The New McGuffey Fourth Reader Part 15

Suddenly the ma.s.s seemed to sink and disappear. There was no sign of ant-hills in the turf; but after a while I detected an almost imperceptible orifice, through which we saw them vanish in less time than it takes to write these words. I supposed that probably this was the entrance to their own home; but in less than a minute they showed me that I was mistaken. Out they thronged, each carrying a young captive in its mandibles.

From the short time they had taken, it was evident that they had a previous knowledge of the place, and knew where the infant blacks were kept. Perhaps it was no+ their first journey. The black ants whose home had been invaded sallied out in considerable numbers. They did not attempt to fight. They seemed frightened and stunned. They endeavored only to delay the red ants by clinging to them. A red ant was thus stopped; but another red one, who was free, relieved him of his burden, and thereupon the black ant relaxed his grasp.

It was, in fact, a pitiful sight. The blacks offered no serious resistance. The five hundred reds succeeded in carrying off fully three hundred young ants. At two or three feet from the hole, the blacks ceased to pursue them, and returned slowly to their home.

DEFINITIONS:--Repulsive, disagreeable. Tropics, the warm regions near the equator. Precaution, care taken beforehand. Fray, fight.

Augmented, made greater. Astounding, overwhelming. Mandibles, the mouth organs of insects. Sallied, rushed forth.

DEAR COUNTRY MINE.

BY RICHARD WATSON GILDER.

Dear country mine! far in that viewless west, And ocean-warded, strife thou too hast known; But may thy sun hereafter bloodless s.h.i.+ne, And may thy way be onward without wrath, And upward on no carca.s.s of the slain; And if thou smitest let it be for peace And justice--not in hate, or pride, or l.u.s.t Of empire. Mayst thou ever be, O land, n.o.ble and pure as thou art free and strong; So shalt thou lift a light for all the world And for all time, and bring the Age of Peace.

--By permission, From "Five Books of Song."

MY COUNTRY.

I love my country's vine-clad hills, Her thousand bright and gus.h.i.+ng rills, Her suns.h.i.+ne and her storms; Her rough and rugged rocks that rear Their h.o.a.ry heads high in the air, In wild fantastic forms.

I love her rivers deep and wide, Those mighty streams that seaward glide, To seek the ocean's breast; Her smiling fields, her pleasant vales, Her shady dells, her flowery dales-- Abodes of peaceful rest.

I love her forests, dark and lone, For there the wild-bird's merry tone I hear from morn till night; And lovelier flowers are there, I ween, Than e'er in Eastern lands were seen In varied colors bright.

Her forests and her valleys fair, Her flowers that scent the morning air, All have their charms for me; But more I love my country's name, Those words that echo deathless fame-- The Land of Liberty.

THE FOUR MacNICOLS.

BY WILLIAM BLACK.

This is the true story of how four lads in a fis.h.i.+ng village in the North of Scotland, being left orphans by the drowning of their father, learned the great lesson of self-help.

They were the four MacNicols,--Robert, an active, stout-sinewed, black-eyed lad of seventeen; his two younger brothers, Duncan and Nicol; and his cousin Neil.

It was a sad evening for Rob MacNicol when the body of his father was brought home to their poor lodgings. It was his first introduction to the hard facts of life.

"Neil," said Rob to his cousin, "we'll have to think about things now. We have just about as much left as will pay the lodgings this week, and Nicol must go three nights a week to the night school. What we get for stripping the nets will not do now."--"It will not," said Neil.

"Neil," said he, "if we had only a net; do you not think we could trawl for cuddies?" And again he said, "Neil, do you not think we could make a net for ourselves out of the old rags lying about the shed?" And again he said, "Do you think that Peter the tailor would let us have his old boat for a s.h.i.+lling a week?"

It was clear that Rob had been carefully considering the details of this plan. And it was eagerly welcomed, not only by Neil, but also by the brothers, Duncan and Nicol.

It was agreed, under Rob's direction, to set to work at once. So Rob bade his brothers and cousin get their rude fis.h.i.+ng rods, and hie away down to the rocks at the mouth of the harbor, and see what fish they could get for him during the afternoon.

Meanwhile he himself went along to a shed which was used as a sort of storage house by some of the fishermen; and here he found lying about plenty of pieces of net that had been cast aside as worthless.

Rob was allowed to pick out a number of pieces that he thought might serve his purpose; and these he carried home. But then came the question of floats and sinkers. Enough pieces of cork to form the floats might in time be found about the beach; but the sinkers had all been removed from the castaway netting.

II.

Rob was a quick-witted lad, and soon formed the plan of rigging up a couple of guy poles, as the salmon fishers call them, one for each end of the small seine he had in view. These guy poles, with a lump of lead at the lower end, would keep the net vertical while it was being dragged through the water.

All this took up the best part of the afternoon; for he had to hunt about before he could get a couple of stout poles; and he had to bargain with the blacksmith for a lump of lead. Then he walked along to the point where the other MacNicols were busy fis.h.i.+ng.

They had been lucky with their lines and bait. On the rocks beside them lay two or three small codfish, a large flounder, two good-sized lythe, and nearly a dozen saithe. Rob washed them clean, put a string through their gills, and marched off with them to the village.

He felt no shame in trying to sell fish: was it not the whole trade of the village? So he walked into the grocer's shop.

"Will you buy some fish?" said he; "they're fresh."

The grocer looked at them.

"What do you want?"

"A ball of twine."

"Let me tell you this, Rob," said the grocer severely, "that a lad in your place should be thinking of something else than flying a kite."

"I don't want to fly a kite," said Rob, "I want to mend a net."

"Oh, that is quite different," said the grocer. So Rob had his ball of twine--and a very large one it was. Off he set to his companions. "Come away, boys, I have other work for you."

III.

Well, it took them several days of very hard and constant work before they rigged up something resembling a small seine. Then Rob fixed his guy poles to it; and the lads went to the grocer, and got from him a lot of old rope, on the promise to give him a few fresh fish whenever they happened to have a good haul.

Then Rob proceeded to his interview with Peter the tailor, who, after a good deal of grumbling, agreed to let them have his boat for a s.h.i.+lling a week.

Rob went back eager and joyous. Forthwith a thorough inspection of the boat was set about by the lads: they tested the oars, they tested the thole pins, they had a new piece of cork put into the bottom. For that evening, when it grew a little more toward dusk, they would make their first cast with their net.

Yes; and that evening, when it had quite turned to dusk, the people of Erisaig were startled with a new proclamation. It was Neil MacNicol, standing in front of the cottages, and boldly calling forth these words:--

"IS THERE ANY ONE WANTING CUDDIES? THERE ARE CUDDIES TO BE SOLD AT THE WEST SLIP, FOR SIXPENCE A HUNDRED!"

The sale of the cuddies went on briskly. Indeed, when the people had gone away there was not a fish left except a dozen that Rob had put into a can of water, to be given to the grocer as part payment for the loan of the ropes.

"What do you make it altogether?" said Neil to Rob, who was counting the money.

"Three s.h.i.+llings and ninepence."

"Three s.h.i.+llings and ninepence! Man, that's a lot! Will you put it in the savings bank?"

"No, I will not," said Rob. "I'm not satisfied with the net, Neil. We must have better ropes all the way round; and sinkers, too."