Speak the truth!

Truth is beautiful and brave, Strong to bless and strong to save; Falsehood is a cowardly knave; From it turn thy steps in youth-- Follow truth.

SAINT VALENTINE

Here is one of the many stories that have been told about Saint Valentine.

Father Valentine was a priest who lived a long time ago. He spent his time in nursing the sick and in comforting the sorrowing. As he went about among his people, the children, too, found a kind and helpful friend.

They liked to talk with him, and to run by his side as he went from one house to another. What wonderful stories he told them about the birds and the flowers! How many beautiful things he taught them as they walked together through the forest and by the river!

Father Valentine loved all the little creatures of the woods and the streams, and they seemed to love him in return. The birds would come at his call, and the squirrels would scamper down the trees to take food from his hand.

Years went by, and at last the good priest became too old to visit his people. How they must have wished to hear again the sound of his footsteps at the door! How the children must have missed their kind teacher and the stories that he told!

Father Valentine was very sad because he could no longer go about from home to home. But he soon found a way by which he could still be of use to those he loved.

As he sat in his room he wrote the kind words which had always made his visits so full of good cheer. Every day his loving messages were sent near and far. They were carried by the boys and girls who had learned from him to be happy in helping others.

Soon his friends began to watch for the kind words that were sure to come to them whenever they were in need of help. Even the little children, when they were ill, would say, "I am sure that Father Valentine will send me a letter to-day."

After a time the good father pa.s.sed away from earth, but he has not been forgotten.

Each year, when the fourteenth of February comes around, we still keep his birthday.

Think of the lonely, remember the sad, Be kind to the poor, make every one glad, On good old Saint Valentine's Day.

A FAMOUS OLD HOUSE

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Here is a picture of a famous old house. It was built more than one hundred years ago, and it still stands, painted yellow and white, as in the days of old. People come from far and near to see it, and perhaps some day you will visit it.

Do you wish to know why so many people travel miles and miles to see this old place?

Two great men once lived here. The first one was a brave general. Long ago he was called from his own home to take command of an army. In those days, the yellow and white house was one of the finest places for miles around. So it was given to the general for his headquarters.

If these old walls could only speak, what wonderful stories they could tell! For in this house many plans were made, which helped to bring freedom to our land.

We like to fancy that we can see the great general going in and out of the front door. He used to wear a three-cornered hat and ruffled shirt bosom, knee-breeches, and low shoes with silver buckles.

This brave and n.o.ble commander led his army through many dangers to victory, and he afterward became the first president of the United States. You need not be told that the great general who once lived in the famous old house was George Washington.

After many years the old house became the home of another great and good man. He did not lead armies, nor make laws, nor hold office. And yet few men in our country have been so well known or so well loved.

His poems are read in all parts of the world, and his beautiful thoughts have helped hundreds and hundreds of people to love the right and to hate the wrong.

And now you are eager to speak the name of the great poet who once lived in the famous old house--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

HIAWATHA'S HUNTING

Then the little Hiawatha Learned of every bird its language, Learned their names and all their secrets,-- How they built their nests in summer, Where they hid themselves in winter,-- Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them "Hiawatha's chickens."

Of all beasts he learned the language, Learned their names and all their secrets,-- How the beavers built their lodges, Where the squirrels hid their acorns, How the reindeer ran so swiftly, Why the rabbit was so timid,-- Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them "Hiawatha's brothers."

Forth into the forest straightway All alone walked Hiawatha Proudly, with his bow and arrows; And the birds sang round him, o'er him, "Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!"

Sang the robin, sang the bluebird, "Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!"

And the rabbit from his pathway Leaped aside, and at a distance Sat erect upon his haunches, Half in fear and half in frolic Saying to the little hunter, "Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!"

But he heeded not, nor heard them, For his thoughts were with the red deer; On their tracks his eyes were fastened, Leading downward to the river, To the ford across the river; And as one in slumber walked he.

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Hidden in the alder bushes, There he waited till the deer came, Till he saw two antlers lifted, Saw two eyes look from the thicket, Saw two nostrils point to windward, And a deer came down the pathway, Flecked with leafy light and shadow.

And his heart within him fluttered, Trembled like the leaves above him, As the deer came down the pathway.

LONGFELLOW WITH HIS CHILDREN

I.

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The famous old house looks very quiet and lonely in the picture. But there was a time when many children ran about its halls and played upon the lawn.

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"How many children did Mr. Longfellow have? Did he have any boys? What were their names?"