The Ontario Readers Part 9

THE BLUEJAY

Said Jim Baker: "There's more to a bluejay than to any other creature.

He has more kinds of feeling than any other creature; and mind you, whatever a bluejay feels, he can put into words. No common words either, but out-and-out book-talk. You never see a jay at a loss for a word.

"You may call a jay a bird. Well, so he is, because he has feathers on him. Otherwise, he is just as human as you are.

"Yes, sir; a jay is everything that a man is. A jay can laugh, a jay can gossip, a jay can feel ashamed, just as well as you do, maybe better.

And there's another thing: in good, clean, out-and-out scolding, a bluejay can beat anything alive.

"Seven years ago the last man about here but me moved away. There stands his house--a log house with just one big room and no more: no ceiling, nothing between the rafters and the floor.

"Well, one Sunday morning I was sitting out here in front of my cabin, with my cat, taking the sun, when a bluejay flew down on that house with an acorn in his mouth.

"'h.e.l.lo,' says he, 'I reckon here's something.' When he spoke, the acorn fell out of his mouth and rolled down on the roof. He didn't care; his mind was on the thing he had found.

"It was a knot-hole in the roof. He c.o.c.ked his head to one side, shut one eye, and put the other to the hole, like a 'possum looking down a jug.'

"Then he looked up, gave a wink or two with his wings, and says: 'It looks like a hole, it's placed like a hole--and--if I don't think it is a hole!'

"Then he c.o.c.ked his head down and took another look. He looked up with joy, this time winked his wings and his tail both, and says: 'If I ain't in luck! Why it's an elegant hole!'

"So he flew down and got that acorn and dropped it in, and was tilting his head back with a smile when a queer look of surprise came over his face. Then he says: 'Why, I didn't hear it fall.'

"He c.o.c.ked his eye at the hole again and took a long look; rose up and shook his head; went to the other side of the hole and took another look from that side; shook his head again. No use.

"So after thinking awhile, he says: 'I reckon it's all right. I'll try it, anyway.'

"So he flew off and brought another acorn and dropped it in, and tried to get his eye to the hole quick enough to see what became of it. He was too late. He got another acorn and tried to see where it went, but he couldn't.

"He says: 'Well, I never saw such a hole as this before. I reckon it's a new kind.' Then he got angry and walked up and down the roof. I never saw a bird take on so.

"When he got through, he looked in the hole for half a minute; then he says: 'Well, you're a long hole, and a deep hole, and a queer hole, but I have started to fill you, and I'll do it if it takes a hundred years.'

"And with that away he went. For two hours and a half you never saw a bird work so hard. He did not stop to look in any more, but just threw acorns in and went for more.

"Well, at last he could hardly flap his wings he was so tired out. So he bent down for a look. He looked up, pale with rage. He says: 'I've put in enough acorns to keep the family thirty years, and I can't see a sign of them.'

"Another jay was going by and heard him. So he stopped to ask what was the matter. Our jay told him the whole story. Then he went and looked down the hole and came back and said: 'How many tons did you put in there?' 'Not less than two,' said our jay.

"The other jay looked again, but could not make it out; so he gave a yell and three more jays came. They all talked at once for awhile, and then called in more jays.

"Pretty soon the air was blue with jays, and every jay put his eye to the hole and told what he thought. They looked the house all over, too.

The door was partly open, and at last one old jay happened to look in.

There lay the acorns all over the floor.

"He flapped his wings and gave a yell: 'Come here, everybody! Ha! Ha!

He's been trying to fill a house with acorns!'

"As each jay took a look, the fun of the thing struck him, and how he did laugh. And for an hour after they roosted on the housetop and trees, and laughed like human beings. It isn't any use to tell me a bluejay hasn't any fun in him. I know better."

SAMUEL L. CLEMENS (Mark Twain)

A CANADIAN CAMPING SONG

A white tent pitched by a gla.s.sy lake, Well under a shady tree, Or by rippling rills from the grand old hills, Is the summer home for me.

I fear no blaze of the noontide rays, For the woodland glades are mine, The fragrant air, and that perfume rare, The odour of forest pine.

A cooling plunge at the break of day, A paddle, a row, or sail, With always a fish for a mid-day dish, And plenty of Adam's ale.

With rod or gun, or in hammock swung, We glide through the pleasant days; When darkness falls on our canvas walls, We kindle the camp fire's blaze.

From out the gloom sails the silv'ry moon, O'er forests dark and still, Now far, now near, ever sad and clear, Comes the plaint of the whip-poor-will; With song and laugh, and with kindly chaff, We startle the birds above, Then rest tired heads on our cedar beds, To dream of the ones we love.

SIR J. D. EDGAR: "This Canada of Ours."

THE ARGONAUTS

Now, when the building of the s.h.i.+p Argo was finished, the fifty heroes came to look upon her, and joy filled their hearts. "Surely," said they, "this is the greatest s.h.i.+p that ever sailed the sea."

So eager were they to make trial of the long oars that some, leaping on the shoulders of their comrades and grasping the shrouds, clambered over the bulwarks upon the thwarts and drew the rest in after them. Orpheus, upon the mighty shoulders of Jason the leader of the expedition, seized hold of the arm of the azure-eyed G.o.ddess, the figure-head of the s.h.i.+p, and, as he climbed on board, her whisper reached his ear. "Orpheus, sing me something." This was the song:

"How sweet upon the surge to ride, And leap from wave to wave, While oars flash fast above the tide And lordly tempests rave.

How sweet it is across the main, In wonder-land to roam, To win rich treasure, endless fame, And earn a welcome home."

Then the good s.h.i.+p Argo stirred in all her timbers and longing for the restless sea came upon her and she rushed headlong down the grooves till the lips of the G.o.ddess tasted the salt sea spray.

Many a day they sailed through laughing seas and ever they spoke together of the glory of the Golden Fleece which they hoped to bring home from far off Colchis.

When they were come to the land of Colchis, King aeetes summoned them to his palace. Beside him was seated his daughter, the beautiful witch maiden, Medea. She looked upon the Greeks and upon Jason, fairest and n.o.blest of them all, and her spirit leaped forth to meet his. And knowing what lay before them, "surely," she thought, "it were an evil thing that men so bold and comely should perish."

When Jason demanded the Golden Fleece, the rage of the King rushed up like a whirlwind, but he curbed his speech and spake a fair word.

"Choose ye now him who is boldest among you and let him perform the labours I shall set."

That night Medea stole from the palace to warn the hero of the toils and dangers that awaited him,--to tame a span of brazen-footed fire-breathing bulls, with them to plough four acres of unbroken land in the field of Ares, to sow the tilth with serpents' teeth, to slay its crop of warriors, to cross a river, and climb a lofty wall, to s.n.a.t.c.h the Fleece from a tree round which lay coiled the sleepless dragon. "How can these things be accomplished and that before the setting of another sun?" But Jason used flattering words, singing the song of Chiron:

"No river so deep but an arm may swim, No wall so steep but a foot may climb, No dragon so dread but a sword may slay, No fiend so fierce but your charms may stay."