Graded Literature Readers: Fourth Book

20. Accordingly, the mother heard two smart little smacks, as if both her children were kissing the snow-image on its frozen mouth. But as this did not seem to make the lips quite red enough, Violet next proposed that the snow-child should be invited to kiss Peony's scarlet cheek.

21. "Come, 'ittle snow-sister, kiss me!" cried Peony.

"There! she has kissed you," added Violet, "and now her lips are very red. And she blushed a little, too!"

"Oh, what a cold kiss!" cried Peony.

22. Just then there came a breeze of the pure west wind sweeping through the garden and rattling the parlor windows. It sounded so wintry cold that the mother was about to tap on the window pane with her thimbled finger to summon the two children in, when they both cried out to her with one voice:

23. "Mamma! mamma! We have finished our little snow-sister, and she is running about the garden with us!"

24. "What imaginative little beings my children are!" thought the mother, putting the last few stitches into Peony's frock. "And it is strange, too, that they make me almost as much a child as they themselves are! I can hardly help believing now that the snow-image has really come to life!"

"Dear mamma!" cried Violet, "pray look out and see what a sweet playmate we have!"

III

25. The mother, being thus entreated, could no longer delay to look forth from the window. The sun was now gone out of the sky, leaving, however, a rich inheritance of his brightness among those purple and golden clouds which make the sunsets of winter so magnificent.

26. But there was not the slightest gleam or dazzle, either on the window or on the snow; so that the good lady could look all over the garden and see everything and everybody in it. And what do you think she saw there? Violet and Peony, of course, her own two darling children.

27. Ah, but whom or what did she see besides? Why, if you will believe me, there was a small figure of a girl, dressed all in white, with rose-tinged cheeks and ringlets of golden hue, playing about the garden with the two children!

28. A stranger though she was, the child seemed to be on as familiar terms with Violet and Peony, and they with her, as if all the three had been playmates during the whole of their little lives. The mother thought to herself that it must certainly be the daughter of one of the neighbors, and that, seeing Violet and Peony in the garden, the child had run across the street to play with them.

29. So this kind lady went to the door, intending to invite the little runaway into her comfortable parlor; for, now that the sunshine was withdrawn, the atmosphere out of doors was already growing very cold.

30. But, after opening the house door, she stood an instant on the threshold, hesitating whether she ought to ask the child to come in, or whether she should even speak to her. Indeed, she almost doubted whether it were a real child after all, or only a light wreath of the new-fallen snow, blown hither and thither about the garden by the intensely cold west wind.

31. There was certainly something very singular in the aspect of the little stranger. Among all the children of the neighborhood the lady could remember no such face, with its pure white and delicate rose-color, and the golden ringlets tossing about the forehead and cheeks.

32. And as for her dress, which was entirely of white, and fluttering in the breeze, it was such as no reasonable woman would put upon a little girl when sending her out to play in the depth of winter. It made this kind and careful mother shiver only to look at those small feet, with nothing in the world on them except a very thin pair of white slippers.

33. Nevertheless, airily as she was clad, the child seemed to feel not the slightest inconvenience from the cold, but danced so lightly over the snow that the tips of her toes left hardly a print in its surface; while Violet could but just keep pace with her, and Peony's short legs compelled him to lag behind.

34. All this while, the mother stood on the threshold, wondering how a little girl could look so much like a flying snowdrift, or how a snowdrift could look so very like a little girl.

She called Violet and whispered to her.

"Violet, my darling, what is this child's name?" asked she. "Does she live near us?"

35. "Why, dearest mamma," answered Violet, laughing to think that her mother did not comprehend so very plain an affair, "this is our little snow-sister whom we have just been making!"

"Yes, dear mamma," cried Peony, running to his mother and looking up simply into her face. "This is our snow-image! Is it not a nice 'ittle child?"

36. "Violet," said her mother, greatly perplexed, "tell me the truth without any jest. Who is this little girl?"

"My darling mamma," answered Violet, looking seriously into her mother's face," surprised that she should need any further explanation, "I have told you truly who she is. It is our little snow-image which Peony and I have been making. Peony will tell you so, as well as I."

37. "Yes, mamma," asseverated Peony, with much gravity in his crimson little phiz; "this is 'ittle snow-child. Is not she a nice one? But, mamma, her hand is, oh, so very cold!"

IV

38. While mamma still hesitated what to think and what to do, the street gate was thrown open and the father of Violet and Peony appeared, wrapped in a pilot-cloth sack, with a fur cap drawn down over his ears, and the thickest of gloves upon his hands.

39. Mr. Lindsey was a middle-aged man, with a weary and yet a happy look in his wind-flushed and frost-pinched face, as if he had been busy all the day long and was glad to get back to his quiet home. His eyes brightened at the sight of his wife and children, although he could not help uttering a word or two of surprise at finding the whole family in the open air on so bleak a day, and after sunset, too.

40. He soon perceived the little white stranger, sporting to and fro in the garden like a dancing snow-wreath, and the flock of snowbirds fluttering about her head.

"Pray, what little girl may that be?" inquired this very sensible man. "Surely her mother must be crazy to let her go out in such bitter weather as it has been to-day, with only that flimsy white gown and those thin slippers!"

41. "My dear husband," said his wife, "I know no more about the little thing than you do. Some neighbor's child, I suppose. Our Violet and Peony," she added, laughing at herself for repeating so absurd a story, "insist that she is nothing but a snow-image which they have been busy about in the garden almost all the afternoon."

42. As she said this, the mother glanced her eyes toward the spot where the children's snow-image had been made. What was her surprise on perceiving that there was not the slightest trace of so much labor! – no image at all! – no piled-up heap of snow! – nothing whatever save the prints of little footsteps around a vacant space!

43. "This is very strange!" said she.

"What is strange, dear mother?" asked Violet. "Dear father, do not you see how it is? This is our snow-image, which Peony and I have made because we wanted another playmate. Did not we, Peony?"

"Yes, papa," said crimson Peony. "This be our 'ittle snow-sister. Is she not beau-ti-ful? But she gave me such a cold kiss!"

44. "Poh, nonsense, children!" cried their good, honest father, who had an exceedingly common-sensible way of looking at matters. "Do not tell me of making live figures out of snow. Come, wife; this little stranger must not stay out in the bleak air a moment longer. We will bring her into the parlor; and you shall give her a supper of warm bread and milk, and make her as comfortable as you can."

45. So saying, this honest and very kindhearted man was going toward the little white damsel, with the best intentions in the world. But Violet and Peony, each seizing their father by the hand, earnestly besought him not to make her come in.

46. "Nonsense, children, nonsense, nonsense!" cried the father, half-vexed, half-laughing. "Run into the house, this moment! It is too late to play any longer now. I must take care of this little girl immediately, or she will catch her death-a-cold!"

And so, with a most benevolent smile, this very well-meaning gentleman took the snow-child by the hand and led her toward the house.

47. She followed him, droopingly and reluctant, for all the glow and sparkle were gone out of her figure; and whereas just before she had resembled a bright, frosty, star-gemmed evening, with a crimson gleam on the cold horizon, she now looked as dull and languid as a thaw.

48. As kind Mr. Lindsey led her up the steps of the door, Violet and Peony looked into his face, their eyes full of tears, which froze before they could run down their cheeks, and entreated him not to bring their snow-image into the house.

49. "Not bring her in!" exclaimed the kindhearted man. "Why, you are crazy, my little Violet – quite crazy, my small Peony! She is so cold already that her hand has almost frozen mine, in spite of my thick gloves. Would you have her freeze to death?"

V

50. His wife, as he came up the steps, had been taking another long, earnest gaze at the little white stranger. She hardly knew whether it was a dream or no; but she could not help fancying that she saw the delicate print of Violet's fingers on the child's neck. It looked just as if, while Violet was shaping out the image, she had given it a gentle pat with her hand, and had neglected to smooth the impression quite away.

51. "After all, husband," said the mother, "after all, she does look strangely like a snow-image! I do believe she is made of snow!"

A puff of the west wind blew against the snow-child, and again she sparkled like a star.

52. "Snow!" repeated good Mr. Lindsey, drawing the reluctant guest over his hospitable threshold. "No wonder she looks like snow. She is half frozen, poor little thing! But a good fire will put everything to rights."

53. The common-sensible man placed the snow-child on the hearthrug, right in front of the hissing and fuming stove.

"Now she will be comfortable!" cried Mr. Lindsey, rubbing his hands and looking about him, with the pleasantest smile you ever saw. "Make yourself at home, my child."

54. Sad, sad and drooping looked the little white maiden as she stood on the hearthrug, with the hot blast of the stove striking through her like a pestilence. Once she threw a glance toward the window, and caught a glimpse, through its red curtains, of the snow-covered roofs and the stars glimmering frostily and all the delicious intensity of the cold night. The bleak wind rattled the window panes as if it were summoning her to come forth. But there stood the snow-child, drooping, before the hot stove!

55. But the common-sensible man saw nothing amiss.

"Come, wife," said he, "let her have a pair of thick stockings and a woolen shawl or blanket directly; and tell Dora to give her some warm supper as soon as the milk boils. You, Violet and Peony, amuse your little friend. She is out of spirits, you see, at finding herself in a strange place. For my part, I will go around among the neighbors and find out where she belongs."

56. The mother, meanwhile, had gone in search of the shawl and stockings. Without heeding the remonstrances of his two children, who still kept murmuring that their little snow-sister did not love the warmth, good Mr. Lindsey took his departure, shutting the parlor door carefully behind him.

57. Turning up the collar of his sack over his ears, he emerged from the house, and had barely reached the street-gate when he was recalled by the screams of Violet and Peony and the rapping of a thimbled finger against the parlor window.

58. "Husband! husband!" cried his wife, showing her horror-stricken face through the window panes. "There is no need of going for the child's parents!"

"We told you so, father!" screamed Violet and Peony, as he reëntered the parlor. "You would bring her in; and now our poor – dear – beau-ti-ful little snow-sister is thawed!"

59. And their own sweet little faces were already dissolved in tears; so that their father, seeing what strange things occasionally happen in this everyday world, felt not a little anxious lest his children might be going to thaw, too. In the utmost perplexity, he demanded an explanation of his wife.

60. She could only reply that, being summoned to the parlor by the cries of Violet and Peony, she found no trace of the little white maiden, unless it were the remains of a heap of snow which, while she was gazing at it, melted quite away upon the hearthrug.

"And there you see all that is left of it!" added she, pointing to a pool of water in front of the stove.

61. "Yes, father," said Violet, looking reproachfully at him through her tears, "there is all that is left of our dear little snow-sister!"

"Naughty father!" cried Peony, stamping his foot, and – I shudder to say – shaking his little fist at the common-sensible man. "We told you how it would be. What for did you bring her in?"

62. And the stove, through the isinglass of its door, seemed to glare at good Mr. Lindsey, like a red-eyed demon triumphing in the mischief which it had done!

I. Rŭd´dĭ nĕss: redness. Phiz: face. Săl´lĭed: ran out. Ē̍ mẽrġed´: came out.

II. Wrôught: worked. Ûr´chĭn: a little boy. Dē̍ lĭb´ẽr ā̍te: slow and careful. Ăc´cū̍ rȧ çy̆: correctness. Ĭm ăġ´ĭ nȧ tĭve: full of fancies.

III. Ĭn hĕr´ĭt ançe: possession. At´mos phere: air. T̶hĭth´ẽr: to this place. Ăs´pĕct: appearance; look. Cŏm pĕlled´: forced; obliged. Lăg: go slowly. Cŏm prē̍ hĕnd´: understand. Ăs sĕv´ẽr āt ĕd: said earnestly.

IV. Pilot-cloth sack: a coat made of coarse dark blue cloth, such as pilots wear. Flĭm´s̝y: thin. Bē̍ nĕv´ō̍ lent: kind. Rē̍ lŭc´tant: unwilling.

V. Pĕs´tĭ lençe: the plague; a deadly disease. Rē̍ mŏn´stranç ĕs̝: objections. Glâre: stare; look fiercely.

Little, happy, rich, kind, strange, diligent, polite, strong, lifeless, lazy.

Name words having similar meaning: as, little, small.

Name words having opposite meaning: as, little, large.

Speak clearly if you speak at all;Carve every word before you let it fall.HOLMES

Little by Little

1. Low on the ground an acorn lies —Little by little it mounts to the skies,Shadow and shelter for wandering herds,Home for a hundred singing birds.Little by little the great rocks grew,Long, long ago, when the world was new;Slowly and silently, stately and free,Cities of coral under the seaLittle by little are builded, while soThe new years come and the old years go.2. Little by little all tasks are done;So are the crowns of the faithful won,So is heaven in our hearts begun.With work and with weeping, with laughter and play,Little by little the longest dayAnd the longest life are passing away —Passing without return, while soThe new years come and the old years go.

The House I Live In

I

1. This wonderful body of mine is the house in which I live. This house has five gates, through which messages from the outside world can get to me. There is Eye Gate, Ear Gate, Nose Gate, Taste Gate, and Touch Gate. All my knowledge of the things around me comes in through these five gates.

2. This house of mine has, in its lower story, a kitchen called the stomach. Here the food is cooked, or "digested," as we say, and prepared for being mixed with the blood. In the story above there is a great pump, the heart, which sends the blood through the house to keep it warm and in good repair.

Then, in the top story, or the head, is the room where the master or mistress of the house lives.

3. We should learn all we can about this house and what to do to keep it in good order. We should find out what is bad for it and what is good, that we may avoid the one and seek the other. Thus we may hope to grow up strong and healthy men and women. Good health will cheer us and make all our work easy and pleasant.

4. The first lesson on health that I have to learn is this: I must keep my body clean. Much of the dirt that gathers on the body comes, not from the outside, but from the inside of the body. The skin is full of little pores. These pores are the mouths of tiny pipes, or tubes, millions of which are found in the skin.

5. You can see them in this picture, which shows a little bit of the skin, cut through from the inside to the outside and very much enlarged.

It is through these tubes that the body rids itself of many waste substances which would prove very harmful if retained. When their outlets become choked up with dirt, nothing can pass through them. You see, therefore, how necessary it is to keep the skin clean if we wish to have good health.

6. Once upon a time a great man was coming to visit a certain town. The people went out to meet him, clad in gay and curious dresses so as to do honor to their noble visitor. One little boy was covered all over with thin leaves of gold, so that he might look like a golden boy.

7. No doubt he looked very pretty, but he became ill and died before the gilding could be removed All the pores of his skin were closed up by the gold; and it soon caused his death.

8. In Holland there is a village which is said to be the cleanest in the world. The houses, inside and outside, the streets, and everything about the place, are kept neat as a pin. Women wearing clumsy wooden shoes may be seen scrubbing the houses and pavements.

9. We should be like these Dutch people and keep our wonderful house, the body, clean. It is only by frequently washing the whole body that we can keep in good health.

Water and soap are all that are needed to keep the skin clean and ready for its work, and every one can get these.

II

10. The second health lesson I have to learn is this: I must breathe fresh air. If a man cannot get air to breathe, he will die. But that is not all: impure air is bad for him.

11. Why do we need to breathe at all?

Because the air contains a gas called oxygen, and a constant supply of this gas must be taken into the blood, or else we cannot remain in good health. When we breathe, the air passes down into the lungs and there meets with the blood.

12. And as the oxygen gas passes inwards, another gas, which has to be got rid of, passes outwards and is breathed out into the air. Thus the air we breathe out is different from the air we breathe in. It has lost the gas which is necessary for our life and health, and it contains a gas which is hurtful to us.

13. If I live in a room that does not get fresh air, the air in it will soon become close and bad, because every time I breathe I take some of the oxygen out of it and put injurious gas in its place.

14. If a small animal, such as a bird or a rabbit, is put under a glass bell so that no air can get in, it uses up all the oxygen. In a few minutes it becomes faint; it is unable to stand up, and unless it gets fresh air it will soon die.

15. You may have heard the story of the Black Hole of Calcutta. One hundred and forty-six English prisoners were shut up in a small cell. They could not get enough fresh air to breathe, and in the morning one hundred and twenty-three of them were found dead.

III

16. The third health lesson I have to learn is this: I must take plenty of exercise. To make the body strong we must use it. The parts that are most used become the strongest, and those used least will be the weakest.

17. The arms of the blacksmith are very strong because he uses them so much. The boy who works and plays in the open air grows strong and healthy, but the boy who sits indoors and does not take exercise often grows up to be a weak and unhealthy man. It is best to take our exercise in the open air and the sunlight.

18. Games like baseball are good for boys. There are also plenty of pleasant outdoor games for girls. When no game can be played, a brisk walk in the open air is quite as good. Brisk walking is one of the easiest and best of exercises for both boys and girls.

19. But there are some things we should avoid when taking exercise. We should not work or play too long without resting. We should not try to do things that are beyond our strength. When exercise is too violent, it does harm rather than good.

20. An eastern king, who had become pale and ill, asked a wise dervish what medicine he should take.

The dervish, knowing that it was exercise alone which the idle king needed, said: "I will bring you to-morrow a remedy which will cure your disease."

21. The next day the dervish appeared before the king.

"Here," said he, "is a ball which holds the medicine that will cure you. Take it into your garden every day and knock it about till you perspire freely. This will make the medicine take effect."

The king did as the dervish told him, and the exercise in the fresh air soon made him well.

Ball, door, sun, cold, church, odor, milk, bitterness, bell, town, nose, honesty, rose, industry, gold, red, heat, leather, mud, joy.

Tell which of these words name things that you can (1) see, (2) hear, (3) touch, (4) taste, (5) smell. Which name things of which you can only think?

Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.DRYDEN

Jefferson's Ten Rules

Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826): An American statesman. He wrote the Declaration of Independence and was one of the able men at the head of the government of the United States in its early days. Jefferson was the originator of what is called the Democratic idea of government.

Never put off until to-morrow what you can do to-day.

Never trouble another for what you can do yourself.

Never spend your money before you have earned it.

Never buy what you don't want because it is cheap.

Pride costs more than hunger, thirst, and cold.

We seldom repent of having eaten too little.

Nothing is troublesome that we do willingly.

How much pain the evils have cost us that have never happened.

Take things always by the smooth handle.

When angry, count ten before you speak; if very angry, count a hundred.

Recollect that trifles make perfection, and that perfection is no trifle.

The Pet Lamb

By William Wordsworth1. The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!"And looking o'er the hedge, before me I espiedA snow-white mountain lamb, with a maiden at its side.2. Nor sheep nor kine were near; the lamb was all alone,And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone;With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel,While to that mountain lamb she gave its evening meal.3. The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took,Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure shook:"Drink, pretty creature, drink!" she said in such a toneThat I almost received her heart into my own.4. 'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare!I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair.Now with her empty can the maiden turned away;But ere ten yards were gone, her footsteps did she stay.5. Right towards the lamb she looked; and from that shady placeI unobserved could see the workings of her face;If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring,Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might sing:6. "What ails thee, young one? what? Why pull so at thy cord?Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board?Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be;Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth thee?7. "What is it thou wouldst seek? What is wanting to thy heart?Thy limbs are they not strong? and beautiful thou art!This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers;And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears.8. "If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woolen chain;This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain;For rain and mountain storms! – the like thou need'st not fear,The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here.9. "Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the dayWhen my father found thee first in places far away;Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none,And thy mother from thy side for evermore was gone.10. "He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home:A blesséd day for thee! – then whither wouldst thou roam?A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yeanUpon the mountain-tops, no kinder could have been.11. "Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this canFresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran;And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew,I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.12. "Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now,Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony in the plow.My playmate thou shalt be and when the wind is coldOur hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold.13. "It will not, will not rest! – Poor creature, can it beThat 'tis thy mother's heart which is working so in thee?Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear,And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear.14. "Alas, the mountain-tops that look so green and fair!I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there;The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play,When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey.15. "Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky;Night and day thou art safe, – our cottage is hard by.Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain?Sleep – and at break of day I will come to thee again!"

Ĕs pīed´: saw. Kīne: cows. Tĕt̶h´ẽred: fastened by a rope for feeding within certain limits. "If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring": if she could write verse. Pēers̝: equals. Cȯv´ẽrt: shelter. "The dam that did thee yean": The mother that reared thee. Bē̍ līke´: perhaps.