Fifty Famous Stories Retold
who was lying on the ground close by. The wist-ful look in the poor
man's face spoke plainer than words.
"Give the water to that man," said Sir Philip quickly; and then,
pushing the cup toward him, he said, "Here, my comrade, take this. Thy
need is greater than mine."
What a brave, noble man he was! The name of Sir Philip Sidney will
never be for-got-ten; for it was the name of a Chris-tian gen-tle-man
who always had the good of others in his mind. Was it any wonder that
everybody wept when it was heard that he was dead?
It is said, that, on the day when he was carried to the grave, every
eye in the land was filled with tears. Rich and poor, high and low,
all felt that they had lost a friend; all mourned the death of the
kindest, gentlest man that they had ever known.
THE UNGRATEFUL SOLDIER.
Here is another story of the bat-tle-field, and it is much like the
one which I have just told you.
Not quite a hundred years after the time of Sir Philip Sidney there
was a war between the Swedes and the Danes. One day a great battle was
fought, and the Swedes were beaten, and driven from the field. A
soldier of the Danes who had been slightly wounded was sitting on the
ground. He was about to take a drink from a flask. All at once he
heard some one say,--
"O sir! give me a drink, for I am dying."
It was a wounded Swede who spoke. He was lying on the ground only a
little way off. The Dane went to him at once. He knelt down by the
side of his fallen foe, and pressed the flask to his lips.
"Drink," said he, "for thy need is greater than mine."
Hardly had he spoken these words, when the Swede raised himself on his
elbow. He pulled a pistol from his pocket, and shot at the man who
would have be-friend-ed him. The bullet grazed the Dane's shoulder,
but did not do him much harm.
"Ah, you rascal!" he cried. "I was going to befriend you, and you
repay me by trying to kill me. Now I will punish you. I would have
given you all the water, but now you shall have only half." And with
that he drank the half of it, and then gave the rest to the Swede.
When the King of the Danes heard about this, he sent for the soldier
and had him tell the story just as it was.
"Why did you spare the life of the Swede after he had tried to kill
you?" asked the king.
"Because, sir," said the soldier, "I could never kill a wounded
enemy."
"Then you deserve to be a no-ble-man," said the king. And he
re-ward-ed him by making him a knight, and giving him a noble title.
SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT.
More than three hundred years ago there lived in England a brave man
whose name was Sir Humphrey Gil-bert. At that time there were no white
people in this country of ours. The land was covered with forests; and
where there are now great cities and fine farms there were only trees
and swamps among which roamed wild In-di-ans and wild beasts.
Sir Hum-phrey Gilbert was one of the first men who tried to make a
set-tle-ment in A-mer-i-ca. Twice did he bring men and ships over the
sea, and twice did he fail, and sail back for England. The second
time, he was on a little ship called the "Squirrel." Another ship,
called the "Golden Hind," was not far away. When they were three days
from land, the wind failed, and the ships lay floating on the waves.
Then at night the air grew very cold. A breeze sprang up from the
east. Great white ice-bergs came drifting around them. In the morning
the little ships were almost lost among the floating mountains of ice.
The men on the "Hind" saw Sir Humphrey sitting on the deck of the
"Squirrel" with an open book in his hand. He called to them and
said,--
"Be brave, my friends! We are as near heaven on the sea as on the
land."
Night came again. It was a stormy night, with mist and rain. All at
once the men on the "Hind" saw the lights on board of the "Squirrel"
go out. The little vessel, with brave Sir Humphrey and all his brave
men, was swal-lowed up by the waves.
SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
There once lived in England a brave and noble man whose name was
Walter Ra-leigh. He was not only brave and noble, but he was also
handsome and polite; and for that reason the queen made him a knight,
and called him Sir Walter Ra-leigh.
I will tell you about it.
When Raleigh was a young man, he was one day walking along a street in
London. At that time the streets were not paved, and there were no
sidewalks. Raleigh was dressed in very fine style, and he wore a
beau-ti-ful scar-let cloak thrown over his shoulders.
As he passed along, he found it hard work to keep from stepping in the
mud, and soiling his hand-some new shoes. Soon he came to a puddle of
muddy water which reached from one side of the street to the other. He
could not step across. Perhaps he could jump over it.
As he was thinking what he should do, he happened to look up. Who was
it coming down the street, on the other side of the puddle?
It was E-liz-a-beth, the Queen of England, with her train of
gen-tle-wom-en and waiting maids. She saw the dirty puddle in the
street. She saw the handsome young man with the scar-let cloak,
stand-ing by the side of it. How was she to get across?
Young Raleigh, when he saw who was coming, forgot about himself. He
thought only of helping the queen. There was only one thing that he
could do, and no other man would have thought of that.
He took off his scarlet cloak, and spread it across the puddle. The
queen could step on it now, as on a beautiful carpet.
She walked across. She was safely over the ugly puddle, and her feet
had not touched the mud. She paused a moment, and thanked the young
man.
As she walked onward with her train, she asked one of the
gen-tle-wom-en, "Who is that brave gen-tle-man who helped us so
handsomely?"
"His name is Walter Raleigh," said the gentle-woman.
"He shall have his reward," said the queen.
Not long after that, she sent for Raleigh to come to her pal-ace.
The young man went, but he had no scarlet cloak to wear. Then, while
all the great men and fine ladies of England stood around, the queen
made him a knight. And from that time he was known as Sir Walter
Raleigh, the queen's favorite.
Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Humphrey Gilbert about whom I have already
told you, were half-broth-ers.
When Sir Humphrey made his first voy-age to America, Sir Walter was
with him. After that, Sir Walter tried sev-er-al times to send men to
this country to make a set-tle-ment.
But those whom he sent found only great forests, and wild beasts, and
sav-age In-di-ans. Some of them went back to England; some of them
died for want of food; and some of them were lost in the woods. At
last Sir Walter gave up trying to get people to come to America.
But he found two things in this country which the people of England
knew very little about. One was the po-ta-to, the other was to-bac-co.
If you should ever go to Ireland, you may be shown the place where Sir
Walter planted the few po-ta-toes which he carried over from America.
He told his friends how the Indians used them for food; and he proved
that they would grow in the Old World as well as in the New.
Sir Walter had seen the Indians smoking the leaves of the to-bac-co
plant. He thought that he would do the same, and he carried some of
the leaves to England. Englishmen had never used tobacco before that
time; and all who saw Sir Walter puff-ing away at a roll of leaves
thought that it was a strange sight.
One day as he was sitting in his chair and smoking, his servant came
into the room. The man saw the smoke curling over his master's head,
and he thought that he was on fire.
He ran out for some water. He found a pail that was quite full. He
hurried back, and threw the water into Sir Walter's face. Of course
the fire was all put out.
After that a great many men learned to smoke. And now tobacco is used
in all countries of the world. It would have been well if Sir Walter
Raleigh had let it alone.
POCAHONTAS.
There was once a very brave man whose name was John Smith. He came to
this country many years ago, when there were great woods everywhere,
and many wild beasts and Indians. Many tales are told of his
ad-ven-tures, some of them true and some of them untrue. The most
famous of all these is the fol-low-ing:--
One day when Smith was in the woods, some Indians came upon him, and
made him their pris-on-er. They led him to their king, and in a short
time they made ready to put him to death.
A large stone was brought in, and Smith was made to lie down with his
head on it. Then two tall Indians with big clubs in their hands came
forward. The king and all his great men stood around to see. The
Indians raised their clubs. In another moment they would fall on
Smith's head.
But just then a little Indian girl rushed in. She was the daugh-ter of
the king, and her name was Po-ca-hon'tas. She ran and threw herself
between Smith and the up-lift-ed clubs. She clasped Smith's head with
her arms. She laid her own head upon his.
"O father!" she cried, "spare this man's life. I am sure he has done
you no harm, and we ought to be his friends."
The men with the clubs could not strike, for they did not want to hurt
the child. The king at first did not know what to do. Then he spoke to
some of his war-riors, and they lifted Smith from the ground. They
untied the cords from his wrists and feet, and set him free.
The next day the king sent Smith home; and several Indians went with
him to protect him from harm.
After that, as long as she lived, Po-ca-hon-tas was the friend of the
white men, and she did a great many things to help them.
GEORGE WASHINGTON AND HIS HATCHET.
When George Wash-ing-ton was quite a little boy, his father gave him a
hatchet. It was bright and new, and George took great delight in going
about and chopping things with it.
He ran into the garden, and there he saw a tree which seemed to say to
him, "Come and cut me down!"
George had often seen his father's men chop down the great trees in
the forest, and he thought that it would be fine sport to see this
tree fall with a crash to the ground. So he set to work with his
little hatchet, and, as the tree was a very small one, it did not take
long to lay it low.
Soon after that, his father came home.
"Who has been cutting my fine young cherry tree?" he cried. "It was
the only tree of its kind in this country, and it cost me a great
deal of money."
He was very angry when he came into the house.
"If I only knew who killed that cherry tree," he cried, "I would--yes,
I would"--
"Father!" cried little George. "I will tell you the truth about it. I
chopped the tree down with my hatchet."
His father forgot his anger.
"George," he said, and he took the little fellow in his arms, "George,
I am glad that you told me about it. I would rather lose a dozen
cherry trees than that you should tell one false-hood."
GRACE DARLING.
It was a dark Sep-tem-ber morning. There was a storm at sea. A ship
had been driven on a low rock off the shores of the Farne Islands. It
had been broken in two by the waves, and half of it had been washed
away. The other half lay yet on the rock, and those of the crew who
were still alive were cling-ing to it. But the waves were dashing over
it, and in a little while it too would be carried to the bottom.
Could any one save the poor, half-drowned men who were there?
On one of the islands was a light-house; and there, all through that
stormy night, Grace Darling had listened to the storm.
Grace was the daughter of the light-house keeper, and she had lived by
the sea as long as she could re-mem-ber.
In the darkness of the night, above the noise of the winds and waves,