hese the men," exclaimed he, "with whom I am to defend America!"

In a paroxysm of passion and despair he snapped his pistols at some of
them, threatened others with his sword, and was so heedless of his own
danger that he might have fallen into the hands of the enemy, who were
not eighty yards distant, had not an aide-de-camp seized the bridle of
his horse, and absolutely hurried him away.

It was one of the rare moments of his life when the vehement element of
his nature was stirred up from its deep recesses. He soon recovered his
self-possession, and took measures against the general peril.

LABOR DAY

(FIRST MONDAY IN SEPTEMBER)

THE SMITHY

A HINDU FABLE

BY P. V. RAMASWAMI RAJU (ADAPTED)

Once words ran high in a smithy.

The furnace said: "If I cease to burn, the smithy must close."

The bellows said: "If I cease to blow, no fire, no smithy."

The hammer and anvil, also, each claimed the sole credit for keeping up
the smithy.

The ploughshare that had been shaped by the furnace, the bellows, the
hammer and the anvil, cried: "It is not each of you alone, that keeps up
the smithy, but ALL TOGETHER."

THE NAIL

BY THE BROTHERS GRIMM (TRANSLATED)[7]

[Footnote 7: From the Riverside Fourth Reader.]

A merchant had done good business at the fair; he had sold his wares,
and filled his bag with gold and silver. Then he set out at once on his
journey home, for he wished to be in his own house before night.

At noon he rested in a town. When he wanted to go on, the stable-boy
brought his horse, saying:

"A nail is wanting, sir, in the shoe of his left hind foot."

"Let it be wanting," answered the merchant; "the shoe will stay on for
the six miles I have still to go. I am in a hurry."

In the afternoon he got down at an inn and had his horse fed. The
stable-boy came into the room to him and said: "Sir, a shoe is wanting
from your horse's left hind foot. Shall I take him to the blacksmith?"

"Let it still be wanting," said the man; "the horse can very well hold
out for a couple of miles more. I am in a hurry."

So the merchant rode forth, but before long the horse began to limp. He
had not limped long before he began to stumble, and he had not stumbled
long before he fell down and broke his leg. The merchant had to leave
the horse where he fell, and unstrap the bag, take it on his back, and
go home on foot.

"That unlucky nail," said he to himself, "has made all this trou