The Elson Readers, book 5 | Page 5

fellow sings,
"Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat,
"Come hither! come hither! come hither! Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather."
Presently you hear the sound of a horn deep in the forest, to be followed soon by the coming of a merry crowd. Here is the prince of outlaws, clad in Lincoln green and followed by a score of lusty fellows, and at once there are songs, wrestling matches, and merry jests, till your heart is filled with joy. Little John, and the Sheriff of Nottingham, and Friar Tuck, and Robin Hood, and last of all, the King himself--these are the actors in the play that you see through your magic glass. And so it goes through all these stories of adventure--they become a part of your experience, and you live more lives than one. Last of all, your magic glass, which is this book, and which is always ready to do you service when you call upon it, will introduce you to a group of great Americans who long ago learned these secrets and wrote down what they themselves had seen. A patriot who helped to make our America will tell you several stories of his childhood. A Nature-loving poet will tell you about flowers and birds. Another poet will furnish stories about merry times on the farm. A third will tell you legends of the Indians. Once more the world of Nature, the world of adventure, and the world of history and legend will open before you, but this time you will learn something also of the men who have lived in our America and have written about it in such way as to show us that, after all, we need no marvelous Eastern country or desert islands--there is adventure enough and to spare all about us, if we have eyes to see.
And here is the greatest charm of all. It is good to know about this magic glass of reading, so that we shall never want for the joy it can bring. But while we use it, we shall find our sight made pure and strong, so that when we no longer have the crystal globe, we can walk in field and wood, and along our streets, and see, wondering, the beauty of the world in which we live.

PART I
NATURE--HUMOR--HOME AND COUNTRY
Better--a thousand times better--than all the material wealth the world can give is the love for the best books.

THE WORLD OF NATURE
A FORWARD LOOK
If we have eyes to see, the world of Nature is a fairyland. Further on in this book you will read how Aladdin--a boy who was led by a magician to a cave in which were all kinds of wonderful objects--came upon a garden underground wherein grew trees filled with extraordinary fruit. "Each tree bore fruit of a different color," we are told: "The white were pearls; the sparkling were diamonds; the deep red were rubies; the green, emeralds; the blue, turquoises."
Now with this compare a story about a great American author, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Emerson loved all the forms of Nature. He wrote of the bee, of the wild flowers, of the storm, of the snowbird, and of running waters. And in talking of the magic of a river he reminds us of Aladdin's fairy fruits:
"I see thy brimming, eddying stream And thy enchantment, For thou changest every rock in thy bed Into a gem. All is opal and agate, And at will thou pavest with diamonds."
Now we may suppose that Aladdin often waded through the brook and noticed the shining pebbles and heard the tinkling music of the water as it rippled over stones in the stream. He noticed the pebbles, but did not look at them. He heard the murmur of the waters, but he did not listen. But when the magician uttered his magic words, and the earth opened, and Aladdin saw a little ladder leading down into a deep cave, and in that cave found curious trees bearing curious fruits, he was so surprised that he looked more closely, and all that he saw was full of wonder. Now the poet is like the magician. His words open the door of enchantment for us if we care to enter.
For the poets have been lovers of Nature, and they help us to see the beauty that lies about us. One of them calls the stars "the forget-me-nots of the angels." Another writes of the song of the brook as it goes dancing and singing down into the river, until we hear the music of the waters in the melody of the poet's verse. Through such stories and poems of animals and birds and flowers and of the seasons of the year as you