Fourth Reader. Various

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СКАЧАТЬ him, built large ships, with which to pursue the pirates on the sea. He encouraged his soldiers, by his brave example, to fight valiantly against them on the shore. At last he drove them all away; and then there was repose in England.

      As great and good in peace as he was great and good in war, King Alfred never rested from his labors to improve his people. He loved to talk with clever men, and with travellers from foreign countries, and to write down what they told him for his people to read. He had studied Latin, after learning to read English. And now one of his labors was to translate Latin books into the English-Saxon tongue, that his people might be improved by reading them.

      He made just laws that his people might live more happily and freely. He turned away all partial judges that no wrong might be done. He punished robbers so severely that it was a common thing to say that under the great King Alfred, garlands of golden chains and jewels might have hung across the streets and no man would have touched them. He founded schools. He patiently heard causes himself in his court of justice. The great desires of his heart were to do right to all his subjects, and to leave England better, wiser, and happier in all ways than he had found it.

      His industry was astonishing. Every day he divided into portions, and in each portion devoted himself to a certain pursuit. That he might divide his time exactly, he had wax torches, or candles, made, all of the same size and notched across at regular distances. These candles were always kept burning, and as they burned down he divided the day into notches, almost as accurately as we now divide it into hours upon the clock. But it was found that the wind and draughts of air, blowing into the palace through the doors and windows, caused the candles to burn unequally. To prevent this the king had them put into cases formed of wood and white horn. And these were the first lanterns ever made in England.

      King Alfred died in the year 901; but as long ago as that is, his fame, and the love and gratitude with which his subjects regarded him, are freshly remembered to the present hour. – Charles Dickens.

      A SONG

      There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,

      There is ever a something sings alway:

      There’s the song of the lark when the skies are clear,

      And the song of the thrush when the skies are gray.

      The sunshine showers across the grain,

      And the bluebird trills in the orchard tree;

      And in and out, when the eaves drip rain,

      The swallows are twittering carelessly.

      There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,

      Be the skies above or dark or fair;

      There is ever a song that our hearts may hear —

      There is ever a song somewhere, my dear —

      There is ever a song somewhere!

      There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,

      In the midnight black or the midday blue:

      The robin pipes when the sun is here,

      And the cricket chirrups the whole night through;

      The buds may blow and the fruit may grow,

      And the autumn leaves drop crisp and sere:

      But whether the sun or the rain or the snow,

      There is ever a song somewhere, my dear.

– James Whitcomb Riley.By permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company. Copyright, 1898.

      BETTER THAN GOLD

      Better than grandeur, better than gold,

      Than rank and title a thousand fold,

      Is a healthy body, a mind at ease,

      And simple pleasures that always please;

      A heart that can feel for a neighbor’s woe,

      And share his joys with a genial glow;

      With sympathies large enough to enfold

      All men as brothers, is better than gold.

      Better than gold is a thinking mind,

      That in the realm of books can find

      A treasure surpassing Australian ore,

      And live with the great and good of yore: —

      The sage’s lore and the poet’s lay,

      The glories of empires passed away.

      The world’s great dream will thus unfold

      And yield a pleasure better than gold.

      Better than gold is a peaceful home,

      Where all the fireside charities come, —

      The shrine of love and the haven of life,

      Hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife.

      However humble the home may be,

      Or tried with sorrow by Heaven’s decree,

      The blessings that never were bought or sold

      And centre there, are better than gold.

– Mrs. J. M. Winton.

      THE TIGER, THE BRAHMAN, AND THE JACKAL

      Once upon a time a tiger was caught in a trap. He tried in vain to get out through the bars, and rolled and bit with rage and grief when he failed.

      By chance a poor Brahman came by. “Let me out of this cage, O pious one!” cried the tiger.

      “Nay, nay, my friend,” replied the Brahman, mildly. “You would probably eat me up if I did.”

      “Not at all!” declared the tiger, with many vows; “on the contrary, I should be forever grateful, and would serve you as a slave!”

      Now, when the tiger sobbed and sighed and wept, the pious Brahman’s heart softened, and at last he consented to open the door of the cage. At once, out sprang the tiger, and seizing the poor man, cried: —

      “What a fool you are! What is to prevent my eating you now? After being cooped up so long I am terribly hungry.”

      In vain the Brahman pleaded for his life. All that he could gain was a promise from the tiger to abide by the decision of the first three things that he chose to question concerning the tiger’s action.

      So the Brahman first asked a tree what it thought of the matter, but the tree replied coldly: —

      “What have you to complain about? Don’t I give shade and shelter to all who pass by, and don’t they in return tear down my branches and pull off my leaves to feed their cattle? Don’t complain, but be a man!”

      Then the Brahman, sad at heart, went further afield till he saw a buffalo turning a water-wheel. He laid his case before it, but he got no comfort, for the buffalo answered: —

      “You are a fool to expect gratitude! Look at me! Do you not see how hard I work? While I was young and strong they fed me on the best of food, but now when I am old and feeble they yoke me here, and give me only the coarsest fodder to eat!”

      The Brahman, still more sad, asked the road to give him its opinion of the tiger’s conduct.

      “My dear sir,” said the road, “how foolish you are to expect anything else! Here am I, useful to everybody, yet all, rich and poor, great and small, trample on me as they go past, giving me nothing but the ashes of their pipes and the husks of their grain!”

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