The Ontario Readers Part 2

"You're a humbug, sir."

"A what?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.

"A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An impostor, sir."

With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel and rejoined his friends.

d.i.c.kENS: "The Pickwick Papers."

TUBAL CAIN

Old Tubal Cain was a man of might, In the days when earth was young; By the fierce red light of his furnace bright, The strokes of his hammer rung: And he lifted high his brawny hand On the iron glowing clear, Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers, As he fas.h.i.+oned the sword and spear.

And he sang--"Hurrah for my handiwork!

Hurrah for the spear and sword!

Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well, For he shall be king and lord!"

To Tubal Cain came many a one, As he wrought by his roaring fire; And each one prayed for a strong steel blade, As the crown of his desire; And he made them weapons sharp and strong, Till they shouted loud for glee; And they gave him gifts of pearls and gold, And spoils of the forest free.

And they sang--"Hurrah for Tubal Cain, Who hath given us strength anew!

Hurrah for the smith, hurrah for the fire, And hurrah for the metal true!"

But a sudden change came o'er his heart, Ere the setting of the sun; And Tubal Cain was filled with pain For the evil he had done: He saw that men, with rage and hate, Made war upon their kind, That the land was red with the blood they shed, In their l.u.s.t for carnage blind.

And he said--"Alas! that I ever made, Or that skill of mine should plan, The spear and the sword for men whose joy Is to slay their fellow-man!"

And for many a day old Tubal Cain Sat brooding o'er his woe; And his hand forbore to smite the ore, And his furnace smouldered low.

But he rose at last with a cheerful face, And a bright courageous eye, And bared his strong right arm for work, While the quick flames mounted high.

And he sang--"Hurrah for my handiwork!"

And the red sparks lit the air; "Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made,"

And he fas.h.i.+oned the first ploughshare.

And men, taught wisdom from the past, In friends.h.i.+p joined their hands; Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall, And ploughed the willing lands: And sang--"Hurrah for Tubal Cain!

Our stanch good friend is he; And for the ploughshare and the plough, To him our praise shall be.

But while oppression lifts its head, Or a tyrant would be lord; Though we may thank him for the plough, We'll not forget the sword!"

CHARLES MACKAY

PROFESSOR FROG'S LECTURE

Bobby was not quite sure that he was awake, but when he opened his eyes there was the blue sky, with the soft, white clouds drifting across it, the big pine waving its spicy branches over his head, and beyond, the glint of suns.h.i.+ne on the waters of the pond. Presently Bobby heard voices talking softly.

"This is a good specimen," said one voice. "See how stout and strong he looks!"

"I wonder who that is, and what he has found," thought Bobby. "I wish it wasn't such hard work to keep my eyes open." He made a great effort, however, and raised his heavy lids. At first he could see nothing. Then he caught a glimpse of a mossy log, with a row of frogs and toads sitting upon it. They were looking solemnly at him. Bobby felt a little uncomfortable under that steady gaze.

"The toads are making their spring visit to the pond to lay their eggs,"

thought the boy. "I forgot that they were due this week."

"He must have done a good deal of mischief in his day," said an old bull-frog, gravely. A chill crept over Bobby. "In his day."--What did that mean?

A toad hopped out from the line and came so close to Bobby that he could have touched her but for the strange spell which held him fast.

"Yes," said she; "this is one of the species. We are very fortunate to have caught him. Now we shall be ready to listen to Professor Rana's remarks."

Still Bobby could not move. What were they going to do? In a moment there was a rustling among the dry leaves and dozens of frogs and toads were seen hurrying towards the pine tree. Among them was a ponderous frog, carrying a roll of ma.n.u.script under his arm. He wore huge goggles, and looked so wise that Bobby did not dare to laugh.

"I am very sleepy," murmured a portly toad near Bobby's left ear. "I laid over eight thousand eggs last night, and I have a long journey before me. But I must stay to hear this. We may never have such a chance again."

"Ladies and gentlemen," began the professor, in a sonorous tone that was easily heard for several feet, "this is a specimen of the creature known to us as the human tadpole. You will kindly observe his long legs. They were doubtless given to him for the purpose of protection. Being possessed of a most mischievous and reckless spirit, the species is always getting into difficulties, and would probably become extinct if it had not the power to run away."

"Nonsense!" said Bobby under his breath. There was a murmur of interest and curiosity among the crowd. Bobby felt his legs twitch nervously, but his power over them was gone.

"Otherwise," went on the lecturer, "he is not at all adapted to his surroundings. Observe how carefully we are dressed. The frogs have the green and brown tints of their homes by the water-side. The toads look like lumps of dirt, so that they may not be too readily snapped up by birds of prey. But the Boy--to call him by his scientific name--has no such protection. Look at this red s.h.i.+rt and these white trousers, and this hat as big as a trout pool! Could anything be more ridiculous? Even a giraffe does not look so absurd as this."

A red flush mounted to Bobby's freckled cheeks, but this time he did not try to speak.

"Now," said the professor, "as far as we have been able to learn, the human tadpole is absolutely useless. We are, therefore, doing no harm in experimenting upon this specimen. There are plenty of them, and this one will not be a serious loss."

"Stop!" said Bobby, so unexpectedly that everybody jumped. "What are you going to do with me?"

"You will be so kind as to lie still," said the professor severely. "At present you are only a specimen."

There was no help for it. Bobby found it impossible to move hand or foot. He could wriggle a little,--but that was all.

"Not only is the Boy entirely useless," went on the professor, "but he is often what might be called a pest, even to his own kind. He is endured in the world for what he may become when he is full-grown, and even then he is sometimes disappointing. You are familiar with many of his objectionable ways towards the animal world, but I am sure you would be surprised if you knew what a care and trouble he frequently is to his own people. He can be trusted to do few kinds of work. It is difficult to keep him clean. He doesn't know how to get his own dinner. He has a genius for making weaker things miserable. He likes fis.h.i.+ng, and he longs for a gun; he collects birds' eggs; he puts b.u.t.terflies on pins; he teases his little sisters."

"Why isn't the species exterminated?" asked another frog angrily.

Then the toad near Bobby's ear spoke timidly: "I think you are a little unjust, Professor. I have known boys who were comparatively harmless."

"It is true there may be a few, Mrs. Bufo," said the professor with great politeness, "but as a cla.s.s they may be fairly set down as of very doubtful value. Speak up, Tadpole, and say if I have made any false statements so far."

Bobby fairly shouted in his eagerness to be heard.

"We do work," he said. "We have to go to school every day."

"What a help that must be to your parents and to the world at large!"

said the frog with sarcasm. "I am surprised that we never see the results of such hard labour. Do you know how useful even our smallest tadpoles are? Without them this pond would be no longer beautiful, but foul and ill-smelling. As for what we do when we are grown up, modesty forbids me to praise the frogs, but you know what a toad is worth to mankind?"

"No," said Bobby. "About two cents, I guess." Bobby didn't intend to be rude. He thought this a liberal valuation.

"Twenty dollars a year, as estimated by the Department of Agriculture!"

cried the frog triumphantly. "What do you think of that?"