 Section 10 of short stories and poems for children. Original and select by unknown. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Conquered. Two neighbors lived in constant hate, deceived as to each other's state, by cunning lawyers who make jars and thrive by other people's wars. No wonder, therefore, quarrels grow when such the flames of discord blow. At last one party, tired of law, by all he felt and all he saw, took heart of grace and with his son, went to propose a union between him and the other's daughter to end this strife of fire and water. But first, he said, a bell will rear to spread the news both far and near, and for its purchase let be given the sum for which so long we've striven. Conquered its name and when its sound, first greets the ear and sweet rebound, let youth and maid with solemn vow before the holy altar bow, and see the feud that long had raged by this wise plan at length assaged. And Conquered's notes peel o'er the land the news of this blessed marriage-band. Sweet Conquered, what a voice hast thou, to win the heart and smooth the brow. Did such glad bells more frequent sound, earth soon were turned to holy ground. The Miller and his treasure. It happened once that a Miller, in his eagerness for riches, became impatient of his lot. He had nothing but the profits of his mail to support him, but if these were small they were certain, while it was kept going, he was sure of food, and he was even able to lay some money by for a future day. Yet still his acquisitions were not equal to his desires. He only found himself above want, whereas he longed to be possessed of affluence. One day, as he was indulging these wishes, he was informed that a neighbour of his had found a pan of money underground, having dreamed of it three nights in succession. This news only aggravated the discontent of the poor Miller. Here am I, said he, toiling from morning to night for a few paltry farthings, while my lucky neighbour goes quietly to bed, and dreams himself into thousands before morning. Oh, that I could dream like him! With what pleasure would I dig round the pan? How quietly would I carry it home? Not even my wife should see me, and then the joy of thrusting one's hand into a heap of gold up to the elbow. Such reflections made the Miller more and more unhappy. He discontinued his former acidity, he was quite disgusted with his small gains, and his customers began to forsake him. Every day he repeated his wish, and every night laid himself down in order to dream. At last the wished-for vision came. He dreamed that under a part of the foundation of his mill there was concealed an immense pan of golden diamonds, buried deep in the ground, and covered with a large flat stone. He concealed his good fortune from every person, as is usual in money dreams, in order to have the vision repeated the two succeeding nights, by which he should be certain of its truth. His wishes in this also were answered, he dreamed of the same pan of money in the very same place. It was therefore now past a doubt, so, getting up early the third morning, he repaired with a mattock in his hand to the mill, and began to undermine that part of the wall to which the vision directed. The first thing he met with was a broken ring. Digging still deeper he turned up a house tile, quite new and entire. At last, after much digging, he came to a broad flat stone, but so large that it was beyond man's strength to remove it. There, cried he, in raptures to himself, there it is, under this stone there is room for a very large pan of diamonds indeed. I must even go home to my wife and tell her the whole affair, and get her to assist me in turning it up. Away he went therefore, and acquainted his wife with every circumstance of their good fortune. Her raptures on this occasion may easily be imagined, she threw her arms round his neck and embraced him in an agony of joy. But these transports did not lay their eagerness to know the exact sum, so returning to the place where the miller had been digging, they found, not the expected treasure, but the mill, their only support, undermined and fallen. The Dancing Bear A bear compelled to frisk and dance, tired of the task, refused to prance, and fled his tyrant's grasp. Alas, what suffering man brings to pass to feed his evil lusts of gain, fell source of sorrow, woe, and pain, glad of his newborn liberty. His fellow bears made jubilee, and all the talk for many a day was of their friend that ran away. Of strange adventures that befell, in foreign lands our bear could tell, for many a country he had seen, and danced on many a village green. And when old times came o'er his mind, although no friend to humankind, he glowed with more than polar heat, and showed how dancing warms the feet. His friends and neighbors stared to see such proofs of his agility, and fell a-dancing to like him, or tried it rather for each limb, refused to quit its ancient round, and stumbling smote the groaning ground. Their anger roused the bearish race, chased him in dudgeon from the place, fool cried they he would wiser be, than all his glorious ancestry. The Bee He that gathereth in summer is a wise son. The Bee is at work among the flowers, turning to profit the sun-bright hours, laying up honey and wax in store, ere the bloomy sweets of the summer are o'er. Ever she hummeth a cheerful song, as from blossom to blossom she speeds along, for heavy and sad the sluggard may be, but merry and light is the diligent Bee. The dry little heath seems to yield to her, sweets that she doth to the rose-prefer. Nectar she sips from each tiny cell, then deep she hides in the fox-clubs bell, it bends with her weight, but as out she flies, lightly as ever the flower-it will rise, fragrant and fresh and as fair to see, for she is no spoiler, the gentle Bee. Thou who hast made both the Bee and flower, and givest for labour the sun-bright hour, teach me thus to use every gift of thine, and the blessing that maketh rich be mine. The blessing of the Lord is maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it. The Horse and the Bell In a city in old times there was ordered to be erected a certain great bell for the especial use of individuals who might happen to meet with any grievous injuries, which they were to ring as loud as they could, for the purpose of obtaining redress. Now it so fell out that the rope in the course of time having been nearly worn away, a bunch of snake-weed had been fastened to it for the convenience of the ringers. One day a fine old coarser belonging to a knight, which, being no longer serviceable, had been turned out to run at large, was wandering near the place. Being hard-pressed by famine, the poor steed seized hold of the snake-weed with his mouth, which caused the bell to sound pretty smartly. The council, on hearing the clamour, immediately assembled as if to hear the petition of the horse, whose appearance seemed to declare that he required justice. Taking the case into consideration, it was soon decreed that the same cavalier whom the horse had so long served while he was young, should be compelled to maintain him in his old age, and the king even imposed a fine in similar instances to the same effect. The Traveller and the Skylark Traveller Lark, how early thy flight and fleet joyous to the morning sun to meet! Lark Yes, the praises of God I sing, who gives me food and strength of wing. This is my use and want of old. Traveller, do you by such customs hold? And as the Lark mounted higher in song, till heaven and earth with his matins rung, in the sunbeams both rejoiced the while, sweet beams that so warmly and brightly smile, and God, who on high sees all that's done, beneath the circuit of stars and sun, was pleased to hear such praise arise from his clear-voiced chorister of the skies. Morning Prayer for a Child O God the Father, by whose might I've safely slept throughout the night, now morn is come, thy praise shall be, proclaimed in joyful strains by me. Jesus, thou Son of God most high, who for my sake didst deign to die, this day protect me and defend, and be my saviour and my friend, whole gracious spirit, gift divine, whose worth no words can ere assign, control each thought and word and deed, and save through sin's temptations lead, until at last life's trial, or through thee I reach the heavenly shore. The Monkey and Boots Boots, thus spoke a monkey, ever, I have thought extremely clever, and their stateliness admired, and to try them long desired, what would now the people say, if I took to wear them prey? But what sounds are those I hear? It is the huntsman hastening near. Off with your boots, no time to lose, and use your own well-fitting shoes, kind nature's gift, that never failed you, until the love of changes sailed you, alas, the boots too tightly fit, the captive monkey must submit. The Lark Is that mother, the Lark, my child? The morn has but just looked out and smiled, when he starts from his grassy nest, and is up and away with the dew on his breast, and a him in his heart to yawn pure bright sphere, to warble it out in his maker's ear. Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays, tuned like the larks to thy maker's praise. The Great Book Tis not imprinted books alone, that we must practice reading, but nature's book is wisdom's own, look up the lessons heeding, that the heavens proclaim in golden light, in fair array on the starry night, in forms and hues of varied men, the clouds keep ever floating, the careful reader hath often seen their aspects change denoting, as now far up they soar and sweep, and now o'er the valley lowly creep, the mountains how firm and fast they stand, and letters so large and stagely. Seek where you will, by sea or land, the rest surpassing greatly, like giants transformed to stone they look, those mighty portions of nature's book. The plains can also lessen's teach of God's great power and glory, the meanest flower his fame can preach, and the river tells the story, to the ocean deep as it flows along in murmurs of everlasting song. That book can never be read to end in this life so dark its portal, its contents all time and thought transcend, fit theme for climbs immortal. There we shall learn and praise a rite, the author, a God of all power and might. German Watchman's Song Hearken, for now the truth I'm singing, eight o'clock its nell is ringing, to bed let all your children creep, God will watch o'er them while they sleep, and you ye children, cease your brawling, to his time on God's name to be calling, the day is past its sports are o'er, fall down in heavenly grace and plour, the stars above in splendor glowing, God's power and love are ever showing, and angels every night keep guard his faithful ones from harm to ward. End of Section 10 End of short stories and poems for children, original and select by Unknown