No More Learning

It was
patient, thoughtful, serious, but with never a sign of petulance. What
thoughts filled that young head--what contemplation took the place of
what should have been the [v]ineffable upspringing of childish
emotion--what complaint or questioning were living behind that white
face--no one could guess. In an older person the face would have
betokened a resignation that found peace in the hope of things
hereafter. In this child, without hope or aspiration, it was sad beyond
expression.

One day as I passed I nodded at him. He made no sign in return. I
repeated the nod on another trip, waving my hand at him--but without
avail. At length, in response to an unusually winning exhortation, his
pale lips trembled into a smile, but a smile that was soberness itself.
Wherever I went that day that smile went with me. Wherever I saw
children playing in the parks, or trotting along with their hands
nestled in strong fingers that guided and protected, I thought of that
tiny watcher in the balcony--joyless, hopeless, friendless--a desolate
mite, hanging between the blue sky and the gladsome streets, lifting his
wistful face now to the peaceful heights of the one, and now looking
with grave wonder on the ceaseless tumult of the other. At length--but
why go any further? Why is it necessary to tell that the boy had no
father, that his mother was bedridden from his birth, and that his
sister pasted labels in a drug-house, and he was thus left to himself.

It is sufficient to say that I went to Coney Island yesterday, and
watched the bathers and the children--listened to the crisp, lingering
music of the waves--ate a robust lunch on the pier--wandered in and out
among the booths, tents, and hub-bub--and that through all these
pleasures I had a companion that enjoyed them with a gravity that I can
never hope to [v]emulate, but with a soulfulness that was touching. As I
came back in the boat, the breezes singing through the [v]cordage, music
floating from the fore-deck, and the sun lighting with its dying rays
the shipping that covered the river, there was sitting in front of me a
very pale but very happy bit of a boy, open-eyed with wonder, but sober
and self-contained, clasping tightly in his little fingers a short,
battered stick. And finally, whenever I pass by a certain overhanging
balcony now, I am sure of a smile from an intimate and esteemed friend
who lives there.

HENRY W. GRADY.




ARIEL'S TRIUMPH[141-*]


This story is taken from Booth Tarkington's novel, _The Conquest of
Canaan_, which gives an admirable description of modern life in an
American town. Joe Louden, the hero, and Ariel Tabor, the heroine,
were both friendless and, in a way, forlorn. How both of them
triumphed over obstacles and won success and happiness is the theme
of a book which is notable for keen observation of character and
for a quiet and delightful humor.


I

Ariel had worked all the afternoon over her mother's wedding-gown, and
two hours were required by her toilet for the dance. She curled her hair
frizzily, burning it here and there, with a slate-pencil heated over a
lamp-chimney, and she placed above one ear three or four large
artificial roses, taken from an old hat of her mother's, which she had
found in a trunk in the store-room. Possessing no slippers, she
carefully blacked and polished her shoes, which had been clumsily
resoled, and fastened into the strings of each small rosettes of red
ribbon; after which she practised swinging the train of her skirt until
she was proud of her manipulation of it.

She had no powder, but found in her grandfather's room a lump of
magnesia, which he was in the habit of taking for heartburn, and passed
it over and over her brown face and hands. Then a lingering gaze into
her small mirror gave her joy at last; she yearned so hard to see
herself charming that she did see herself so. Admiration came, and she
told herself that she was more attractive to look at than she had ever
been in her life, and that, perhaps, at last she might begin to be
sought for like other girls. The little glass showed a sort of
prettiness in her thin, unmatured young face; tripping dance-tunes ran
through her head, her feet keeping the time--ah, she did so hope to
dance often that night! Perhaps--perhaps she might be asked for every
number. And so, wrapping an old water-proof cloak about her, she took
her grandfather's arm and sallied forth, with high hopes in her beating
heart.

It was in the dressing-room that the change began to come. Alone, at
home in her own ugly little room, she had thought herself almost
beautiful; but here in the brightly lighted chamber crowded with the
other girls it was different. There was a big [v]cheval-glass at one end
of the room, and she faced it, when her turn came--for the mirror was
popular--with a sinking spirit. There was the contrast, like a picture
painted and framed. The other girls all wore their hair after the
fashion introduced to Canaan by Mamie Pike the week before, on her
return from a visit to Chicago. None of them had "crimped" and none had
bedecked their tresses with artificial flowers. Her alterations of the
wedding-dress had not been successful; the skirt was too short in front
and higher on one side than on the other, showing too plainly the
heavy-soled shoes, which had lost most of their polish in the walk
through the snow. The ribbon rosettes were fully revealed, and as she
glanced at their reflection, she heard the words, "Look at that train
and those rosettes! " whispered behind her, and saw in the mirror two
pretty young women turn away with their handkerchiefs over their mouths
and retreat hurriedly to an alcove. All the feet in the room except
Ariel's were in dainty kid or satin slippers of the color of the dresses
from which they glimmered out, and only Ariel wore a train.

She went away from the mirror and pretended to be busy with a hanging
thread in her sleeve.

She was singularly an alien in the chattering room, although she had
been born and had lived all her life in the town. Perhaps her position
among the young ladies may be best defined by the remark, generally
current among them that evening, to the effect that it was "very sweet
of Mamie to invite her. " Ariel was not like the others; she was not of
them, and never had been. Indeed, she did not know them very well. Some
of them nodded to her and gave her a word of greeting pleasantly; all of
them whispered about her with wonder and suppressed amusement, but none
talked to her. They were not unkindly, but they were young and eager and
excited over their own interests,--which were then in the "gentlemen's
dressing-room. "

Each of the other girls had been escorted by a youth of the place, and,
one by one, joining these escorts in the hall outside the door, they
descended the stairs, until only Ariel was left. She came down alone
after the first dance had begun, and greeted her young hostess's mother
timidly. Mrs. Pike--a small, frightened-looking woman with a ruby
necklace--answered her absently, and hurried away to see that the
[v]imported waiters did not steal anything.

Ariel sat in one of the chairs against the wall and watched the dancers
with a smile of eager and benevolent interest. In Canaan no parents, no
guardians or aunts were haled forth o' nights to [v]duenna the
junketings of youth; Mrs. Pike did not reappear, and Ariel sat
conspicuously alone; there was nothing else for her to do, but it was
not an easy matter.

When the first dance reached an end, Mamie Pike came to her for a moment
with a cheery welcome, and was immediately surrounded by a circle of
young men and women, flushed with dancing, shouting as was their wont,
laughing [v]inexplicably over words and phrases and unintelligible
[v]monosyllables, as if they all belonged to a secret society and these
cries were symbols of things exquisitely humorous, which only they
understood. Ariel laughed with them more heartily than any other, so
that she might seem to be of them and as merry as they were; but almost
immediately she found herself outside of the circle, and presently they
all whirled away into another dance, and she was left alone again.

So she sat, no one coming near her, through several dances, trying to
maintain the smile of delighted interest upon her face, though she felt
the muscles of her face beginning to ache with their fixedness, her eyes
growing hot and glazed. All the other girls were provided with partners
for every dance, with several young men left over, these latter lounging
[v]hilariously together in the doorways. Ariel was careful not to glance
toward them, but she could not help hating them. Once or twice between
the dances she saw Miss Pike speak appealingly to one of the
[v]superfluous, glancing, at the same time, in her own direction, and
Ariel could see, too, that the appeal proved unsuccessful, until at last
Mamie approached her, leading Norbert Flitcroft, partly by the hand,
partly by will power. Norbert was an excessively fat boy, and at the
present moment looked as patient as the blind. But he asked Ariel if she
was "engaged for the next dance," and, Mamie, having flitted away, stood
[v]disconsolately beside her, waiting for the music to begin. Ariel was
grateful for him.

"I think you must be very good-natured, Mr. Flitcroft," she said, with
an air of [v]raillery.

"No, I'm not," he replied, [v]plaintively. "Everybody thinks I am,
because I'm fat, and they expect me to do things they never dream of
asking anybody else to do. I'd like to see 'em even _ask_ 'Gene Bantry
to go and do some of the things they get me to do! A person isn't
good-natured just because he's fat," he concluded, morbidly, "but he
might as well be! "

"Oh, I meant good-natured," she returned, with a sprightly laugh,
"because you're willing to waltz with me. "

"Oh, well," he returned, sighing, "that's all right. "

The orchestra flourished into "La Paloma"; he put his arm mournfully
about her, and taking her right hand with his left, carried her arm out
to a rigid right angle, beginning to pump and balance for time. They
made three false starts and then got away. Ariel danced badly; she
hopped and lost the step, but they persevered, bumping against other
couples continually. Circling breathlessly into the next room, they
passed close to a long mirror, in which Ariel saw herself, although in a
flash, more bitterly contrasted to the others than in the cheval-glass
of the dressing-room. The clump of roses was flopping about her neck,
her crimped hair looked frowzy, and there was something terribly wrong
about her dress. Suddenly she felt her train to be [v]grotesque, as a
thing following her in a nightmare.

A moment later she caught her partner making a [v]burlesque face of
suffering over her shoulder, and, turning her head quickly, saw for
whose benefit he had constructed it. Eugene Bantry, flying expertly by
with Mamie, was bestowing upon Mr. Flitcroft a commiserative wink. The
next instant she tripped in her train and fell to the floor at Eugene's
feet, carrying her partner with her.

There was a shout of laughter. The young hostess stopped Eugene, who
would have gone on, and he had no choice but to stoop to Ariel's
assistance.

"It seems to be a habit of mine," she said, laughing loudly.

She did not appear to see the hand he offered, but got on her feet
without help and walked quickly away with Norbert, who proceeded to live
up to the character he had given himself.

"Perhaps we had better not try it again," she laughed.

"Well, I should think not," he returned with the frankest gloom. With
the air of conducting her home, he took her to the chair against the
wall whence he had brought her. There his responsibility for her seemed
to cease. "Will you excuse me? " he asked, and there was no doubt he felt
that he had been given more than his share that evening, even though he
was fat.

"Yes, indeed. " Her laughter was continuous. "I should think you _would_
be glad to get rid of me after that. Ha, ha, ha! Poor Mr. Flitcroft, you
know you are! "

It was the deadly truth, and the fat one, saying, "Well, if you'll
excuse me now," hurried away with a step which grew lighter as the
distance from her increased. Arrived at the haven of a far doorway, he
mopped his brow and shook his head grimly in response to frequent
rallyings.

Ariel sat through more dances, interminable dances and intermissions, in
that same chair, in which it began to seem she was to live out the rest
of her life. Now and then, if she thought people were looking at her as
they passed, she broke into a laugh and nodded slightly, as if still
amused over her mishap.

After a long time she rose, and laughing cheerfully to Mr. Flitcroft,
who was standing in the doorway and replied with a wan smile, stepped
out quickly into the hall, where she almost ran into her great-uncle,
Jonas Tabor. He was going toward the big front doors with Judge Pike,
having just come out of the latter's library, down the hall.

Jonas was breathing heavily and was shockingly pale, though his eyes
were very bright. He turned his back upon his grandniece sharply and
went out of the door. Ariel reëntered the room whence she had come. She
laughed again to her fat friend as she passed him, went to the window
and looked out. The porch seemed deserted and was faintly illuminated by
a few Japanese lanterns. She sprang out, dropped upon the divan, and
burying her face in her hands, cried heart-brokenly.

Presently she felt something alive touch her foot, and, her breath
catching with alarm, she started to rise. A thin hand, issuing from a
shabby sleeve, had stolen out between two of the green tubs and was
pressing upon one of her shoes.

"Sh! " warned a voice. "Don't make a noise! "

The warning was not needed; she had recognized the hand and sleeve
instantly. It was her playmate and lifelong friend, Joe Louden.

"What were you going on about? " he asked angrily.

"Nothing," she answered. "I wasn't. You must go away; you know the Judge
doesn't like you. "

"What were you crying about? " interrupted the uninvited guest.

"Nothing, I tell you! " she repeated, the tears not ceasing to gather in
her eyes. "I wasn't. "

"I want to know what it was," he insisted. "Didn't the fools ask you to
dance! Ah! You needn't tell me. That's it. I've been here, watching, for
the last three dances and you weren't in sight till you came to the
window. Well, what do you care about that for! "

"I don't," she answered. "I don't! " Then suddenly, without being able to
prevent it, she sobbed.

"No," he said, gently, "I see you don't. And you let yourself be a fool
because there are a lot of fools in there. "

She gave way, all at once, to a gust of sorrow and bitterness; she bent
far over and caught his hand and laid it against her wet cheek. "Oh,
Joe," she whispered, brokenly, "I think we have such hard lives, you and
I! It doesn't seem right--while we're so young! Why can't we be like the
others? Why can't we have some of the fun? "

He withdrew his hand, with the embarrassment and shame he would have
felt had she been a boy.

"Get out! " he said, feebly.

She did not seem to notice, but, still stooping, rested her elbows on
her knees and her face in her hands. "I try so hard to have some fun, to
be like the rest--and it's always a mistake, always, always, always! "
She rocked herself slightly from side to side. "I'm a fool, it's the
truth, or I wouldn't have come to-night. I want to be attractive--I want
to be in things. I want to laugh as they do--"

"To laugh, just to laugh, and not because there's something funny? "

"Yes, I do, I do! And to know how to dress and to wear my hair--there
must be some place where you can learn those things. I've never had any
one to show me! It's only lately I've cared, but I'm seventeen, Joe--"
She faltered, came to a stop, and her whole body was shaken with sobs.
"I hate myself so for crying--for everything! "

Just then a colored waiter, smiling graciously, came out upon the porch,
bearing a tray of salad, hot oysters, and coffee. At his approach, Joe
had fallen prone on the floor in the shadow. Ariel shook her head to the
proffer of refreshments.

"I don't want any," she murmured.

The waiter turned away in pity and was reëntering the window when a
passionate whisper fell upon his ear as well as upon Ariel's.

_"Take it! "_

"Ma'am? " said the waiter.

"I've changed my mind," she replied quickly. The waiter, his elation
restored, gave of his viands with the [v]superfluous bounty loved by his
race when distributing the product of the wealthy.

When he had gone, "Give me everything that's hot," said Joe. "You can
keep the salad. "

"I couldn't eat it or anything else," she answered, thrusting the plate
between the palms.

For a time there was silence. From within the house came the continuous
babble of voices and laughter, the clink of [v]cutlery on china. The
young people spent a long time over their supper. By and by the waiter
returned to the veranda, deposited a plate of colored ices upon Ariel's
knees with a noble gesture, and departed.

"No ice for me," said Joe.

"Won't you please go now? " she entreated.

"It wouldn't be good manners," he joked. "They might think I only came
for the supper. "

"Give me the dish and coffee-cup," she whispered, impatiently. "Suppose
the waiter came and had to look for them? Quick! "

A bottle-shaped figure appeared in the window, and she had no time to
take the plate and cup which were being pushed through the palm-leaves.
She whispered a word of warning, and the dishes were hurriedly withdrawn
as Norbert Flitcroft, wearing a solemn expression of injury, came out
upon the veranda.

"They want you. Some one's come for you. "

"Oh, is grandfather waiting? " She rose.

"It isn't your grandfather that has come for you," answered the fat one,
slowly. "It is Eskew Arp. Something's happened. "

She looked at him for a moment, beginning to tremble violently, her eyes
growing wide with fright.

"Is my grandfather--is he sick? "

"You'd better go and see. Old Eskew's waiting in the hall. He'll tell
you. "

She was by him and through the window instantly. Mr. Arp was waiting in
the hall, talking in a low voice to Mrs. Pike.
"Your grandfather's all right," he told the frightened girl quickly. "He
sent me for you. Just hurry and get your things. "

She was with him again in a moment, and seizing the old man's arm,
hurried him down the steps and toward the street almost at a run.

"You're not telling me the truth," she said. "You're not telling me the
truth! "

"Nothing has happened to Roger Tabor," panted Mr. Arp. "We're going this
way, not that. " They had come to the gate, and as she turned to the
right he pulled her sharply to the left.

"Where are we going? " she demanded.

"To your Uncle Jonas's. "

"Why? " she cried, in supreme astonishment. "What do you want to take me
there for? Don't you know that he doesn't like me--that he has stopped
speaking to me? "

"Yes," said the old man, grimly; "he has stopped speaking to everybody. "

These startling words told Ariel that her uncle was dead. They did not
tell her what she was soon to learn--that he had died rich, and that,
failing other heirs, she and her grandfather had inherited his fortune.


II

It was Sunday in Canaan--Sunday some years later. Joe Louden was sitting
in the shade of Main Street bridge, smoking a cigar. He was alone; he
was always alone, for he had been away a long time, and had made few
friends since his return.

A breeze wandered up the river and touched the leaves and grass to life.
The young corn, deep green in the bottom-land, moved with a [v]staccato
flurry; the stirring air brought a smell of blossoms; the distance took
on faint lavender hazes which blended the outlines of the fields, lying
like square coverlets on the long slope of rising ground beyond the
bottom-land, and empurpled the blue woodland shadows of the groves.

For the first time it struck Joe that it was a beautiful day. He opened
his eyes and looked about him whimsically. Then he shook his head again.
A lady had just emerged from the bridge and was coming toward him.

It would be hard to get at Joe's first impressions of her. We can find
conveyance for only the broadest and heaviest. At first sight of her,
there was preëminently the shock of seeing anything so exquisite in his
accustomed world. For she was exquisite; she was that, and much more,
from the ivory [v]ferrule of the parasol she carried, to the light and
slender foot-print she left in the dust of the road. Joe knew at once
that nothing like her had ever before been seen in Canaan.

He had little knowledge of the millinery arts, and he needed none to see
the harmony of the things she wore. Her dress and hat and gloves and
parasol showed a pale lavender overtint like that which he had seen
overspreading the western slope. Under the summer hat her very dark hair
swept back over the temples with something near trimness in the extent
to which it was withheld from being fluffy. It may be that this approach
to trimness, after all, was the true key to the mystery of the lady who
appeared to Joe.

She was to pass him--so he thought--and as she drew nearer, his breath
came faster. And then he realized that something wonderful was happening
to him.

She had stopped directly in front of him; stopped and stood looking at
him with her clear eyes. He did not lift his own to her; a great and
unaccountable shyness beset him. He had risen and removed his hat,
trying not to clear his throat--his everyday sense urging upon him that
she was a stranger in Canaan who had lost her way.

"Can I--can I--" he stammered, blushing, meaning to finish with "direct
you," or "show you the way. "

Then he looked at her again and saw what seemed to him the strangest
sight of life. The lady's eyes had filled with tears--filled and
overfilled.

"I'll sit here on the log with you," she said. "You don't need to dust
it! " she went on, tremulously. And even then he did not know who she
was.

There was a silence, for if the dazzled young man could have spoken at
all, he could have found nothing to say; and, perhaps, the lady would
not trust her own voice just then. His eyes had fallen again; he was
too dazed, and, in truth, too panic-stricken now, to look at her. She
was seated beside him and had handed him her parasol in a little way
which seemed to imply that, of course, he had reached for it, so that it
was to be seen how used she was to have all such things done for her. He
saw that he was expected to furl the dainty thing; he pressed the catch
and let down the top timidly, as if fearing to break or tear it; and, as
it closed, held near his face, he caught a very faint, sweet, spicy
[v]emanation from it like wild roses and cinnamon.

"Do you know me? " asked the lady at last.

For answer he could only stare at her, dumfounded; he lifted an unsteady
hand toward her appealingly. Her manner underwent an April change. She
drew back lightly; he was favored with the most delicious low laugh he
had ever heard.

"I'm glad you're the same, Joe! " she said. "I'm glad you're the same,
and I'm glad I've changed, though that isn't why you have forgotten me. "

He arose uncertainly and took three or four backward steps from her. She
sat before him, radiant with laughter, the loveliest creature he had
ever seen; but between him and this charming vision there swept, through
the warm, scented June air, the dim picture of a veranda all in darkness
and the faint music of violins.

_"Ariel Tabor! "_

"Isn't it about time you were recognizing me? " she said.

* * * * *

Sensations were rare in staid, dull, commonplace Canaan, but this fine
Sunday morning the town was treated to one of the most memorable
sensations in its history. The town, all except Joe Louden, had known
for weeks that Ariel Tabor was coming home from abroad, but it had not
seen her. And when she walked along the street with Joe, past the Sunday
church-returning crowds, it is not quite truth to say that all except
the children came to a dead halt, but it is not very far from it. The
air was thick with subdued exclamations and whisperings.

Joe had not known her. The women recognized her, [v]infallibly, at first
sight; even those who had quite forgotten her. And the women told their
men. Hence the un-Sunday-like demeanor of the procession, for few towns
held it more unseemly to stand and stare at passers-by, especially on
the Sabbath. But Ariel Tabor had returned.

A low but increasing murmur followed the two as they proceeded. It ran
up the street ahead of them; people turned to look back and paused, so
that Ariel and Joe had to walk round one or two groups. They had, also,
to walk round Norbert Flitcroft, which was very like walking round a
group. Mr. Flitcroft was one of the few (he was waddling home alone)
who did not identify Miss Tabor, and her effect upon him was
extraordinary. His mouth opened and he gazed [v]stodgily, his widening
eyes like sun-dogs coming out of a fog. Mr. Flitcroft experienced a few
moments of trance; came out of it stricken through and through; felt
nervously of his tie; resolutely fell in behind, and followed, at a
distance of some forty paces, determined to learn what household this
heavenly visitor honored, and thrilling with the intention to please
that same household with his own presence as soon and as often as
possible.

Ariel flushed a little when she perceived the extent of their
conspicuousness; but it was not the blush that Joe remembered had
reddened the tanned skin of old; for her brownness had gone long ago,
though it had not left her merely pink and white. There was a delicate
rosiness rising from her cheeks to her temples, as the earliest dawn
rises.

Joe kept trying to realize that this lady of wonder was Ariel Tabor, but
he could not; he could not connect the shabby Ariel, whom he had treated
as one boy treats another, with this young woman of the world. Although
he had only a dim perception of the staring and whispering which greeted
and followed them, Ariel, of course, was thoroughly aware of it, though
the only sign she gave was the slight blush, which very soon
disappeared.

Ariel paused before the impressive front of Judge Pike's large mansion.
Joe's face expressed surprise.

"Don't you know? " she said. "I'm staying here. Judge Pike has charge of
all my property. Come to see me this afternoon. "

With a last charming smile, Ariel turned and left the dazed young man on
the sidewalk.

That walk was but the beginning of her triumph. Judge Pike's of a summer
afternoon was the swirling social center of Canaan, but on that
particular Sunday afternoon every unattached male in the town who
possessed the privilege of calling at the big house appeared. They
filled the chairs in the wide old-fashioned hall where Ariel received
them, and overpoured on the broad steps of the old-fashioned spiral
staircase, where Mr. Flitcroft, on account of his size, occupied two
steps and a portion of a third. And Ariel was the center of it all!
BOOTH TARKINGTON.


=HELPS TO STUDY=

I. Describe Ariel's pitiful attempts at beautifying herself when
dressing for the dance. When did she realize her failure? How were
her anticipations of the dance realized? What kind of girl was
Mamie Pike? Give reasons for your answer. At what point were you
most sorry for Ariel? With what startling news did the evening end?

II. Give an account of the meeting between the old playmates.
Describe the scenes as they walked along the street. What do you
think was the greatest part of Ariel's "triumph? " Was she spoiled
by her wealth? How do you know?


SUPPLEMENTARY READING

Little Women--Louisa M. Alcott.
Pride and Prejudice--Jane Austen.


FOOTNOTE:

[141-*] Copyright by Harper & Brothers.




THE CLOUD


I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under;
And then again I dissolve it in rain;
And laugh as I pass in thunder.

I sift the snow on the mountains below,
And their great pines groan aghast;
And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers
Lightning, my pilot, sits;
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder;
It struggles and howls at fits.
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,
This pilot is guiding me,
Lured by the love of the [v]genii that move
In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills and the crags and the hills,
Over the lakes and the plains,
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream.
The spirit he loves remains;
And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile,
Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

I am the daughter of the earth and water,
And the nursling of the sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain, when, with never a stain,
The pavilion of heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams, with their convex gleams,
Build up the blue dome of air,--
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
I rise and unbuild it again.

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.


=HELPS TO STUDY=

Make a list of the things the cloud does. Read aloud the lines in
which the poet tells of each of these. Why is lightning spoken of
as the pilot of the cloud? Where does it sit? Where is the thunder?
How is the cloud "the daughter of the earth and water"? How "a
nursling of the sky"? Explain "I change, but I cannot die. " A
cenotaph is a memorial built to one who is buried elsewhere. Why
should the clear sky be the cloud's cenotaph? How does the
reappearing of the cloud unbuild it?




NEW ENGLAND WEATHER


There is a [v]sumptuous variety about the New England weather that
compels the stranger's admiration--and regret. The weather is always
doing something there; always attending strictly to business; always
getting up new designs and trying them on the people to see how they
will go. But it gets through more business in spring than in any other
season. In the spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six
different kinds of weather within four and twenty hours. It was I who
made the fame and fortune of the man who had that marvelous collection
of weather on exhibition at the Centennial, which so astounded the
foreigners. He was going to travel around the world and get specimens
from all climes. I said, "Don't do it; just come to New England on a
favorable spring day. " I told him what we could do in the way of style,
variety, and quantity. Well, he came, and he made his collection in four
days. As to variety, he confessed that he got hundreds of kinds of
weather that he had never heard of before. And as to quantity, after he
had picked out and discarded all that was blemished in any way, he not
only had weather enough, but weather to spare, weather to hire out,
weather to sell, weather to deposit, weather to invest, and weather to
give to the poor.

Old Probabilities has a mighty reputation for accurate prophecy and
thoroughly deserves it. You take up the paper and observe how crisply
and confidently he checks off what to-day's weather is going to be on
the Pacific, down South, in the Middle States, in the Wisconsin region.
See him sail along in the joy and pride of his power till he gets to New
England, and then see his tail drop. _He_ doesn't know what the weather
is going to be in New England. Well, he mulls over it, and by and by he
gets out something like this: "Probable northeast to southwest winds,
varying to the southward and westward and eastward and points between;
high and low barometer, swapping around from place to place; probable
areas of rain, snow, hail, and drought, succeeded or preceded by
earthquakes with thunder and lightning. " Then he jots down this
postscript from his wandering mind, to cover accidents: "But it is
possible that the program may be wholly changed in the meantime. " Yes,
one of the brightest gems in the New England weather is the dazzling
uncertainty of it. There is certain to be plenty of weather, but you
never can tell which end of the procession is going to move first.

But, after all, there are at least two or three things about that
weather (or, if you please, the effects produced by it) which we
residents would not like to part with. If we hadn't our bewitching
autumn foliage, we should still have to credit the weather with one
feature which compensates for all its bullying vagaries--the ice storm.
Every bough and twig is strung with ice beads, frozen dewdrops, and the
whole tree sparkles cold and white like the [v]Shah of Persia's diamond
plume. Then the wind waves the branches, and the sun comes out and turns
all those myriads of beads and drops to prisms that glow and burn and
flash with all manner of colored fires; which change and change again,
with inconceivable rapidity, from blue to red, from red to green, and
green to gold. The tree becomes a spraying fountain, a very explosion of
dazzling jewels, and it stands there the [v]acme, the climax, the
supremest possibility in art or nature, of bewildering, intoxicating,
intolerable magnificence. One cannot make the words too strong. Month
after month I lay up hate and grudge against the New England weather;
but when the ice storm comes at last I say: "There, I forgive you now;
you are the most enchanting weather in the world. "

MARK TWAIN.



=HELPS TO STUDY=

Mark Twain's humor was noted for exaggeration. Find examples of
exaggeration in this selection. Old Probabilities was the name
signed by a weather prophet of the period. How was he affected by
New England weather? At what point did Twain drop his fun and begin
a beautiful tribute to a New England landscape? How does the
tribute close?


SUPPLEMENTARY READING

Three Men in a Boat--Jerome K. Jerome.
The House Boat on the Styx--John Kendrick Bangs.

[Illustration: Silence Deep and White]




THE FIRST SNOWFALL


The snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping fields and highway
With a silence deep and white.

Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm tree
Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

From sheds new roofed with Carrara
Came chanticleer's muffled crow,
The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down
And still fluttered down the snow.

I stood and watched by the window
That noiseless work of the sky,
And the sudden flurries of snowbirds,
Like brown leaves whirling by.

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn
Where a little headstone stood;
How the flakes were folding it gently,
As did robins the babes in the wood.

Up spoke our own little Mabel,
Saying, "Father, who makes it snow? "
And I told of the good All-Father
Who cares for us here below.

Again I looked at the snowfall,
And thought of the leaden sky
That arched o'er our first great sorrow,
When that mound was heaped so high.

I remembered the gradual patience
That fell from that cloud like snow,
Flake by flake, healing and hiding
The scar on our deep-plunged woe.

And again to the child I whispered,
"The snow that husheth all,
Darling, the merciful Father
Alone can make it fall. "

Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her;
And she, kissing back, could not know
That _my_ kiss was given to her sister,
Folded close under deepening snow.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.


=HELPS TO STUDY=

When did the snow begin? How do you know? What time is it now? Is
snow still falling? Read the lines that show this. Of what sorrow
does the snow remind the poet? Read the lines which show that peace
had come to the parents. Make a list of the comparisons (or
similes) used by the poet. Read the lines which show that the storm
was a quiet one. Which lines do you like best?




OLD EPHRAIM


For some days after our arrival on the Bighorn range we did not come
across any grizzly. There were plenty of black-tail deer in the woods,
and we encountered a number of bands of cow and calf elk, or of young
bulls; but after several days' hunting, we were still without any game
worth taking home, and we had seen no sign of grizzly, which was the
game we were especially anxious to kill, for neither Merrifield nor I
had ever seen a bear alive.