Third Reader: The Alexandra Readers. John Dearness
minstrel, whose hair was white, and whose step was slow.
“I can sing of ladies and their fair faces,” said the youngest minstrel. But Harmonious whispered, “Listen! listen!”
“Oh! we hear nothing but the wind in the tree-tops,” said the others. “We have not time to stop and listen.”
Then they hurried on and left Harmonious; and he stood under the trees and listened, for he heard the wind singing of its travels through the wide world. It was telling how it raced over the blue sea, tossing the waves and rocking the white ships. It sang of the hill where the trees made harps of their branches, and of the valleys where all the flowers danced gayly to its music. And this was the chorus of the song:—
“Nobody follows me where I go,
Over the mountains or valley below;
Nobody sees where the wild winds blow—
Only the Father in Heaven can know.”
Harmonious listened until he knew the whole song. Then he ran on, and soon reached his friends, who were still talking of the grand sights that they were to see. “We shall behold the king, and we shall speak to him,” said the oldest minstrel. “And we shall see his golden crown and the queen’s jewels,” added the youngest.
Now their path led them through the wood, and as they talked, Harmonious said, “Hush! listen!” But the others answered: “Oh! that is only the sound of the brook, trickling over the stones. Let us make haste to the king’s court.”
But Harmonious stayed to hear the song that the brook was singing, of journeying through mosses and ferns and shady ways, and of tumbling over the rocks in shining waterfalls, on its way to the sea.
“Rippling and bubbling through shade and sun
On to the beautiful sea I run;
Singing forever, though none be near—
For God in Heaven can always hear.”
Thus sang the little brook. Harmonious listened until he knew every word of the song, and then he hurried on.
When he reached the others, he found them still talking of the king and the queen, so he could not tell them of the brook. As they talked, he heard something again that was wonderfully sweet, and he cried, “Listen! listen!”
“Oh! that is only a bird,” the others replied. “Let us make haste to the king’s court.”
But Harmonious would not go, for the bird sang so joyfully that Harmonious laughed aloud when he heard the song. It was singing a song of green trees; and in every tree there was a nest, and in every nest there were eggs.
“Merrily, merrily, listen to me
Flitting and flying from tree to tree;
Nothing fear I, by land or sea—
For God in Heaven is watching me.”
“Thank you, little bird,” said Harmonious; “you have taught me a song.” And he made haste to join his comrades.
When they had come into the palace, they received a hearty welcome, and were feasted in the great hall before they came into the throne room. The king and queen sat on their thrones side by side. The king thought of the queen and the minstrels; but the queen thought of her old home in a far-off country, and of the butterflies she had chased when she was a little child.
One by one the minstrels played before them. The oldest minstrel sang of battles and drums, and the soldiers of the king shouted with joy. The youngest minstrel sang of ladies and their fair faces, and all the ladies of the court clapped their hands.
Then came Harmonious. And when he touched his harp and sang, the song sounded like the wind blowing, the sea roaring, and the trees creaking. Then it grew very soft, and sounded like a trickling brook, dripping on stones and running over little pebbles. And while the king and queen and all the court listened in surprise, Harmonious’s song grew sweeter, sweeter, sweeter. It was as if you heard all the birds in spring. And then the song was ended.
The queen clapped her hands, and the ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the king came down from his throne to ask Harmonious if he came from fairy-land with such a wonderful song. But Harmonious answered:—
“Three singers sang along our way,
And I learned the song from them to-day.”
Now all the minstrels looked up in surprise when they heard these words from Harmonious; and the oldest minstrel said to the king: “Harmonious is surely mad! We met no singers on our way to-day.” But the queen said: “That is an old, old song. I heard it when I was a little child, and I can name the singers three.” And so she did. Can you?
—Maude Lindsay.
From “Mother Stories,” by permission of Milton Bradley Company.
THE USE OF FLOWERS
God might have bade the earth bring forth
Enough for great and small,
The oak-tree and the cedar-tree,
Without a flower at all.
We might have had enough, enough
For every want of ours,
For luxury, medicine, and toil,
And yet have had no flowers.
The ore within the mountain mine
Requireth none to grow;
Nor doth it need the lotus-flower
To make the river flow.
The clouds might give abundant rain,
The nightly dews might fall,
And the herb that keepeth life in man
Might yet have drunk them all.
Then wherefore, wherefore were they made,
All dyed with rainbow light,
All fashioned with supremest grace,
Upspringing day and night—
Springing in valleys green and low,
And on the mountain high,
And in the silent wilderness,
Where no man passes by?
Our outward life requires them not,
Then wherefore had they birth?—
To minister delight to man,
To beautify the earth:
To comfort man, to whisper hope
Whene’er his faith is dim;
For Whoso careth for the flowers
Will much more care for him.
—Mary Howitt.
THE MILLER OF THE DEE
There dwelt a miller, hale and bold,
Beside the river Dee;
He worked and sang from morn till night—
No lark more blithe than he;
And