The Ontario Readers Third Book

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Title: The Ontario Readers

Third Book

Author: Ontario Ministry of Education

Release Date: June 12, 2006 [EBook #18561]

Language: English

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THE ONTARIO READERS

THIRD BOOK

AUTHORIZED BY

THE MINISTER OF EDUCATION

The price of this book to the purchaser is not the total cost. During the present period of abnormal and fluctuating trade conditions, an additional sum, which may vary from time to time, is paid to the Publisher by the Department of Education.

Entered, according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year 1909, in the office of the Minister of Agriculture by the Minister of Education for Ontario.

TORONTO:

THE T. EATON Co LIMITED

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The Minister of Education is indebted to Rudyard Kipling, Henry Newbolt, Beckles Willson, E. B. Osborn, F. T. Bullen, Flora Annie Steel; Charles G. D. Roberts, W. Wilfred Campbell, Ethelwyn Wetherald, Jean Blewett, Robert Reid, Ralph Connor, John Waugh, S. T. Wood; Henry Van Dyke, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward, and Richard Watson Gilder for special permission to reproduce, in this Reader, selections from their writings.

He is indebted to Lord Tennyson for special permission to reproduce the poems from the works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson; to Lloyd Osbourne for permission to reproduce the selection from the works of Robert Louis Stevenson; and to J. F. Edgar for permission to reproduce one of Sir James D. Edgar's poems.

He is also indebted to Macmillan & Co., Limited, for special permission, to reproduce selections from the works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Rudyard Kipling, and Flora Annie Steel; to Smith, Elder & Co., for the extract from F. T. Bullen's The Cruise of the Cachalot; to Elkin Mathews for Henry Newbolt's poem from The Island Race; to Sampson Low, Marston & Company for the extract from R. D. Blackmore's Lorna Doone; to Thomas Nelson & Sons for the extract from W. F. Collier's History of the British Empire; to Chatto and Windus for the extract from E. B. Osborn's Greater Canada; to Houghton Mifflin Company for The Chase from Charles Dudley Warner's A-Hunting of the Deer, Mary Elizabeth by Mrs. Phelps Ward, and the poems by Celia Thaxter and by Richard Watson Gilder; to The Century Company for Jacob A. Riis' The Story of a Fire from "The Century Magazine; to The Copp Clark Co., Limited, for the selections from Charles G. D. Roberts' works; to The Westminster Co., Limited, for the extract from Ralph Connor's The Man from Glengarry."

The Minister is grateful to these authors and publishers and to others, not mentioned here, through whose courtesy he has been able to include in this Reader so many copyright selections.

Toronto, May, 1909.

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

Frontispiece

ALEXANDRA, THE QUEEN MOTHER

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO

AT THE END OF THE MEAL

IN THE HIGHLANDS OF ONTARIO

ONTARIO AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE

NIAGARA FALLS

IN THE PASTURE

DEEP SEA FISHERS

no caption

Trilobite

EMPIRE DAY

I want you to remember what Empire Day means. Empire Day is the festival on which every British subject should reverently remember that the British Empire stands out before the whole world as the fearless champion of freedom, fair play and equal rights; that its watchwords are responsibility, duty, sympathy and self-sacrifice, and that a special responsibility rests with you individually to be true to the traditions and to the mission of your race.

I also want you to remember that one day Canada will become, if her people are faithful to their high British traditions, the most powerful of all the self-governing nations, not excluding the people of the United Kingdom, which make up the British Empire, and that it rests with each one of you individually to do your utmost by your own conduct and example to make Canada not only the most powerful, but the noblest of all the self-governing nations that are proud to owe allegiance to the King.

Earl Grey.

Governor-General of Canada

THIRD READER

TO-DAY

So here hath been dawning

Another blue day;

Think, wilt thou let it

Slip useless away?

Out of Eternity

This new day is born;

Into Eternity

At night will return.

Behold it aforetime

No eye ever did;

So soon it forever

From all eyes is hid.

Here hath been dawning

Another blue day;

Think, wilt thou let it

Slip useless away?

Carlyle

FORTUNE AND THE BEGGAR

One day a ragged beggar was creeping along from house to house. He carried an old wallet in his hand, and was asking at every door for a few cents to buy something to eat. As he was grumbling at his lot, he kept wondering why it was that folks who had so much money were never satisfied but were always wanting more.

Here, said he, "is the master of this house—I know him well. He was always a good business man, and he made himself wondrously rich a long time ago. Had he been wise he would have stopped then. He would have turned over his business to some one else, and then he could have spent the rest of his life in ease. But what did he do instead? He built ships and sent them to sea to trade with foreign lands. He thought he would get mountains of gold.

"But there were great storms on the water; his ships were wrecked, and his riches were swallowed up by the waves. Now all his hopes lie at the bottom of the sea, and his great wealth has vanished.

"There are many such cases. Men seem to be never satisfied unless they gain the whole world.

As for me, if I had only enough to eat and to wear, I would not want anything more.

Just at that moment Fortune came down the street. She saw the beggar and stopped. She said to him:

Listen! I have long wished to help you. Hold your wallet and I will pour this gold into it, but only on this condition: all that falls into the wallet shall be pure gold; but every piece that falls upon the ground shall become dust. Do you understand?

Oh, yes, I understand, said the beggar.

Then have a care, said Fortune. Your wallet is old, so do not load it too heavily.

The beggar was so glad that he could hardly wait. He quickly opened his wallet, and a stream of yellow dollars poured into it. The wallet grew heavy.

Is that enough? asked Fortune.

Not yet.

Isn't it cracking?

Never fear.

The beggar's hands began to tremble. Ah, if the golden stream would only pour for ever!

You are the richest man in the world now!

Just a little more, add just a handful or two.

There, it's full. The wallet will burst.

But it will hold a little, just a little more!

Another piece was added, and the wallet split. The treasure fell upon the ground and was turned to dust. Fortune had vanished. The beggar had now nothing but his empty wallet, and it was torn from top to bottom. He was as poor as before.

Ivan Kirloff

THE LARK AND THE ROOK

Good-night, Sir Rook! said a little lark,

"The daylight fades; it will soon be dark;

I've bathed my wings in the sun's last ray;

I've sung my hymn to the parting day;

So now I haste to my quiet nook

In yon dewy meadow—good-night, Sir Rook!"

Good-night, poor Lark, said his titled friend

With a haughty toss and a distant bend;

"I also go to my rest profound,

But not to sleep on the cold, damp ground.

The fittest place for a bird like me

Is the topmost bough of yon tall pine tree.

"I opened my eyes at peep of day

And saw you taking your upward way,

Dreaming your fond romantic dreams,

An ugly speck in the sun's bright beams,

Soaring too high to be seen or heard;

And I said to myself: 'What a foolish bird!'

"I trod the park with a princely air;

I filled my crop with the richest fare;

I cawed all day 'mid a lordly crew,

And I made more noise in the world than you!

The sun shone forth on my ebon wing;

I looked and wondered—good-night, poor thing!"

Good-night, once more, said the lark's sweet voice,

"I see no cause to repent my choice;

You build your nest in the lofty pine,

But is your slumber more sweet than mine?

You make more noise in the world than I,

But whose is the sweeter minstrelsy?"

Unknown

What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?

Thrice is he armed, that hath his quarrel just;

And he but naked, though locked up in steel,

Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

Shakespeare

THE PICKWICK CLUB ON THE ICE

You skate, of course, Winkle? said Wardle.

Ye-yes; oh, yes, replied Mr. Winkle. "I—I—am rather out of practice."

"Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle, said Arabella. I like to see it so much."

"Oh, it is so graceful, said another young lady. A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth expressed her opinion that it was swan-like."

I should be very happy, I'm sure, said Mr. Winkle, reddening; but I have no skates.

This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had got a couple of pair, and the fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more downstairs, whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely uncomfortable.

Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice; and the fat boy and Mr. Weller, having shovelled and swept away the snow which had fallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a dexterity which to Mr. Winkle seemed perfectly marvellous, and described circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight, and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasant and astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, and the ladies; which reached a pitch of positive enthusiasm, when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen, assisted by the aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic evolutions, which they called a reel.

All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold, had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting his skates on with the points behind, and getting the straps into a very complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however, with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.

Now, then, sir, said Sam in an encouraging tone; off vith you, and show 'em how to do it.

Stop, Sam, stop, said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and clutching hold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. How slippery it is, Sam!

Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir, replied Mr. Weller. Hold up, sir.

This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a demonstration Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic desire to throw his feet into the air and dash the back of his head on the ice.

These—these—are very awkward skates; ain't they, Sam? inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering.

I'm afeerd there's an orkard gen'lm'n in 'em, sir, replied Sam.

Now, Winkle, cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there was anything the matter. Come, the ladies are all anxiety.

Yes, yes, replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. I'm coming.

Just a goin' to begin, said Sam, endeavouring to disengage himself. Now, sir, start off.

Stop an instant, Sam, gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionately to Mr. Weller. I find I've a couple of coats at home that I don't want, Sam. You may have them, Sam.

Thank'ee, sir, replied Mr. Weller.

Never mind touching your hat, Sam, said Mr. Winkle, hastily. You needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five shillings this morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it to you this afternoon, Sam.

You're wery good, sir, replied Mr. Weller.

Just hold me at first, Sam; will you? said Mr. Winkle. There—that's right. I shall soon get into the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not too fast.

Mr. Winkle, stooping forward with his body half doubled up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-like manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite bank—

Sam!

Sir? said Mr. Weller.

Here. I want you.

Let go, sir, said Sam. Don't you hear the governor a-callin'? Let go, sir!

With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of the agonized Pickwickian; and, in so doing, administered a considerable impetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of dexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate gentleman bore swiftly down into the centre of the reel, at the very moment when Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr. Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fell heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind in skates. He was seated on the ice making spasmodic efforts to smile; but anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance.

Are you hurt? inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with great anxiety.

Not much, said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very hard.

I wish you'd let me bleed you, said Mr. Benjamin, with great eagerness.

No, thank you, replied Mr. Winkle hurriedly.

I really think you had better, said Allen.

Thank you, replied Mr. Winkle I'd rather not.

"What do you think, Mr. Pickwick?" inquired Bob Sawyer.

Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr. Weller, and said in a stern voice:

Take his skates off.

The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it in silence.

Lift him up, said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise.

Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders; and, beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him, and uttered in a low but distinct and emphatic tone these remarkable words:

You're a humbug, sir.

A what? said Mr. Winkle, starting.

A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An impostor, sir.

With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel and rejoined his friends.

Dickens: The Pickwick Papers.

TUBAL CAIN

Old Tubal Cain was a man of might,

In the days when earth was young;

By the fierce red light of his furnace bright,

The strokes of his hammer rung:

And he lifted high his brawny hand

On the iron glowing clear,

Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers,

As he fashioned the sword and spear.

And he sang—"Hurrah for my handiwork!

Hurrah for the spear and sword!

Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well,

For he shall be king and lord!"

To Tubal Cain came many a one,

As he wrought by his roaring fire;

And each one prayed