Story Hour Readings: Seventh Year | Page 3

of a Soldier in France Gerald M. Dwyer 329
OUR COUNTRY
America for Me Henry van Dyke 333 Warren's Address at the Battle of Bunker Hill John Pierpont 335 What is an American? Hector Saint Jean de Crèvec[oe]ur 336 The Rising of '76 Thomas Buchanan Read 338 Our Own Country James Montgomery 342 Patrick Henry's Speech 343 Abraham Lincoln to Mrs. Bixby 347 The Flower of Liberty Oliver Wendell Holmes 348 True Patriotism Benjamin Harrison 350 America the Beautiful Katharine Lee Bates 352 O Beautiful! My Country! James Russell Lowell 353 The Problems of the Republic Theodore Roosevelt 354 The Meaning of Americanism Charles Evans Hughes 356 What Constitutes a State? William Jones 359 A Patriotic Creed Edgar A. Guest 360
FROM GREAT BOOKS
The Lists at Ashby Sir Walter Scott 363 The Twenty-Third Psalm The Bible 376 Doubting Castle John Bunyan 377 Christmas Eve at Fezziwig's Charles Dickens 384 Jean Valjean Meets the Bishop Victor Hugo 387 A Voyage to Lilliput Jonathan Swift 394 The Struggle in the Arena Henryk Sienkiewicz 405 Polonius's Advice to his Son William Shakespeare 413 Mercy William Shakespeare 414

A SHEAF OF LEGENDS
To every important race of people there has come down through the ages a fine heritage of story and song. Usually these tales are largely fiction and partially fact. They may be songs about heroes; stories to account for the existence of things; moral tales; or tales of pure imagination. Whatever they are, they preserve for us from the past the thoughts or the deeds of our early ancestors; and as tales they excite our interest because of their simplicity and straightforwardness.
[Illustration: ALI HAFED'S QUEST
(See following page)]

ALI HAFED'S QUEST
BY ORISON SWETT MARDEN
Long, long ago, in the shadowy past, Ali Hafed dwelt on the shores of the River Indus, in the ancient land of the Hindus. His beautiful cottage, set in the midst of fruit and flower gardens, looked from the mountain side on which it stood over the broad expanse of the noble river. 5
Rich meadows, waving fields of grain, and the herds and flocks contentedly grazing on the pasture lands testified to the thrift and prosperity of Ali Hafed. The love of a beautiful wife and a large family of light-hearted boys and girls made his home an earthly paradise. Healthy, 10 wealthy, contented, rich in love and friendship, his cup of happiness seemed full to overflowing.
Happy and contented was the good Ali Hafed, when one evening a learned priest of Buddha, journeying along the banks of the Indus, stopped for rest and refreshment 15 at his home, where all wayfarers were hospitably welcomed and treated as honored guests.
After the evening meal, the farmer and his family with the priest in their midst gathered around the fireside, the chilly mountain air of the late autumn making a fire desirable. 20 The disciple of Buddha entertained his kind hosts with various legends and myths, and last of all with the story of the creation.
He told his wondering listeners how in the beginning the solid earth on which they lived was not solid at all, 25 but a mere bank of fog. "The Great Spirit," said he, "thrust his finger into the bank of fog and began slowly describing a circle in its midst, increasing the speed gradually until the fog went whirling round his finger so rapidly that it was transformed into a glowing ball of fire. Then the Creative Spirit hurled the fiery ball from his hand, and 5 it shot through the universe, burning its way through other banks of fog and condensing them into rain, which fell in great floods, cooling the surface of the immense ball.
"Flames then bursting from the interior through the cooled outer crust, threw up the hills and mountain ranges 10 and made the beautiful fertile valleys. In the flood of rain that followed this fiery upheaval, the substance that cooled very quickly formed granite, that which cooled less rapidly became copper, the next in degree cooled down into silver, and the last became gold. But the most beautiful 15 substance of all, the diamond, was formed by the first beams of sunlight condensed on the earth's surface.
"A drop of sunlight the size of my thumb," said the priest, holding up his hand, "is worth more than mines of gold. With one such drop," he continued, turning to Ali 20 Hafed, "you could buy many farms like yours; with a handful you could buy a province; and with a mine of diamonds you could purchase a whole kingdom."
The company parted for the night, and Ali Hafed went to bed, but not to sleep. All night long he tossed restlessly 25 from side to side, thinking, planning, scheming, how he could secure some diamonds. The demon of discontent had entered his soul, and the blessings and advantages which he possessed in