Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans Part 17

Doctor Kane and his men had been gone more than two years. People had begun to think that they had all died. This steamer had been sent to find out what had become of them. When the men on the steamer heard that this little man in the red s.h.i.+rt was Doctor Kane himself, they sent up cheer after cheer. In a few minutes more, Doctor Kane and his men were on the steamer. They were now safe among friends. They were sailing away toward their homes.

LONGFELLOW AS A BOY.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Longfellow and the Bird]

Long-fel-low was a n.o.ble boy. He always wanted to do right. He could not bear to see one person do any wrong to another.

He was very tender-hearted. One day he took a gun and went shooting.

He killed a robin. Then he felt sorry for the robin He came home with tears in his eyes. He was so grieved, that he never went shooting again.

He liked to read Irving's "Sketch Book." Its strange stories about Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Win-kle pleased his fancy.

When he was thirteen he wrote a poem. It was about Love-well's fight with the Indians. He sent his verses to a news-paper. He wondered if the ed-i-tor would print them. He could not think of anything else. He walked up and down in front of the printing office. He thought that his poem might be in the printer's hands.

When the paper came out, there was his poem. It was signed "Henry."

Long-fel-low read it. He thought it a good poem.

But a judge who did not know whose poem it was talked about it that evening. He said to young Long-fel-low, "Did you see that poem in the paper? It was stiff. And all taken from other poets, too."

This made Henry Long-fel-low feel bad. But he kept on trying. After many years, he became a famous poet.

For more than fifty years, young people have liked to read his poem called "A Psalm of Life." Here are three stanzas of it:--

"Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sub-lime, And, de-part-ing, leave behind us Foot-prints on the sands of time,--

"Foot-prints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and s.h.i.+p-wrecked brother, Seeing, may take heart again.

"Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still a-chiev-ing, still pur-su-ing, Learn to labor and to wait."

KIT CARSON AND THE BEARS.

Great men of one kind are known only in new countries like ours. These men dis-cov-er new regions. They know how to manage the Indians. They show other people how to live in a wild country.

One of the most famous of such men was Kit Car-son. He knew all about the wild animals. He was a great hunter. He learned the languages of the Indians. The Indians liked him. He was a great guide. He showed soldiers and settlers how to travel where they wished to go.

Once he was marching through the wild country with other men. Evening came. He left the others, and went to shoot something to eat. It was the only way to get meat for supper. When he had gone about a mile, he saw the tracks of some elks. He followed these tracks. He came in sight of the elks. They were eating gra.s.s on a hill, as cows do.

Kit Car-son crept up behind some bushes. But elks are very timid animals. Before the hunter got very near, they began to run away. So Carson fired at one of them as it was running. The elk fell dead.

But just at that moment he heard a roar. He turned to see what made this ugly noise. Two huge bears were running toward him. They wanted some meat for supper, too.

Kit Carson's gun was empty. He threw it down. Then he ran as fast as he could. He wanted to find a tree.

Just as the bears were about to seize him, he got to a tree. He caught hold of a limb. He swung himself up into the tree. The bears just missed getting him.

But bears know how to climb trees. Carson knew that they would soon be after him. He pulled out his knife, and began to cut off a limb. He wanted to make a club.

A bear is much larger and stronger than a man. He cannot be killed with a club. But every bear has one tender spot. It is his nose. He does not like to be hit on the nose. A sharp blow on the nose hurts him a great deal.

Kit Carson got his club cut just in time. The bears were coming after him. Kit got up into the very top of the tree. He drew up his feet, and made himself as small as he could.

When the bears came near, one of them reached for Kit. Whack! went the stick on the end of his nose. The bear drew back, and whined with pain.

First one bear tried to get him, and then the other. But which-ever one tried, Kit was ready. The bear was sure to get his nose hurt.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The bears grew tired, and rested awhile. But they kept up their screeching and roaring. When their noses felt better, they tried again. And then they tried again. But every time they came away with sore noses. At last they both tried at once. But Carson pounded faster than ever. One of the bears cried like a baby. The tears ran out of his eyes. It hurt his feelings to have his nose treated in this rude way.

After a long time one of the bears got tired. He went away. After awhile the other went away too. Kit Carson staid in the tree a long time. Then he came down. The first thing he did was to get his gun. He loaded it. But the bears did not come back. They were too busy rubbing noses.

HORACE GREELEY AS A BOY.

Hor-ace Gree-ley was the son of a poor farmer. He was always fond of books. He learned to read almost as soon as he could talk. He could read easy books when he was three years old. When he was four, he could read any book that he could get.

He went to an old-fas.h.i.+oned school. Twice a day all the children stood up to spell. They were in two cla.s.ses. Little Hor-ace was in the cla.s.s with the grown-up young people. He was the best speller in the cla.s.s.

It was funny to see the little midget at the head of this cla.s.s of older people. But he was only a little boy in his feelings. If he missed a word, he would cry. The one that spelled a word that he missed would have a right to take the head of the cla.s.s. Sometimes when he missed, the big boys would not take the head. They did not like to make the little fellow cry. He was the pet of all the school.

People in that day were fond of spelling. They used to hold meetings at night to spell. They called these "spelling schools."

At a spelling school two captains were picked out. These chose their spellers. Then they tried to see which side could beat the other at spelling.

Little Hor-ace was always chosen first. The side that got him got the best speller in the school. Sometimes the little fellow would go to sleep. When it came his turn to spell, some-body would wake him up. He would rub his eyes, and spell the word. He would spell it right, too.

When he was four or five years old, he would lie under a tree, and read. He would lie there, and forget all about his dinner or his supper. He would not move until some-body stumbled over him or called him.

People had not found out how to burn ker-o-sene oil in lamps then.

They used candles. But poor people like the Gree-leys could not afford to burn many candles. Hor-ace gathered pine knots to read by at night.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Greeley Reading]

He would light a pine knot Then he would throw it on top of the large log at the back of the fire. This would make a bright flick-er-ing light.