Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

THE TOILERS

BY STANLEY BONNEAU REID (AGE 14)
(Silver Badge)

'T IS dawn; that time when breaking day
Lifts the veil of night away.
From yonder hills of sapphire hue,
Fading now to lighter blue,

The sun comes up, and, lo, the plain
Becomes a rose-touched sea of grain.

Now come the toilers, scythe in hand,
A merry, wholesome, peaceful band,
Who spread abroad o'er all the field,
To gather in the golden yield;

With arms that ache, but hearts that sing,
Each man as happy as a king.

Hotter and hotter grows the day,
The cooling shade seems far away;
Each busy man is pausing now
To wipe the sweat from off his brow,
Or leans to rest his tired back
Against the nearest fragrant stack.

At last the day of work is o'er;

*

The weary toilers, hot and sore,
Wind homeward o'er the dusty trail,.
And through the evening's gathering veil,
Until they vanish from our sight.

The stars are in the sky-'t is night.

AN EVENT OF YESTERDAY
(A true story)

BY EVA JANE LATTIMER (AGE 11)
(Silver Badge)

IN the days when our city was a little village, there were Indians all around it. Some of them were friendly, and some were hostile; but most of them would respond if the white people did them a kindness. Among the citizens was a man who had been very

"COMING HOME." BY ELIZABETH H. ARMSTRONG, AGE 13. (SILVER BADGE.)

kind to the Indians. He was called away on business, and left his wife and eight-months'-old baby alone in their cabin.

One morning the child was lying in his cradle, and the mother was doing her work in another part of the room, when, to her terror, two tall Indians appeared in the doorway. They took the baby in their arms and walked swiftly away toward the woods. The mother followed, screaming to them to give back her child. The Indians made signs to her to go back, but as she could not understand their language, nor they hers, neither knew what the other said.

She soon lost sight of them, and rushed to her nearest neighbor's; but in all the village there was not one man, for they had all gone away to fight some hostile Indians.

The women assembled in the mother's cabin to discuss what to do. In about two hours, while they were still undecided, to their surprise and joy the Indians again appeared, with the child in their arms. They laid him in his cradle and left the cabin.

As the women crowded around the baby, they noticed

[graphic]
[graphic]

"THE MUSIC LESSON." BY LOUISE F. DANTZEBECHER, AGE 16. (HONOR MEMBER.)

that on his feet were a pair of beautifully wrought Indian moccasins. The Indians had carried away the child to fit the moccasins to his little feet, and they meant this as a kindness to the baby's father, for the favors he had shown them.

A SCENE OF YESTERDAY

BY HELEN L. BEEDE (AGE 12) (Silver Badge)

ONE night I sat by the fire reading, when things slipped away, and I seemed to be in another land.

The scene I saw was a stretch of woods with a quaint old church, and just as I decided I was viewing a scene of 1620, I noticed a small procession of about fifty men, women, and children coming into view.

The leader was the parson holding the large Bible, followed by the men. They were dressed in the old Pilgrim style, and carried huge guns. They were followed by the women and children. They were also dressed in the old style, and the children looked very quaint and pretty.

The procession passed on and went into the church, leaving a guard at the door.

Scarcely had the service begun, when I could see savage forms crawling up behind the trees.

Just then the guard discovered them and gave the alarm.

Bang!!!

I had been asleep, and my book had fallen to the floor.

I have often wondered whether the Pilgrims were victorious, but I have never been able to finish my dream.

[blocks in formation]

An old, old garden lies, deserted, sad; And o'er the grass-grown beds the summer breeze Bewails the beauty which before they had. Flowers have vanished; here and there a rose Blooms wanly,-only waits for life to close. Farthest within, a fountain may be seen,

Once clear and sparkling, now a stagnant pool; The brim was gay with flowers too, but e'en

These now are dead; yet where the earth is cool, One slender, pale blue iris still has grown, And quiet stands there, musing all alone.

[graphic][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

AN EVENT OF YESTERDAY

BY DOROTHY M. ROGERS (AGE 17)
(Gold Badge)

It was my eleventh birthday, and to celebrate the occasion my mother had invited three of my cousins and a small boy neighbor to pass the day with me.

During the afternoon, we tired of playing around the house, and took a walk, which finally led us to a gravel pit. This pit is very deep, and the side from which the gravel is taken is almost forty or fifty feet high.

I had found a patch of blackberries, and was eating them as fast as I could, when I heard the boy say: "I'll bet I can stump the whole of you."

My cousin Pauline was standing on the edge of the pit where the turf overhung the steep slope. Hardly had the boy spoken the words, when the turf gave way, and she went over and over down the slope in a series of back somersaults. We were horror-stricken, for the

[graphic][merged small][merged small]

child wore glasses, and, besides, she was dislodging gravel and rocks.

Half-way down she partially caught herself on a large piece of turf, but this started to slide, and she continued her way down to the bottom among a lot of rocks, gravel, and turf.

We all rushed toward her as she stopped, thinking to find a badly hurt, if not unconscious, child.

The boy reached her first, and was about to offer his assistance, when, to our joy, she got up as if her unexpected descent was an every-day affair, and said to the boy:

"Now you try that stunt, Dick!"

[graphic][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed]

THE TOILERS

"Pull me out, Bob, oh, please!" Bess cried.

"You must keep still."

[blocks in formation]

"I'm so afraid."

"Bess, shut your eyes and say your prayers."

"Now I lay me down to sleep-Bob, don't let me fall!" "No, Bess, I 'm holding; go on."

"I pray thee, Lord, my soul to keep. If I should die" -a scream, "Mother, quick!"

"Go on, Bess; I 'm holding." But, oh, how cruelly the reins cut the boyish wrist, drops of blood staining the white reins! Slowly, but surely, he was being pulled into the dark well. He tried to say,

"I'm holding on," but the words were drowned in the barking of King, steps were heard,-and Mother's strong hand grasped the reins. Bess was pulled up. "My brave boy," his mother said.

"Oh, that 's nothing, Mother," said Bob. "A fellow had to hold on."

A SCENE OF YESTERDAY
(A true story)

BY MARGARET MC MAHON (AGE 11)

ABOUT forty years ago, in Rome, in an apartment-house, lived a little girl with her mother.

As the little girl was fond of music, her mother gave her music lessons. They had no piano in their apartment, so the little girl would go down to the musicroom on the floor below to practise.

One day when she was playing an air from the opera "Lucia," she heard a step in the hall. Turning, she saw a tall, handsome man with long, white hair and a wart on his forehead, coming in the door.

As she turned, he said, in a very sweet manner: "Go on playing, little girl; I love music, too." The girl, not at all frightened, played again, and while she played, he showed her how to hold her hands.

When she had finished playing, he asked her if she would like to have him play it for her. With an excited face she answered: "Yes, please."

[graphic]

"A HEADING FOR JUNE." BY REBEKAH HOWARD, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)

AN EVENT OF YESTERDAY

BY DOROTHY MAY RUSSELL (AGE 15)
(Silver Badge)

ONE day in the springtime, beneath the trees of a beautiful old orchard that were in bloom, was Bess, a little girl of four, with long, golden curls, and her brother Bob, a manly little boy of eight.

They were playing horse. Bob put the reins over Bess's head, then twisted them around his wrist. Then they ran. The golden curls bobbed up and down beneath the trees that smelled so sweet, King, their dog, barking furiously, when Bess disappeared, and Bob was pulled to the ground.

"The old well! help! help!" Bob cried.

King seemingly understood and ran away. "Mother! Mother!" Bess screamed as she fell and felt the reins tighten under her arms. She was held at the mouth of the well. "Pull me up, quick."

"I can't, Bess; but if you'll keep still, I can hold you till Mother comes," Bob said, and manfully dug his toes in the ground, and grasped the branch of a bush. The minutes seemed years.

"COMING HOME." BY JOSEPHINE STURGIS, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.)

He took his place at the piano and played it for her. He played other things from Bach and Beethoven, and when he had finished, he turned and said to her:

"My dear little girl, you have a talent for music, and if you work hard, you will become a fine musician." Then he went away, leaving her speechless, for her mind was still on the beautiful pieces he had played.

It was not until some time later that she learned that the great king of the piano, Franz Liszt, had played for her, and had given her a lesson.

[merged small][subsumed][subsumed][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]
« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »