My one black thought shall ride away from me;
First-born, for whom by day and night I yearn,
Balanced and just are all of God's decrees;

Thou art avenged, my first-born, sleep in peace!"

1. What did the stranger ask of Yussouf? What do you learn of Yussouf's character in stanza I?

2. Why did Yussouf take the stranger into his tent?

3. What are the chief qualities of Yussouf?

4. What crime had the stranger committed?

5. What is the noblest thing Yussouf did?

6. What was Yussouf's "one black thought"? Why did he say, "Thou art avenged"?

7. What is "the glorious roof of night and day"?

8. Explain: "Before the prying day grow bold."

MEMORIZING A POEM

Make a choice of a poem in this section on THINGS WORTH WHILE and commit it to memory.

IDEALS OF WORK AND SERVICE

A HANDFUL OF CLAY 1

HENRY VAN DYKE

THERE was a handful of clay in the bank of a river. It was only common clay, coarse and heavy; but it had high thoughts of its own value, and wonderful dreams of the great place which it was to fill in the world when the time came for its virtues to be discovered.

Overhead, in the spring sunshine, the trees whispered together of the glory which descended upon them when the delicate blossoms and leaves began to expand, and the forest glowed with fair, clear colors, as if the dust of thousands of rubies and emeralds were hanging, in soft clouds, above the earth.

The flowers, surprised with the joy of beauty, bent their heads to one another as the wind caressed them, and said, "Sisters, how lovely you have become! You make the day bright."

The river, glad of new strength and rejoicing in the unison of all its waters, murmured to the shores in music, telling of its release from icy fetters, its swift flight from the snow-clad mountains, and the mighty work to which it was hurrying the wheels of many mills to be turned and great ships to be floated to the sea. Waiting blindly in its bed, the clay comforted itself with lofty hopes. "My time will come," it said. "I was not made to be hidden forever. Glory and beauty and honor are coming to me

in due season."

One day the clay felt itself taken from the place where it had waited so long. A flat blade of iron passed beneath it and lifted it and tossed it into a cart with other lumps of clay, and it was carried far away, as it seemed, over a rough and stony road. But

1 From Henry van Dyke's The Blue Flower. Copyright, 1902, by Charles Scribner's Sons. Used by permission of the publishers.

it was not afraid nor discouraged, for it said to itself, "This is necessary. The path to glory is always rugged. Now I am on my way to play a great part in the world."

But the hard journey was nothing compared with the tribulation and distress that came after it. The clay was put into a trough and mixed and beaten and stirred and trampled. It seemed almost unbearable. But there was consolation in the thought that something very fine and noble was certainly coming out of all this trouble. The clay felt sure that, if it could only wait long enough, a wonderful reward was in store for it.

Then it was put upon a swiftly turning wheel and whirled around until it seemed as if it must fly into a thousand pieces. A strange power pressed it and molded it, as it revolved, and through all the dizziness and pain it felt that it was taking a new form.

Then an unknown hand put it into an oven, and fires were kindled about it fierce and penetrating hotter than all the heats of summer that had ever brooded upon the bank of the river. But through all, the clay held itself together and endured its trials, in the confidence of a great future. "Surely," it thought, "I am intended for something very splendid since such pains are taken with me. Perhaps I am fashioned for the ornament of a temple or a precious vase for the table of a king."

At last the baking was finished. The clay was taken from the furnace and set down upon a board, in the cool air under the blue sky. The tribulation was passed. The reward was at hand.

Close beside the board there was a pool of water, not very deep nor very clear, but calm enough to reflect, with impartial truth, every image that fell upon it. There, for the first time as it was lifted from the board, the clay saw its new shape, the reward of all its patience and pain, the consummation of its hopes a common flowerpot, straight and stiff, red and ugly. And then it felt that it was not destined for a king's house nor for a palace of art, because it was made without glory or beauty or

honor; and it murmured against the unknown maker, saying, "Why hast thou made me thus ?"

Many days it passed in sullen discontent. Then it was filled with earth, and something - it knew not what - but something rough and brown and dead-looking was thrust into the middle of the earth and covered over. The clay rebelled at this new disgrace. "This is the worst of all that has happened to me, to be filled with dirt and rubbish. Surely I am a failure."

But presently it was set in a greenhouse, where the sunlight fell warm upon it, and water was sprinkled over it, and day by day as it waited a change began to come to it. Something was stirring within it -new hope. Still it was ignorant and knew not what the new hope meant.

One day the clay was lifted again from its place and carried into a great church. Its dream was coming true after all. It had a fine part to play in the world. Glorious music flowed over it. It was surrounded with flowers. Still it could not understand. So it whispered to another vessel of clay like itself close beside it. "Why have they set me here? Why do all the people look toward us?" And the other vessel answered, "Do you not know? You are carrying a royal scepter of lilies. Their petals are white as snow, and the heart of them is like pure gold. The people look this way because the flower is the most wonderful in the world. And the root of it is in your heart."

Then the clay was content and silently thanked its maker, because, though an earthen vessel, it held so great a treasure.

In this story Dr. van Dyke tells the simple method of turning crude clay into useful earthenware. He does not follow this, as he might have done, with a description of the modern manufacturing plants where huge quantities of useful and beautiful earthenware and chinaware are produced. Such a story would have been interesting, but the author is here concerned in using the story of the clay to impress an important lesson for men and women. What is this lesson?

AN AMERICAN BY ADOPTION 1

JOSEPH HUSBAND

ON the bleak coast of the North Sea is the little town of Ribe. There, in 1849, was born Jacob A. Riis, son of a schoolmaster and one of fourteen children. Scant were the means for the education and upbringing of so large a family; but from this humble home on the Danish seacoast came to America a man who, in later years, was to become famous in the new land of his adoption: famous, not because of wealth or inventive genius, but for his citizenship, and for his deeds, which left the world better than he found it.

From the deck of the steamer he watched the city of New York grow large on the horizon. Ships of the world filled the blue harbor. Tall spires of churches lifted above the roofs; wharves were alive with activity. He was filled with a spirit of adventure and limitless opportunity.

Hard days followed. From New York City Riis went to Jamestown, a small village in the western part of the state, and there he spent the winter doing such trivial jobs as fell to him, glad to receive the small and irregular pay which enabled him to struggle on. For a time he worked in a Buffalo planing mill. Summer found him working with a railroad gang outside the city. Then came the winter again, and with it work at good wages in a Buffalo shipyard. He was destined to be known throughout the United States in later years for his social reforms and his writings for the betterment of his fellow men; but in these early days it was his knowledge of an honest trade that made it possible for him to build the foundations of future greatness.

Before long Riis returned to New York City and became a newspaper reporter, a police reporter. This job took him into the most troubled portions of the city and laid before him the

1 From Joseph Husband's Americans by Adoption, copyrighted by The Atlantic Monthly Press. Used by permission of the publishers.