE

Charles Reade (1814-1884) was born at Ipsden, England, and educated at Oxford. He wrote plays and novels, the latter usually with some purpose of reform. Compare this story with "Ali Hafed's Quest" (page 13) as to setting, characters, ending, and moral.

Once upon a time there was an old farmer that had heard or read about treasures being found in odd places--a potful of gold pieces or something of the sort--and it took root in his heart till nothing would satisfy him but he must find a potful of gold pieces too. He spent 5 all his time hunting in this place and in that for buried treasures. He poked about all the old ruins in the neighborhood and even wished to take up the floor of the church.

One morning he arose with a bright face and said to his wife, "It's all right, Mary. I've found the treasure." 10

"No! Have you, though?" said she.

"Yes!" he answered; "at least it's as good as found. It's only waiting till I've had my breakfast, and then I'll go out and fetch it in."

"Oh, John! How did you find it?" 15

"It was revealed to me in a dream," said he, as grave as a judge.

"Oh! and where is it?"

"Under a tree in our orchard--no farther than that."

"Oh, how long you are at your breakfast, John! Let's 20 hurry out and get it."

They went out together into the orchard.

"Now which tree is it under?" asked the wife.

John scratched his head and looked very sheepish. "I'm blessed if I know!"

"Oh, you foolish fellow," said the wife. "Why didn't you take the trouble to notice?" 5

"I did notice," said he. "I saw the exact tree in my dream, but now there's so many of them, they muddle it all."

"Well, I think you're stupid," said the wife angrily. "You ought to have cut a nick in the right one while you 10 were there."

"That may be," answered John; "but now I see that I'll have to begin with the first tree and keep on digging till I come to the one with the treasure under it."

This made the wife lose all hope; for there were eighty 15 apple trees and a score of cherry trees. She heaved a sigh and said: "Well, I guess if you must, you must. But mind you don't cut any of the roots."

John was in no good humor. He abused the trees with all the bad words he could think of. 20

"What difference does it make if I cut all the roots? The old fagots aren't worth a penny apiece. The whole lot of them don't bear a bushel of good apples. In father's time they used to bear wagonloads of choice fruit. I wish they were every one dead!" 25

"Well, John," said the woman, trying to soothe his anger, "you know that father always gave them a good deal of attention."

"Attention? Nonsense!" he answered spitefully. "They don't need attention. They've got old, like ourselves. 30 They're good for nothing but firewood."

Then, muttering to himself, he brought out pickax and spade and began his work. He dug three feet deep all around the first tree, and finding nothing but earth and stones went on to the next. He heaped up a mound half as high as his head--but no pot of gold did he strike.

He had dug round three or four trees before his neighbors 5 began to notice him. Then their curiosity was awakened, and each one told another about his queer actions. After that there was scarcely an hour in the day that seven or eight were not sitting on the fence and passing sly jokes. Then it became the fashion for the boys to fling a stone or 10 two or a clod of dry earth at John.

To defend himself, John brought out his gun, loaded with fine shot, and the next time a stone was thrown he fired sharp in the direction it came from. The boys took the hint, and John dug on in peace till the fourth Sunday, when 15 the parson alluded to him in church. "People ought not to heap up to themselves treasures on earth."

But it seemed that John was only heaping up dirt; for when he had dug the fivescore holes, no pot of gold came to light. Then the neighbors called the orchard "Jacobs's 20 folly"; his name was Jacobs--John Jacobs.

"Now then, Mary," said he, "you and I will have to find some other village to live in, for the jokes and gibes of these people are more than I can bear."

Mary began to cry. 25

"Oh, John, we have been here so long!" she said. "You brought me here when we were first married. I was just a lass then, and you were the smartest young man I ever saw--at least I thought so."

"Well, Mary," answered John, "I guess we'll try to stay. 30 Perhaps it will all blow over some time."

"Yes, John, it will be like everything else by and by. But if I were you, I'd fill those holes. The people come from far and wide on Sundays to see them."

"Mary, I haven't the heart to do that," said the disappointed man. "You see, when I was digging for treasure I felt sure I was going to find it, and that kept my heart up. 5 But take a shovel and fill all those holes? I'd rather do without eggs every Sunday!"

So for six months the heaps of earth stood in the heat and the frost. Then in the spring the old man took heart and filled the holes, smoothing the ground until it was as level 10 as before. And soon everybody forgot "Jacobs's folly" because it was out of sight.

The month of April was warm, and out burst the trees. "Mary," said John, "the bloom is richer than I've seen it for many a year; it's a good deal richer than in any of 15 our neighbors' orchards."

The bloom died, and then out came a million little green things, quite hard. Summer passed. Autumn followed, and the old trees staggered under their weight of fruit.

The trees were old and needed attention. John's 20 letting in the air to them and turning the soil up to the frost and sun had renewed their youth. And so, in that way, he learned that tillage is the way to get treasure from the earth.

1. What other stories about buried treasure have you read? What is fascinating about the theme besides the get-rich-quick idea?

2. In what country is the scene of this story laid? At about what time? Give evidence in support of your answer.

3. Do apple trees bear better when the ground is cultivated around them? Where do you get your first hint of the end of the story? Is the conclusion satisfying to you? Was it to John?

THE SOLITARY REAPER

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

A friend of Wordsworth's, while traveling in the Highlands of Scotland, was impressed by the beautiful singing voice of a girl whom he saw working alone in a field; he wrote in his diary--"the sweetest human voice I ever heard. The strains felt delicious long after they were heard no more." Wordsworth had traveled through the same country, and from the note and his own impressions he built up this poem. The first stanza gives the real picture, the second offers two comparisons--the nightingale and the cuckoo--one sad, the other happy, both associated with solitude and open spaces. The third stanza relates the girl and her song to the background of history and human experience that belongs to the scene; and the last refers to Wordsworth's delight in recalling beautiful things.

Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, 5 And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.

No nightingale did ever chant More welcome notes to weary bands 10 Of travelers in some shady haunt Among Arabian sands; A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In springtime from the cuckoo bird, Breaking the silence of the seas 15 Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings? Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago; Or is it some more humble lay, 5 Familiar matter of to-day-- Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; 10 I saw her singing at her work And o'er the sickle bending; I listened, motionless and still, And as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore 15 Long after it was heard no more.

1. Describe what is seen and heard. To what bird songs is the girl's voice compared? Have you ever heard the song of the nightingale? What widely different places are thought of in the second stanza? What have the desert and the sea in common? Where are the Hebrides?

2. Explain: numbers, lay, sickle, lass, vale, profound.

3. What in this poem reminds you of "The Daffodils?" How is the theme identical with Longfellow's "The Arrow and the Song?"

* * * * *

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.

--_Ralph Waldo Emerson._

_IN GOOD HUMOR_

_He is twice blessed who has a sense of humor; he is saved from taking too seriously the shortcomings of his fellows; and he makes glad the hearts of his friends. For it has been wisely said that humor is the measure of a gentleman, even as its possession distinguishes civilized from savage man._

[Illustration: THE STAGECOACH

(_See opposite page_)]

THE STAGECOACH

BY MARK TWAIN

Before the days of the railroad, the lumbering, horse-drawn stagecoach was the general vehicle used for cross-country passenger travel. Following the Civil War, the brother of Mark Twain (Samuel L. Clemens) was appointed Territorial Secretary of Nevada. Samuel accompanied his brother as private secretary. The journey was made largely in a stagecoach, the inconveniences of which are whimsically set forth in the following extract from Twain's _Roughing It_.

As the sun went down and the evening chill came on, we made preparation for bed. We stirred up the hard leather letter sacks, and the knotty canvas bags of printed matter (knotty and uneven because of projecting ends and corners of magazines, boxes, and books). We 5 stirred them up and redisposed them in such a way as to make our bed as level as possible. And we did improve it, too, though after all our work it had an upheaved and billowy look about it, like a little piece of a stormy sea. Next we hunted up our boots from odd nooks among 10 the mail bags where they had settled, and put them on.

Then we got down our coats, vests, pantaloons, and heavy woolen shirts, from the arm loops where they had been swinging all day, and clothed ourselves in them--for, there being no ladies either at the stations or in the coach, 15 and the weather being hot, we had looked to our comfort by stripping to our underclothing at nine o'clock in the morning. All things being now ready, we stowed the uneasy Dictionary where it would lie as quiet as possible and placed the water canteen and pistols where we could find 20 them in the dark. Then we smoked a final pipe and swapped a final yarn; after which we put the pipes, tobacco, and bag of coin in snug holes and caves among the mail bags, and then fastened down the coach curtains all around, and made the place as "dark as the inside of a cow," as 5 the conductor phrased it in his picturesque way. It was certainly as dark as any place could be--nothing was even dimly visible in it. And finally we rolled ourselves up like silkworms, each person in his own blanket, and sank peacefully to sleep. 10

Whenever the stage stopped to change horses we would wake up, and try to recollect where we were---and succeed--and in a minute or two the stage would be off again, and we likewise. We began to get into country now, threaded here and there with little streams. These had 15 high, steep banks on each side, and every time we flew down one bank and scrambled up the other, our party inside got mixed somewhat. First we would all be down in a pile at the forward end of the stage, nearly in a sitting posture, and in a second we would shoot to the other end 20 and stand on our heads. And we would sprawl and kick, too, and ward off ends and corners of mail bags that came lumbering over us and about us; and as the dust rose from the tumult, we would all sneeze in chorus, and the majority of us would grumble, and probably say some hasty 25 thing, like, "Take your elbow out of my ribs!--can't you quit crowding?"