Graded Literature Readers: Fourth Book

After this Schaibar said: "This is not yet enough; I will treat all the people in the same way if they do not immediately acknowledge Prince Ahmed, my brother-in-law, for their sultan and the sultan of the Indies."

76. Then all that were there present made the air echo again with the repeated shouts of "Long life to Sultan Ahmed!" and immediately he was proclaimed through the whole town. Schaibar had him installed on the throne, and after he had caused all to swear fidelity to Ahmed, he brought Peribanou with all the pomp and grandeur imaginable, and had her crowned sultaness of the Indies.

I. Sŭl´tan: an Eastern king. Ho̤us´sā̍in. Äh´mĕd. No̤u rŏn´ĭ här. Dĭs guīs̝ed´: dressed for the purpose of concealment. Bĭs nȧ gär´. Trăns pōrt´ĕd: carried. Säm ar känd´. Çĕr´ē̍ mō̍ nĭes̝: forms of politeness. Cŏm mĕnd´ĕd: praised.

II. Hẽr´mĭt: a man who lives apart from other people. Rē̍ nounçe´: give up. Lēagues̝: a league is a measure of distance of from two to four miles. Pōrt: manner of carrying oneself. Ġē´nĭes̝: spirits; powerful fairies. Pĕ rï bä´no̤u. Ĭn´fĭ nĭte ly̆: beyond measure; greatly. Cŏn jĕc´tū̍re: guess.

III. Ē̍ quĭpped´: dressed; fitted out. Pĕn´ē̍ trāte: pierce into. Viz´iers: in Eastern countries, officers of high rank. Fĭ dĕl´ĭ ty̆: faithfulness.

IV. Ĭm pŏs´tor: a cheat; one who imposes upon others. Fŏr beâr´: keep from. Sȯv´ẽr eĭgn: effectual.

V. Cŏn jūre´: beg earnestly. No̤ur´gĭ hän. Ĭn crē̍ dū´lĭ ty̆: unbelief. Qua̤r´tẽr stȧff: a long, stout staff used as a weapon.

VI. Mo̤us tȧçh´ĭ ō̍s̝: mustache. Dĭ vẽrt´: turn aside. Ĭn tẽr çēde´: speak in his behalf. Ĭn sta̤lled´: placed in office.

The Planting of the Apple Tree

By William Cullen Bryant

William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878): An American poet and journalist. His most famous poem is "Thanatopsis," written when he was only eighteen. Among his other poems are "To a Waterfowl," "The Death of the Flowers," and "To a Fringed Gentian."

1. Come, let us plant the apple tree.Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;Wide let its hollow bed be made;There gently lay the roots, and thereSift the dark mold with kindly care,And press it o'er them tenderly,As round the sleeping infant's feetWe softly fold the cradle sheet;So plant we the apple tree.2. What plant we in this apple tree?Buds which the breath of summer daysShall lengthen into leafy sprays;Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast,Shall haunt and sing, and hide her nest;We plant, upon the sunny lea,A shadow for the noontide hour,A shelter from the summer shower,When we plant the apple tree.3. What plant we in this apple tree?Sweets for a hundred flowery springsTo load the May wind's restless wings,When, from the orchard row he poursIts fragrance through our open doors;A world of blossoms for the bee,Flowers for the sick girl's silent room,For the glad infant sprigs of bloomWe plant with the apple tree.4. What plant we in this apple tree?Fruits that shall swell in sunny June,And redden in the August noon,And drop, when gentle airs come byThat fan the blue September sky;While children come, with cries of glee,And seek them where the fragrant grassBetrays their bed to those who pass,At the foot of the apple tree.5. And when, above this apple tree,The winter stars are quivering bright,And winds go howling through the night,Girls, whose young eyes o'erflow with mirth,Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth,And guests in prouder homes shall see,Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine,And golden orange of the line,The fruit of the apple tree.6. The fruitage of this apple treeWinds and our flag of stripe and starShall bear to coasts that lie afar,Where men shall wonder at the view,And ask in what fair groves they grew;And sojourners beyond the seaShall think of childhood's careless day,And long, long hours of summer playIn the shade of the apple tree.7. Each year shall give this apple treeA broader flush of roseate bloom,A deeper maze of verdurous gloom,And loosen, when the frost clouds lower,The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower.The years shall come and pass, but weShall hear no longer, where we lie,The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh,In the boughs of the apple tree.8. And time shall waste this apple tree.Oh, when its aged branches throwThin shadows on the ground below,Shall fraud and force and iron willOppress the weak and helpless still?What shall the tasks of mercy be,Amid the toils, the strifes, the tearsOf those who live when length of yearsIs wasting this little apple tree?9. "Who planted this old apple tree?"The children of that distant dayThus to some aged man shall say;And, gazing on its mossy stem,The gray-haired man shall answer them:"A poet of the land was he,Born in the rude but good old times;'Tis said he made some quaint old rhymesOn planting the apple tree."

Clēave: cut; part. Grēen´swa̤rd: turf green with grass. Lēa: meadow; field. Çĭn´trȧ: a town in Portugal. The line: the Equator. Sō´joûrn ẽrs̝: those who dwell for a time. Rō´s̝ē̍ ā̍te: rosy. Māze: a tangle; a network. Vẽr´dū̍r oŭs: green. Low´ẽr: seem dark and gloomy. Fra̤ud: deceit; cheat. Quāint: odd; curious.

Nests

Make yourselves nests of pleasant thoughts! None of us yet know, for none of us have been taught in early youth, what fairy palaces we may build of beautiful thoughts, proof against all adversity; bright fancies, satisfied memories, noble histories, faithful sayings, treasure-houses of precious and restful thoughts, which care cannot disturb, nor pain make gloomy, nor poverty take away from us; houses built without hands, for our souls to live in.

RUSKIN

Sir Isaac Newton

By Nathaniel Hawthorne

I

1. On Christmas Day, in the year 1642, Isaac Newton was born at the small village of Woolsthorpe, in England. Little did his mother think,, when she beheld her new-born babe, that he was to explain many matters which had been a mystery ever since the creation of the world.

2. Isaac's father being dead, Mrs. Newton was married again to a clergyman and went to live at North Witham. Her son was left to the care of his good old grandmother, who was very kind to him and sent him to school.

3. In his early years Isaac did not appear to be a very bright scholar, but was chiefly remarkable for his ingenuity. He had a set of little tools and saws of various sizes, manufactured by himself. With the aid of these Isaac made many curious articles, at which he worked with so much skill that he seemed to have been born with a saw or chisel in hand.

4. The neighbors looked with admiration at the things which Isaac manufactured. And his old grandmother, I suppose, was never weary of talking about him.

"He'll make a capital workman one of these days," she would probably say. "No fear but what Isaac will do well in the world and be a rich man before he dies."

5. It is amusing to conjecture what were the expectations of his grandmother and the neighbors about Isaac's future life. Some of them, perhaps, fancied that he would make beautiful furniture. Others probably thought that little Isaac would be an architect, and would build splendid houses, and churches with the tallest steeples that had ever been seen in England.

6. Some of his friends, no doubt, advised Isaac's grandmother to apprentice him to a clock-maker; for, besides his mechanical skill, the boy seemed to have a taste for mathematics, which would be very useful to him in that profession.

7. And then, in due time, Isaac would set up for himself, and would manufacture curious clocks like those that contain sets of dancing figures which come from the dial-plate when the hour is struck; or like those where a ship sails across the face of the clock and is seen tossing up and down on the waves as often as the pendulum vibrates.

8. Indeed, there was some ground for supposing that Isaac would devote himself to the manufacture of clocks, since he had already made one of a kind which nobody had ever heard of before. It was set a-going, not by wheels and weights like other clocks, but by the dropping of water.

9. This was an object of great wonderment to all the people round about; and it must be confessed that there are few boys, or men either, who could contrive to tell what o'clock it is by means of a bowl of water.

10. Besides the water clock, Isaac made a sundial. Thus his grandmother was never at a loss to know the hour; for the water clock would tell it in the shade and the dial in the sunshine. The sundial is said to be still at Woolsthorpe, on the corner of the house where Isaac dwelt.

11. If so, it must have marked the passage of every sunny hour that has passed since Isaac Newton was a boy. It marked all the famous moments of his life; it marked the hour of his death; and still the sunshine creeps slowly over it, as regularly as when Isaac first set it up.

12. Yet we must not say that the sundial has lasted longer than its maker; for Isaac Newton will exist long after the dial – yes, and long after the sun itself – shall have crumbled to decay.

II

13. Isaac possessed a wonderful power of gaining knowledge by the simplest means. For instance, what method do you suppose he took to find out the strength of the wind? You will never guess how the boy could compel that unseen, inconstant, and ungovernable wonder, the wind, to tell him the measure of its strength.

14. Yet nothing can be more simple. He jumped against the wind; and by the length of his jump he could calculate the force of a gentle breeze or a tempest. Thus, even in his boyish sports he was continually searching out the secrets of philosophy.

15. Not far from his grandmother's house there was a windmill which worked on a new plan. Isaac was in the habit of going thither frequently, and would spend whole hours in examining its various parts. While the mill was at rest he pried into its machinery.

16. When its broad sails were set in motion by the wind, he watched the process by which the millstones were made to turn and crush the grain that was put into the hopper. After gaining a thorough knowledge of its construction, he was observed to be unusually busy with his tools.

17. It was not long before his grandmother and all the neighborhood knew what Isaac had been about. He had constructed a model of the windmill. Though not so large, I suppose, as one of the box traps which boys set to catch squirrels, yet every part of the mill and its machinery was complete.

18. Its little sails were neatly made of linen, and whirled round very swiftly when the mill was placed in a draught of air. Even a puff of wind from Isaac's mouth or from a pair of bellows was sufficient to set the sails in motion. And, what was most curious, if a handful of grains of wheat was put into the little hopper, they would soon be converted into snow-white flour.

19. Isaac's playmates were enchanted with his new windmill. They thought that nothing so pretty and so wonderful had ever been seen in the whole world.

"But, Isaac," said one of them, "you have forgotten one thing that belongs to a mill."

20. "What is that?" asked Isaac; for he supposed that, from the roof of the mill to its foundation, he had forgotten nothing.

"Why, where is the miller?" said his friend.

"That is true; I must look out for one," said Isaac; and he set himself to consider how the deficiency should be supplied.

21. He might easily have made a little figure like a man; but then it would not have been able to move about and perform the duties of a miller. It so happened, however, that a mouse had just been caught in the trap; and, as no other miller could be found, Mr. Mouse was appointed to that important office.

22. The new miller made a very respectable appearance in his dark gray coat. To be sure, he had not a very good character for honesty, and was suspected of sometimes stealing a portion of the grain which was given him to grind. But perhaps some two-legged millers are quite as dishonest as this small quadruped.

23. As Isaac grew older, it was found that he had far more important matters in his mind than the manufacture of toys like the little windmill. All day long, if left to himself, he was either absorbed in thought or engaged in some book of mathematics or natural philosophy.

24. At night, I think it probable, he looked up with reverential curiosity to the stars and wondered whether they were worlds like our own, and how great was their distance from the earth, and what was the power that kept them in their courses. Perhaps, even so early in life, Isaac Newton felt that he should be able some day to answer all these questions.

25. When Isaac was fourteen years old, his mother's second husband being now dead, she wished her son to leave school and assist her in managing the farm at Woolsthorpe. For a year or two, therefore, he tried to turn his attention to farming. But his mind was so bent on becoming a scholar that his mother sent him back to school, and afterwards to the University of Cambridge.

III

26. I have now finished my anecdotes of Isaac Newton's boyhood. My story would be far too long were I to mention all the splendid discoveries which he made after he came to be a man.

He was the first that found out the nature of light; for, before his day, nobody could tell what the sunshine was composed of.

27. You remember, I suppose, the story of an apple's falling on his head and thus leading him to discover the force of gravitation, which keeps the heavenly bodies in their courses. When he had once got hold of this idea, he never permitted his mind to rest until he had searched out all the laws by which the planets are guided through the sky.

28. This he did as thoroughly as if he had gone up among the stars and tracked them in their orbits. The boy had found out the mechanism of a windmill; the man explained to his fellow men the mechanism of the universe.

29. While making these researches he was accustomed to spend night after night in a lofty tower, gazing at the heavenly bodies through a telescope. His mind was lifted far above the things of this world. He may be said, indeed, to have spent the greater part of his life in worlds that lie thousands and millions of miles away; for where the thoughts and the heart are, there is our true life.

30. Did you never hear the story of Newton and his little dog, Diamond? One day, when he was fifty years old, and had been hard at work more than twenty years studying the theory of light, he went out of his chamber, leaving his little dog asleep before the fire.

31. On the table lay a heap of manuscript papers containing all the discoveries which Newton had made during those twenty years. When his master was gone, up rose little Diamond, jumped upon the table, and overthrew the lighted candle. The papers immediately caught fire.

32. Just as the destruction was completed, Newton opened the chamber door and perceived that the labors of twenty years were reduced to a heap of ashes. There stood little Diamond, the author of all the mischief. Almost any other man would have sentenced the dog to immediate death. But Newton patted him on the head, with his usual kindness, although grief was at his heart.

33. "O Diamond, Diamond," exclaimed he, "thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done!"

This incident affected his health and spirits for some time afterwards; but, from his conduct towards the little dog, you may judge what was the sweetness of his temper.

34. Newton lived to be a very old man, and acquired great fame. He was made a member of Parliament and was knighted by the king. But he cared little for earthly fame and honors, and felt no pride in the vastness of his knowledge. All that he had learned only made him feel how little he knew in comparison to what remained to be known.

35. "I seem to myself like a child," he observed, "playing on the sea-shore and picking up here and there a curious shell or a pretty pebble, while the boundless ocean of truth lies undiscovered before me."

36. At last, in 1727, when he was fourscore and five years old, Sir Isaac Newton died – or, rather, he ceased to live on earth. We may be permitted to believe that he is still searching out the infinite wisdom and goodness of the Creator as earnestly, and with even more success, than while his spirit animated a mortal body.

He has left a fame behind him which will be as lasting as if his name were written in letters of light formed by the stars upon the midnight sky.

I. Ĭn ġē̍ nū´ĭ ty̆: skill; inventiveness. Măn ū̍ făc´tū̍red: made. Är´c̵hĭ tĕct: a person skilled in the art of building. Mē̍ c̵hăn´ĭ cal: relating to tools and machinery. Vī´brātes: moves to and fro.

II. Phi los´o phy: the science or knowledge of things, their causes and effects. Prīed: looked closely. Hŏp´pẽr: a box through which grain passes into a mill. Con struc´tion: manner of building; arrangement. Cŏn vẽrt´ĕd: changed. De fi´cien cy: want. Quạd´rụ pĕd: an animal having four feet. Rev er en´tial: respectful; humble.

III. Grav i ta´tion: the law of nature by which all bodies are drawn towards one another. Ôr´bĭts: paths round the sun. Mĕc̵h´an ĭs̝m: Arrangement of the parts of anything. Fōur scōre: eighty.

Who is here?

It is I. It is he. It is she. It is we. It is they.

Who was here?

It was I. It was he. It was she. It was we. It was they.

Answer the following questions, using the right words:

Who is there? Who is coming? Who is reading the book? Who brought the flowers?

It is not what we earn, but what we save, that makes us rich. It is not what we eat, but what we digest, that makes us strong. It is not what we read, but what we understand, that makes us wise. It is not what we intend, but what we do, that makes us useful.

Lucy

By William Wordsworth1. She dwelt among the untrodden waysBeside the springs of Dove,A maid whom there were none to praise,And very few to love;2. A violet by a mossy stone,Half hidden from the eye;Fair as a star, when only oneIs shining in the sky!3. She lived unknown, and few could knowWhen Lucy ceased to be;But she is in her grave, and, oh,The difference to me

To a Skylark

By William WordsworthEthereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eyeBoth with thy nest upon the dewy ground?Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,Those quivering wings composed, that music still!

Ē̍ thē´rē̍al: heavenly. Mĭn´strĕl: poet; singer.

Tom Goes down to the Sea

By Charles Kingsley

Charles Kingsley (1819-1875): An English clergyman, who was the author of several popular novels. He wrote two books for children which have become child classics – "The Heroes," a collection of Greek fairy tales, and "The Water-Babies."

This selection is from "The Water-Babies," which is a story about the strange and beautiful changes which go on in the water. Tom was a little chimney sweep whom the fairies changed into a water-baby. He had been a poor, neglected little boy, who was mischievous and unkind because he knew no better. At first he was a mischievous, unkind water-baby, and the water-creatures found no pleasure in playing with him, so that for a while he was very lonely. But, as he learned to be more kind and loving, he won friends. Here is the story of his journey in search of other water-babies, whom at last he found in the great sea.

I

1. And then, on the evening of a very hot day, Tom, the water-baby, saw a sight.

He had been very stupid all day, and so had the trout, for they would not move an inch to take a fly, though there were thousands on the water, but lay dozing at the bottom, under the shade of the stones; and Tom lay dozing, too, and was glad to cuddle their smooth, cool sides, for the water was quite warm and unpleasant.

2. But toward evening it grew suddenly dark, and Tom looked up and saw a blanket of black clouds lying right across the valley above his head, resting on the crags right and left. He felt not quite frightened, but very still, for everything was still. There was not a whisper of wind nor a chirp of a bird to be heard; and next a few great drops of rain fell plop into the water, and one hit Tom on the nose and made him pop his head down quickly enough.

3. And then the thunder roared, and the lightning flashed, and leaped across Vendale and back again, from cloud to cloud and cliff to cliff, till the very rocks in the stream seemed to shake; and Tom looked up at it through the water and thought it the finest thing he ever saw in his life.

4. But out of the water he dared not put his head; for the rain came down by bucketfuls, and the hail hammered like shot on the stream and churned it into foam; and soon the stream rose, and rushed down, higher and higher, and fouler and fouler, full of beetles and sticks and straws and worms and this, that, and the other.

Tom could hardly stand against the stream, and hid behind a rock. But the trout did not; for out they rushed from among the stones, and began gobbling the beetles and leeches in the most greedy and quarrelsome way.

6. And now, by the flashes of lightning, Tom saw a new sight – all the bottom of the stream alive with great eels, turning and twisting along, all down stream and away. They had been hiding for weeks past in the cracks of the rocks and in burrows in the mud, and Tom had hardly ever seen them, except now and then at night; but now they were all out, and went hurrying past him so fiercely and wildly that he was quite frightened.

7. And, as they hurried past, he could hear them say to each other: "We must run, we must run. What a jolly thunder storm! Down to the sea, down to the sea!"

And then the otter came by with all her brood, saying: "Come along, children; we will breakfast on salmon to-morrow. Down to the sea, down to the sea!"

8. "Down to the sea?" said Tom. "Everything is going to the sea, and I will go, too. Good-bye, trout." But the trout were so busy gobbling worms that they never turned to answer him; so that Tom was spared the pain of bidding them farewell.

9. And now, down the rushing stream, guided by the bright flashes of the storm; past tall birch-fringed rocks, which shone out one moment as clear as day, and the next were dark as night; past dark hovers under swirling banks; on through narrow strids and roaring cataracts, where Tom was deafened and blinded for a moment by the rushing waters; along deep reaches, where the white water lilies tossed and flapped beneath the wind and hail; past sleeping villages; under dark bridge arches, and away and away to the sea.

10. And Tom could not stop and did not care to stop; he would see the great world below, and the salmon, and the breakers, and the wide, wide sea.

II

11. And when the day came, Tom found himself out in the salmon river. And after a while he came to a place where the river spread out into broad, still, shallow reaches so wide that little Tom, as he put his head out of the water, could hardly see across.