Sanders' Union Fourth Reader Part 28

4. Yet still his acquisitions were not equal to his desires; he only found himself above want; whereas he desired to be possessed of affluence. One day, as he was indulging these wishes, he was informed that a neighbor of his had found a pan of money under ground, having dreamed of it three nights in succession.

5. These tidings were daggers to the heart of poor Whang. "Here am I,"

said he, "toiling and moiling from morning till night for a few paltry farthings, while neighbor Thanks only goes quietly to bed, and dreams himself into thousands before morning. Oh, that I could dream like him!

With what pleasure would I dig round the pan! How slyly would I carry it home! Not even my wife should see me! And then, oh the pleasure of thrusting one's hands into a heap of gold up to the elbows!"

6. Such reflections only served to make the miller unhappy. He discontinued his former a.s.siduity; he was quite disgusted with small gains; and his customers began to forsake him. Every day he repeated the wish, and every night laid himself down in order to dream. Fortune, that was for a long time unkind, at last, however, seemed to smile upon his distress, and indulged him with the wished-for vision.

7. He dreamed that under a certain part of the foundation of his mill, there was concealed a monstrous pan of gold and diamonds, buried deep in the ground, and covered with a large flat stone. He concealed his good luck from every person, as is usual in money-dreams, in order to have the vision repeated the two succeeding nights, by which he should be certain of its truth. His wishes in this, also, were answered; he still dreamed of the same pan of money, in the very same place.

8. Now, therefore, it was past a doubt; so, getting up early the third morning, he repaired, alone, with a mattock in his hand, to the mill, and began to undermine that part of the wall to which the vision directed. The first omen of success that he met with, was a broken ring; digging still deeper, he turned up a house-tile, quite new and entire.

9. At last, after much digging, he came to a broad flat stone; but then it was so large, that it was beyond his strength to remove it.

"_There_," cried he in raptures to himself, "_there it is!_ under this stone, there is room for a very large pan of diamonds indeed. I must e'en go home to my wife, and tell her the whole affair, and get her to a.s.sist me in turning it up." Away, therefore, he goes, and acquaints his wife with every circ.u.mstance of their good fortune.

10. Her raptures, on this occasion, may easily be imagined; she flew round his neck, and embraced him in an agony of joy. But these transports, however, did not allay their eagerness to know the exact sum; returning, together, to the place where Whang had been digging, there they found--not, indeed, the expected treasure--but the mill, their only support, undermined and fallen!

QUESTIONS.--1. Upon what was Whang, the miller, dependent for support?

2. Why was he not satisfied? 3. What did he say to himself, after the information he had received from a neighbor? 4. What effect had such reflections upon him? 5. What did he dream three nights successively? 6.

What did he do? 7. What was the result?

LESSON XXVIII.

PO LITE' NESS, good manners.

FI DEL' I TY, faithfulness.

IN CU BA' TION, act of hatching eggs.

REC RE A' TION, pastime; amus.e.m.e.nt.

DE MURE' LY, gravely; with affected modesty.

AP PRE CI A' TION, estimate.

LITHE, nimble; flexible.

EX' IT, departure; going out.

ARCH' I TECTS, (_ch_, like _k_,) builders.

SA LI' VA, spittle.

SE CRETE', to deposit; produce.

CON'' GRE GATE, collect together.

FLEDG' ED, furnished with feathers.

DO MAIN', realm; kingdom.

AC COM MO DA' TIONS, conveniences.

MI' GRATE, remove; travel.

SPHERE, (_ph_ like _f_,) circuit of action.

CHIMNEY-SWALLOWS.

HENRY WARD BEECHER.

1. Every one knows, who lives in the country, what a chimney-swallow is.

They are among the birds that seem to love the neighborhood of man. Many birds there are, that nestle confidingly in the protection of their superiors, and are seldom found nesting or breeding far from human habitations.

2. The wren builds close to your door. Sparrows and robins, if well treated, will make their nests right under your window, in some favorite tree, and will teach you, if you choose to go into the business, how to build birds' nests.

3. A great deal of politeness and fidelity may be learned. The female bird is waited upon, fed, cheered with singing, during her incubation, in a manner that might give lessons to the household. Nay, when she needs exercise and recreation, her husband very demurely takes her place, and keeps the eggs warm in the most gentlemanly way.

4. Barn-swallows have a very sensible appreciation of the pleasures of an ample barn. A barn might not be found quite the thing to live in, (although we have seen many a place where we would take the barn sooner than the house,) but it is one of the most charming places in a summer-day to lounge, read, or nap in.

5. And, as you lie on your back upon the sweet-scented hay-mow, or upon clean straw thrown down on the great floor, reading books of natural history, it is very pleasant to see the flitting swallows glance in and out, or course about under the roof, with motion so lithe and rapid as to seem more like the glancing of shadows than the winging of birds.

Their mud-nests are clean, if they _are_ made of dirt; and you would never dream, from their feathers, what sort of a house they lived in.

6. But, it was of _chimney-swallows_ that we began to write; and they are just now roaring in the little, stubbed chimney behind us, to remind us of our duty. Every evening we hear them; for a nest of young ones brings the parents in with food, early and late, and every entrance or exit is like a distant roll of thunder, or like those old-fas.h.i.+oned rumblings of high winds in the chimney, which made us children think that all out-of-doors was coming down the chimney in stormy nights.

7. These little architects build their simple nests upon the sides of the chimney with sticks, which they are said to break off from dead branches of trees, though they might more easily pick them up already prepared. But they, doubtless, have their own reasons for cutting their own timber. Then these are glued to the wall by a saliva which they secrete, so that they carry their mortar in their mouths, and use their bills for trowels.

8. When the young are ready to leave, they climb up the chimney to the top, by means of their sharp claws, aided by their tail-feathers, which are short, stiff, and at the end armed with sharp spines. Two broods are reared in a season. From the few which congregate in any one neighborhood, one would not suspect the great numbers which a.s.semble at the end of the season. Audubon estimated that _nine thousand_ entered a large sycamore-tree, every night, to roost, near Louisville, Kentucky.

9. Sometimes the little nest has been slighted in building, or the weight proves too great, and down it comes into the fire-place, to the great amus.e.m.e.nt of the children, who are all a-fever to hold in their hands these clean, bright-eyed little fellows. Who would suspect that they had ever been bred in such a flue?

10. And it was just this thought that set us to writing. Because a bird lives in a chimney, he need not be _s.m.u.tty_. There is many a fine feather that lives in a chimney-corner. Nor are birds the _only_ instances. Many men are born in a garret, or in a cellar, who fly out of it, as soon as fledged, as fine as any body. A lowly home has reared many high natures.

11. On these bare sticks, right against the bricks, in this smoky flue, the eggs are laid, the brooding goes on, the young are hatched, fed, grown. But then comes the day when they spread the wing, and the whole heaven is theirs! From morning to night, they can not touch the bounds of their liberty!

12. And, in like manner, it is with the human soul that has learned to know its liberty. Born in a body, pent up, and cramped, it seems imprisoned in a mere smoky flue for pa.s.sions. But, when once faith has taught the soul that it has wings, then it begins to fly; and flying, finds that all G.o.d's domain is its liberty.

13. And, as the swallow that comes back to roost in its hard hole at night, is quite content, so that the morning gives it again all the bright heavens for its soaring-ground, so may men, close quartered and cramped in bodily accommodations, be quite patient of their narrow bounds, for their thoughts may fly out every day gloriously.

14. And as, in autumn, these children of the chimney gather in flocks, and fly away to heavens without a winter, so men shall find a day when they, too, shall migrate; and, rising into a higher sphere, without storm or winter, shall remember the troubles of this mortal life, as birds in Florida may be supposed to remember the northern chills, which drove them forth to a fairer clime.

QUESTIONS.--1. What birds seem to love the neighborhood of man? 2. In what respects may men be like birds?

LESSON XXIX.

The first part of each verse, or that portion read by the _First Voice_, should be expressed in a slow and despondent tone of voice: the second part, or that read by the _Second Voice_, should be expressed in a more sprightly and cheerful manner.

THE DOUBTING HEART.

ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.

FIRST VOICE.

1. Where are the swallows fled?

Frozen and dead, Perchance, upon some bleak and stormy sh.o.r.e.

SECOND VOICE.