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PAGE 4.
THE FUTURE CITIZEN.
Settling The East And Exploring I he West
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From Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans
American Book Co., New York.
SOME BOYS WHO BE
COME AUTHORS.
William Cullen Bryant was the
fir6t great poet in this country. lie
was a small man. When he was a
baby, his head was too big for his
body. His father used to send the
baby to be dipped in a cold spring
every day. The father thought
that putting his head into cold
water would keep it from grow-
ing.
Bryant knew his letters before
he was a year and a half old. He
began to write rhymes when he
was a very little fellow. He want
ed to be a poet. He used to pray
that he might be a poet. His father
printed some verses of his when he
was only ten years old.
Bryant wrote many fine poems.
Here are «ome lines of his about
the bird we call a bobolink : —
“Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed,
Wearing a bright black wedding coat;
White are his shoulders and white his
crest.
Hear him call in his merry note:
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Look, what a nice new coat is mine,
Sure there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee.”
Hawthorne was one of our great
est writers of stories. He was a
pretty boy with golden curls. He
was fond of all the great poets, and
he read Shakespeare and Milton
and many other poets as soon as he
was old enough to understand
them.
Hawthorne grew up a very hand
some young fellow. One day he
was walking in the woods, lie
met an old gypsy woman. She had
never seen anybody so fine-look
ing.
“Are you a man, or an angel?”
she asked him
Some of Hawthorne’s best books
are written for girls and boys. One
of 4 these is culb’The Wonder Book.”
Another of his books for young
people is “lutiglewood Tales.”
Prescott wrote beautiful histories.
When Prescott was a boy, a school
mate threw a crust of bread at him.
It hit hitn in the eye. He became
almost blind.
He had to do his writing v\ ith a
machine. This machine was made
for the use of the blind. There
were no typewriters in those days.
it was hard work to write histo
ry without good eyes. But Pres
cott did not give up. He had .a
man to read to him. It took him
ten years to write his first book.
When Prescott had finished his
book, he was ^afraid to print it.
But his father said, “The man
writes a book, and is afraid to
print it, is a coward.”
Then Prescott printed his book
Everybody praised it. When you
are older, you will like to read his
histories.
Doctor Holmes, the poet, was a
boy full of fancies. He lived in an
old house. Soldiers had staid in
the house at the time of the Revo
lution. The floor of one room was
all battered by the butts of the sol
diers’ muskets.
Little Oliver Holmes used to
think he could hear soldiers in the
house. He thought he could hear
their spurs rattling in the dark
passages. Sometimes he thought
he could he ir iheir swords clank
ing.
The little boy was afraid of a
sign that hung over the sidewalk.
It was a great, bit/, wooden hand.
It was the sign of a place where
gloves were made. This big hand
swung in the air. Little Oliver
Holmes had to walk under it on
his way to school. He thought the
great fingers would grab him some
day. Then he thought he would
never get home again. He even
thought that his other pai«* of shoes
would be put away till his little
brother grew big enough to wear
them.
But the big wooden hand never
caught him.
Here are some verses that Doctor
Holmes wrote about a very old
man :—
-“My grandmamma has said—
Poor old lady, she is dead
Long ago —
That he had a Roman nose,
And his cheek was like a rose
In the snow.
“But now his nose is thin,
And it rests upon his chin
Like a staff;
And a crook is in his back,
And a melancholy crack
In his laugh.
“I know it is a sin
For me sit and grin
At him here;
But the old three-cornered hat,
And the breeches, and all that,
Are so queer!
“And if I should live to be
The last leaf upon the tree
In the spring,
Let them smile, as I do now,
At the old forsaken bough
Where I cling.”
DO YOUR BEST.
This habit of always doing one’s
best enters into the very marrow
of one’s heart and character; it af
fects one's bearing, one’s selt pos
session. The one who does every
thing to a finish has a feeling of
serenity; he is not easily thrown
off his balance; he has nothing to
fear and he can lock the world in
the face because he feels conscious
that he has. not put shoddy into
anything, that he has had nothing
to do with shams, and that he has
always done his level best. The
sense of efficiency, of being master
of one’s craft, of being equal lo
any emergency, the consciouness
of possessing the ability to do with
superiority whatever one under
takes, will give soul-satisfaction
which a slip shod, half-hearted
worker never knows. When a
man feels throbbing within him
the power to do what he undertakes
as well as it can possibly be done,
and all of his faculties say “Amen”
to what he is doing, and give their
unqualified approval to his efforts
—that is happiness.—Orison Sweet
Marden.
HAVE YOU A LITTLE FUTURE CUiZEN IN YOUR HOME?—WELL. YOU SHOULD.-
