"You must go down deep into the earth," she said, "and offer your services to the Prince of Riches; then he will let you carry away as much treasure as your beak will hold. You will have to pass through caverns full of silver and jewels and gold, but mind that you do not touch a single thing until you have seen the prince, and he gives youpermission to do so."
Then she told the blackbird how to find the underground passage that would take him into the earth, and the blackbird flew off, eager to reach the wonderful treasure and obtain some for his own.
He found all as the magpie had told him. The first cavern was ablaze with silver, the second was full of precious gems and stones; but, remembering what the magpie had told him, the blackbird did not touch anything, and kept steadfastly on his way.
When he entered the third cavern, he found it heaped with gold. Great blocks of the precious metal were piled up round the walls, and the floor was strewn with gold dust, which glittered and sparkled and shone so that the blackbird"s eyes were quite dazzled with its brilliance. He could resist the temptation no longer, and, alighting on the floor of the cavern, he plunged his beak into the beautiful glittering stuff.
Scarcely had he touched the treasure than there was a roar like thunder. The cavern filled with smoke and fire, and a terrible demon appeared, who rushed upon the thief.
The blackbird managed to escape, but, when he reached the upper world again, he found that his beautiful feathers, which had once been so pure and white, had been turned perfectly black by the thick smoke and flame.
He tried all sorts of ways to restore them to their original purity, but he never succeeded. And, except for his beak, which still retains the colour of the gold he tried to steal, he remains quite black to this very day.
And now, whenever a blackbird is startled, he flies away with piercing cries of terror, for he has never forgotten his terrible fright in the cavern; and he is always afraid of being attacked by another dreadful monster.
From My Book of Beautiful Legends
Author.-Unknown.
General Notes.-Why is the Prince of Riches said to live under- ground? Name all the gems you know. Why are silver and golden gems precious? Do you know any other bird legends? Write or tell one from memory.
Lesson 48
THE ENCHANTED SHIRT
The King was sick. His cheek was red, And his eye was clear and bright;He ate and drank with a kingly zest, And peacefully snored at night.
But he said he was sick, and a King should know And doctors came by the score:
They did not cure him; he cut off their heads And sent to the schools for more.
At last two famous doctors came, And one was as poor as a rat--He had passed his life in studious toil, And never found time to grow fat.
The other had never looked in a book, His patients gave him no trouble;If they recovered they paid him well, If they died their heirs paid double.
Together they looked at the royal tongue, As the King on his couch reclined;In succession they thumped his august chest,
But no trace of disease could find.
The old sage said, " You"re as sound as a nut.""Hang him up!" roared the King in a gale-- In a ten knot gale of royal rage;The other leech grew a shade pale,
But pensively rubbed his sagacious nose, And thus his prescription ran-The King will be well if he sleeps one night In the Shirt of a Happy Man.
Wide o"er the realm the couriers rode,
And fast their horses ran;
And many they saw, and to many they spoke, But they found no Happy Man.
They found poor men who would fain be rich, And rich who thought they were poor,And men who twisted their waists in stays, And women that short-hose wore.
They saw two men by the roadside sit, And both bemoaned their lot;For one had buried his wife, he said, And the other one had not.
At last they came to a village gate, A beggar lay whistling there;He whistled and sang and laughed and rolled On the grass in the soft June air.
The weary couriers paused and looked At the scamp so blithe and gay;And one of them said, "Heaven save you, friend!
You seem to be happy to-day."
"O yes, fair sirs!" the rascal laughed, And his voice rang free and glad;"And idle man has so much to do That he never has time to be sad.""This is our man," the courier said, "Our luck has led us aright.
I will give you a hundred ducats, friend, For the loan of your shirt to-night."The merry blackguard lay back on the grass, And laughed till his face was black;"I would do it, God wot," and he roared with the fun,"But I haven"t a shirt to my back."
Each day to the King the reports came in Of his unsuccessful spies,And the sad procession of human woes Passed daily under his eyes.
And he grew ashamed of his useless life, And his maladies hatched in gloom.
He opened his windows and let the air Of the free heaven into his room.
And out he went in the world and toiled In his own appointed way;And the people blessed him, the land was glad, And the King was well and gay.
Colonel John Hay
Author.-John Hay (1838-1905), an American writer, was born in Indiana. He studied law, became private secretary to President Lincoln, served in the Civil War, and was later appointed to high official positions. He published some books of verse and, with J. G. Nicolay, a Life of Lincoln.
Suggestions for Verse-speaking.-This is an excellent poem to mime, or act in dumb show, while the verses are spoken by the class. The actions should be timed to fit the words.
Lesson 49
PINCHER
It was near Christmas, some years ago, and the River Murray was in flood. Near its banks was a farmhouse where two children were talking to their mother, Mrs. Lett.
"But Pincher is such a quick dog, mother," said Tom.
"You should see him catch rabbits."
