Book of One Syllable

by Frank V. Webster

  Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was made using scans of public domain works in theInternational Children's Digital Library.)

  Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been correctedwithout note. Dialect spellings, contractions and discrepancies havebeen retained.

  A LETTER OF ONE SYLLABLE. _Front._]

  THE BOOK OF ONE SYLLABLE.

  By

  Esther Bakewell

  ILLUSTRATED WITH COLOURED ENGRAVINGS.

  LONDON:GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE.NEW YORK: 416 BROOME STREET.

  DALZIEL BROTHERS, CAMDEN PRESS, LONDON.

  TO THE FRIENDS OF MY YOUTH.

  Fast and far is the stream of time flown on, yet there are thoughts ofdear friends and of by-gone things that will not yield to its course.Some friends have long been lost, but there are those who still sailthe stream, to whom these scenes from the past will bring back"thoughts of days that are gone." They will bring back thoughts of herwhose sails were once set with theirs, and who feels that not one kindword that was then said, not one kind deed that was then done, can thestream wash from her mind, till she, too, shall be lost in the darkgulf to which that stream must lead.

  Four of these tales have no hook to the past. These are told by a youngboy and girl, who have been taught to write thoughts as soon as theycould hold their pens.

  PREFACE.

  Though in words of one syllable, "The Book of One Syllable" is notmeant for a child when first he learns to read; it is meant for himwhen he knows such words at sight. The tales are told in these smallwords, that a child need not have to stop to spell, but that he may beled on and on till he comes to the end.

  May he feel when he does come to the end, that to read has not been atask.

  LIST OF WHAT IS IN THE BOOK.

  PAGE

  THE WRECK OF A FEAST 1

  THE AIR 23

  SAIB, THE BLACK BOY 28

  THE EARTH 65

  A FALL FROM THE CLIFFS 68

  THE MOON 77

  THE MAN IN THE MOON 80

  FRANK HART 87

  THE LOST ONES 105

  THE SUN 117

  THE DOLL'S HEAD 120

  PLAY NOT WITH FIRE 143

  ONE FAULT LEADS TO A WORSE ONE 153

  WHAT A PRICE FOR A BOX! 160

  THE BOOK OF ONE SYLLABLE.

  THE WRECK OF A FEAST.

  What a sad sight it is to see a young child who does not know how tokeep a check on the wish that tempts him to do wrong. The first rulethat they who love a child should teach him, is the _rule of self_. Itis the want of this self-rule that is the cause of so much that is badin the world. It is this that makes girls and boys think more of whatthey want to do, than of what they ought to do; and each time they giveway to it, they find it more hard not to yield the next time; and thusthey go on till they are grown-up folks. They who would not like togrow up in this bad way must take great care while they are young notto think so much of self.

  The sense of taste is the sense that a child likes best to use. Itwould be strange to see a child who did not like cake, or tart, orfruit, or most sweet things. But a child should know when it is rightto eat, and when it is right not to eat: he should know that he oughtnot to touch nice things that are not meant for him.

  The tale we have to tell is of a young girl who had not this sense ofright so strong as it ought to have been. She knew what it was right todo, and she knew what it was wrong to do, but yet the sense of rightwas not at all times quite strong. The name of this girl was Ruth Grey.

  RUTH GREY. Page 4.]

  Now there was a room in Mr. Grey's house known by the name of thegreen-house room, and here were put a few choice plants that could notbear the cold air. In this room too there was a large stand, on whichwere set out all the sweet things when Mrs. Grey had friends to dine ortake tea with her. Here they were all put, to be brought out at theright time. The door of this room was kept shut, and made fast with alock and key. Ruth had seen some of these nice things put on the stand,but she had not seen all, and she had a great wish to see them. Shethought, if the door should not be shut, she would just peep in. Shewent twice to the door, but she found it fast. When she went a thirdtime she found the key left in, and as she thought she could turn thekey, she did, and went in.

  Now it was wrong in Ruth to want to go near this room, as she knewquite well that Mrs. Grey did not wish her to go in. Once when she wasnear the door she thought she heard some one, and then she ran off asfast as she could. This she would not have done if she had not feltsure it was wrong to go in that room.

  But now she was in! and what did she see there? Why, she saw the standquite full of all sorts of nice sweet things. There were sponge cakes,and plum cakes, and queen cakes; there were two turn-outs, and whipsand creams of all sorts; and there was a cake hid in red jam, withsmall thin white things put all up and down it, which stuck out. Whatcould _this_ be? She was sure it was jam, and yet she was sure jam wastoo soft to stand up in that way: she would just touch it. She _did_touch it, and she felt there was some hard thing in it: _that_ couldnot be jam! It was strange! She would just like to know what it was:she must taste a small bit of the top--_that_ could not spoil it, andshe did _so_ much want to know. She _did_ taste--it _was_ jam, spreadon a sponge cake.

  "A sponge cake! well, this _is_ odd," thought Ruth. "I will just tastea bit: the jam will hide where I take it from."

  She then tore a bit from the cake: it was more than she meant to take;but it was done, and she could not help it now. In vain did she try tohide the place--she could not do it; for if she took jam from thisplace, the cake was left bare on that. And the shape of the cake wasnot the same as it had been. She thought she would try to make thatside of the cake on which the jam still was, like the side on which itwas not; so off she took a piece from that side too. The cake was nowin such a state that she could not hope to hide what she had done; and_she_ was in such a state that she did not seem to care at all.

  She next took up a spoon, and took a large piece from one of theturn-outs. She then went to the plum cake, and to the grapes, and toall the fruit. In short, she went from dish to dish, till there was notone in which she had not put her spoon.

  Then she stood still--she stood to see the wreck she had made. Long shedid not stand: a rush of thought gave wings to her feet, and she fledto hide in some place where she could not, she thought, be found. Shefled to a tool-house in the yard; but she had not been half an hourthere when she heard the voice of Mrs. Grey; she heard her step, too,come near and more near, till at length it came close to the door ofthe tool-house.

  "Ruth, my dear," said Mrs. Grey, "why did you come out here? But I amglad to have found you, for I want you to come with me and take a plantto the green-house room."

  "Oh, no, no! not in there--do not go in there!" cried Ruth, with a facequite pale.

  Mrs. Grey could not think what Ruth meant, so she set off at once tothe green-house room, and told Ruth that she must come too. But whenMrs. Grey had got to the door, no Ruth was to be seen. She then went inthe room, and what she saw there told her more than words could tell.

  "Ruth!" said she, "can you have done this?"

  It was grief to think that a child of hers could have done this; but,much as she felt hurt, it was not for the loss of these things. Mrs.Grey sat down, and for a long time she did not move; at length she gotup with the air of one w
ho had made up her mind what it would be bestfor her to do.

  And Ruth--where was she? What did she think, what did she feel, whatdid she do all the time Mrs. Grey was in the green-house room?

  What she felt was a kind of grief, such as she had not felt till thattime: it was a sense of _deep shame_. So much did she dread to see Mrs.Grey, that she hid her face in her hands, as though Mrs. Grey were nearher. Then all at once she thought that Mrs. Grey would come back tospeak to her.

  At this thought she sprang up, ran to her own room, shut the door, andfell down on the bed. Here she lay for a long time, with her face hidin the bed-clothes: her tears fell fast, and her sobs were loud. Inthis sad state she lay for a long time, till at last she went to sleep.

  How long she had slept she could not tell, but when she rose up in thebed it was quite dark. At first she could not think how she came to bethere, but all at once the green-house scene came back to her mind.Once more she fell down on the bed to hide her face, though no one wasthere to see it.

  Soon there came a stream of light through a chink in the door: it grewmore strong, till at length it came in the room in a full blaze. Ruthgave a quick glance, and saw that it was not Mrs. Grey, but Mrs. Grey'smaid.

  "Miss Ruth," said the maid, "I am sent to bid you go down stairs: thefirst course is come out of the room, and Mrs. Grey bids me tell you togo down to see the sweet things. You are to go at once."

  Poor Ruth! what did she feel _then_? She took hold of the maid's hand,and said,

  "Oh, do not, do not let me go! pray do not let me go!"

  "You must go, and go at once too, Miss Ruth," said the maid, as shedrew her near the door. "You must come, miss. And see, here is Jamessent to take you down."

  There was no help for it: down stairs she went, and soon she found thatshe was in the room. _There she stood!_ full of shame and deep grief!And there was spread out each dish of sweets, just as she had leftit--each dish spread out with as much care as if it had been right. Theeyes of all were on Ruth--in vain did she try to shrink from theirgaze.

  There was a pause; then Mrs. Grey said, "Ruth, come here, and standwhere all my friends can see you."

  She came with slow step, her head bent down, and her eyes cast on theground.

  "I grieve to tell you, my friends," said Mrs. Grey, "that it isRuth--that it is this child whom I love so much--that it is _she_ whohas made all this wreck."

  There was a pause once more; and there stood Ruth! All had their eyeson her. At length Mrs. Grey said,

  "Now leave the room, Ruth."

  Ruth did not stay, she was too glad to be gone at once.

  The next day, nor the next, did Mrs. Grey speak of the past, and allthings went on as they were wont to do. But on the third day, when thefirst course was gone, a dish that had been in the green-house room wasput near her. It was just in the same state in which Ruth had left it.Ruth could not bear the sight of it, so she got up and ran out of theroom.

  "Poor Ruth!" said Mr. Grey to his wife, "she feels this so much! and toa child like her, who _can_ feel, I think that your plan seems the bestway to cure her."

  It _was_ the best way. Ruth felt all this much more than she would havefelt the stroke of a whip: she felt it _in her mind_.

  For a long time, for months and for years, she could not bear to see ajam cake or a turn-out, nor one of the things like those that had beenin the green-house room. When she _did_ see them, she felt a sting ofmind that gave her a great deal of pain. Ruth had one young friend whoknew what she had done; and this friend had so much love for Ruth, somuch real grief for what she knew Ruth felt, that when young friendscame to play with her, she took care to beg that there should not be_jam cake_.

  THE AIR.

  What is air? Look up and look round; _there_ is air, though it is notto be seen. It fills all things. The glass jug which seems to be quitevoid is still full of air.

  THE LESSON ON AIR. Page 23.]

  It is the air we feel when the wind blows. We do not see the wind, butit can blow with such force as to throw down trees. When the wind blowsit makes ships sail on the seas to all parts of the world, and bringsthem back home. It turns mills, to grind corn; and in some parts theyuse the force of wind to do all kinds of work. The wind is but the air,and it does all these things, though it is not to be seen.

  But the air does more than this. If it were not for the air we couldnot live. It is the air we breathe; and if the breath were stopt, weall know that we should die. How it is that the air does this wouldtake a long time to tell, and you must learn a great deal more of suchthings than you have yet done, to know why air keeps up life. But so itis. The air is the breath.

  It is the breath, too, that makes us warm and keeps us so; for if itwere not for the air we breathe, we should be as cold as stones.

  The air it is that makes fire burn. The fire in the grate would soon goout if it were not for the air. The flame in a lamp burns dim when ithas not so much air as it wants; and when the air is shut from theflame it goes out.

  Trees and plants could not live if they had not air. The birds fly bymeans of the air, which helps to keep them up, while their wings flapup and down. If there were no air, they could not rise from the groundat all, nor could they live if they did not breathe.

  It is the air which makes sound. We could not hear men talk, nor bellsring, if the air did not bring the sound to our ears.

  Of such great use is the air, though we can not see it, that no onething could move, or be heard, or live, if it were not with us andround us.

  SAIB, THE BLACK BOY.

  In a far-off part of the world there is a place where the boys andgirls have not the white fair skins that boys and girls have here, butwhose skins are quite black, and whose hair is short and thick, likeblack wool. Some of these poor things know not what it is to have ahome, they know not what it is to have kind friends, they know not whatit is to do as they would like to do: they must do all that he who hasbought them bids them do.

  Yes, he who has bought them! for these poor boys and girls can bebought and sold. They are put on board ships that sail far from thehomes of their hearts; they are torn from all they like best in theworld, from all they have had to love. Far, far off from these scenesdo they sail, and with swoln hearts, and tears too big to fall, theyfeel that they must work or die. Some would think it a joy to die, fordeath would put an end to what they feel. They think, too, that whenthey die they will go back to the home round which their thoughtscling.

  Saib was one of these poor boys--he was born in that far-off place. Aslong as he was there, each day was to him a day of joy. Saib had a dearfriend, who was near him at all times, and who took part in all hissports, and had a tear for all his pains.

  Boa was the name of this friend, and she would sit in the same deepshade with him, and they would climb the same tall tree, and eat thesame fruits. They would row in the same boat, and go fast down the darkdeep stream. There were, too, those who were glad to see their joy, andwho would watch them as they went on and on, till they were far out ofsight. They knew no fear--they had no cause for fear, but in the shapeof a white man.

  It was in one of these sails down the stream that they drew their boatto the shore at a place that was quite strange to them. They got out ofit, and went on till they had gone far in a strange wild spot. On andon they went, till the step of Boa was not so firm as it had been; itwas less firm each time she put her foot to the ground.

  "I can walk no more," she said at last; and quite faint and worn out,she lay down on the ground. Poor Saib! he all at once thought of theirlorn state, and of how far they were from their home and from help.There was no sound to be heard, and not a breath of air: all was astill dead calm.

  The strength of Saib, too, was gone--he could hold out no more; and he,too, sank on the ground. There they both lay, quite worn out with somuch toil; and they fell to sleep. How long they had lain thus theycould not know, for when the next day's sun was far on his course,where were they then?

  All was stra
nge to them--like the queer things dreams are made of. Sothey shut their eyes once more, and thought they dreamt about the whitemen.

  But it was no dream: they _did_ see the white men! Yes, it was thewhite men who had put those cords round their hands and feet. Therethey lay, like logs of wood thrown on a plank, a man at each end of theplank, and these men took poor Saib and Boa.

  For a long time the minds of poor Saib and Boa were in such a statethat they could not _think_, nor could they call to mind how they cameto be where they were. Thus did they go for miles, till at last theycame near the sea coast, and Saib saw a ship out at sea, with her sailsspread. Close to the shore was a small boat, near which there were twoor three black men, who, as Saib and the rest came in sight, rose up inhaste, and the sound of a gun was heard. Saib did not know if thissound came from the ship or the boat, but as soon as it was heard therewas a great rush of men to the sea shore.

  THE FIGHT. Page 37.]

  Where these men came from it would have been hard to guess, for theyrose up all at once, as if they had sprung out of the earth. Long hadthey lain in wait to try if they could keep that ship from the shore,for that ship was a slave ship, and the white men meant to take onboard all the blacks they could seize. That it was a slave ship hadbeen found out by scouts set to watch this part of the coast.

  Great was the joy of Saib when he saw the chance of help--when hethought that he should once more be free! The fight was a fight ofblood, and some on each side were left dead on the shore.

  The ship came near to the shore, and soon a boat was put out in whichthere were more white men. Few of the poor blacks were left, and thosethat were took to flight when they saw that all hope was gone.