Story Hour Readings: Seventh Year Part 33

"You ought to have cut a nick in the right one while you 10 were there."

"That may be," answered John; "but now I see that I'll have to begin with the first tree and keep on digging till I come to the one with the treasure under it."

This made the wife lose all hope; for there were eighty 15 apple trees and a score of cherry trees. She heaved a sigh and said: "Well, I guess if you must, you must. But mind you don't cut any of the roots."

John was in no good humor. He abused the trees with all the bad words he could think of. 20

"What difference does it make if I cut all the roots?

The old f.a.gots aren't worth a penny apiece. The whole lot of them don't bear a bushel of good apples. In father's time they used to bear wagonloads of choice fruit. I wish they were every one dead!" 25

"Well, John," said the woman, trying to soothe his anger, "you know that father always gave them a good deal of attention."

"Attention? Nonsense!" he answered spitefully.

"They don't need attention. They've got old, like ourselves. 30 They're good for nothing but firewood."

Then, muttering to himself, he brought out pickax and spade and began his work. He dug three feet deep all around the first tree, and finding nothing but earth and stones went on to the next. He heaped up a mound half as high as his head--but no pot of gold did he strike.

He had dug round three or four trees before his neighbors 5 began to notice him. Then their curiosity was awakened, and each one told another about his queer actions. After that there was scarcely an hour in the day that seven or eight were not sitting on the fence and pa.s.sing sly jokes.

Then it became the fashion for the boys to fling a stone or 10 two or a clod of dry earth at John.

To defend himself, John brought out his gun, loaded with fine shot, and the next time a stone was thrown he fired sharp in the direction it came from. The boys took the hint, and John dug on in peace till the fourth Sunday, when 15 the parson alluded to him in church. "People ought not to heap up to themselves treasures on earth."

But it seemed that John was only heaping up dirt; for when he had dug the fivescore holes, no pot of gold came to light. Then the neighbors called the orchard "Jacobs's 20 folly"; his name was Jacobs--John Jacobs.

"Now then, Mary," said he, "you and I will have to find some other village to live in, for the jokes and gibes of these people are more than I can bear."

Mary began to cry. 25

"Oh, John, we have been here so long!" she said. "You brought me here when we were first married. I was just a la.s.s then, and you were the smartest young man I ever saw--at least I thought so."

"Well, Mary," answered John, "I guess we'll try to stay. 30 Perhaps it will all blow over some time."

"Yes, John, it will be like everything else by and by.

But if I were you, I'd fill those holes. The people come from far and wide on Sundays to see them."

"Mary, I haven't the heart to do that," said the disappointed man. "You see, when I was digging for treasure I felt sure I was going to find it, and that kept my heart up. 5 But take a shovel and fill all those holes? I'd rather do without eggs every Sunday!"

So for six months the heaps of earth stood in the heat and the frost. Then in the spring the old man took heart and filled the holes, smoothing the ground until it was as level 10 as before. And soon everybody forgot "Jacobs's folly"

because it was out of sight.

The month of April was warm, and out burst the trees.

"Mary," said John, "the bloom is richer than I've seen it for many a year; it's a good deal richer than in any of 15 our neighbors' orchards."

The bloom died, and then out came a million little green things, quite hard. Summer pa.s.sed. Autumn followed, and the old trees staggered under their weight of fruit.

The trees were old and needed attention. John's 20 letting in the air to them and turning the soil up to the frost and sun had renewed their youth. And so, in that way, he learned that tillage is the way to get treasure from the earth.

1. What other stories about buried treasure have you read? What is fascinating about the theme besides the get-rich-quick idea?

2. In what country is the scene of this story laid?

At about what time? Give evidence in support of your answer.

3. Do apple trees bear better when the ground is cultivated around them? Where do you get your first hint of the end of the story? Is the conclusion satisfying to you? Was it to John?

THE SOLITARY REAPER

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

A friend of Wordsworth's, while traveling in the Highlands of Scotland, was impressed by the beautiful singing voice of a girl whom he saw working alone in a field; he wrote in his diary--"the sweetest human voice I ever heard. The strains felt delicious long after they were heard no more." Wordsworth had traveled through the same country, and from the note and his own impressions he built up this poem. The first stanza gives the real picture, the second offers two comparisons--the nightingale and the cuckoo--one sad, the other happy, both a.s.sociated with solitude and open s.p.a.ces. The third stanza relates the girl and her song to the background of history and human experience that belongs to the scene; and the last refers to Wordsworth's delight in recalling beautiful things.

Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland la.s.s!

Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pa.s.s!

Alone she cuts and binds the grain, 5 And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.

No nightingale did ever chant More welcome notes to weary bands 10 Of travelers in some shady haunt Among Arabian sands; A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In springtime from the cuckoo bird, Breaking the silence of the seas 15 Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?

Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago; Or is it some more humble lay, 5 Familiar matter of to-day-- Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; 10 I saw her singing at her work And o'er the sickle bending; I listened, motionless and still, And as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore 15 Long after it was heard no more.

1. Describe what is seen and heard. To what bird songs is the girl's voice compared? Have you ever heard the song of the nightingale? What widely different places are thought of in the second stanza? What have the desert and the sea in common?

Where are the Hebrides?

2. Explain: numbers, lay, sickle, la.s.s, vale, profound.

3. What in this poem reminds you of "The Daffodils?" How is the theme identical with Longfellow's "The Arrow and the Song?"

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.

--_Ralph Waldo Emerson._

_IN GOOD HUMOR_

_He is twice blessed who has a sense of humor; he is saved from taking too seriously the shortcomings of his fellows; and he makes glad the hearts of his friends. For it has been wisely said that humor is the measure of a gentleman, even as its possession distinguishes civilized from savage man._

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE STAGECOACH

(_See opposite page_)]