McGuffey's Fourth Eclectic Reader Part 10

x.x.xI. ALPINE SONG. (88) William W. Story, the author, was born in Salem, Ma.s.s.,

In 1819. His writings in poetry and prose are well known, and he also gained distinction in his profession as a sculptor. He died in 1895.

1. With alpenstock and knapsack light, I wander o'er hill and valley; I climb the snow peak's flas.h.i.+ng height, And sleep in the sheltered chalet,-- Free in heart--happy and free-- This is the summer life for me.

2. The city's dust I leave behind For the keen, sweet air of the mountain, The gra.s.sy path by the wild rose lined, The gush of the living fountain,-- Free in heart--happy and free-- This is the summer life for me.

3. High above me snow clouds rise, In the early morning gleaming; And the patterned valley beneath me lies Softly in suns.h.i.+ne dreaming,-- Free in heart--happy and free-- This is the summer life for me.

4. The bells of wandering herds I list, Chiming in upland meadows; How sweet they sound, as I lie at rest Under the dark pine shadows-- Glad in heart--happy and free-- This is the summer life for me.

DEFINITIONS.--l. Al'pen-stock, a long staff, pointed with iron, used in traveling among the Alps. Knap'sack, a leather sack for carrying food or clothing, borne on the back. Cha-let' (pro. sha-la'), a mountain hut. 2.

Gush, a rapid outflowing. 3. Pat'terned, marked off in figures or patterns. 4. List, hearken to.

x.x.xII. CIRc.u.mSTANCES ALTER CASES. (89)

1. Derby. Good morning, neighbor Sc.r.a.pewell. I have half a dozen miles to ride to-day, and shall be extremely obliged if you will lend me your gray mare.

2. Sc.r.a.pewell. It would give me great pleasure to oblige you, friend Derby; but I am under the necessity of going to the mill this very morning, with a bag of corn. My wife wants the meal to-day, and you know what a time there'll be if I disappoint her.

3. D. Then she must want it still, for I can a.s.sure you the mill does not go to-day. I heard the miller tell Will Davis that the water was too low.

4. S. You don't say so! That is bad, indeed; for in that case I shall be obliged to gallop off to town for the meal. My wife would comb my head for me if I should neglect it.

5. D. I can save you this journey, for I have plenty of meal at home, and will lend your wife as much as she wants.

6. S. Ah! neighbor Derby, I am sure your meal would never suit my wife.

You can't conceive how whimsical she is.

7. D. If she were ten times more whimsical than she is, I am certain she would like it; for you sold it to me yourself, and you a.s.sured me it was the best you ever had.

8. S. Yes, yes! that's true, indeed; I always have the best of everything. You know, neighbor Derby, that no one is more ready to oblige a friend than I am; but I must tell you the mare this morning refused to eat hay; and, truly, I am afraid she will not carry you.

9. D. Oh, never fear! I will feed her well with oats on the road.

10. S. Oats! neighbor; oats are very dear.

11. D. Never mind that. When I have a good job in view, I never stand for trifles.

12. S. But it is very slippery; and I am really afraid she will fall and break your neck.

13. D. Give yourself no uneasiness about that. The mare is certainly sure-footed; and, besides, you were just now talking of galloping her to town.

14. S. Well, then, to tell you the plain truth, though I wish to oblige you with all my heart, my saddle is torn quite in pieces, and I have just sent my bridle to be mended.

15. D. Luckily, I have both a bridle and a saddle hanging up at home.

16. S. Ah! that may be; but I am sure your saddle will never fit my mare.

She's very notional.

17. D. Why, then I'll borrow neighbor Clodpole's.

18. S. Clodpole's! his will no more fit than yours.

19. D. At the worst, then, I will go to my good friend, Squire Jones. He has half a score of them; and I am sure he will lend me one that will fit her.

20. S. You know, friend Derby, that no one is more willing to oblige his neighbors than I am. I do a.s.sure you the beast should be at your service, with all my heart; but she has not been curried, I believe, for three weeks past. Her foretop and mane want combing and cutting very much. If anyone should see her in her present plight, it would ruin the sale of her.

21. D. Oh, a horse is soon curried, and my son Sam shall attend to it at once.

22. S. Yes, very likely; but I this moment recollect the creature has no shoes on.

23. D. Well, is there not a blacksmith hard by?

24. S. What, that tinker, Dobson? I would not trust such a bungler to shoe a goat. No, no; none but uncle Tom Thumper shall shoe my mare.

25. D. As good luck will have it, then, I shall pa.s.s right by his door.

26. S. [Calling to his son.] Tim, Tim! here's neighbor Derby, who wants the loan of the gray mare, to ride to town to-day. You know the skin was rubbed off her back, last week, a hand's breadth or more. [Gives Tim a wink.] However, I believe she is well enough by this time. You know, Tim, how ready I am to oblige my neighbors; indeed, we ought to do all the good we can in this world. We must certainly let neighbor Derby have her if she will possibly answer his purpose. Yes, yes; I see plainly by Tim's countenance, neighbor Derby, that he's disposed to oblige you. I would not have refused you the mare for the worth of her. If I had, I should have expected you to refuse me in turn. None of my neighbors can accuse me of being backward in doing them a kindness whenever it is possible. Come, Tim, what do you say?

27. Tim. What do I say, father? Why, sir, I say that I am no less ready than you are to do a neighborly kindness. But the mare is by no means capable of performing the journey. About a hand's breadth, did you say?

Why, sir, the skin is torn from the poor creature's back the bigness of your broad-brimmed hat! And, besides, I have promised her, so soon as she is able to travel, to Ned Saunders, to carry a load of apples to market.

28. S. Do you hear that, neighbor? I am very sorry matters are thus. I would not have disobliged you for the price of two such mares. Believe me, neighbor Derby, I am really sorry, for your sake, that matters turn out thus.

29. D. And I as much for yours, neighbor Sc.r.a.pewell; for to tell you the truth I received a letter this morning from Mr. Griffin, who tells me if I will be in town to-day he will give me the refusal of all that lot of timber, which he is about cutting down, on the side of the hill; and I had intended you should have shared half of it, which would have been not less than fitly dollars in your pocket. But, as your--

30. S. Fifty dollars, did you say?

31. D. Ay, truly, did I; but as your mare is out of order, I'll go and see if I can get old Roan, the blacksmith's horse.

32. S. Old Roan! My mare is at your service, neighbor, Here, Tim, tell Ned Saunders he can't have the mare: neighbor Derby wants her; and I won't refuse so good a friend anything he asks for.

33. D. But what are you to do for meal?

34. S. My wife can do without it for a week if you want the mare so long.

35. D. But, then, your saddle is all in pieces.

36. S. I meant the old one. I have bought a new one since, and you shall have the first use of it.

37. D. And shall I call at Thumper's and get the mare shod?

38. S. No, no; I had forgotten to tell you that I let neighbor Dobson shoe her, last week, by way of trial; and, to do him justice, he shoes extremely well.