The Silent Readers: Sixth Reader. Albert Lindsay Rowland
you go with me, Spirit of Action?
Spirit of Action (Appears suddenly at the window.)—Go? Yes. Wait a moment. (Bounds to the stage.) Where are you going?
Y. A. (Points to the curtain at rear.)—There, Spirit of Action. What will you do if you go with me?
Sp. of A. (Laughs.)—I shall make your blood dance and your heart beat high. I shall fill your hands with glorious work. Your muscles shall be strong with the doing.
Y. A.—O, Spirit of Action, you make me want to start at once. I could not do without you. But, wait. (Goes to the second window, draws the curtain back to see the word "Understanding".) Come, friend Understanding.
Spirit of Understanding.—Here am I, Young America.
Y. A.—I am going away, Understanding.
Sp. of U.—So! Why do you go?
Y. A.—I want to go. I do not know exactly why.
Sp. of U. (Comes on the stage.)—Then you do need me, Young America. I will make your eye clear, and your mind aware. If I go with you, you must think. Will you?
Y. A.—Thinking is hard, but I promise if you show me how. Now, for my next friend. (Goes to the third window, draws back the curtain and sees, "Self-Control".) Ho, Self-Control, it is I, Young America! Come, go with me!
Spirit of Self-Control.—Not so fast! Steady, Young America. Go with you?
Y. A.—Yes, on a journey.
Sp. of S-C.—If I go with you I must have a big promise.
Y. A.—What?
Sp. of S-C.—You must play the game of life with fair rules—the same rules for all.
Y. A.—Yes.
Sp. of S-C.—And you must help make the rules.
Y. A.—Yes.
Sp. of S-C.—And the hardest of all, you must obey the rules yourself.
Y. A.—I'll try, Self-Control. (Self-Control joins the others on the stage. Y. A. draws aside the curtain from the fourth window, marked "Sympathy".)
Y. A.—Come, friend, Young America is going on a journey.
Spirit of Sympathy (Appears.)—A journey? Who goes with you?
Y. A.—Self-Control, Understanding, and Action.
Sp. of S.—You need more than they can give.
Y. A.—What more do I need?
Sp. of S.—Why, don't you see, you have no one to make you feel for others in the game. You can't play or work alone. You must join hands and pull together. (Comes out from the window.) Take my hand.
Y. A. (wonderingly).—Your hand is soft and warm, Spirit of Sympathy. I should like to have you go.
Sp. of A.—Hurry, come, we must be gone. Sit here, Young America, let me put these sandals on your feet. There.
Y. A.—They fit so well, Spirit. And see, wings! Ah, sandals with wings!
Sp. of U.—Sometimes it will be dark. Keep this torch burning. (She lights the torch and hands it to the boy.)
Y. A.—How bright it makes the way.
Sp. of S-C.—There will be rugged heights to climb in that land, dark abysses into which you might fall. Take this staff. My strength is in it. If wild beasts attack you, defend yourself. Be steady, steady.
Y. A.—A staff! How strong it is!
Sp. of S. (A long garland of flowers trails from her hands. She winds them about Young America and the three other spirits. Then she takes Young America's hand.)—Come, we go as one to the Land-of-Equal-Chance. (The group, bound by their flower chain, moves up the steps towards the curtain.)
Sp. of A. (Springs ahead but holds to the chain.)—Open, open! Young America is here!
All.—Open, open for Young America!
(Father Time and Mother Space, who have been standing aside, take their places at the large curtain and after a pause slowly lift it, revealing the figure of Liberty bathed in shining light. Young America starts back.)
Liberty.—Come, Young America!
Y. A. (Aside to companions.)—Dare I go?
All the Spirits.—We will go with you.
Liberty.—Come, Young America!
(Young America advances slowly towards the outstretched arms of Liberty and kneels. The Spirits follow forming a group which says, "Onward into the Land-of-Equal-Chance".)
—"National School Service."
Questions
Each of Young America's companions gave him a present. What were the presents? Was each a suitable gift to come from its giver? Of what use will each gift be?
Do you think Young America would be likely to succeed with only three of these companions? If so, which one do you think he can spare?
"Come, Young America!"
THE BROKEN FLOWER-POT
Is this a real, live boy who tells this story? He did two things, a bad one and a good one. You probably would not have done the bad one. Try to think out for yourself, not to answer the question to your teacher or class, whether or not you would have done the good one.
I
My father was seated on the lawn before the house, his straw hat over his eyes, and his book on his lap. Suddenly a beautiful delft blue-and-white flower-pot, which had been set on the window-sill of an upper story, fell to the ground with a crash, and the fragments flew up round my father's feet. But my father continued to read.
"Dear, dear!" cried my mother, who was at work in the porch; "my poor flower-pot, that I prized so much! I would rather the best tea-set were broken! The poor geranium I reared myself, and the dear, dear flower-pot which Mr. Caxton bought for me my last birthday! That naughty child must have done this!"
I came out of the house as bold as brass, and said rapidly, "Yes, mother, it was I who pushed out the flower-pot."
"Hush!" said my nurse, while gazing at my father, who had very slowly taken off his hat, and was looking on with serious, wide-awake eyes. "Hush! And if he did break it, ma'am, it was quite an accident. He was standing so, and he never meant it. Did you? Speak!" this in a whisper, "or father will be so very angry."
"Well," said mother, "I suppose it was an accident; take care in the future, my child. You are sorry, I see, to have grieved me. There is a kiss; don't fret."
"No, mother, you must not kiss me; I don't deserve it, I pushed out the flower-pot on purpose."
"Ah! and why?" said my father, walking up.
"For fun!" said I, hanging my head; "just to see how you'd look, father; and that's the truth of it."
My father threw his book fifty feet off, stooped down, and caught me in his arms. "Boy," he said, "you have done wrong; you shall repair it by remembering all your life that your father blessed God for giving him a son who spoke truth in spite of fear."
II
Not long after, Mr. Squills gave me a beautiful large box of dominoes, made of cut ivory. This domino box was my delight. I was never tired of playing