De La Salle Fifth Reader Part 38

To right--to left,--he faltered; then swift across the sward, (Like dusky demon fleeing), he bore the Hidden Lord; By mere and moonlit meadow his rapid pa.s.sage sped, Till, at an open wicket, he paused with bended head.

Behold! a gra.s.sy terrace,--a garden, wide and fair, And, 'mid the wealth of roses, a beehive nestling there.

Across the flow'ring trellis, the villain cast his cloak, Upon the jeweled chalice, the moonbeams, sparkling, broke!

O sacrilegious fingers! your work was quickly done!

Within the hive (audacious!) he thrust the Holy One, Then gath'ring up his mantle to hide the treasure bright-- Plunged back into the darkness, and vanish'd in the night.

Forth in the summer morning, full of the sun and breeze, Into his dewy garden, walks the master of the bees.

All silent stands the beehive,--no little buzzing things Among the flowers, flutter, on brown and golden wings.

Untasted lies the honey within the roses' hearts,-- The master paces nearer,--he listens--lo! he starts, What sounds of rapturous singing! O heaven! all alive With strange angelic music, is that celestial hive!

Upon his knees adoring, the master, weeping, sees Within a honeyed cloister, the Chalice of the bees; For lo! the little creatures have reared a waxen shrine, Wherein reposes safely the Sacred Host Divine!...

O little ones, who listen unto this legend old (Upon my shoulder blending your locks of brown and gold), From out the hands of sinners whose hearts are foul to see, Behold! the dear Lord Jesus appeals to you and me.

He says: "O loving children! within your hearts prepare A hive of honeyed sweetness where I may nestle fair; Make haste, O pure affections! to welcome Me therein, Out of the world's bright gardens, out of the groves of Sin.

"And in the night of sorrow (sweet sorrow), like the bees, Around My Heart shall hover your winged ministries, And while ye toil, the angels shall, softly singing come To worship Me, the Captive of Love's Ciborium!"

_Eleanor C. Donnelly._

From "The Children of the Golden Sheaf." Published by P.C. Donnelly.

MERE, a waste place; a marsh.

TRELLIS, a frame of latticework.

WAXEN, made of wax. _en_ is here a suffix meaning _made of._ Use _golden, leaden, wooden,_ in sentences of your own.

Synonyms are words which have very nearly the same meaning. What does _revealed_ mean? _cloister_? Find as many synonyms of these two words as you can. Consult your dictionary.

_62_

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LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY.

Daffy-down-dilly was so called because in his nature he resembled a flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and agreeable, and took no delight in labor of any kind. But, while Daffy-down-dilly was yet a little boy, his mother sent him away from his pleasant home, and put him under the care of a very strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of Mr. Toil. Those who knew him best, affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a very worthy character, and that he had done more good, both to children and grown people, than anybody else in the world. Nevertheless, Mr. Toil had a severe countenance; his voice, too, was harsh; and all his ways seemed very disagreeable to our friend Daffy-down-dilly.

The whole day long, this terrible old schoolmaster sat at his desk, overlooking the pupils, or stalked about the room with a certain awful birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the shoulders of a boy whom Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he punished a whole cla.s.s who were behindhand with their lessons; and, in short, unless a lad chose to attend constantly to his book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet moment in the schoolroom of Mr. Toil.

"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffy-down-dilly to himself, when he had been at school about a week. "I'll run away, and try to find my dear mother; at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so disagreeable as this old Mr. Toil." So, the very next morning, off started poor Daffy-down-dilly, and began his rambles about the world, with only some bread and cheese for his breakfast, and very little pocket money to pay his expenses. But he had gone only a short distance, when he overtook a man of grave and sedate appearance, who was trudging along the road at a moderate pace.

"Good-morning, my fine little lad," said the stranger; "whence do you come so early, and whither are you going?" Daffy-down-dilly hesitated a moment or two, but finally confessed that he had run away from school, on account of his great dislike to Mr. Toil; and that he was resolved to find some place in the world where he should never see nor hear of the old schoolmaster again. "Very well, my little friend," answered the stranger, "we will go together; for I, also, have had a great deal to do with Mr. Toil, and should be glad to find some place where his name was never heard."

They had not gone far, when they pa.s.sed a field where some haymakers were at work, mowing down the tall gra.s.s, and spreading it out in the sun to dry. Daffy-down-dilly was delighted with the sweet smell of the new-mown gra.s.s, and thought how much pleasanter it must be to make hay in the sunshine, under the blue sky, and with the birds singing sweetly in the neighboring trees and bushes, than to be shut up in a dismal schoolroom, learning lessons all day long, and continually scolded by Mr. Toil.

But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he was stopping to peep over the stone wall, he started back, caught hold of his companion's hand, and cried, "Quick, quick! Let us run away, or he will catch us!"

"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.

"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffy-down-dilly. "Don't you see him among the haymakers?"

"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer; and people say he is the more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't trouble you, unless you become a laborer on the farm."

They went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum and fife. Daffy-down-dilly besought his companion to hurry forward, that they might not miss seeing the soldiers.

"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.

Little Daffy-down-dilly started in great dismay; and, turning his eyes to the captain of the company, what should he see but the very image of old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and feather on his head, a pair of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a laced coat on his back, a purple sash round his waist, and a long sword, instead of a birch rod, in his hand! Though he held his head high and strutted like a rooster, still he looked quite as ugly and disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in the schoolroom.

"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffy-down-dilly, in a trembling voice. "Let us run away, for fear he will make us enlist in his company!"

"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the stranger, very composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who has served in the army all his life. People say he's a very severe fellow, but you and I need not be afraid of him."

"Well, well," said Daffy-down-dilly, "but, if you please, sir, I don't want to see the soldiers any more."

So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by and by, they came to a house by the roadside, where some people were making merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their faces, were dancing to the sound of a fiddle.

"Let us stop here," cried Daffy-down-dilly to his companion; "for Mr.

Toil will never dare to show his face where there is a fiddler, and where people are dancing and making merry. We shall be quite safe here."

But these last words died away upon Daffy-down-dilly's tongue, for, happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he behold again, but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle bow instead of a birch rod.