The Ontario Readers Part 7

"Well," answered the Jackal, "you have certainly made me laugh, but I doubt if you could make me cry. It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it is more difficult to excite the higher emotions."

"Let us see," retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; "there is a huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that hollow tree and watch me; if you don't weep scalding tears, you must have no feeling in you!"

The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when she flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course the dogs smelled him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching that the huntsman came up and, seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal out by the tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their hearts' content, and finally left him for dead.

By and by he opened his eyes--for he was only foxing--and saw the Partridge sitting on a branch above him.

"Did you cry?" she asked anxiously. "Did I rouse your higher emo--"

"Be quiet, will you!" snarled the Jackal; "I'm half-dead with fear!"

So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry.

"Now is the time for friends.h.i.+p!" said he to the Partridge. "Get me a good dinner, and I will acknowledge you are a true friend."

"Very well!" replied the Partridge; "only watch me, and help yourself when the time comes."

Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands' dinners to the harvest-field.

The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along from bush to bush as if she were wounded.

"A wounded bird!--a wounded bird!" cried the women; "we can easily catch it!"

Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly. The Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off with a good dinner.

"Are you satisfied now?" asked the Partridge.

"Well," returned the Jackal, "I confess you have given me a very good dinner; you have also made me laugh--and cry--ahem! But, after all, the great test of friends.h.i.+p is beyond you--you couldn't save my life!"

"Perhaps not," acquiesced the Partridge, mournfully. "I am so small and weak. But it grows late--we should be going home; and as it is a long way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend, the crocodile, will carry us over."

Accordingly, they set off for the river, and the crocodile kindly consented to carry them across; so they sat on his broad back, and he ferried them over. But just as they were in the middle of the stream the Partridge remarked: "I believe the crocodile intends to play us a trick.

How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!"

"Awkward for you, too!" replied the Jackal, turning pale.

"Not at all! not at all! I have wings, you haven't."

On this the Jackal s.h.i.+vered and shook with fear, and when the crocodile, in a grewsome growl, remarked that he was hungry and wanted a good meal, the wretched creature hadn't a word to say.

"Pooh!" cried the Partridge, airily, "don't try tricks on us--I should fly away, and as for my friend, the Jackal, you couldn't hurt _him_. He is not such a fool as to take his life with him on these little excursions; he leaves it at home locked up in the cupboard."

"Is that a fact?" asked the crocodile, surprised.

"Certainly!" retorted the Partridge. "Try to eat him if you like, but you will only tire yourself to no purpose."

"Dear me! how very odd!" gasped the crocodile; and he was so taken aback that he carried the Jackal safe to sh.o.r.e.

"Well, are you satisfied now?" asked the Partridge.

"My dear madam!" quoth the Jackal, "you have made me laugh, you have made me cry, you have given me a good dinner, and you have saved my life; but upon my honour I think you are too clever for a friend: so, good-bye!"

And the Jackal never went near the Partridge again.

FLORA ANNIE STEEL: "Tales from the Punjab."

HIDE AND SEEK

All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still, All the flocks of fleecy clouds have wandered past the hill; Through the noonday silence, down the woods of June, Hark! a little hunter's voice comes running with a tune.

"Hide and seek!

"When I speak, "You must answer me: "Call again, "Merry men, "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

Now I hear his footsteps, rustling through the gra.s.s: Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pa.s.s?

Just a low, soft whistle,--quick the hunter turns, Leaps upon me laughing, rolls me in the ferns.

"Hold him fast, "Caught at last!

"Now you're it, you see.

"Hide your eye, "Till I cry, "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

Long ago he left me, long and long ago: Now I wander through the world and seek him high and low; Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,-- Ah, if I could hear his voice, I soon should find his face.

Far away, Many a day, Where can Barney be?

Answer, dear, Don't you hear?

"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

Birds that in the spring-time thrilled his heart with joy, Flowers he loved to pick for me, 'mind me of my boy.

Surely he is waiting till my steps come nigh; Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die.

Heart be glad, The little lad Will call some day to thee: "Father dear, "Heaven is here, "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

HENRY VAN d.y.k.e

THE BURNING OF THE "GOLIATH"

(Owing to the excellent discipline which Captain Bourchier had established, and to the courage of the boys, only twelve lives were lost out of the crew of five hundred).

Let me give you an example of self-denial which comes from near home. I will speak to you of what has been done by little boys of seven, of eight, of twelve, of thirteen;--little English boys, and English boys with very few advantages of birth; not brought up, as most of you are, in quiet, orderly homes, but taken from the London workhouses. I will speak to you of what such little boys have done, not fifteen hundred, or even two hundred years ago, but last week--last Wednesday, on the river Thames.

Do you know of whom I am thinking? I am thinking of the little boys, nearly five hundred, who were taken from different workhouses in London, and put to school to be trained as sailors on board the s.h.i.+p which was called after the name of the giant whom David slew--the training-s.h.i.+p Goliath.