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Journeys Through Bookland by Charles H. Sylvester

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A New and Original Plan For Reading Applied To The World's Best
Literature For Children


Author of English and American Literature



BETTER THAN GOLD ......................................... Father Ryan

My HEART LEAPS UP.................................. William Wordsworth

THE BAREFOOT BOY ............................. John Greenleaf Whittier

RAIN ON THE ROOF ....................................... Coates Kinney


ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG ..................... Oliver Goldsmith

MOTHER'S WAY ............................................. Father Ryan

SONG OF THE BROOK .................................... Alfred Tennyson

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ........................... Grace E. Sellon

FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS ....................... Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

To H. W. L. ..................................... James Russell Lowell

THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH .................... Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS ................. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A DOG OF FLANDERS ................................. Louise de la Ramee

ALICE AND PHOEBE CARY ................................... Anna McCaleb

NEARER HOME .............................................. Phoebe Cary

PICTURES OF MEMORY ........................................ Alice Cary

THE ESCAPE FROM PRISON ........................... Sir Samuel W. Baker


THE DEFINITION OF A GENTLEMAN ........................ Cardinal Newman

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER .................................. Alexander Pope

INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP .......................... Robert Browning

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE .................................. Grace E. Sellon

THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS........................... Nathaniel Hawthorne


THE SUNKEN TREASURE .............................. Nathaniel Hawthorne

THE HUTCHINSON MOB ............................... Nathaniel Hawthorne

THE BOSTON MASSACRE .............................. Nathaniel Hawthorne

SHERIDAN'S RIDE ................................. Thomas Buchanan Read

JOAN OF ARC ........................................ Thomas de Quincey

PANCRATIUS .......................................... Cardinal Wiseman

ALFRED THE GREAT ..................................... Charles Dickens

THE BURIAL OF MOSES .......................... Cecil Frances Alexander

BERNARDO DEL CARPIO ................................... Felicia Hemans


CHEVY-CHASE ........................................... Richard Sheale

THE ATTACK ON THE CASTLE ............................ Sir Walter Scott

THE DEATH OF HECTOR ............................... From Homer's Iliad

THE WOODEN HORSE ................................ From Vergil's Aeneid


THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS ................................... John Bunyan

AWAY ............................................ James Whitcomb Riley


LITTLE BREECHES ............................................. John Hay

THE YARN OF THE "NANCY BELL" ........................... W. S. Gilbert

KATEY'S LETTER ......................................... Lady Dufferin

THE ARICKARA INDIANS ............................... Washington Irving


REBECCA AT THE WINDOW (Color Plate) Louis Grell

THE BAREFOOT BOY Iris Weddell White

RAIN ON THE ROOF Lucille Enders













ALICE CARY (Halftone)


ANCHOR Louis Grell



LEONTINE Louis Grell

"WE'VE GOT YOU RATISBON!" Herbert N. Rudeen




"FATHER, DO YOU NOT HEAR?" Herbert N. Rudeen




THE STEED SWEPT ON Herbert N. Rudeen

JOAN OF ARC (Halftone)













LAOCOÖN (Halftone)



JOHN BUNYAN (Halftone)











Better than grandeur, better than gold,
Than rank and titles a thousand fold,
Is a healthy body, a mind at ease,
And simple pleasures' that always please.
A heart that can feel for another's woe,
And share his joys with a genial glow,
With sympathies large enough to enfold
All men as brothers, is better than gold.

Better than gold is a conscience clear,
Though toiling for bread in an humble sphere,
Doubly blessed with content and health,
Untried by the lusts and cares of wealth,
Lowly living and lofty thought
Adorn and ennoble a poor man's cot;
For mind and morals in nature's plan
Are the genuine tests of a gentleman.

Better than gold is the sweet repose
Of the sons of toil when the labors close;
Better than gold is the poor man's sleep,
And the balm that drops on his slumbers deep.
Bring sleeping draughts to the downy bed,
Where luxury pillows its aching head,
The toiler simple opiate deems
A shorter route to the land of dreams.

Better than gold is a thinking mind,
That in the realm of books can find
A treasure surpassing Australian ore,
And live with the great and good of yore.
The sage's lore and the poet's lay,
The glories of empires passed away;
The world's great drama will thus unfold
And yield a pleasure better than gold.

Better than gold is a peaceful home
Where all the fireside characters come,
The shrine of love, the heaven of life,
Hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife.
However humble the home may be,
Or tried with sorrow by heaven's decree,
The blessings that never were bought or sold,
And center there, are better than gold.



My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.



Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lip, redder still
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
With the sunshine on thy face,
Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace;
From my heart I give thee joy,--
I was once a barefoot boy!
Prince thou art,--the grown-up man
Only is republican.
Let the million-dollared ride!
Barefoot, trudging at his side,
Thou hast more than he can buy
In the reach of ear and eye,--
Outward sunshine, inward joy;
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!

O for boyhood's painless play,
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor's rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools,
Of the wild bee's morning chase,
Of the wild flower's time and place,
Flight of fowl and habitude
Of the tenants of the wood;
How the tortoise bears his shell,
How the woodchuck digs his cell,
And the ground-mole sinks his well;
How the robin feeds her young,
How the oriole's nest is hung;
Where the whitest lilies blow,
Where the freshest berries blow,
Where the ground-nut trails its vine,
Where the wood-grape's clusters shine;
Of the black wasp's cunning way,
Mason of his walls of clay,
And the architectural plans
Of gray hornet artisans!
For, eschewing books and tasks
Nature answers all he asks;

Hand in hand with her he walks,
Face to face with her he talks,
Part and parcel of her joy,--
Blessings on the barefoot boy!

O for boyhood's time of June,
Crowding years in one brief moon,
When all things I heard or saw,
Me, their master, waited for.
I was rich in flowers and trees,
Humming-birds and honey-bees;
For my sport the squirrel played,
Plied the snouted mole his spade;
For my taste the blackberry cone
Purpled over hedge and stone;
Laughed the brook for my delight
Through the day and through the night,--
Whispering at the garden wall,
Talked with me from fall to fall;
Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond,
Mine the walnut slopes beyond,
Mine, on bending orchard trees,
Apples of Hesperides!
Still as my horizon grew,
Larger grew my riches too;
All the world I saw or knew
Seemed a complex Chinese toy,
Fashioned for a barefoot boy!

O for festal dainties spread,
Like my bowl of milk and bread;
Pewter spoon and bowl of wood,
On the door-stone, gray and rude!
O'er me, like a regal tent,
Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent,
Purple-curtained, fringed with gold,
Looped in many a wind-swung fold;
While for music came the play
Of the pied frogs' orchestra;
And, to light the noisy choir,
Lit the fly his lamp of fire.
I was monarch: pomp and joy
Waited on the barefoot boy!

Cheerily, then, my little man,
Live and laugh, as boyhood can!
Though the flinty slopes be hard,
Stubble-speared the new-mown sward,
Every morn shall lead thee through
Fresh baptisms of the dew;
Every evening from they feet
Shall the cool wind kiss the heat;
All too soon these feet must hide
In the prison cells of pride,
Lose the freedom of the sod,
Like a colt's for work be shod,
Made to tread the mills of toil
Up and down in ceaseless moil:
Happy if their track be found
Never on forbidden ground;
Happy if they sink not in
Quick and treacherous sands of sin.
Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy,
Ere it passes, barefoot boy!

[Footnote: Coates Kinney, born in New York in 1826, gives this account
of the way in which the song came to be written: "The verses were
written when I was about twenty years of age, as nearly as I can
remember. They were inspired close to the rafters of a little story-
and-a-half frame house. The language, as first published, was not
composed, it came. I had just a little more to do with it than I had
to do with the coming of the rain. This poem, in its entirety, came
to me and asked me to put it down, the next afternoon, in the course
of a solitary and aimless wandering through a summer wood."]

When the humid showers hover
Over all the starry spheres
And the melancholy darkness
Gently weeps in rainy tears,
What a bliss to press the pillow
Of a cottage-chamber bed,
And to listen to the patter
Of the soft rain overhead!

Every tinkle on the shingles.
Has an echo in the heart:
And a thousand dreamy fancies
Into busy being start,
And a thousand recollections
Weave their air-threads into woof,
As I listen to the patter
Of the rain upon the roof.

Now in memory comes my mother,
As she was long years agone,
To regard the darling dreamers
Ere she left them till the dawn:
O! I see her leaning o'er me,
As I list to this refrain
Which is played upon the shingles
By the patter of the rain.

Then my little seraph sister,
With her wings and waving hair,
And her star-eyed cherub brother--
A serene, angelic pair!--
Glide around my wakeful pillow,
With their praise or mild reproof,
As I listen to the murmur
Of the soft rain on the roof.

Art hath naught of tone or cadence
That can work with such a spell
In the soul's mysterious fountains,
Whence the tears of rapture well,
As that melody of Nature,
That subdued, subduing strain
Which is played upon the shingles
By the patter of the rain.



The national hero of Spain is universally known as the Cid, and around
his name have gathered tales as marvelous as those of King Arthur and
his Knights of the Round Table. Some historians have doubted the
existence of the Cid, while others, whom we may prefer to believe, give
him a distinct place in history. According to the latter, he was a
descendant of one of the noblest families of Castile, and as early as
1064 his name is mentioned as that of a great warrior. So far as we are
concerned, we need not discuss the matter, for it is our purpose to see
him as a great hero whose name stood for honor and bravery, and whose
influence upon the youth of Spain has been wonderful. Accordingly, we
must know the Cid as he appears in song and story rather than as he is
known in history.

There are several prose chronicles in Spanish, which tell the story of
the Cid, and numberless poems and legends. The English poet, Robert
Southey, has given us the best translation of these, and from his
famous work, _Chronicle of the Cid_, we take the selections which are
printed in this volume. According to the Spanish accounts, Rodrigo
was born in 1026 in Burgos, the son of Diego Laynez, who was then the
head of the house of Layn Calvo. As a youth he was strong in arms and
of high repute among his friends, for he early bestirred himself to
protect the land from the Moors.

While Rodrigo was still in his early youth, his father was grievously
insulted and struck in the face by Count Don Gomez. Diego was a man so
old that his strength had passed from him, and he could not take
vengeance, but retired to his home to dwell in solitude and lament over
his dishonor. He took no pleasure in his food, neither could he sleep
by night nor would he lift up his eyes from the ground, nor stir out of
his house, nor commune with his friends, but turned from them in
silence as if the breath of his shame would taint them. The Count was a
mighty man in arms and so powerful that he had a thousand friends among
the mountains. Rodrigo, young as he was, considered this power as
nothing when he thought of the wrong done to his father, and determined
to take his own revenge. His father, seeing of how good heart he was,
gave him his sword and his blessing. Rodrigo went out, defied the
Count, fought with and killed him, and cutting off his head carried it
home. The old man was sitting at table, the food lying before him
untasted, when Rodrigo returned, and, pointing to the head which hung
from the horse's collar, dropping blood, bade him look up, saying,
"Here is the herb which will restore to you your appetite. The tongue
which insulted you is no longer a tongue, the hand no longer a hand."
Then the old man arose, embraced his son and placed him above him at
the table, saying, "The man who brought home that head must be the head
of the house of Layn Calvo."

At about this time, the king, Don Ferrando, who honors upon Rodrigo for
his success against the Moors, called him to aid against the King of
Aragon, who claimed the city of Calahorra, but had consented to let the
ownership of the city rest upon a trial by combat between two of their
greatest knights. The King of Aragon chose Don Martin Gonzalez, and Don
Ferrando, Rodrigo. The latter was well pleased at the prospect of the
battle, but before the day of the combat he started on a pilgrimage,
which he had previously vowed.


"Rodrigo forthwith set out upon the road, and took with him twenty
knights. And as he went he did great good, and gave alms, feeding the
poor and needy. And upon the way they found a leper, struggling in a
quagmire, who cried out to them with a loud voice to help him for the
love of God; and when Rodrigo heard this, he alighted from his beast
and helped him, and placed him upon the beast before him, and carried
him with him in this manner to the inn where he took up his lodging
that night. At this were his knights little pleased. And when supper
was ready he bade his knights take their seats, and he took the leper
by the hand, and seated him next himself, and ate with him out of the
same dish. The knights were greatly offended at this foul sight,
insomuch that they rose up and left the chamber. But Rodrigo ordered a
bed to be made ready for himself and for the leper, and they twain
slept together. When it was midnight and Rodrigo was fast asleep, the
leper breathed against him between his shoulders, and that breath was
so strong that it passed through him, even through his breast; and he
awoke, being astounded, and felt for the leper by him, and found him
not; and he began to call him, but there was no reply. Then he arose in
fear, and called for light, and it was brought him; and he looked for
the leper and could see nothing; so he returned into the bed, leaving
the light burning. And he began to think within himself what had
happened, and of that breath which had passed through him, and how the
leper was not there. After a while, as he was thus musing, there
appeared before him one in white garments, who said unto him, 'Sleepest
thou or wakest thou, Rodrigo?' and he answered and said, 'I do not
sleep: but who art thou that bringest with thee such brightness and so
sweet an odour?' Then said he, 'I am Saint Lazarus, and know that I was
a leper to whom thou didst so much good and so great honour for the
love of God; and because thou didst this for His sake hath God now
granted thee a great gift; for whensoever that breath which thou hast
felt shall come upon thee, whatever thing thou desirest to do, and
shalt then begin, that shalt thou accomplish to thy heart's desire,
whether it be in battle or aught else, so that thy honour shall go on
increasing from day to day; and thou shalt be feared both by Moors and
Christians, and thy enemies shall never prevail against thee, and thou
shalt die an honourable death in thine own house, and in thy renown,
for God hath blessed thee,--therefore go thou on, and evermore
persevere in doing good;' and with that he disappeared. And Rodrigo
arose and prayed to our lady and intercessor St. Mary, that she would
pray to her blessed son for him to watch over both his body and soul in
all his undertakings; and he continued in prayer till the day broke.
Then he proceeded on his way, and performed his pilgrimage, doing much
good for the love of God and of St. Mary."

Rodrigo was successful in his combat against Martin Gonzalez, and after
the death of the latter rose much higher in esteem with King Ferrando.
At no time was Rodrigo unworthy of his confidence, so that finally the
king knighted him after this manner: The king girded on his sword and
gave him the kiss, but not the blow. Usually this blow was given with
the hand upon the neck, at which time the king said, "Awake, and sleep
not in the affairs of knighthood." The king omitted this, knowing that
Rodrigo needed no such command. To do the new knight more honour, the
queen gave him his horse and her daughter fastened on his spurs. From
that day he was called Ruydiez. Ruy is merely an abbreviation of
Rodrigo, and Ruydiez means Rodrigo the son of Diego. Thereafter the
king commanded him to knight nine noble squires with his own hand, and
he took his sword before the altar and knighted them.

It was soon after this that there came to the king messengers from the
Moors, whom Ruydiez had overpowered, all bringing him tribute and
praising the generous treatment he had accorded them after his victory.
At the same time they called him _Cid_, which meant _lord_, and from
this time on by the king's orders Ruydiez vas called _The Cid_, because
the Moors had so named him. To this name is added the word _Campeador_,
which means _The Conqueror_.

The remaining incidents from the life of The Cid are taken directly
from Southey's _Chronicle of the Cid_.


Here the history relates that Martin Pelaez, the Asturian, came with a
convoy of laden beasts, carrying provisions to the host of the Cid; and
as he passed near the town the Moors sallied out in great numbers
against him; but he, though he had few with him, defended the convoy
right well, and did great hurt to the Moors, slaying many of them, and
drove them into the town. This Martin Pelaez, who is here spoken of,
did the Cid make a right good knight of a coward, as ye shall hear.

When the Cid first began to lay siege to the city of Valencia, this
Martin Pelaez came unto him; he was a knight, a native of Santillana in
Asturias, a hidalgo, great of body and strong of limb, a well-made man
of goodly semblance, but withal a right coward at heart, which he had
shown in many places when he was among feats of arms. And the Cid was
sorry when he came unto him, though he would not let him perceive this;
for he knew he was not fit to be of his company. Howbeit he thought
that since he was come, he would make him brave, whether he would or

And when the Cid began to war upon the town, and sent parties against
it twice and thrice a day, as ye have heard, for the Cid was alway upon
the alert, there was fighting and tourneying every day. One day it fell
out that the Cid and his kinsmen and friends and vassals were engaged
in a great encounter, and this Martin Pelaez was well armed; and when
he saw that the Moors and Christians were at it, he fled and betook
himself to his lodging, and there hid himself till the Cid returned to
dinner. And the Cid saw what Martin Pelaez did, and when he had
conquered the Moors he returned to his lodging to dinner.

Now it was the custom of the Cid to eat at a high table, seated on his
bench, at the head. And Don Alvar Faņez, and Pero Bermudez, and other
precious knights, ate in another part, at high tables, full honourably,
and none other knights whatsoever dared take their seats with them,
unless they were such as deserved to be there; and the others who were
not so approved in arms ate upon estrados, at tables with cushions.
This was the order in the house of the Cid, and every one knew the
place where he was to sit at meat, and every one strove all he could to
gain the honour of sitting to eat at the table of Don Alvar Faņez and
his companions, by strenuously behaving himself in all feats of arms;
and thus the honour of the Cid was advanced. This Martin Pelaez,
thinking that none had seen his badness, washed his hands in turn with
the other knights, and would have taken his place among them.

And the Cid went unto him, and took him by the hand and said, "You are
not such a one as deserves to sit with these, for they are worth more
than you or than me; but I will have you with me:" and he seated him
with himself at table.

And he, for lack of understanding, thought that the Cid did this to
honour him above all the others.

On the morrow the Cid and his company rode towards Valencia, and the
Moors came out to the tourney; and Martin Pelaez went out well armed,
and was among the foremost who charged the Moors, and when he was in
among them he turned the reins, and went back to his lodging; and the
Cid took heed to all that he did, and saw that though he had done badly
he had done better than the first day.

And when the Cid had driven the Moors into the town he returned to his
lodging, and as he sat down to meat he took this Martin Pelaez by the
hand, and seated him with himself, and bade him eat with him in the
same dish, for he had deserved more that day than he had the first.

And the knight gave heed to that saying, and was abashed; howbeit he
did as the Cid commanded him; and after he had dined he went to his
lodging and began to think upon what the Cid had said unto him, and
perceived that he had seen all the baseness which he had done; and then
he understood that for this cause he would not let him sit at board
with the other knights who were precious in arms, but had seated him
with himself, more to affront him than to do him honour, for there were
other knights there better than he, and he did not show them that
honour. Then resolved he in his heart to do better than he had done

Another day the Cid and his company and Martin Pelaez rode toward
Valencia, and the Moors came out to the tourney full resolutely, and
Martin Pelaez was among the first, and charged them right boldly; and
he smote down and slew presently a good knight, and he lost there all
the bad fear which he had had, and was that day one of the best knights
there; and as long as the tourney lasted there he remained, smiting and
slaying and overthrowing the Moors, till they were driven within the
gates, in such manner that the Moors marveled at him, and asked where
that devil came from, for they had never seen him before.

And the Cid was in a place where he could see all that was going on,
and he gave good heed to him, and had great pleasure in beholding him,
to see how well he had forgotten the great fear which he was wont to
have. And when the Moors were shut up within the town, the Cid and all
his people returned to their lodging, and Martin Pelaez full leisurely
and quietly went to his lodging also, like a good knight.


And when it was the hour of eating, the Cid waited for Martin Pelaez;
and when he came, and they had washed, the Cid took him by the hand and
said, "My friend, you are not such a one as deserves to sit with me
from henceforth, but sit you here with Don Alvar Faņez, and with these
other good knights, for the good feats which you have done this day
have made you a companion for them"; and from that day forward he was
placed in the company of the good.

And the history saith that from that day forward this knight, Martin
Pelaez, was a right good one, and a right valiant, and a right
precious, in all places where he chanced among feats of arms, and he
lived alway with the Cid, and served him right well and truly. And the
history saith, that after the Cid had won the city of Valencia, on the
day when they conquered and, discomfited the king of Seville, this
Martin Pelaez was so good a one, that setting aside the body of the Cid
himself, there was no such good knight there, nor one who bore such
part, as well in the battle as in the pursuit. And so great was the
mortality which he made among the Moors that day, that when he returned
from the business the sleeves of his mail were clotted with blood, up
to the elbow; insomuch that for what he did that day his name is
written in this history, that it may never die.

And when the Cid saw him come in that guise, he did him great honour,
such as he never had done to any knight before that day, and from
thenceforward gave him a place in all his actions and in all his
secrets, and he was his great friend. In this knight Martin Pelaez was
fulfilled the example which saith, that he who betaketh himself to a
good tree, hath good shade, and he who serves a good lord winneth good
guerdon; for by reason of the good service which he did the Cid, he
came to such good state that he was spoken of as ye have heard; for the
Cid knew how to make a good knight, as a good groom knows how to make a
good horse.


And my Cid lay before Alcocer fifteen weeks; and when he saw that the
town did not surrender, he ordered his people to break up their camp,
as if they were flying, and they left one of their tents behind them,
and took their way along the Salon, with their banners spread. And when
the Moors saw this they rejoiced greatly, and there was a great stir
among them, and they praised themselves for what they had done in
withstanding him, and said that the Cid's bread and barley had failed
him, and he had fled away, and left one of his tents behind him. And
they said among themselves, "Let us pursue them and spoil them, for if
they of Teruel should be before us, the honour and the profit will be
theirs, and we shall have nothing." And they went out after him, great
and little, leaving the gates open and shouting as they went; and there
was not left in the town a man who could bear arms.

And when my Cid saw them coming he gave orders to quicken their speed,
as if he was in fear, and would not let his people turn till the Moors
were far enough from the town. But when he saw that there was a good
distance between them and the gates, then he bade his banner turn, and
spurred towards them, crying, "Lay on, knights, by God's mercy the
spoil is our own." God! what a good joy was theirs that morning! My
Cid's vassals laid on without mercy--in one hour, and in a little
space, three hundred Moors were slain, and the Cid and Alvar Faņez had
good horses and got between them and the castle, and stood in the
gateway sword in hand, and there was a great mortality among the Moors;
and my Cid won the place, and Pero Bermudez planted his banner upon the
highest point of the castle. And the Cid said, "Blessed be God and all
his saints, we have bettered our quarters both for horses and men."

And he said to Alvar Faņez and all his knights, "Hear me, we shall get
nothing by killing these Moors; let us take them and they shall show us
their treasures which they have hidden in their houses, and we will
dwell here and they shall serve us." In this manner did my Cid win
Alcocer, and take up his abode therein.

Much did this trouble the Moors of Teca, and it did not please those of
Teruel, nor of Calatayud. And they sent to the king of Valencia to tell
him that one who was called Ruydiez the Cid, whom King Don Alfonso had
banished, was come into their country, and had taken Alcocer; and if a
stop were not put to him, the king might look upon Teca and Teruel and
Calatayud as lost, for nothing could stand against him, and he had
plundered the whole country, along the Salon on the one side, and the
Siloca on the other. When the king of Valencia, whose name was Alcamin,
heard this, he was greatly troubled; and incontinently he spake unto
two Moorish kings, who were his vassals, bidding them take three
thousand horsemen, and all the men of the border, and bring the Cid to
him alive, that he might make atonement to him for having entered his

Fariz and Galve were the names of these two Moorish kings and they set
out with companies of King Alcamin from Valencia, and halted the first
night in Segorve, and the second night at Celfa de Canal. And they sent
their messengers through the land to all the Councils thereof, ordering
all men at arms, as well horsemen as footmen, to join them, and the
third night they halted at Calatayud, and great numbers joined them;
and they came up against Alcocer, and pitched their tents round about
the castle. Every day their host increased, for their people were many
in number, and their watchmen kept watch day and night; and my Cid had
no succour to look for except the mercy of God, in which he put his
trust. And the Moors beset them so close that they cut off their water,
and albeit the Castillians would have sallied against them, my Cid
forbade this. In this guise were my Cid and his people besieged for
three weeks, and when the fourth week began, he called for Alvar Faņez,
and for his company, and said unto them, "Ye see that the Moors have
cut off our water, and we have but little bread; they gather numbers
day by day, and we become weak, and they are in their own country. If
we would depart they would not let us, and we cannot go out by night
because they have beset us round about on all sides, and we cannot pass
on high through the air, neither through the earth which is underneath.
Now then, if it please you, let us go out and fight with them, though
they are many in number, and either defeat them or die an honourable

Then Minaya answered and said, "We have left the gentle land of
Castille, and are come hither as banished men, and if we do not beat
the Moors they will not give us food*. Now though we are but few, yet
are we of a good stock, and of one heart and one will; by God's help
let us go out and smite them to-morrow, early in the morning, and you
who are not in a state of penitence go and shrieve yourselves and
repent ye of your sins." And they all held that what Alvar Faņez had
said was good. And my Cid answered, "Minaya, you have spoken as you
should do." Then ordered he all the Moors, both men and women, to be
thrust out of the town, that it might not be known what they were
preparing to do; and the rest of that day and the night also they
passed in making ready for the battle. And on the morrow at sunrise the
Cid gave his banner to Pero Bermudez, and bade him bear it boldly like
a good man as he was, but he charged him not to thrust forward with it
without his bidding. And Pero Bermudez kissed his hand, being well
pleased. Then leaving only two foot soldiers to keep the gates, they
issued out; and the Moorish scouts saw them and hastened to the camp.
Then was there such a noise of tambours as if the earth would have been
broken, and the Moors armed themselves in great haste. Two royal
banners were there, and five city ones, and they drew up their men in
two great bodies, and moved on, thinking to take my Cid and all his
company alive; and my Cid bade his men remain still and not move till
he should bid them.

Pero Bermudez could not bear this, but holding the banner in his hand,
he cried, "God help you, Cid Campeador; I shall put your banner in the
middle of that main body; and you who are bound to stand by it--I shall
see how you will succour it." And he began to prick forward. And the
Campeador called unto him to stop as he loved him, but Pero Bermudez
replied he would stop for nothing, and away he spurred and carried his
banner into the middle of the great body of the Moors. And the Moors
fell upon him, that they might win the banner, and beset him on all
sides, giving him many great blows to beat him down; nevertheless his
arms were proof, and they could not pierce them, neither could they
beat him down, nor force the banner from him, for he was a right brave
man, and a strong, and a good horseman, and of great heart. And when
the Cid saw him thus beset he called to his people to move on and help
him. Then placed they their shields before their hearts, and lowered
their lances with the streamers thereon, and bending forward, rode on.
Three hundred lances were they, each with its pendant, and every man at
the first charge slew his Moor. "Smite them, knights, for the love of
charity," cried the Campeador. "I am Ruydiez, the Cid of Bivar!"

Many a shield was pierced that day, and many a false corselet was
broken, and many a white streamer dyed with blood, and many a horse
left without a rider. The Misbelievers called on Mahomet, and the
Christians on Santiago, and the noise of the tambours and of the
trumpets was so great that none could hear his neighbour. And my Cid
and his company succoured Pero Bermudez, and they rode through the host
of the Moors, slaying as they went, and they rode back again in like
manner; thirteen hundred did they kill in this guise. Wherever my Cid
went, the Moors made a path before him, for he smote them down without
mercy. And while the battle still continued, the Moors killed the horse
of Alvar Faņez, and his lance was broken, and he fought bravely with
his sword afoot. And my Cid, seeing him, came up to an Alguazil who
rode upon a good horse, and smote him with his sword under the right
arm, so that he cut him through and through, and he gave the horse to
Alvar Faņez saying, "Mount, Minaya, for you are my right hand."

When Alvar Faņez was thus remounted, they fell upon the Moors again,
and by this time the Moors were greatly disheartened, having suffered
so great loss, and they began to give way. And my Cid, seeing King
Fariz, made towards him, smiting down all who were in his way; and he
came up to him, and made three blows at him; two of them failed, but
the third was a good one, and went through his cuirass, so that the
blood ran down his legs. And with that blow was the army of the Moors
vanquished, for King Fariz, feeling himself so sorely wounded, turned
his reins and fled out of the field, even to Teruel. And Martin
Antolinez, the good Burgalese, came up to King Galve, and gave him a
stroke on the head, which scattered all the carbuncles out of his
helmet, and cut through it even to the skin; and the king did not wait
for another such, and he fled also. A good day was that for
Christendom, for the Moors fled on all sides. King Fariz got into
Teruel, and King Galve fled after him, but they would not receive him
within the gates, and he went on to Calatayud. And the Christians
pursued them even to Calatayud. And Alvar Faņez had a good horse; four
and thirty did he slay in that pursuit with the edge of his keen sword,
and his arm was all red, and the blood dropt from his elbow. And as he
was returning from the spoil he said, "Now am I well pleased, for good
tidings will go to Castille, how my Cid has won a battle in the field."
My Cid also turned back; his coif was wrinkled, and you might see his
full beard; the hood of his mail hung down upon his shoulders, and the
sword was still in his hand. He saw his people returning from the
pursuit, and that of all his company fifteen only of the lower sort
were slain, and he gave thanks to God for this victory. Then they fell
to the spoil, and they found arms in abundance, and great store of
wealth; and five hundred and ten horses. And he divided the spoil,
giving to each man his fair portion, and the Moors whom they had put
out of Alcocer before the battle, they now received again into the
castle, and gave to them also a part of the booty, so that all were
well content. And my Cid had great joy with his vassals.

Then the Cid called unto Alvar Faņez and said, "Cousin, you are my
right hand, and I hold it good that you should take of my fifth as much
as you will, for all would be well bestowed upon you;" but Minaya
thanked him, and said, that he would take nothing more than his share.
And the Cid said unto him, "I will send King Don Alfonso a present from
my part of the spoils. You shall go into Castille, and take with you
thirty horses, the best which were taken from the Moors, all bridled
and saddled, and each having a sword hanging from the saddle-bow; and
you shall give them to the King, and kiss his hand for me, and tell him
that we know how to make our way among the Moors. And you shall take
also this bag of gold and silver, and purchase for me a thousand masses
in Saint Mary's at Burgos, and hang up there these banners of the
Moorish kings whom we hare overcome. Go then to Saint Pedro's at
Cardena, and salute my wife Doņa Ximena, and my daughters, and tell
them how well I go on, and that if I live I will make them rich women.
And salute for me the Abbot Don Sebuto, and give him fifty marks of
silver; and the rest of the money, whatever shall be left, give to my
wife, and bid them all pray for me." Moreover the Cid said unto him,
"This country is all spoiled, and we have to help ourselves with sword
and spear. You are going to gentle Castille; if when you return you
should not find us here, you will hear where we are."


Alvar Faņez went his way to Castille, and he found the king in
Valladolid, and he presented to him the thirty horses, with all their
trappings, and swords mounted with silver hanging from the saddle-bows.
And when the king saw them, before Alvar Faņez could deliver his
bidding, he said unto him, "Minaya, who sends me this goodly present?"
And Minaya answered, "My Cid Ruydiez, the Campeador, sends it, and
kisses by me your hands. For since you were wroth against him, and
banished him from the land, he being a man disherited, hath helped
himself with his own hands, and hath won from the Moors the Castle of
Alcocer. And the king of Valencia sent two kings to besiege him there,
with all his power, and they begirt him round about, and cut off the
water and bread from us so that we could not subsist. And then holding
it better to die like good men in the field, than shut up like bad
ones, we went out against them, and fought with them in the open field,
and smote them and put them to flight; and both the Moorish kings were
sorely wounded, and many of the Moors were slain, and many were taken
prisoners, and great was the spoil which we won in the field, both of
captives and of horses and arms, gold and silver and pearls, so that
all who are with him are rich men. And of his fifth of the horses which
were taken that day, my Cid hath sent you these, as to his natural
lord, whose favour he desireth. I beseech you, as God shall help you,
show favour unto him."

Then King Don Alfonso answered, "This is betimes in the morning for a
banished man to ask favour of his lord; nor is it befitting a king, for
no lord ought to be wroth for so short a time. Nevertheless, because
the horses were won from the Moors, I will take them, and rejoice that
my Cid hath sped so well. And I pardon you, Minaya, and give again unto
you all the lands which you have ever held of me, and you have my
favour to go when you will, and come when you will. Of the Cid
Campeador, I shall say nothing now, save only that all who chuse to
follow him may freely go, and their bodies and goods and heritages are
safe." And Minaya said, "God grant you many and happy years for his
service. Now I beseech you, this which you have done for me, do also to
all those who are in my Cid's company, and show favour unto them." And
the king gave order that it should be so. Then Minaya kissed the king's
hand and said, "Sir, you have done this now, and you will do the rest

In three weeks time after this came Alvar Faņez from Castille. Two
hundred men of lineage came with him, every one of whom wore sword girt
to his side, and the foot soldiers in their company were out of number.
When my Cid saw Minaya he rode up to him, and embraced him without
speaking, and kissed his mouth and the eyes in his head. And Minaya
told him all that he had done. And the face of the Campeador
brightened, and he gave thanks to God, and said, "It will go well with
me, Minaya, as long as you, live!" God, how joyful was that whole host
because Alvar Faņez was returned! for he brought them greetings from
their kinswomen and their brethren, and the fair comrades whom they had
left behind. God, how joyful was my Cid with the fleecy beard, that
Minaya had purchased the thousand masses, and had brought him the
biddings of his wife and daughters! God, what a joyful man was he!


When Don Ramon Berenguer the Count of Barcelona heard how my Cid was
overrunning the country, it troubled him to the heart, and he held it
for a great dishonour, because that part of the land of the Moors was
in his keeping. And he spake boastfully, saying, "Great wrong doth that
Cid of Bivar offer unto me; he smote my nephew in my own court and
never would make amends for it, and now he ravages the lands which are
in my keeping, and I have never defied him for this nor renounced his
friendship; but since he goes on in this way I must take vengeance." So
he and King Abenalfange gathered together a great power both of Moors
and Christians, and went in pursuit of the Cid, and after three days
and two nights they came up with him in the pine-forest of Tebar, and
they came on confidently, thinking to lay hands on him. Now my Cid was
returning with much spoil, and had descended from the Sierra into the
valley when tidings were brought him that Count Don Ramon Berenguer and
the King of Denia were at hand, with a great power, to take away his
booty, and take or slay him. And when the Cid heard this he sent to Don
Ramon saying, that the booty which he had won was none of his, and
bidding him let him go on his way in peace; but the Count made answer,
that my Cid should now learn whom he had dishonoured, and make amends
once for all.

Then my Cid sent the booty forward, and bade his knights make ready.
"They are coming upon us," said he, "with a great power, both of Moors
and Christians, to take from us the spoils which we have so hardly won,
and without doing battle we cannot be quit of them; for if we should
proceed they would follow till they overtook us; therefore let the
battle he here, and I trust in God that we shall win more honour, and
something to boot. They came down the hill, drest in their hose, with
their gay saddles, and their girths wet; we are with our hose covered
and on our Galician saddles; a hundred such as we ought to beat their
whole company. Before they get upon the plain ground let us give them
the points of our lances; for one whom we run through, three will jump
out of their saddles; and Ramon Berenguer will then see whom he has
overtaken to-day in the pine-forest of Tebar, thinking to despoil him
of the booty which I have won from the enemies of God and of the

While my Cid was speaking, his knights had taken their arms, and were
ready on horseback for the charge. Presently they saw the pendants of
the Frenchmen coming down the hill, and when they were nigh the bottom,
my Cid bade his people charge, which they did with a right good will,
thrusting their spears so stiffly that by God's good pleasure not a man
whom they encountered but lost his seat. So many were slain and so many
wounded that the Moors were dismayed forthwith, and began to fly. The
Count's people stood firm a little longer, gathering round their Lord;
but my Cid was in search of him, and when he saw where he was, he made
up to him, clearing the way as he went, and gave him such a stroke with
his lance that he felled him down to the ground. When the Frenchmen saw
their Lord in this plight they fled away and left him; and the pursuit
lasted three leagues, and would have been continued farther if the
conquerors had not had tired horses. So they turned back and collected
the spoils, which were more than they could carry away. Thus was Count
Ramon Berenguer made prisoner, and my Cid won from him that day the
good sword Colada, which was worth more than a thousand marks of

That night did my Cid and his men make merry, rejoicing over their
gains. And the Count was taken to my Cid's tent, and a good supper was
set before him; nevertheless he would not eat, though my Cid besought
him so to do. And on the morrow my Cid ordered a feast to be made, that
he might do pleasure to the Count, but the Count said that for all
Spain he would not eat one mouthful, but rather die, since he had been
beaten in battle by such a set of ragged fellows.

And Ruydiez said to him, "Eat and drink, Count, of this bread and of
this wine, for this is the chance of war; if you do as I say you shall
be free; and if not you will never return again into your own lands."
And Don Ramon answered, "Eat you, Don Rodrigo, for your fortune is fair
and you deserve it; take you your pleasure, but leave me to die." And
in this mood he continued for three days, refusing all food.

But then my Cid said to him, "Take food, Count, and be sure that I will
set you free, you and any two of your knights, and give you wherewith
to return into your own country." And when Don Ramon heard this, he
took comfort and said, "If you will indeed do this thing I shall marvel
at you as long as I live." "Eat then," said Ruydiez, "and I will do it;
but mark you, of the spoil which we have taken from you I will give you
nothing; for to that you have no claim, neither by right nor custom,
and besides we want it for ourselves, being banished men, who must live
by taking from you and from others as long as it shall please God."

Then was the Count full joyful, being well pleased that what should be
given him was not of the spoils which he had lost; and he called for
water and washed his hands, and chose two of his kinsmen to be set free
with him; the one was named Don Hugo, and the other Guillen Bernalto.

And my Cid sate at the table with them, and said, "If you do not eat
well, Count, you and I shall not part yet." Never since he was Count
did he eat with better will than that day! And when they had done he
said, "Now, Cid, if it be your pleasure let us depart." And my Cid
clothed him and his kinsmen well with goodly skins and mantles, and
gave them each a goodly palfrey, with rich caparisons, and he rode out
with them on their way. And when he took leave of the Count he said to
him, "Now go freely, and I thank you for what you have left behind; if
you wish to play for it again let me know, and you shall either have
something back in its stead, or leave what you bring to be added to

The Count answered, "Cid, you jest safely now, for I have paid you and
all your company for this twelvemonths, and shall not be coming to see
you again so soon."

Then Count Ramon pricked on more than apace, and many times looked
behind him, fearing that my Cid would repent what he had done, and send
to take him back to prison, which the Perfect one would not have done
for the whole world, for never did he do disloyal thing.


Now Zulema had sent for my Cid, and the cause was this. His brother,
the King of Denia, had taken counsel with Count Ramon Berenguer, and
with the Count of Cardona, and with the brother of the Count of Urgel,
and with the chiefs of Balsadron and Remolin and Cartaxes, that they
should besiege the Castle of Almenar, which my Cid had fortified by
command of King Zulema. And they came up against it while my Cid was
away, besieging the Castle of Estrada, which is in the rivers Tiegio
and Sege, the which he took by force. And they fought against it and
cut off the water. And when my Cid came to the king at Tamarit, the
king asked him to go and fight with the host which besieged Almenar;
but my Cid said it would be better to give something to King
Abenalfange that he should break up the siege and depart; for they were
too great a power to do battle with, being as many in number as the
sands on the sea shore. And the King did as he counselled him, and sent
to his brother King Abenalfange, and to the chiefs who were with him,
to propose this accord, and they would not.

Then my Cid, seeing that they would not depart for fair means, armed
his people, and fell upon them. That was a hard battle and well fought
on both sides, and much blood was shed, for many good knights on either
party were in the field; howbeit he of good fortune won the day at
last, he who never was conquered. King Abenalfange and Count Ramon and
most of the others fled, and my Cid followed, smiting and slaying for
three leagues; and many good Christian knights were made prisoners.
Ruydiez returned with great honour and much spoil, and gave all his
prisoners to King Zulema, who kept them eight days, and then my Cid
begged their liberty and set them free. And he and the king returned to
Zaragoza, and the people came out to meet them, with great joy, and
shouts of welcome. And the king honoured my Cid greatly, and gave him
power in all his dominions.

At this time it came to pass that Almofalez, a Moor of Andalusia, rose
up with the Castle of Rueda, which was held for King Don Alfonso. And
because he held prisoner there the brother of Adefir, another Moor,
Adefir sent to the King of Castille, beseeching him to come to succour
him, and recover the Castle. And the King sent the Infante Don Ramiro
his cousin, and the Infante Don Sancho, son to the King of Navarre, and
Count Don Gonzalo Salvadores, and Count Don Nuņo Alvarez, and many
other knights with them: and they came to the Castle, and Almofalez
said he would not open the gates to them, but if the king came he would
open to him. And when King Don Alfonso heard this, incontinently he
came to Rueda. And Almofalez besought him to enter to a feast which he
had prepared; howbeit the King would not go in, neither would his
people have permitted him so to have risked his person. But the Infante
Don Sancho entered, and Don Nuņo, and Don Ganzalo, and fifteen other
knights; and as soon as they were within the gate, the Moors threw down
great stones upon them and killed them all. This was the end of the
good Count Don Gonzalo Salvadores, who was so good a knight in battle
that he was called "He of the Four Hands." The bodies were ransomed,
seeing that there was no remedy, the Castle being so strong, and Don
Gonzalo was buried in the Monastery of Ona, according as he had
appointed in his will; and the Infante Don Sancho with his forefathers
the Kings of Navarre, in the royal Monastery of Naxara.

Greatly was King Don Alfonso troubled at this villainy, and he sought
for the Cid, who was in those parts; and the Cid came to him with a
great company. And the king told him the great treason which had been
committed, and took the Cid into his favour, and said unto him that he
might return with him into Castille. My Cid thanked him for his bounty,
but he said he never would accept his favour unless the king granted
what he should request; and the king bade him make his demand. And my
Cid demanded that when any hidalgo should be banished, in time to come,
he should have the thirty days, which were his right, allowed him, and
not nine only, as had been his case; and that neither hidalgo nor
citizen should be proceeded against till they had been fairly and
lawfully heard: also, that the king should not go against the
privileges and charters and good customs of any town or other place,
nor impose taxes upon them against their right; and if he did, that it
should be lawful for the land to rise against him, till he had amended
the misdeed.

And to all this the king accorded, and said to my Cid that he should go
back into Castille with him; but my Cid said he would not go into
Castille till he had won that castle of Rueda, and delivered the
villainous Moors thereof into his hands, that he might do justice upon

So the king thanked him greatly, and returned into Castille, and my Cid
remained before the castle of Rueda. And he lay before it so long, and
beset it so close, that the food of the Moors failed, and they had no
strength to defend themselves; and they would willingly have yielded
the castle, so they might have been permitted to leave it and go
whither they would; but he would have their bodies, to deliver them up
to the king. When they saw that it must be so, great part of them came
out, and yielded themselves prisoners; and then my Cid stormed the
castle and took Almofalez and them who held with him, so that none
escaped; and he sent him and his accomplices in the treason to the
king. And the king was right glad when they were brought before him,
and he did great justice upon them, and sent to thank my Cid for having
avenged him.

[Illustration: The Defeat of Almofalez]

After my Cid had done this good service to King Don Alfonso, he and
King Zulema of Zaragoza entered Aragon, slaying, and burning, and
plundering before them, and they returned to the Castle of Monzon with
great booty. Then the Cid went into King Abenalfange's country, and did
much mischief there: and he got among the mountains of Moriella, and
beat down everything before him, and destroyed the Castle of Moriella.
And King Zulema sent to bid him build up the ruined Castle of Alcala,
which is upon Moriella; and the Cid did so. But King Abenalfange, being
sorely grieved hereat, sent to King Pedro of Aragon, and besought him
to come and help him against the Campeador. And the king of Aragon
gathered together a great host in his anger, and he and the king of
Denia came against my Cid, and they halted that night upon the banks of
the Ebro; and King Don Pedro sent letters to the Cid, bidding him leave
the castle which he was then edifying. My Cid made answer, that if the
king chose to pass that way in peace, he would let him pass, and show
him any service in his power. And when the king of Aragon saw that he
would not forsake the work, he marched against him, and attacked him.
Then there was a brave battle, and many were slain; but my Cid won the
day, and King Abenalfange fled, and King Don Pedro was taken prisoner,
and many of his counts and knights with him. My Cid returned to
Zaragoza with this great honour, taking his prisoners with him; and he
set them all freely at liberty, and having tarried in Zaragoza a few
days, set forth for Castille, with great riches and full of honours.

Having done all these things in his banishment, my Cid returned to
Castille, and the king received him well and gave him the Castle of
Dueņas, and of Orcejon, and Ybia, and Campo, and Gaņa, and Berviesca,
and Berlanga, with all their districts. And he gave him privileges with
leaden seals appendant, and confirmed with his own hand, that whatever
castles, towns, and places he might win from the Moors, or from any one
else, should be his own, quit and free for ever, both for him and for
his descendants. Thus was my Cid received into the king's favour, and
he abode with him long time, doing him great services, as his Lord.


It is written in the history which Abenalfarax, the nephew of Gil Diaz,
composed in Valencia, that for five years the Cid Ruydiez remained Lord
thereof in peace, and in all that time he sought to do nothing but to
serve God, and to keep the Moors quiet who were under his dominion; so
that Moors and Christians dwelt together in such accord that it seemed
as if they had always been united; and they all loved and served the
Cid with such good will that it was marvelous. And when these five
years were over tidings were spread far and near, which reached
Valencia, that King Bucar, the Miramamolin of Morocco, holding himself
disgraced because the Cid Campeador had conquered him in the field of
Quarto near unto Valencia, where he had slain or made prisoners all his
people, and driven him into the sea, and made spoil of all his
treasures--King Bucar calling these things to mind, had gone himself
and stirred up the whole Paganism of Barbary to cross the sea again,
and avenge himself if he could; and he had assembled so great a power
that no man could devise their numbers.

When the Cid heard these tidings he was troubled at heart; howbeit he
dissembled this, so that no person knew what he was minded to do; and
thus the matter remained for some days. And when he saw that the news
came thicker and faster, and that it was altogether certain that King
Bucar was coming over sea against him, he sent and bade all the Moors
of Valencia assemble together in his presence, and when they were all
assembled he said unto them, "Good men of the Aljama, ye well know that
from the day wherein I became Lord of Valencia, ye have always been
protected and defended, and have past your time well and peaceably in
your houses and heritages, none troubling you nor doing you wrong;
neither have I who am your Lord ever done aught unto you that was
against right. And now true tidings are come to me that King Bucar of
Morocco is arrived from beyond sea, with a mighty power of Moors, and
that he is coming against me to take from me this city which I won with
so great labour. Now therefore, seeing it is so, I hold it good and
command that ye quit the town, both ye and your sons and your women,
and go into the suburb of Alcudia and the other suburbs, to dwell there
with the other Moors, till we shall see the end of this business
between me and King Bucar." Then the Moors, albeit they were loath,
obeyed his command: and when they were all gone out of the city, so
that none remained, he held himself safer than he had done before.

Now after the Moors were all gone out of the city, it came to pass in
the middle of the night that the Cid was lying in his bed, devising how
he might withstand this coming of King Bucar, for Abenalfarax saith
that when he was alone in his palace his thoughts were of nothing else.
And when it was midnight there came a great light into the palace, and
a great odour, marvelous sweet. And as he was marveling what it might
he, there appeared before him a man as white as snow; he was in the
likeness of an old man, with gray hair and crisp, and he carried
certain keys in his hand; and before the Cid could speak to him he
said, "Sleepest thou, Rodrigo, or what art thou doing?" And the Cid
made answer, "What man art thou who askest me?" And he said, "I am
Peter, the Prince of the Apostles, who come unto thee with more urgent
tidings than those for which thou art taking thought concerning King
Bucar, and it is, that thou art to leave this world, and go to that
which hath no end; and this will be in thirty days. But God will show
favour unto thee, so that thy people shall discomfit King Bucar, and
thou, being dead, shalt win this battle for the honour of thy body:
this will be with the help of Santiago, whom God will send to the
business; but do thou strive to make atonement for thy sins, and so
thou shalt be saved. All this Jesus Christ vouchsafeth thee for the
love of me, and for the reverence which thou hast alway shown to my

When the Cid Campeador heard this he had great pleasure at heart, and
he let himself fall out of bed upon the earth, that he might kiss the
feet of the Apostle St. Peter; but the Apostle said, "Strive not to do
this, for thou canst not touch me; but be sure that all this which I
have told thee will come to pass." And when the blessed Apostle had
said this he disappeared, and the palace remained full of a sweeter and
more delightful odour than heart of man can conceive. And the Cid
Ruydiez remained greatly comforted by what St. Peter had said to him,
and as certain that all this would come to pass, as if it were already

Early on the morrow he sent to call all his honourable men to the
Alcazar; and when they were all assembled before him, he began to say
unto them, weeping the while, "Friends and kinsmen and true vassals and
honourable men, many of ye must well remember when King Don Alfonso our
Lord twice banished me from this land, and most of ye for the love
which ye bore me followed me into banishment, and have guarded me ever
since. And God hath shown such mercy to you and to me, that we have won
many battles against Moors and Christians; those which were against
Christians, God knows, were more through their fault than my will, for
they strove to set themselves against the good fortune which God had
given me, and to oppose his service, helping the enemies of the faith.
Moreover we won this city in which we dwell, which is not under the
dominion of any man in the world, save only my Lord the King Don
Alfonso, and that rather by reason of our natural allegiance than of
anything else. And now I would have ye know the state in which this
body of mine now is; for be ye certain that I am in the latter days of
my life, and that thirty days hence will be my last. Of this I am well
assured; for for these seven nights past I have seen visions. I have
seen my father Diego Laynez and Diego Rodriguez my son; and every time
they say to me, 'You have tarried long here, let us go now among the
people who endure for ever.' Now, notwithstanding man ought not to put
his trust in these things, nor in such visions, I know this by other
means to be certain, for Sir St. Peter hath appeared to me this night,
when I was awake and not sleeping, and he told me that when these
thirty days were over I should pass away from this world. Now ye know
for certain that King Bucar is coming against us, and they say that
thirty and six Moorish kings are coming with him; and since he bringeth
so great a power of Moors and I have to depart so soon, how can ye
defend Valencia! But be ye certain, that by the mercy of God I shall
counsel ye so that ye shall conquer King Bucar in the field, and win
great praise and honour from him, and Doņa Ximena, and ye and all that
ye have, go hence in safety; how ye are to do all this I will tell ye
hereafter, before I depart."

After the Cid said this he sickened of the malady of which he died. And
the day before his weakness waxed great, he ordered the gates of the
town to be shut, and went to the Church of St. Peter; and there the
Bishop Don Hieronymo being present, and all the clergy who were in
Valencia, and the knights and honourable men and honourable dames, as
many as the Church could hold, the Cid Ruydiez stood up, and made a
full noble preaching, showing that no man whatsoever, however
honourable or fortunate they may be in this world, can escape death;
"to which," said he, "I am now full near; and since ye know that this
body of mine hath never yet been conquered, nor put to shame, I beseech
ye let not this befall it at the end, for the good fortune of man is
only accomplished at his end. How this is to be done, and what we all
have to do, I will leave in the hands of the Bishop of Don Hieronymo,
and Alvar Faņez, and Pero Bermudez." And when he had said this he
placed himself at the feet of the Bishop, and there before all the
people made a general confession of all his sins, and all the faults
which he had committed against our Lord Jesus Christ. And the Bishop
appointed him his penance and assoyled him of his sins.

Then he arose and took leave of the people, weeping plenteously, and
returned to the Alcazar, and betook himself to his bed, and never rose
from it again; and every day he waxed weaker and weaker, till seven
days only remained of the time appointed. Then he called for the
caskets of gold in which was the balsam and the myrrh which the Soldan
of Persia had sent him; and when these were put before him he bade them
bring him the golden cup, of which he was wont to drink; and he took of
that balsam and of that myrrh as much as a little spoonful, and mingled
it in the cup with rose-water and drank of it; and for the seven days
which he lived he neither ate nor drank aught else than a little of
that myrrh and balsam mingled with water. And every day after he did
this, his body and his countenance appeared fairer and fresher than
before, and his voice clearer, though he waxed weaker and weaker daily,
so that he could not move in his bed.

On the twenty-ninth day, being the day before he departed, he called
for Dona Ximena, and for the Bishop Don Hieronymo, and Don Alvar Faņez
Minaya, and Pero Bermudez, and his trusty Gil Diaz; and when they were
all five before him, he began to direct them what they should do after
his death; and he said to them:

"Ye know that King Bucar will presently be here to besiege this city,
with seven and thirty Kings, whom he bringeth with him, and with a
mighty power of Moors.

"Now, therefore, the first thing which ye do after I have departed,
wash my body with rose-water many times and well, as blessed be the
name of God it is washed within and made pure of all uncleanness to
receive his holy body to-morrow, which will be my last day. And when it
has been well washed and made clean, ye shall dry it well, and anoint
it with this myrrh and balsam, from these golden caskets, from head to
foot, so that every part shall be anointed, till none be left.

"And you my Sister Doņa Ximena, and your women, see that ye utter no
cries, neither make any lamentation for me, that the Moors may not know
of my death. And when the day shall come in which King Bucar arrives,
order all the people of Valencia to go upon the walls, and sound your
trumpets and tambours, and make the greatest rejoicings that ye can.

"And when ye would set out for Castille, let all the people know in
secret, that they make themselves ready, and take with them all that
they have, so that none of the Moors in the suburb may know thereof;
for certes ye cannot keep the city, neither abide therein after my
death. And see ye that sumpter beasts be laden with all that there is
in Valencia, so that nothing which can profit may be left. And this I
leave especially to your charge, Gil Diaz.

"Then saddle ye my horse Bavieca, and arm him well; and ye shall
apparel my body full seemlily, and place me upon the horse, and fasten
and tie me thereon so that it cannot fall; and fasten my sword Tizona
in my hand. And let the Bishop Don Hieronymo go on one side of me, and
my trusty Gil Diaz on the other, and he shall lead my horse. You, Pero
Bermudez, shall bear my banner, as you were wont to bear it; and you,
Alvar Faņez, my cousin, gather your company together, and put the host
in order as you are wont to do. And go ye forth and fight with King
Bucar; for be ye certain and doubt not that ye shall win this battle;
God hath granted me this. And when ye have won the fight, and the Moors
are discomfited, ye may spoil the field at pleasure. Ye will find great

Then the Cid Ruydiez, the Campeador of Bivar, bade the Bishop Don
Hieronymo give him the body of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and
he received it with great devotion, on his knees, and weeping before
them all.

Then he sate up in his bed and called upon God and St. Peter, and began
to pray, saying, "Lord Jesus Christ, thine is the power, and the
kingdom, and thou art above all kings and all nations, and all kings
are at thy command. I beseech ye, therefore, pardon me my sins and let
my soul enter into the light which hath no end."

And when the Cid Ruydiez had said this, he yielded up his soul, which
was pure and without spot, to God, on that Sunday which is called
Quinquagesima, being the twenty and ninth of May, in the year of our
Lord one thousand and ninety and nine, and in the seventy and third
year of his life.


Three days after the Cid had departed King Bucar came into the port of
Valencia, and landed with all his power, which was so great that there
is not a man in the world who could give account of the Moors whom he
brought. And there came with him thirty and six kings, and one Moorish
queen, who was a negress, and she brought with her two hundred
horsewomen, all negresses like herself, all having their hair shorn
save a tuft on the top, and this was in token that they came as if upon
a pilgrimage, and to obtain the remission of their sins; and they were
all armed in coats of mail and with Turkish bows. King Bucar ordered
his tents to be pitched round about Valencia, and Abenalfarax, who
wrote this history in Arabic, saith that there were full fifteen
thousand tents; and he bade that Moorish negress with her archers to
take their station near the city.

And on the morrow they began to attack the city, and they fought
against it three days strenuously, and the Moors received great loss,
for they came blindly up to the walls and were slain there. And the
Christians defended themselves right well; and every time that they
went upon the walls, they sounded trumpets and tambours, and made great
rejoicings, as the Cid had commanded. This continued for eight days or
nine, till the companions of the Cid had made ready everything for
their departure, as he had commanded. And King Bucar and his people
thought that the Cid dared not come out against them; and they were the
more encouraged and began to think of making bastiles and engines
wherewith to combat the city, for certes they weened that the Cid
Ruydiez dared not come out against them, seeing that he tarried so
long. All this while the company of the Cid were preparing all things
to go into Castille, as he had commanded before his death; and his
trusty Gil Diaz did nothing else but labour at this. And the body of
the Cid was prepared after this manner: first it was embalmed and
anointed as the history hath already recounted, and the virtue of the
balsam and myrrh was such that the flesh remained firm and fair, having
its natural color, and his countenance as it was wont to be, and the
eyes open, and his long beard in order, so that there was not a man who
would have thought him dead if he had seen him and not known it.

And on the second day after he had departed, Gil Diaz placed the body
upon a right noble saddle, and this saddle with the body upon it he put
upon a frame; and he dressed the body in a gambax of fine sendal, next
the skin. And he took two boards and fitted them to the body, one to
the breast and the other to the shoulders; these were so hollowed out
and fitted that they met at the sides and under the arms, and the hind
one came up to the pole, and the other up to the beard; and these
boards were fastened into the saddle, so that the body could not move.
All this was done by the morning of the twelfth day; and all that day
the people of the Cid were busied in making ready their arms, and in
loading beasts with all that they had, so that they left nothing of any
price in the whole city of Valencia, save only the empty houses. When
it was midnight they took the body of the Cid, fastened to the saddle
as it was, and placed it upon his horse Bavieca, and fastened the
saddle well; and the body sat so upright and well that it seemed as if
he was alive. And it had on painted hose of black and white, so
cunningly painted that no man who saw them would have thought but that
they were greaves and cuishes, unless he had laid his hand upon them,
and they put on it a surcoat of green sendal, having his arms blazoned
thereon, and a helmet of parchment, which was cunningly painted that
every one might have believed it to be iron; and his shield was hung
round his neck, and they placed the sword Tizona in his hand, and they
raised his arm, and fastened it up so subtilely that it was a marvel to
see how upright he held the sword. And the Bishop Don Hieronymo went on
one side of him, and the trusty Gil Diaz on the other, and he led the
horse Bavieca, as the Cid had commanded him.


And when all this had been made ready, they went out from Valencia at
midnight, through the gate of Roseros, which is towards Castille. Pero
Bermudez went first with the banner of the Cid, and with him five
hundred knights who guarded it, all well appointed. And after these
came all the baggage. Then came the body of the Cid, with an hundred
knights, all chosen men, and behind them Doņa Ximena with all her
company, with six hundred knights in the rear. All these went out so
silently, and with such a measured pace, that it seemed as if there
were only a score. And by the time that they had all gone out it was
broad day.

Now Alvar Faņez Minaya had set the host in order, and while the Bishop
Don Hieronymo and Gil Diaz led away the body of the Cid, and Doņa
Ximena, and the baggage, he fell upon the Moors. First, he attacked the
tents of that Moorish queen, the negress, who lay nearest to the city;
and this onset was so sudden, that they killed full a hundred and fifty
Moors before they had time to take arms or go to horse. But that Moorish
negress was so skillful in drawing the Turkish bow, that it was held for
a marvel; and it is said that they called her in Arabic Nugueymat Turya,
which is to say, _the Star of the Archers_. And she was the first that
got on horseback, and with some fifty that were with her, did some hurt
to the company of the Cid; but in time they slew her, and her people
fled to the camp. And so great was the uproar and confusion, that few
there were who took arms, but instead thereof they turned their backs
and fled toward the sea.

And when King Bucar and his kings saw this, they were astonished. And
it seemed to them that there came against them on the part of the
Christians full seventy thousand knights, all as white as snow; and
before them a knight of great stature, upon a white horse with a bloody
cross, who bore in one hand a white banner, and in the other a sword
which seemed to be of fire, and he made a great mortality among the
Moors who were flying. And King Bucar and the other kings were so
greatly dismayed that they never checked the reins till they had ridden
into the sea; and the company of the Cid rode after them, smiting and
slaying and giving them no respite; and they smote down so many that it
was marvelous, for the Moors did not turn their heads to defend
themselves. And when they came to the sea, so great was the press among
them to get to the ships, that more than ten-thousand died in the
water. And of the six and thirty kings, twenty and two were slain. And
King Bucar and they who escaped with him hoisted sails and went their

Then Alvar Faņez and his people, when they had discomfited the Moors,
spoiled the field, and the spoil thereof was so great that they could
not carry it away. And they loaded camels and horses with the noblest
things which they found, and went after the Bishop Don Hieronymo and
Gil Diaz, who, with the body of the Cid, and Doņa Ximena, and the
baggage, had gone on till they were clear of the host, and then waited
for those who were gone against the Moors. And so great was the spoil
of that day, that there was no end to it: and they took up gold, and
silver, and other precious things as they rode through the camp, so
that the poorest man among the Christians, horseman or on foot, became
rich with what he won that day.


On the third day after the coming of King Don Alfonso, they would have
interred the body of the Cid; but when the king heard what Doņa Ximena
had said, that while it was so fair and comely it should not be laid in
a coffin, he held that what she said was good. And he sent for the
ivory chair which had been carried to the Cortes of Toledo, and gave
order that it should be placed on the right of the altar of St. Peter;
and he laid a cloth of gold upon it, and upon that placed a cushion
covered with a right noble tartari, and he ordered a graven tabernacle
to be made over the chair, richly wrought with azure and gold, having
thereon the blazonry of the kings of Castille and Leon, and the king of
Navarre, and the Infante of Aragon, and of the Cid Ruydiez the
Campeador. And he himself, and the king of Navarre, and the Infante of
Aragon, and the Bishop Don Hieronymo, to do honor to the Cid, helped to
take his body from between the two boards, in which it had been
fastened at Valencia. And when they had taken it out, the body was so
firm that it bent not on either side, and the flesh so firm and comely,
that is seemed as if he were yet alive. And the king thought that what
they purported to do and had thus begun, might full well be effected.
And they clad the body in a full noble tartari, and in cloth of purple,
which the Soldan of Persia had sent him, and put him on hose of the
same, and set him in his ivory chair; and in his left hand they placed
his sword Tizona in its scabbard, and the strings of his mantle in his
right. And in this fashion the body of the Cid remained there ten years
and more, till it was taken thence, as the history will relate anon.
And when his garments waxed old, other good ones were put on.

Now Don Garcia Tellez, the abbot, and the trusty Gil Diaz, were wont
every year to make a great festival on the day of the Cid's departure,
and on that anniversary they gave food and clothing to the poor, who
came from all parts round about. And it came to pass when they made the
seventh anniversary, that a great multitude assembled as they were wont
to do, and many Moors and Jews came to see the strange manner of the
Cid's body. And it was the custom of the abbot Don Garcia Tellez, when
they made that anniversary, to make a right noble sermon to the people:
and because the multitude which had assembled was so great that the
church could not hold them, they went out into the open place before
the monastery, and he preached unto them there.

And while he was preaching there remained a Jew in the church, who
stopped before the body of the Cid, looking at him to see how nobly he
was there seated, having his countenance so fair and comely, and his
long beard in such goodly order, and his sword Tizona in its scabbard
in his left hand, and the strings of his mantle in his right, even in
such manner as King Don Alfonso had left him, save only that the
garments had been changed, it being now seven years since the body had
remained there in that ivory chair. Now there was not a man in the
church save this Jew, for all the others were hearing the preachment
which the abbot made. And when this Jew perceived that he was alone, he
began to think within himself and say, "This is the body of that
Ruydiez the Cid, whom they say no man in the world ever took by the
beard while he lived. . . . I will take him by the beard now, and see
what he can do to me." And with that he put forth his hand to pull the
beard of the Cid; . . . but before his hand could reach it, God who
would not suffer this thing to be done, sent his spirit into the body,
and the Cid let the strings of his mantle go from his right hand,
and laid hand on his sword Tizona, and drew it a full palm's length
out of the scabbard.

And when the Jew saw this, he fell upon his back for great fear, and
began to cry out so loudly, that all they who were without the church
heard him, and the abbot broke off his preachment and went into the
church to see what it might be. And when they came they found this Jew
lying upon his back before the ivory chair, like one dead, for he had
ceased to cry out, and had swooned away. And then the Abbot Don Garcia
Tellez looked at the body of the Cid, and saw that his right hand was
upon the hilt of the sword, and that he had drawn it out a full palm's
length; and he was greatly amazed.

And he called for holy water, and threw it in the face of the Jew, and
with that the Jew came to himself.

Then the abbot asked him what all this meant, and he told him the whole
truth; and he knelt down upon his knees before the abbot, and besought
him of his mercy that he would make a Christian of him, because of this
great miracle which he had seen, and baptize him in the name of Jesus
Christ, for he would live and die in his faith, holding all other to be
but error. And the abbot baptized him in the name of the Holy Trinity,
and gave him to name Diego Gil.

And all who were there present were greatly amazed, and they made a
great outcry and great rejoicings to God for this miracle, and for the
power which he had shown through the body of the Cid in this manner;
for it was plain that what the Jew said was verily and indeed true,
because the posture of the Cid was changed. And from that day forward
Diego Gil remained in the monastery as long as he lived, doing service
to the body of the Cid.

After that day the body of the Cid remained in the same posture, for
they never took his hand off the sword, nor changed his garments more,
and thus it remained three years longer, till it had been there ten
years in all. And then the nose began to change color. And when the
Abbot Don Garcia Tellez and Gil Diaz saw this, they weened that it was
no longer fitting for the body to remain in that manner. And three
bishops from the neighbouring provinces met there, and with many masses
and vigils, and great honour, they interred the body after this manner.
They dug a vault before the altar, beside the grave of Doņa Ximena, and
vaulted it over with a high arch; and there they placed the body of the
Cid, seated as it was in the ivory chair, and in his garments, and with
the sword in his hand, and they hung up his shield and his banner upon
the walls.


_By_ Oliver Goldsmith

Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a Man,
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes,
The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a Dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree.

This Dog and Man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,
The Dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad and bit the Man.

Around from all the neighboring streets
The wond'ring neighbors ran,
And swore the Dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a Man.

The wound it seem'd both sore and sad
To every Christian eye;
And while they swore the Dog was mad,
They swore the Man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,
That show'd the rogues they lied:
The Man recover'd of the bite,
The Dog it was that died.

[Footnote: _From Father Ryan's Poems, copyright by P. J. Kennedy &
Sons, N. Y._]


Oft within our little cottage,
As the shadows gently fall,
While the sunlight touches softly
One sweet face upon the wall,
Do we gather close together,
And in hushed and tender tone
Ask each other's full forgiveness
For the wrong that each has done.
Should you wonder why this custom
At the ending of the day,
Eye and voice would quickly answer:
"It was once our mother's way."

If our home be bright and cheery,
If it holds a welcome true,
Opening wide its door of greeting
To the many--not the few;
If we share our father's bounty
With the needy day by day,
'Tis because our hearts remember
This was ever mother's way.

Sometimes when our hands grow weary,
Or our tasks seem very long;
When our burdens look too heavy,
And we deem the right all wrong;
Then we gain a new, fresh courage,
And we rise to proudly say:
"Let us do our duty bravely--
This was our dear mother's way."

Then we keep her memory precious,
While we never cease to pray
That at last, when lengthening shadows
Mark the evening of our day,
They may find us waiting calmly
To go home our mother's way.



I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I chatter over stony ways;
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river;
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river;
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses.

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river;
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.



Among the most distinguished and interesting buildings in the town of
Portland, Maine, is the rather severe-looking house built in the latter
part of the eighteenth century by General Peleg Wadsworth. From the
very date of its erection, this structure became the object of not a
little pride among the citizens of Portland as the first in the town to
be made of brick; but this local fame grew in the course of a century
to world-wide celebrity when the dwelling came to be known as the
childhood home of the most loved of American poets.

In 1808 the daughter of General Wadsworth, with her husband, Stephen
Longfellow, and their two little children, removed from the house in
the eastern part of Portland, where their second son, Henry, had been
born a little over a year before, to live in the Wadsworth home. There
the young mother, surrounded by the scenes endeared to her as those in
which her own youth had been spent, devoted herself to the care and
training of her children, while the father continued to pursue an
honorable career as a lawyer and able representative, in public
affairs, of the Federalist party. As the years passed, the little
family grew considerably until it came to consist of four girls and
five boys. Yet the mother found time for close companionship with all
of her children and active interest in the affairs of each. And the
father, though much occupied with duties outside of the home, watched
carefully the progress made by his boys and girls and tried to put in
their way the advantages that would help them to become rightminded and
useful men and women.

[Illustration: HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 1807-1882]

Indeed, so wholesome and well-ordered was the Longfellow home that it
must have been a pleasant place to look in upon when all the family had
assembled at evening in the living room. While the mother read perhaps
from a book of verse, for she was especially fond of poetry, and the
father gave himself up to some work on history, theology or law, the
children would study quietly for probably an hour or more. Then, their
lessons prepared, they would draw up in a little group to listen to a
story, possibly from the _Arabian Nights_, or would gather about the
piano in the parlor where Henry would sing to them the popular songs of
that day. Sometimes the music would become so irresistibly gay that the
children would begin to dance to its accompaniment and to awaken the
echoes of the staid old dwelling-house with sounds of unrestrained
delight that would have fallen with startling effect upon the ears of
their Puritan ancestors.

Always a leader in these amusements was Henry Longfellow. His lively
nature found especial delight in social pleasures. In fact, when he was
but eight months old his mother discovered that he wished "for nothing
so much as singing and dancing." Then, too, he was fond of playing
ball, of swimming, coasting and skating and of all the other ordinary
games and sports. However, he was an especially thoughtful boy, and
even from his earliest years was a very conscientious student and took
pride in making a good record at school. During the years passed at the
Portland Academy, where he was placed when six years old, he worked so
industriously and with such excellent results that although he found it
very hard--too hard in fact--to be perfect in deportment, his earnest
efforts were recognized by the master of the school who sent home from
time to time a _billet_ or short statement in which Henry's recitations
and his general conduct were highly praised. The _billet_ was a matter
of no small consequence to the boy, at least in the earliest part of his
school life, for in his first letter--a few lines written with much
labor when he was seven years old, and sent to his father in Boston--one
of the four sentences that make up the curt little note announces with
due pride, "I shall have a billet on Monday."

While the boy was pursuing his regular studies at school, he found
interest in reading other books than those required in his school
course--various English classics contained in his father's library.
Like the delight that he felt in such reading, was that which he found
in rambling through the woods on the outskirts of the town and about
the farms of his two grandfathers and of his uncle Stephenson. He liked
the quiet of natural scenes, and was moved with deep wonder by the
ever-changing beauty of the woods and fields, the ocean and the
mountains. Because of this genuine love for nature and his tender
regard for every living creature, he could not share his companions'
pleasure in hunting expeditions. Indeed, it is said that on one
occasion when he had shot a robin, he became so filled with pity and
sorrow for the little dead bird that he could never again take part in
such cruel sport.

It was not long before the effect of the combined influences of Henry
Longfellow's reading of classic poets and of his rambles about the
country surrounding his native town was made apparent in an event that
doubtless seemed to him then to be the most important that had befallen
in his career of thirteen years. He had been visiting his grandfather
Wadsworth at Hiram, and while there had gone to a near-by town where is
situated Lovell's Pond, memorable as the scene of a struggle with the

Henry had been so moved by the story that he could relieve his feelings
only by telling it in verse. The four stanzas thus produced he so
longed to see in print that he could not resist the desire to convey
them secretly to the letter-box of the Portland _Gazette_, and deposit
them there with mingled hope and mistrust. With what keen expectation he
awaited the appearance of the newspaper perhaps only other youthful
authors in like positions can fully feel. When at length the paper
arrived, Henry must wait until his father had very deliberately opened
it, read its columns and then without comment had laid it aside, before
he could learn the fate of his verses.

But when, at length, he had the opportunity to scan the columns of the
paper, he forgot all his anxiety and the hard period of waiting. There
on the page before him he saw:

_The Battle of Lovell's Pond_

Cold, cold is the north wind and rude is the blast
That sweeps like a hurricane loudly and fast,
As it moans through the tall waving pines lone and drear,
Sings a requiem sad o'er the warrior's bier.

The war-whoop is still, and the savage's yell
Has sunk into silence along the wild dell;
The din of the battle, the tumult, is o'er
And the war-clarion's voice is now heard no more.

The warriors that fought for their country--and bled,
Have sunk to their rest; the damp earth is their bed;
No stone tells the place where their ashes repose,
Nor points out the spot from the graves of their foes.

They died in their glory, surrounded by fame,
And Victory's loud trump their death did proclaim;
They are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast,
And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.


It is little wonder that through the day he read the verses again and
again and that his thoughts were filled with the excitement and joy of
success. That evening while visiting at the home of Judge Mellen, the
father of one of his closest friends, he was sitting interestedly
listening to a conversation on the subject of poetry, when he was
startled by seeing the judge take up the _Gazette_ and hearing him
say: "Did you see the piece in to-day's paper? Very stiff, remarkably
stiff; moreover, it is all borrowed, every word of it." So unexpected
and harsh was the censure that Henry felt almost crushed and could
hardly conceal his feelings until he could reach home. Not until he had
gone to bed and was shielded from all critical eyes did he give vent to
his bitter disappointment.

In the following year (1821), his course at the Academy having come to
an end, he took the entrance examinations for Bowdoin College. Though
both he and his elder brother passed these successfully, they did not
go to the College at Brunswick for another year. Henry then entered
upon his course of study with such earnestness and enthusiasm that in a
class, consisting of students several of whom later became notable, he
ranked as one of the first. Like his classmate Hawthorne, he was
especially devoted to the study of literature. So genial and courteous
was his bearing toward all, and such a lively interest did he take in
all the worthier activities of the life at the college, that though he
chose as his intimate friends only those whose tastes agreed with his
own, he was generally liked and admired.

Perhaps the success of his course at Bowdoin increased his confidence

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