The Silent Readers Part 22

But the next figure puzzled our little group of children. It was a very short man, stockily built, yet full of dignity. He, too, wore a c.o.c.ked hat, and a plain uniform. He walked with head bent forward and hands clasped behind him, and his piercing black eyes looked at the ground. The children could not guess who he was, so Aunt Eleanor had to tell them.

"That is the great French conquerer Napoleon Bonaparte. He began life as an ordinary citizen, and won his way to the very top by his wonderful military genius. He won so many battles in command of the French armies, after the French Revolution at the end of the eighteenth century, that the people chose him to be consul, a position something like that of the president of a republic. Then he loved power so that he got control of the government and had himself made emperor, so that France wasn't a republic any more. After that he set out to conquer all of Europe, and he nearly succeeded. But one winter he went to Russia, and the cold and snow almost entirely destroyed his army; and he never could succeed in beating England. It was the great English general, the Duke of Wellington, who finally crushed Napoleon at the battle of Waterloo--you've heard of that? Well, after that the fallen Emperor was sent away to a little island, St. Helena, that belonged to England, and there he was kept a prisoner till the end of his life."

"He was something like the German Kaiser in the World's War, wasn't he?" said Alfred. "He wanted to conquer all Europe--and the United States, too."

"Yes, you'll learn that every once in so often history repeats itself.

But we'll hope that the Kaiser's effort to conquer the world will be the last of such things, and that such a war may never be repeated."

"Oh, who is that rough looking man in the red flannel s.h.i.+rt?" cried Betty.

"That very red s.h.i.+rt tells me who he is," said her aunt. "Have you been wondering when we were going to have one of the heroes of Italy?

Well, this is an Italian patriot named Garibaldi. About sixty years ago, when Italy was struggling to get free from Austria, and to be an independent nation, Garibaldi gathered together as many brave soldiers as he could, in the southern part of the country, and they marched to the help of their countrymen in a time of very great need. As a part of their uniform they wore red s.h.i.+rts. But one of the most interesting things about Garibaldi is that when his country wanted to give him a high position, he said he would rather go back to the farm he had bought for himself, and live his life out as a plain, ordinary man."

Little d.i.c.k had been keeping very still and listening, for all the people in the parade had been those that he never had heard of before.

But suddenly he jumped to his feet in excitement. He, like every other child in the crowd, knew who was that tall, awkward, homely person in the long black frock coat and the high silk hat. There could be no mistaking that kind, sad face, with the patient, fa.r.s.eeing eyes.

Behind the great president rode two soldierly figures--General Grant in his blue uniform, and General Lee in the gray, on his beloved white horse, Traveller. Nor could there be any mistaking of the energetic figure in hunting dress that followed him, whose face wore a smile that could not be spoiled by the heavy eyegla.s.ses that were so familiar a part of a well-known countenance.

"Teddy," cheered the crowd, with the enthusiasm that always is stirred by true, generous manliness.

The afternoon was growing late. One group remained, with which the procession was to close. On horseback rode a tall, soldierly figure, dressed in khaki, with an officer's hat bearing royal insignia, and with his breast covered with medals. A pair of keen blue eyes smiled out of a clear-cut, earnest face. Behind him, in an automobile, rode a thin, worn old man in the scarlet robe and close scarlet cap of a cardinal.

"I need not tell you who they are," said Aunt Eleanor. "They stand to us for the little country that in 1914 saved the world by sacrificing herself. King Albert of Belgium led his own armies into battle; his queen, Elizabeth, nursed the wounded in the hospitals; and Cardinal Mercier stayed with his people to cheer and comfort them."

"I think they are the greatest heroes of all," said Betty softly.

"Any man is a hero, dear," said her aunt, "who spends his life for the help and safety of his people, not thinking what it costs himself."

--_Mabel Dodge Holmes._

QUESTIONS

1. Make a list of the heroes whom you can remember in the procession.

2. Was there any one of them whom you did not know about before?

3. Which one would you like to read more about?

4. Do you know any facts about any of these heroes that are not told in this story? If so, write a t.i.tle for the story you can tell, and be ready to tell it to your cla.s.smates.

5. Do you know the name of any hero whom you would have added to those in the procession?

6. Some of the figures are not mentioned by name. Give the names of any of these you remember.

THE SKELETON IN ARMOR

In the poem that follows, the poet tells us of a strange and fearful visitor that once came to him--the spirit of some ancient viking of the Northland all dressed in armor and carrying sword and s.h.i.+eld.

In order to understand the poem, you must remember that the vikings were bold sea-rovers and fierce warriors who set out in their long swift boats in search after plunder and adventure. Some of them are even said to have come over to America long before Columbus ever dreamed of the new world. The poem was suggested to Mr. Longfellow by the finding of a skeleton clad in broken and rusted armor and buried in the sands of the New England sh.o.r.e, and by a very ancient tower that must have been built on the coast by the Northmen many years before 1492. These two facts are true, but of course the story that the poet made of them is merely a good story.

The poet's strange guest is one of these sea-robbers, who tells how as a youth he had won the love of a blue-eyed princess of the far North, only to find that her father forbade their marriage. In the first stanza the poet asks a question; the rest of the poem tells what the spirit of the viking said.

But you will want to read the story as the poet has told it.

"Speak! speak! thou fearful guest!

Who, with they hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me!

Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms, Why dost thou haunt me?"

"Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise, As when the Northern skies Gleam in December; And, like the water's flow Under December's snow, Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber.

"I was a Viking old!

My deeds, though manifold, No Skald in song has told, No Saga taught thee!

Take heed, that in thy verse Thou dost the tale rehea.r.s.e, Else dread a dead man's curse; For this I sought thee.

"Far in the Northern Land, By the wild Baltic's strand, I, with my childish hand, Tamed the gerfalcon; And, with my skates fast-bound, Skimmed the half-frozen Sound, That the poor whimpering hound Trembled to walk on.

"Oft to his frozen lair Tracked I the grisly bear, While from my path the hare Fled like a shadow; Oft through the forest dark Followed the were-wolf's bark, Until the soaring lark Sang from the meadow.

"But when I older grew, Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders.

Wild was the life we led; Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled, By our stern orders.

"Once as I told in glee Tales of the stormy sea, Soft eyes did gaze on me, Burning yet tender; And as the white stars s.h.i.+ne On the dark Norway pine, On that dark heart of mine Fell their soft splendor.

"I wooed the blue-eyed maid, Yielding, yet half afraid, And in the forest's shade Our vows were plighted.

Under its loosened vest Fluttered her little breast, Like birds within their nest By the hawk frighted.

"Bright in her father's hall s.h.i.+elds gleamed upon the wall, Loud sang the minstrels all, Chanting his glory; When of old Hildebrand I asked his daughter's hand, Mute did the minstrels stand To hear my story.

"While the brown ale he quaffed, Loud then the champion laughed And as the wing-gusts waft The sea-foam brightly, So the loud laugh of scorn, Out of those lips unshorn, From the deep drinking-horn Blew the foam lightly.

"She was a Prince's child, I but a Viking wild, And though she blushed and smiled, I was discarded!

Should not the dove so white Follow the sea-mew's flight, Why did they leave that night Her nest unguarded?

"Scarce had I put to sea, Bearing the maid with me, Fairest of all was she Among the Nors.e.m.e.n!

When on the white sea-strand, Waving his armed hand, Saw we old Hildebrand, With twenty hors.e.m.e.n.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I WOOED THE BLUE-EYED MAID"]

"Then launched they to the blast, Bent like a reed each mast, Yet we were gaining fast, When the wind failed us; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw, So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us.

"And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail, Death! was the helmsman's hail, Death without quarter!

Mid-s.h.i.+ps with iron keel Struck we her ribs of steel; Down her black hulk did reel Through the black water!

"As with his wings aslant, Sails the fierce cormorant, Seeking some rocky haunt, With his prey laden, So toward the open main, Beating the sea again, Through the wild hurricane, Bore I the maiden.