McGuffey's Fourth Eclectic Reader Part 12

DEFINITIONS.-l. Trudg'ing, walking st.u.r.dily. 2. Hues, colors. Ca'lyx, the outer covering of a flower. 4. Ho-ri'zon, the line where the sky and earth seem to meet. 5. War'ble, a trill of the voice. Spears, shoots of gra.s.s.

Sheaths, coverings.

EXERCISES.--Name the things about which Margery wondered. What did she wonder about each? What is still more wonderful than all that at which Margery wondered?

x.x.xVI. THE CHILD'S WORLD. (103)

1. "Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world, With the wonderful water round you curled, And the wonderful gra.s.s upon your breast,-- World, you are beautifully drest."

2. "The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree; It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the tops of the hills."

3. "You friendly Earth! how far do you go With the wheat fields that nod, and the rivers that flow; With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles, And people upon you for thousands of miles?"

4. "Ah, you are so great, and I am so small, I tremble to think of you, World, at all: And yet, when I said my prayers, to-day, A whisper inside me seemed to say, You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot: You can love and think, and the Earth can not!'"

x.x.xVII. SUSIE'S COMPOSITION. (104)

1. Susie Smith came home from school one day, and had no sooner entered the sitting room than she burst into tears. "What is the matter, my dear child?" said her mother, drawing her daughter to her side and smiling.

2. "O mother, matter enough," sobbed Susie. "All our cla.s.s must bring in compositions to-morrow morning, and I never, never can write one. We must write twelve lines at least, and I have written only a few words after trying nearly all the afternoon. See what work I have made of it!"

3. Mrs. Smith took the rumpled, tear-stained paper which Susie held in her hand, and glanced at what she had written. In a careful hand she had tried to write upon three themes: "Time," "Temperance," and "Industry."

4. "Time is short. We should all improve our time." "Temperance is a very useful thing." "We should all be industrious if we wish to do anything in the world." These sentences were all she had written.

5. "Now," said Susie, "I can't think of another word to say upon any of these subjects, and I know I shall have to go to school without a composition, for I won't be so mean as to copy one from a book, or to ask you or papa to write one for me."

6. "That is right, my dear," said her mother. "You will be far happier with a poor composition, if it is all your own, than with a fine one written by somebody else. But cheer up. You have not begun right--you have been trying to write upon subjects that you know nothing about. Run into the garden and play. I will call you in half an hour."

7. "But my composition," began Susie. "Don't think about your composition while you are gone," said Mrs. Smith, "but have as pleasant a time as you can."

8. It seemed but a few minutes to Susie before she heard her mother's voice calling her. She went into the house at once--her hands full of sweet flowers, and her cheeks rosy with exercise.

9. "Now, Susie," said her mother, "I want you to sit by the window with this nice sheet of paper and a pencil, and write something about what you can see." "But my composition, mother," said Susie; "when shall I begin that?" "Never mind your composition, my dear; do this to please me, and we will talk about that by and by."

10. Susie thought her mother's request was a strange one; but she knew that she always had a good reason for everything she did: so she took the paper and pencil, and sat by the window.

11. "Do not talk to me at all," said her mother. "Look out of the window, and then write down your thoughts about everything you see."

12. Susie could not help laughing, it seemed such a funny thing to be doing. As she looked out, she first saw the western sky and some bright, sunset clouds. "O mother!" she exclaimed, "what a splendid sunset!" "Don't talk," said her mother, "but write."

13. "I'll write about the sunset, then," said she, and the pencil began to move rapidly across the paper. In a few moments she said, "Mother, shall I read you what I have written?" "No, not now," answered her mother; "I am going into the dining room. You may sit and write until I return."

14. As Susie went on writing, she became very much interested in her occupation, and for a time forgot all about the dreaded composition. She wrote about the sunset clouds, the appearance of the distant hills, the trees, the river, the garden with its gay flowers, and the birds flying past the window.

15. Just as she had reached the bottom of the page, her mother came in.

"Well, Susie," said she, with a smile, "how does that composition come on?" "Composition!" exclaimed Susie; "you told me not to think about my composition, and I have not thought of it once; I have had such a nice time writing about what I could see from the window."

16. Mrs. Smith took the paper and read aloud what Susie had written: "I am sitting on a low seat at the bay window, one half of which is open, so that I can smell the sweet flowers in the garden. The sky is all bright with sunset; I can see purple, and pink, and golden. I do not believe that anyone on earth has a paint box with such lovely colors in it."

17. "I can see one cloud, far above the rest, that looks like a s.h.i.+p sailing in the blue sea. I should like to sail on a cloud, if it would not make me dizzy. Now, while I have been writing, the clouds have changed in color and form, but they are just as beautiful as they were before."

18. "The green hills are tipped with light, and look as if they were wearing golden crowns. I can see a river a great way off, and it looks quite still, although I know it is running as fast as it can to get to the ocean."

19. "The birds are flying past the window to go home and take care of their little ones. I am glad the birds are not afraid to live in our garden, and to build nests in our trees."

20. "Our garden is full of flowers--pinks, lilies, and roses. Mother calls this the month of roses. My birthday will come in a week, and we can have all the flowers we wish for wreaths and bouquets."

21. "There, Susie," said Mrs. Smith, "that is a very nice composition, indeed." "A composition!" exclaimed Susie, "is that a composition?" "Yes, my dear, and a very good one, too," replied her mother. "When it hasn't even a subject?"

22. "We can find one for it, and I do not doubt it will please your teacher, as it does me. You see, my dear," continued her mother, "that it is easy enough to write if you have anything interesting to write about."

23. The next morning Susie copied her composition very neatly, and started to school with a happy heart, saying, as she gave her mother a kiss, "Just think how funny it is, dear mother, that I should have written so long a composition without knowing it."

DEFINITIONS.--Com-po-si'tion, that which is thought out and arranged, a written or literary work. 3. Rum'pled, wrinkled, creased. Themes, subjects or topics on which a person writes. 10. Re-quest', that which is asked.

14. Oc-cu-pa'tion, that which employs the time. 20. Bou-quets' (pro.

boo-kas'), bunches of flowers.

EXERCISES.--What is a composition? Why was Susie so troubled? Why could she not write about "Time," "Temperance," or "Industry"? What did her mother have her do? What did Susie write? Was it a composition? Did she know, at the time, that it was? What fault did she find with it? Can you give her composition a proper subject?

x.x.xVIII. THE SUMMER SHOWER. (109)

The author, Thomas Buchanan Read, was born in Chester Co., Pa., March 12, 1822. His life was devoted to the fine arts, and he attained a high reputation both as artist and poet. He died in New York, May 11, 1872.

1. Before the stout harvesters falleth the grain, As when the strong stormwind is reaping the plain, And loiters the boy in the briery lane; But yonder aslant comes the silvery rain, Like a long line of spears brightly burnished and tall.

2. Adown the white highway like cavalry fleet, It dashes the dust with its numberless feet.

Like a murmurless school, in their leafy retreat, The wild birds sit listening the drops round them beat; And the boy crouches close to the blackberry wall.

3. The swallows alone take the storm on the wing, And, taunting the tree-sheltered laborers, sing.

Like pebbles the rain breaks the face of the spring, While a bubble darts up from each widening ring; And the boy in dismay hears the loud shower fall.

4. But soon are the harvesters tossing their sheaves; The robin darts out from his bower of leaves; The wren peereth forth from the moss-covered eaves; And the rain-spattered urchin now gladly perceives That the beautiful bow bendeth over them all.

DEFINITIONS.--l. A-slant', toward one side. 2. High'way, a public road.

Re-treat', a place of refuge or safety, Crouch'es, stoops low. 3.

Taunt'ing, deriding, mocking. 4. Ur'chin, a child.