McGuffey's Fourth Eclectic Reader Part 8

9. "Well, my boy, what of that?"

10. "Nothing, mother," and the telltale tears sprang to his eyes, "only I guess we are very poor, aren't we?"

11. "No, indeed, Harry, we are very far from being poor. We are not so rich as Mr. Crane's family, if that is what you mean."

12. "O mother!" insisted the little fellow, "I do think we are very poor; anyhow, I am!"

13. "O Harry!" I exclaimed, reproachfully.

14. "Yes, ma'am I am," he sobbed; "I have scarcely any thing--I mean anything that's worth money--except things to eat and wear, and I'd have to have them anyway."

15. "Have to have them?" I echoed, at the same time laying my sewing upon the table, so that I might reason with him on that point; "do you not know, my son--"

16. Just then Uncle Ben looked up from the paper he had been reading: "Harry," said he, "I want to find out something about eyes; so, if you will let me have yours, I will give you a dollar apiece for them."

17. "For my eyes!" exclaimed Harry, very much astonished.

18. "Yes," resumed Uncle Ben, quietly, "for your eyes. I will give you chloroform, so it will not hurt you in the least, and you shall have a beautiful gla.s.s pair for nothing, to wear in their place. Come, a dollar apiece, cash down! What do you say? I will take them out as quick as a wink."

19. "Give you my eyes, uncle!" cried Harry, looking wild at the very thought, "I think not." And the startled little fellow shook his head defiantly.

20. "Well, five, ten, twenty dollars, then." Harry shook his head at every offer.

21. "No, sir! I wouldn't let you have them for a thousand dollars! What could I do without my eyes? I couldn't see mother, nor the baby, nor the flowers, nor the horses, nor anything," added Harry, growing warmer and warmer.

22. "I will give you two thousand," urged Uncle Ben, taking a roll of bank notes out of his pocket. Harry, standing at a respectful distance, shouted that he never would do any such thing.

23. "Very well," continued the uncle, with a serious air, at the same time writing something in his notebook, "I can't afford to give you more than two thousand dollars, so I shall have to do without your eyes; but," he added, "I will tell you what I will do, I will give you twenty dollars if you will let me put a few drops from this bottle in your ears. It will not hurt, but it will make you deaf. I want to try some experiments with deafness, you see. Come quickly, now! Here are the twenty dollars all ready for you."

24. "Make me deaf!" shouted Harry, without even looking at the gold pieces temptingly displayed upon the table. "I guess you will not do that, either. Why, I couldn't hear a single word if I were deaf, could I?"

25. "Probably not," replied Uncle Ben. So, of course, Harry refused again.

He would never give up his hearing, he said, "no, not for three thousand dollars."

26. Uncle Ben made another note in his book, and then came out with large bids for "a right arm," then "left arm," "hands," "feet," "nose," finally ending with an offer of ten thousand dollars for "mother," and five thousand for "the baby."

27. To all of these offers Harry shook his head, his eyes flashing, and exclamations of surprise and indignation bursting from his lips. At last, Uncle Ben said he must give up his experiments, for Harry's prices were entirely too high.

28. "Ha! ha!" laughed the boy, exultingly, and he folded his dimpled arms and looked as if to say, "I'd like to see the man who could pay them!"

29. "Why, Harry, look here!" exclaimed Uncle Ben, peeping into his notebook, "here is a big addition sum, I tell you!" He added the numbers, and they amounted to thirty-two thousand dollars.

30. "There, Harry," said Uncle Ben, "don't you think you are foolish not to accept some of my offers?" "No, sir, I don't," answered Harry, resolutely. "Then," said Uncle Ben, "you talk of being poor, and by your own showing you have treasures for which you will not take thirty-two thousand dollars. What do you say to that?"

31. Harry didn't know exactly what to say. So he blushed for a second, and just then tears came rolling down his cheeks, and he threw his chubby arms around my neck. "Mother," he whispered, "isn't G.o.d good to make everybody so rich?"

DEFINITIONS.--8. Dis-con'so-late, filled with grief. 13.

Re-proach'ful-ly, with censure or reproof. 18. Chlo're-form, an oily liquid, the vapor of which causes insensibility. 19. Startled, shocked.

De-fi'ant-ly, daringly. 23. Af-ford', to be able to pay for.

Ex-per'i-ments, acts performed to discover some truth. 27.

Ex-cla-ma'tions, expressions of surprise, anger, etc. 28. Ex-ult'ing-ly, in a triumphant manner. 30. Treas'ures, things which are very much valued.

XXVI. IN TIME'S SWING. (77)

By Lucy Larcom.

1. Father Time, your footsteps go Lightly as the falling snow.

In your swing I'm sitting, see!

Push me softly; one, two; three, Twelve times only. Like a sheet, Spread the snow beneath my feet.

Singing merrily, let me swing Out of winter into spring.

2. Swing me out, and swing me in!

Trees are bare, but birds begin Twittering to the peeping leaves, On the bough beneath the eaves.

Wait,--one lilac bud I saw.

Icy hillsides feel the thaw.

April chased off March to-day; Now I catch a glimpse of May.

3. Oh, the smell of sprouting gra.s.s!

In a blur the violets pa.s.s.

Whispering from the wildwood come Mayflower's breath and insect's hum.

Roses carpeting the ground; Thrushes, orioles, warbling sound:-- Swing me low, and swing me high, To the warm clouds of July.

4. Slower now, for at my side White pond lilies open wide.

Underneath the pine's tall spire Cardinal blossoms burn like fire.

They are gone; the golden-rod Flashes from the dark green sod.

Crickets in the gra.s.s I hear; Asters light the fading year.

5. Slower still! October weaves Rainbows of the forest leaves.

Gentians fringed, like eyes of blue, Glimmer out of sleety dew.

Meadow green I sadly miss: Winds through withered sedges hiss.

Oh, 't is snowing, swing me fast, While December shivers past!

6. Frosty-bearded Father Time, Stop your footfall on the rime!

Hard you push, your hand is rough; You have swung me long enough.

"Nay, no stopping," say you? Well, Some of your best stories tell, While you swing me--gently, do!-- From the Old Year to the New.

DEFINITIONS.--2. Twit'ter-ing, making a succession of small, chirping noises. Glimpse, a short, hurried view. 3. Blur, a dim, confused appearance. 6. Rime, whitefrost, h.o.a.rfrost.

XXVII. HARRY AND HIS DOG. (79)

1. "Beg, Frisk, beg," said little Harry, as he sat on an inverted basket, at his grandmother's door, eating, with great satisfaction, a porringer of bread and milk. His little sister Annie, who had already dispatched her breakfast, sat on the ground opposite to him, now twisting her flowers into garlands, and now throwing them away.