Soon a hurricane arose which tore it up from the roots, and cast it a useless log on the ground, while the little reed, bending to the force of the wind, soon stood upright again when the storm had passed over.

Esop

In reading aloud the action of the eye must be united to the attention of the mind. The eye must grasp a group of words while the mind thinks the idea, then stop while the idea or ideas are held in the mind and given. In a passage like the following let your eye take one, not more than one, line at a time, and stop while this is given; then take the next quickly during a pause.

The martins have nested

All under the eaves;

so happy to-day!"

The field-mice have jested
And played in the sheaves;

We have played too, and rested,

And none of us grieves;

All over the wide world, who is it that grieves?

William Brighty Rands We find that usually several words are required to give us a mental picture.

The training of the eye to obey the mind is one of the most important steps in reading. When this point has been neglected it is almost impossible for one to make a good reader. Many people who recite well cannot read well, because they have not received this training of the eye.

This action of the eye is a part of the work that we do during a pause, and must be co-ordinated with pause, while both obey attention.

Now read carefully some passage. Let your eye first take in the phrase quickly, hold it while the mind grasps the idea, and simply and naturally give the words that express

it. With every successive phrase let the eye obey attention in this way. Frequently the phrases will be very short, especially in great earnestness.

Again, select some passage of poetry or prose and draw a line after every complete idea. Let the eye take in at once each successive phrase; realize the idea and give it.

Oh, may I join the choir invisible

Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence: live

In pulses stirred to generosity,

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn

For miserable aims that end with self,

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,
And with their mild persistence urge man's search
To vaster issues!

THE KING AND THE GOOSEHERD

George Eliot

Maximilian was one of the best beloved monarchs that ever sat upon the throne of Bavaria.

One summer morning, in plain walking dress, he had gone out for a walk in his park, taking a book as his companion.

After he had walked about half a mile homeward, the king fumbled in his pockets for his book, and, not finding it, remembered that he had left it under an oak. Unwilling to lose it, and not caring to go back for it, he looked all around for a messenger, but could see no one except a lad who was looking after a flock of geese.

So, calling the boy to him, the king promised him a florin if he would run for the book. The poor gooseherd cast an incredulous look on the stout gentleman who made him this handsome offer, and, thinking it was someone trying to send him on a fool's errand, turned away, saying, “I am not so stupid as you think.”

66 Stupid! who thinks you stupid?" asked the king.

66 Why, who would be so foolish as to give me a real florin just for running half a mile for a book? No, no, you won't get me to believe that."

"Well, then," said the king, "you know 'seeing is believing.' Look! here is the florin for you."

"If I saw it in my own hand,” said the unbelieving boy," that would be a different matter."

Taking him at his word, the good-natured monarch laid the shining coin in the lad's palm; but instead of running off for the book the boy stood stock-still, and a cloud came over his face.

"What's the matter now?" asked the king: "why don't you go?"

"I only wish I could," he replied; "but what will become of the geese while I am away? If they should stray into the meadow over yonder, I should have to pay trespass-money, more than a florin, and lose my place besides."

By this time the king was quite interested in the frank, outspoken lad: so he promised to herd the geese for him in his absence.

66

"You herd the geese!" said the lad with a laugh: a pretty gooseherd you would make! You are too fat and too old. Just look at the 'court gander' there, him with the black head and wings; he is always trying to get me into a scrape; he is the ringleader whenever there is any mischief in the wind. He would lead you a pretty dance."

"Never mind the geese," said the king, with a smothered laugh: "I'll answer for them, and I'll pay all damages.'

So at last the gooseherd placed the whip in the king's hand and set out. But scarcely had he gone a dozen footsteps when he turned back.

"What's the matter now?" called out the king.

"Crack the whip!" cried the boy.

The monarch tried to do as he was bid, but no snap came from the whip.

"Just as I thought," said the lad. So saying, he snatched

the whip from the king's hands, and made all the geese tremble to hear the dreaded sound, while showing the king how to produce it.

King Maximilian entered into the joke, and did his best to learn his lesson. At last the gooseherd started off, but not without many doubts and many shakings of his little head. The king sat down, and indulged in a hearty laugh, all forgetful of his charge; and the "court gander " was not slow in learning that the whip was in some other hand than his master's.

With one or two shrill calls to his companions, he took the lead into the forbidden meadow, and was followed by the whole flock. The king made a dash forward to prevent the flock from flying over, but his royal limbs were far from agile; he tried to crack the whip, but all his efforts were in vain. Away went the geese over the marshy meadow, leaving the royal herdsman alone in his glory.

The monarch was half amused and half ashamed on the return of the gooseherd with the book.

"Just as I expected," said the boy: "I have found the book, but you have lost the geese."

"Never mind," said the king smiling: "I will help you to get them together again."

The boy posted the monarch in a certain spot, and told him to wave his arms and to shout with all his might if the geese tried to pass him. The runaways heard the terrible whip, and ran together in fear. By one or two well-directed blows on the back of the "court gander," the ringleader was brought under control, and the whole cackling herd driven back.

As soon as the boy saw the flock feeding again in their own pasture, he scolded the king soundly for his neglect. Maximilian bore his scolding meekly, and said he hoped the boy would excuse his awkwardness, for, being the king, he was not used to the work.

The gooseherd thought the old gentleman was joking. "I was a simpleton," said he, "to trust you with the geese; but I am not such a simpleton as to believe you are the king."

66 Well," ," said Maximilian, with a smile, "here is another florin as a peace-offering."

The boy took the florin with a doubtful gaze upon the benevolent face of the donor, and said, with a wise shake of the head, as the king was leaving, "You're a kind gentleman, whoever you may be; but take my word for it, you'll never make a gooseherd."

Author not known

XVII. IDEAS AND PHRASING

A thing of beauty is a joy forever:

Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

Full of sweet dreams and health and quiet breathing.

John Keats

In the preceding lesson we have learned that the eye does not look at one word at a time but skips quickly through a group of words in obedience to thinking. We do not give attention to one word at a time and speak that, but we give our attention through the words to the idea for which they stand.

In the preceding poem the eye will take in at one time a group of words standing for one idea. Sometimes the eye has taken in too many words and the mind then separates what is taken into two phrases and holds and gives them consecutively. The eye is apt, however, to go too far, the attention not stopping to focus upon one idea.

But did you ever notice that when talking we rarely speak each word by itself? Only now and then we give a word alone, such as "No" or Yes "" or "Well" or "What" or "Why," but usually we speak several words together.

Now, if we observe closely we find in natural reading that we speak the words in the same way. "By the deep sea," for example, you speak in the same way as you would the word "nevertheless."

Such a group of words is called a phrase. By a phrase you mean several words which express one idea. "By the brook," for example, is one picture. So "among the lonely pines," you simply have a picture of the pines and the word "lonely" helps you to know the pines a little better. Sometimes you may have many words and yet hold one picture-"In the joyous spring woods,” or “ under the beautiful red autumn trees." All these words go to express a single mental image.

The holding of one definite picture in the mind causes words to be gathered into such groups or phrases. When