"BECOS! BECOS! BECOS!"
Thousands of years ago the greatest country, in the world was Egypt.
It was a beautiful land lying on both sides of the wonderful river Nile. In it were many great cities; and from one end of it to the other there were broad fields of grain and fine pastures for sheep and cattle.
The people of Egypt were very proud; for they believed that they were the first and oldest of all nations.
"It was in our country that the first men and women lived," they said.
"All the people of the world were once Egyptians."
A king of Egypt, whose name was Psammeticus, [Footnote: Psammeticus (pro. sam met'i kus).] wished to make sure whether this was true or not. How could he find out?
He tried first one plan and then another; but none of them proved anything at all. Then he called his wisest men together and asked them, "Is it really true that the first people in the world were Egyptians?"
They answered, "We cannot tell you, O King; for none of our histories go back so far."
Then Psammeticus tried still another plan.
He sent out among the poor people of the city and found two little babies who had never heard a word spoken. He gave these to a shepherd and ordered him to bring them up among his sheep, far from the homes of men. "You must never speak a word to them," said the king; "and you must not permit any person to speak in their hearing."
The shepherd did as he was bidden. He took the children far away to a green valley where his flocks were feeding. There he cared for them with love and kindness; but no word did he speak in their hearing.
They grew up healthy and strong. They played with the lambs in the field and saw no human being but the shepherd.
Thus two or three years went by. Then, one evening when the shepherd came home from a visit to the city, he was delighted to see the children running out to meet him. They held up their hands, as though asking for something, and cried out, "Becos! becos! becos!"
The shepherd led them gently back to the hut and gave them their usual supper of bread and milk. He said nothing to them, but wondered where they had heard the strange word "becos," and what was its meaning.
After that, whenever the children were hungry, they cried out, "Becos! becos! becos!" till the shepherd gave them something to eat.
Some time later, the shepherd went to the city and told the king that the children had learned to speak one word, but how or from whom, he did not know.
"What is that word?" asked the king.
"Becos."
Then the king called one of the wisest scholars in Egypt and asked him what the word meant.
"Becos," said the wise man, "is a Phrygian [Footnote: Phrygian (pro. frij'i an).] word, and it means bread."
"Then what shall we understand by these children being able to speak a Phrygian word which they have never heard from other lips?" asked the king.
"We are to understand that the Phrygian language was the first of all languages," was the answer. "These children are learning it just as the first people who lived on the earth learned it in the beginning."
"Therefore," said the king, "must we conclude that the Phrygians were the first and oldest of all the nations?"
"Certainly," answered the wise man.
And from that time the Egyptians always spoke of the Phrygians as being of an older race than themselves.
This was an odd way of proving something, for, as every one can readily see, it proved nothing.
A LESSON IN HUMILITY
One day the caliph, Haroun-al-Raschid, [Footnote: Haroun-al-Raschid (pro. ha roon' al rash'id).] made a great feast. The feast was held in the grandest room of the palace. The walls and ceiling glittered with gold and precious gems. The table was decorated with rare and beautiful plants and flowers.
All the noblest men of Persia [Footnote: Per'sia.] and Arabia [Footnote: A ra'bi a.] were there. Many wise men and poets and musicians had also been invited.
In the midst of the feast the caliph called upon the poet, Abul Atayah, [Footnote: A'bul Ata'yah.] and said, "O prince of verse makers, show us thy skill. Describe in verse this glad and glorious feast."
The poet rose and began: "Live, O caliph and enjoy thyself in the shelter of thy lofty palace."
"That is a good beginning," said Raschid. "Let us hear the rest." The poet went on: "May each morning bring thee some new joy. May each evening see that all thy wishes have been performed."
"Good! good!" said the caliph, "Go on."
The poet bowed his head and obeyed: "But when the hour of death comes, O my caliph, then alas! thou wilt learn that all thy delights were but a shadow."
The caliph's eyes were filled with tears. Emotion choked him. He covered his face and wept.
Then one of the officers, who was sitting near the poet, cried out: "Stop! The caliph wished you to amuse him with pleasant thoughts, and you have filled his mind with melancholy."
"Let the poet alone," said Raschid. "He has seen me in my blindness, and is trying to open my eyes."
Haroun-al-Raschid (Aaron the Just) was the greatest of all the caliphs of Bagdad. In a wonderful book, called "The Arabian Nights," there are many interesting stories about him.
THE MIDNIGHT RIDE
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.
Longfellow.
The midnight ride of Paul Revere happened a long time ago when this country was ruled by the king of England.
There were thousands of English soldiers in Boston. The king had sent them there to make the people obey his unjust laws. These soldiers guarded the streets of the town; they would not let any one go out or come in without their leave.
The people did not like this. They said, "We have a right to be free men, but the king treats us as slaves. He makes us pay taxes and gives us nothing in return. He sends soldiers among us to take away our liberty."
The whole country was stirred up. Brave men left their homes and hurried toward Boston.
They said, "We do not wish to fight against the king, but we are free men, and he must not send soldiers to oppress us. If the people of Boston must fight for their liberty, we will help them." These men were not afraid of the king's soldiers. Some of them camped in Charlestown, [Footnote: Charles'town.] a village near Boston. From the hills of Charlestown they could watch and see what the king's soldiers were doing.
They wished to be ready to defend themselves, if the soldiers should try to do them harm. For this reason they had bought some powder and stored it at Concord,[Footnote: Concord (pro. kong'krd).] nearly twenty miles away.
When the king's soldiers heard about this powder, they made up their minds to go out and get it for themselves.
Among the watchers at Charlestown was a brave young man named Paul Revere. He was ready to serve his country in any way that he could.
One day a friend of his who lived in Boston came to see him. He came very quietly and secretly, to escape the soldiers.
"I have something to tell you," he said. "Some of the king's soldiers are going to Concord to get the powder that is there. They are getting ready to start this very night."
"Indeed!" said Paul Revere. "They shall get no powder, if I can help it. I will stir up all the farmers between here and Concord, and those fellows will have a hot time of it. But you must help me."
"I will do all that I can," said his friend.
"Well, then," said Paul Revere, "you must go back to Boston and watch. Watch, and as soon as the soldiers are ready to start, hang a lantern in the tower of the old North Church. If they are to cross the river, hang two. I will be here, ready. As soon as I see the light, I will mount my horse and ride out to give the alarm."
And so it was done.
When night came, Paul Revere was at the riverside with his horse. He looked over toward Boston. He knew where the old North Church stood, but he could not see much in the darkness.
Hour after hour he stood and watched. The town seemed very still; but now and then he could hear the beating of a drum or the shouting of some soldier.
The moon rose, and by its light he could see the dim form of the church tower, far away. He heard the clock strike ten. He waited and watched.
The clock struck eleven. He was beginning to feel tired. Perhaps the soldiers had given up their plan.
He walked up and down the river bank, leading his horse behind him; but he kept his eyes turned always toward the dim, dark spot which he knew was the old North Church.
All at once a light flashed out from the tower. "Ah! there it is!" he cried. The soldiers had started.
He spoke to his horse. He put his foot in the stirrup. He was ready to mount.
Then another light flashed clear and bright by the side of the first one. The soldiers would cross the river.
Paul Revere sprang into the saddle. Like a bird let loose, his horse leaped forward. Away they went.
Away they went through the village street and out upon the country road. "Up! up!" shouted Paul Revere. "The soldiers are coming! Up! up! and defend yourselves!"
The cry awoke the farmers; they sprang from their beds and looked out. They could not see the speeding horse, but they heard the clatter of its hoofs far down the road, and they understood the cry, "Up! up! and defend yourselves!"
"It is the alarm! The redcoats are coming," they said to each other. Then they took their guns, their axes, anything they could find, and hurried out.
So, through the night, Paul Revere rode toward Concord. At every farmhouse and every village he repeated his call.
The alarm quickly spread. Guns were fired. Bells were rung. The people for miles around were roused as though a fire were raging.
The king's soldiers were surprised to find everybody awake along the road. They were angry because their plans had been discovered.
When they reached Concord, they burned the courthouse there.
At Lexington, not far from Concord, there was a sharp fight in which several men were killed. This, in history, is called the Battle of Lexington. It was the beginning of the war called the Revolutionary War. But the king's soldiers did not find the gunpowder. They were glad enough to march back without it. All along the road the farmers were waiting for them. It seemed as if every man in the country was after them. And they did not feel themselves safe until they were once more in Boston.
THE BOY AND THE WOLF
In France there once lived a famous man who was known as the Marquis de Lafayette. [Footnote: Mar'quis de La fa yette'.] When he was a little boy his mother called him Gilbert.
Gilbert de Lafayette's father and grandfather and great-grandfather had all been brave and noble men. He was very proud to think of this, and he wished that he might grow up to be like them.
His home was in the country not far from a great forest. Often, when he was a little lad, he took long walks among the trees with his mother.
"Mother," he would say, "do not be afraid. I am with you, and I will not let anything hurt you."
One day word came that a savage wolf had been seen in the forest. Men said that it was a very large wolf and that it had killed some of the farmers' sheep.
"How I should like to meet that wolf," said little Gilbert.
He was only seven years old, but now all his thoughts were about the savage beast that was in the forest.
"Shall we take a walk this morning?" asked his mother.
"Oh, yes!" said Gilbert. "Perhaps we may see that wolf among the trees.
But don't be afraid."
His mother smiled, for she felt quite sure that there was no danger.
They did not go far into the woods. The mother sat down in the shade of a tree and began to read in a new book which she had bought the day before. The boy played on the grass near by.
The sun was warm. The bees were buzzing among the flowers. The small birds were singing softly. Gilbert looked up from his play and saw that his mother was very deeply interested in her book.
"Now for the wolf!" he said to himself.
He walked quickly, but very quietly, down the pathway into the darker woods. He looked eagerly around, but saw only a squirrel frisking among the trees and a rabbit hopping across the road.
Soon he came to a wilder place. There the bushes were very close together and the pathway came to an end. He pushed the bushes aside and went a little farther. How still everything was!
He could see a green open space just beyond; and then the woods seemed to be thicker and darker. "This is just the place for that wolf," he thought.
Then, all at once, he heard footsteps. Something was pushing its way through the bushes. It was coming toward him.
"It's the wolf, I'm sure! It will not see me till it comes very near. Then I will jump out and throw my arms around its neck and choke it to death."
The animal was coming nearer. He could hear its footsteps. He could hear its heavy breathing. He stood very still and waited.
"It will try to bite me," he thought. "Perhaps it will scratch me with its sharp claws. But I will be brave. I will not cry out. I will choke it with my strong arms. Then I will drag it out of the bushes and call mamma to come and see it."
The beast was very close to him now. He could see its shadow as he peeped out through the clusters of leaves. His breath came fast. He planted his feet firmly and made ready to spring.
"How proud mamma will be of her brave boy!"
Ah! there was the wolf! He saw its shaggy head and big round eyes. He leaped from his hiding place and clasped it round its neck.
It did not try to bite or scratch. It did not even growl. But it jumped quickly forward and threw Gilbert upon the ground. Then it ran out into the open space and stopped to gaze at him.
Gilbert was soon on his feet again. He was not hurt at all. He looked at the beast, and—what do you think it was?
It was not a wolf. It was only a pet calf that had come there to browse among the bushes.
The boy felt very much ashamed. He hurried back to the pathway, and then ran to his mother. Tears were in his eyes; but he tried to look brave. "O Gilbert, where have you been?" said his mother.
Then he told her all that had happened. His lips quivered and he began to cry.
"Never mind, my dear," said his mother. "You were very brave, and it is lucky that the wolf was not there. You faced what you thought was a great danger, and you were not afraid. You are my hero."
When the American people were fighting to free themselves from the rule of the king of England, the Marquis de Lafayette helped them with men and money. He was the friend of Washington. His name is remembered in our country as that of a brave and noble man.
ANOTHER WOLF STORY
I
"WOLF! Wolf! Wolf!"
Three farmers were walking across a field and looking eagerly for tracks in the soft ground. One carried a gun, one had a pitchfork, and the third had an ax.
"Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!" they cried, as they met another farmer coming over the hill.
"Where? where?" he asked.
"We don't know," was the answer, "but we saw her tracks down there by the brook. It's the same old wolf that has been skulking around here all winter."
"She killed three of my lambs last night," said the one whose name was David Brown.
"She's killed as many as twenty since the winter began," said Thomas Tanner.
"How do you know that it is only one beast that does all this mischief?" asked the fourth farmer, whose name was Israel Putnam.
"Because the tracks are always the same," answered David Brown. "They show that three toes have been lost from the left forefoot."
"She's been caught in a trap some time, I guess," said Putnam.
"Samuel Stark saw her the other morning," said Tanner. "He says she was a monster; and she was running straight toward the hills with a little lamb in her mouth. They say she has a family of young wolves up there; and that is why she kills so many lambs."
"Here are the tracks again," said Putnam.
They could be seen very plainly, for here the ground was quite muddy. The four men followed them for some distance, and then lost them on the hillside.
"Let us call the neighbors together and have a grand wolf hunt to- morrow," said Putnam. "We must put an end to this killing of lambs."
All the other men agreed to this, and they parted.
II
The next day twenty men and boys came together for the grand wolf hunt.
They tracked the beast to the mouth of a cave, far up on the hills.
They shouted and threw stones into the cave. But the wolf was too wise to show herself. She lay hidden among some rocks, and nothing could make her stir.
"I will fetch her out," said Israel Putnam.
The opening to the cave was only a narrow hole between two rocks. Putnam stooped down and looked in. It was very dark there, and he could not see anything.
Then he tied a rope around his waist and said to his friends, "Take hold of the other end, boys. When I jerk it, then pull me out as quickly as you can." He got down on his hands and knees and crawled into the cave. He crawled very slowly and carefully.
At last he saw something in the darkness that looked like two balls of fire. He knew that these were the eyes of the wolf. The wolf gave a low growl and made ready to meet him.
Putnam gave the rope a quick jerk and his friends pulled him out in great haste. They feared that the wolf was upon him; but he wished only to get his gun.
Soon, with the gun in one hand, he crept back into the cave. The wolf saw him. She growled so loudly that the men and boys outside were frightened. But Putnam was not afraid. He raised his gun and fired at the great beast. When his friends heard the gun they pulled the rope quickly and drew him out. It was no fun to be pulled over the sharp stones in that way; but it was better than to be bitten by the wolf. Putnam loaded his gun again. Then he listened. There was not a sound inside of the cave. Perhaps the wolf was waiting to spring upon him. He crept into the cave for the third time. There were no balls of fire to be seen now. No angry growl was heard. The wolf was dead.
Putnam stayed in the cave so long that his friends began to be alarmed. After a while, however, he gave the rope a quick jerk. Men and boys pulled with all their might; and Putnam and the wolf were drawn out together.
This happened when Israel Putnam was a young man. When the Revolutionary War began he was one of the first to hurry to Boston to help the people defend themselves against the British soldiers. He became famous as one of the bravest and best of the generals who fought to make our country free.
THE HORSESHOE NAILS
I
A blacksmith was shoeing a horse.
"Shoe him quickly, for the king wishes to ride him to battle," said the groom who had brought him.
"Do you think there will be a battle?" asked the blacksmith.
"Most certainly, and very soon, too," answered the man. "The king's enemies are even now advancing, and all are ready for the fight. To- day will decide whether Richard or Henry shall be king of England."
The smith went on with his work. From a bar of iron he made four horseshoes. These he hammered and shaped and fitted to the horse's feet. Then he began to nail them on.
But after he had nailed on two shoes, he found that he had not nails enough for the other two. "I have only six nails," he said, "and it will take a little time to hammer out ten more."
"Oh, well," said the groom, "won't six nails do? Put three in each shoe. I hear the trumpets now. King Richard will be impatient."
"Three nails in each shoe will hold them on," said the smith. "Yes, I think we may risk it."
So he quickly finished the shoeing, and the groom hurried to lead the horse to the king.
II
The battle had been raging for some time. King Richard rode hither and thither, cheering his men and fighting his foes. His enemy, Henry, who wished to be king, was pressing him hard.
Far away, at the other side of the field, King Richard saw his men falling back. Without his help they would soon be beaten. So he spurred his horse to ride to their aid.
He was hardly halfway across the stony field when one of the horse's shoes flew off. The horse was lamed on a rock. Then another shoe came off. The horse stumbled, and his rider was thrown heavily to the ground.
Before the king could rise, his frightened horse, although lame, had galloped away. The king looked, and saw that his soldiers were beaten, and that the battle was everywhere going against him.
He waved his sword in the air. He shouted, "A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse." But there was no horse for him. His soldiers were intent on saving themselves. They could not give him any help.
The battle was lost. King Richard was lost. Henry became king of England.
"For the want of a nail the shoe was lost;
For the want of a shoe the horse was lost;
For the want of a horse the battle was lost;
For the failure of battle the kingdom was lost;—
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail."
Richard the Third was one of England's worst kings. Henry, the Duke of Richmond, made war upon him and defeated him in a great battle.