I once knew a man who was rich in his love for birds, and in their love for him. He lived in the midst of a grove full of all kinds of trees. He had no wife or children in his home.
He was an old man with gray beard, blue and kind eyes, and a voice that the birds loved; and this was the way he made them his friends.
While he was at work with a rake on his nice walks in the grove, the birds came close to him to pick up the worms in the fresh earth he dug up. At first, they kept a rod or two from him, but they soon found he was a kind man, and would not hurt them, but liked to have them near him.
They knew this by his kind eyes and voice, which tell what is in the heart. So, day by day their faith in his love grew in them.
They came close to the rake. They would hop on top of it to be first at the worm. They would turn up their eyes into his when he spoke to them, as if they said, ‘He is a kind man; he loves us; we need not fear him.’
All the birds of the grove were soon his fast friends. They were on the watch for him, and would fly down from the green tree tops to greet him with their chirp.
When he had no work on the walks to do with his rake or his hoe, he took crusts of bread with him, and dropped the crumbs on the ground. Down they would dart on his head and feet to catch them as they fell from his hand.
He showed me how they loved him. He put a crust of bread in his mouth, with one end of it out of his lips. Down they came like bees at a flower, and flew off with it crumb by crumb.
When they thought he slept too long in the morning, they would fly in and sit on the bedpost, and call him up with their chirp.
They went with him to church, and while he said his prayers and sang his hymns in it, they sat in the trees, and sang their praises to the same good God who cares for them as he does for us.
Thus, the love and trust of birds were a joy to him all his life long; and such love and trust no boy or girl can fail to win with the same kind heart, voice, and eye that he had.
One day as they passed the crest of a hill, they saw a great cloud of dust rising in the road at some distance below them. Don Quixote’s eyes flashed with excitement as he watched it.
“The day has come, Sancho,” he cried; “the day has come that shall bring us good fortune and happiness. Now I shall perform an exploit that will be remembered through the ages. See’st thou that cloud of dust, Sancho?”
“I see it, brave master,” answered the squire.
“Well, that dust is raised by an army that is marching this way,” said Don Quixote. “It is a mighty army made up of many nations.”
“If that is the case,” said Sancho, “there must be two armies. For, over to the left of us, there is another cloud of dust.”
Don Quixote looked, and his heart was filled with joy; for he firmly believed that two vast armies were marching towards each other and about to meet in battle. His mind was so filled with fights, adventures, enchantments, and other wonderful things which he had read about, that his fancy easily changed everything he saw into something that he wished to see.
Even his own eyes could not make him believe that the dust was raised by two large flocks of sheep which were being driven along the road. He was so positive about the two armies that even Sancho soon began to feel that he was right.
“Well, sir, what are we to do now?” asked the squire.
“Our duty is plain,” answered the knight. “What ought we to do but aid the weaker and injured side? The army in front of us is commanded by the great Alifanfaron, emperor of the vast island of India. The army on our left is led by his enemy, King Pentapolin of the naked arm.”
“Pray tell me, brave master,” said Sancho, “what is the cause of the trouble? Why are those two great men going thus together by the ears?”
“It is the old, old story,” answered Don Quixote. “Alifanfaron is a Pagan, and he is in love with Pentapolin’s daughter, who is a Christian. But he shall not have her unless he becomes converted and gives up his false belief.”
“No, never!” cried Sancho. “I will stand by Pentapolin and his daughter, and help them all I can.”
“You are right,” said Don Quixote. “There is no need of being a knight to fight in such battles. Men of all conditions may take part in this conflict.”
Then pointing to the clouds of dust with his long finger, he described the various warriors whom he imagined were marching to the conflict. Sancho Panza listened in silence. He turned his eyes this way and that, trying to see the knights and valiant men whom his master was naming.
At last, growing impatient, he cried, “You might as well tell me it is snowing; for not a man nor knight can I see either in this cloud of dust or that.”
“Indeed!” answered Don Quixote, “but don’t you hear their horses neigh, their trumpets sound, their drums beat?”
“Not I,” said Sancho. “I open my ears very wide, and I hear nothing but the bleating of sheep.” And now the two flocks were drawing very near to them, and the sheep could not only be heard, but plainly seen.
“You are frightened, Sancho,” said Don Quixote. “Go hide yourself in some safe place while I alone charge into the ranks of the heathen.”
Then he couched his lance, set spurs to Rozinante, and rushed onward like a thunderbolt to meet the nearest flock.
Sancho Panza looked after him in amazement. “Hold, sir!” he cried. “Come back! Are you mad? Those are sheep, and neither pagans nor Christians. Come back, I say.”
But Don Quixote did not hear him. He rode forward furiously. “Courage, brave knights!” he shouted. “March up, fall on, the victory is ours! Follow me, and take your revenge!”
He charged into the midst of the flock. He thrust right and left, and began to spear the poor dumb creatures as gallantly as though they were his mortal enemies.
The men who were driving the sheep called out to him, but he would not listen. He rushed madly this way and that. The sheep were routed and trampled upon in a most terrible manner.
“Where is the general of this army?” cried Don Quixote. “Where art thou, proud Alifanfaron? See, here is a single knight who challenges thee to combat, and who will punish thee for this unjust war.”
The shepherds were now greatly alarmed. They ran forward and began to throw stones at the knight. Some of these, as big as a man’s fist, flew close about his ears; some fell upon his shield; and others belabored the back and sides of unhappy Rozinante. But, paying no attention to this shower of missiles, Don Quixote rode unafraid, shouting as though in the thick of battle, and seeking everywhere for some worthy foe.
“Where art thou, Alifanfaron?” he cried again. But just at that moment a stone struck him in the side with such force as almost to break his ribs.
He reeled in his saddle. He felt sure that he was killed, or at least badly wounded. But he remembered the bottle of healing balsam which the innkeeper had advised him to carry, and he felt in his pocket for it.
He was about to put the bottle to his lips, when — bang! Another stone came whizzing through the air. It broke the bottle; it maimed his hand; it struck him fairly on the mouth.
Such a blow was too much for the valiant knight to withstand. He fell from his horse and lay upon the ground as though dead.
The shepherds got their flocks together and hurried away with all speed. They feared that they had killed the knight and that greater trouble would follow.
Throughout the strange conflict, Sancho sat on his dappled donkey at the top of the hill. He felt ashamed and alarmed at sight of his master’s mad doings. He groaned, and tore his beard in vexation and dismay.
But when he saw the knight knocked from his steed and stretched upon the ground, he hastened to his aid.
“Ah, master,” he cried, “this comes of not taking my advice. Did I not tell you that it was a flock of sheep and no army?”
Don Quixote groaned and sat up. “Friend Sancho,” he said, “it is an easy matter for enchanters to change the shapes of things as they please. At the very moment that my victory was complete my old enemy changed the routed army into a flock of sheep. It was all done to rob me of the glory that belonged to me.”
“Well, I saw nothing but sheep from the first,” said Sancho.
Don Quixote, with much ado, arose and stood on his feet. He opened his mouth and felt of the teeth that had been loosened by that last cruel blow.
“Friend Sancho, learn of me,” he said. “All these storms are only the signs of calmer days. Better success will soon follow. Neither good luck nor bad luck will last always.”
“At any rate,” interrupted Sancho, “many words will not fill a bushel. I think you would make a better preacher than knight-errant.”
“Knights-errant,” answered Don Quixote, “ought to know everything. Some of them have been as good preachers as any who preach in the churches.”
“Very well,” said Sancho. “You may have it as you will. But let us leave this unlucky place and seek lodgings where we may rest and have a bite of wholesome food.”
He helped his master to climb again upon the back of gentle Rozinante, and then he remounted his dappled donkey.
“My trusty Sancho, go thy own pace,” said Don Quixote. “I will follow thee.”
Sancho obeyed, and led the way, keeping to the road which passed over the hills. Don Quixote followed him, riding slowly and gently; for he had been so bruised and wounded in his encounter with the shepherds, that every movement of his steed gave him pain.
Very early the next morning, the knight and his squire set out on their travels. They stole silently away from the village without bidding goodbye to anyone; and they made such haste that at sunrise they felt themselves quite safe from pursuit.
Don Quixote, riding in full armor astride of gaunt Rozinante, felt that he was indeed the most valorous knight in the world; and no doubt he was a formidable sight. As for Sancho Panza, he rode like a patriarch, with his knapsack on one side of him and a leather bottle on the other, his feet almost dragging on the ground. His mind was full of thoughts about that island of which he hoped to be the governor.
The sun rose high above the hills. The two travelers jogged onward across the plains of Montiel. Both were silent, for both had high purposes in view.
At length Sancho Panza spoke: “I beseech you, Sir Knight-errant, be sure to remember the island you promised me. I dare say I shall make out to govern it, let it be ever so big.”
Don Quixote answered with becoming dignity: “Friend Sancho, you must know that it has always been the custom of knights-errant to conquer islands and put their squires over them as governors. Now it is my intention to keep up that good custom.”
“You are indeed a rare master,” said Sancho Panza.
“Well, I am thinking I might even improve upon that good custom,” said Don Quixote. “What if I should conquer three or four islands and set you up as master of them all?”
“You could do nothing that would please me better,” answered Sancho.
While they were thus riding and talking, they came to a place where there were a great many windmills. There seemed to be thirty or forty of them scattered here and there upon the plain; and when the wind blew, their long white arms seemed to wave and beckon in a droll and most threatening manner.
Don Quixote drew rein and paused in the middle of the road.
“There! there!” he cried. “Fortune is with us. Look yonder, Sancho! I see at least thirty huge giants, and I intend to fight all of them. When I have overcome and slain them we will enrich ourselves with their spoils.”
“What giants?” asked Sancho Panza.
“Why, those who are standing in the fields just before us,” answered the knight. “See their long arms! I have read that some of their race had arms which reached more than two miles.”
“Look at them better, master,” said Sancho. “Those are not giants; they are windmills. The things which you call arms are sails, and they flap around when the wind blows.” “Friend Sancho,” said the knight, very sternly, “it is plain that you are not used to adventures. I tell you those things are giants. If you are afraid, go and hide yourself and say your prayers. I shall attack them at once.”
Without another word he spurred Rozinante into a sturdy trot and was soon right in the midst of the windmills.
“Stand, cowards!” he cried. “Stand your ground! Do not fly from a single knight who dares you all to meet him in fair fight.”
At that moment the wind began to blow briskly and all the mill sails were set moving. They seemed to be answering his challenge.
He paused a moment. “O my Dulcinea, fairest of ladies,” he cried, “help me in this perilous adventure!”
Then he couched his lance; he covered himself with his shield; he rushed with Rozinante’s utmost speed upon the nearest windmill.
The long lance struck into one of the whirling sails and was carried upward with such swiftness that it was torn from the knight’s firm grasp. It was whirled into the air and broken into shivers. At the same moment the knight and his steed were hurled forward and thrown rolling upon the ground.
Sancho Panza hurried to the place as quickly as his dappled donkey could carry him. His master was lying helpless by the roadside. The helmet had fallen from his head, and the shield had been hurled to the farther side of the hedge.
“Mercy on me, master!” cried the squire. “Didn’t I tell you they were windmills?”
“Peace, friend Sancho,” answered Don Quixote, rubbing the dust from his eyes. “There is nothing so uncertain as war. That wicked enchanter, Freston, who stole my books has done all this. They were giants, as I told you; but he changed them into windmills so that I should not have the honor of victory. But mind you, Sancho, I will get even with him in the end.”
“So be it, say I!” cried Sancho, as he dismounted from his donkey.
He lifted the fallen knight from the ground. He brought his shield and adjusted the helmet. Then he led his unlucky steed to his side and helped him to remount.
The sun was now sloping towards the west, and the knight and squire rode thoughtfully onward across the plain of Montiel.
At the earliest break of day, Don Quixote made ready to ride out in quest of adventures. He buckled on his armor. He took his lance and his shield in his hands. His gallant steed, Rozinante, stood saddled and bridled at the door of the inn.
He again embraced the innkeeper. “Farewell, thou greatest of my benefactors,” he cried. “May heaven bless thee for having made me a knight.”
Then, with the help of a groom, he mounted and rode forth into the world.
Right gayly did he ride. For he felt that he was now in truth a knight, and his mind was filled with lofty thoughts.
Right gayly also did Rozinante canter along the highway, and proudly did he hold his head. For did he not know that he was carrying the bravest of brave men?
They had gone but a little way when Don Quixote suddenly remembered the innkeeper’s command to provide himself with money, clean shirts, and some salve.
“The command must be obeyed,” he said. “I must go home to get those necessary things.”
So he turned his horse’s head and took the first byroad that led towards his village. And now Rozinante seemed to have new life put into his lean body. He sniffed the air and trotted so fast that his heels seemed scarcely to touch the ground.
“This is after the manner of heroes,” said Don Quixote. “Yet I still lack one thing. I need a faithful squire to ride with me and serve me. All the knights I have ever read about had squires who followed in their footsteps and looked on while they were fighting. I think, therefore, that while I am providing myself with money and shirts, I will also get me a squire.”
Presently, as they were passing through a lonely place, the knight fancied that he heard distressing cries. They seemed to come from the midst of a woody thicket near the roadside.
“I thank Heaven for this lucky moment,” he said to himself. “I shall now have an adventure. No doubt I shall rescue someone who is in peril, or I shall correct some grievous wrong.”
He put spurs to Rozinante and rode as fast as he could to the spot from which the cries seemed to issue.
At the edge of the woody thicket he saw a horse tied to a small oak tree. Not far away, a lad of about fifteen years was tied to another oak. The lad’s shoulders and back were bare, and it was he who was making the doleful outcry. For a stout country fellow was standing over him and beating him unmercifully with a horsewhip.
“Hold! hold!” cried Don Quixote, rushing up. “It is an unmanly act to strike a person who cannot strike back.”
The farmer was frightened at the sudden appearance of a knight on horseback. He dropped his whip. He stood with open mouth and trembling hands, not knowing what to expect. “Come, sir,” said Don Quixote, sternly. “Take your lance, mount your horse, and we will settle this matter by a trial of arms.”
The farmer answered him very humbly. “Sir Knight,” he said, “this boy is my servant, and his business is to watch my sheep. But he is lazy and careless, and I have lost half of my flock through his neglect.”
“What of that?” said Don Quixote. “You have no right to beat him, when you know he cannot beat you.”
“I beat him only to make a better boy of him,” answered the farmer. “He will tell you that I do it to cheat him out of his wages: but he tells lies even while I am correcting him.”
“What! what!” cried Don Quixote. “Do you give him the lie right here before my face? I have a good mind to run you through the body with my lance. Untie the boy and pay him his money. Obey me this instant, and let me not hear one word of excuse from you.”
The farmer, pale with fear, loosed the boy from the cords which bound him to the tree.
“Now, my young man,” said Don Quixote, “how much does this fellow owe you?”
“He owes me nine months’ wages at seven dollars a month,” was the answer.
“Nine times seven are sixty-three,” said the knight. “Sir, you owe this lad sixty-three dollars. If you wish to save your life pay it at once.”
The farmer was now more alarmed than before. He fell upon his knees. He lifted his hands, imploring mercy. He sobbed with fright.
“Noble sir,” he cried, “it is too much; for I have bought him three pairs of shoes at a dollar a pair; and twice when he was sick, I paid the doctor a dollar.”
“That may be,” answered Don Quixote, “but we will set those dollars against the beating you have given him without cause. Come, pay him the whole amount.”
“I would gladly do so,” said the farmer, “but I have not a penny in my pocket. If you will let the lad go home with me, I will pay him every dollar.”
“Go home with him!” cried the lad. “Not I. Why, he would beat me to death and not pay at all.”
“He won’t dare to do it,” answered Don Quixote. “I have commanded him and he must obey. His money is at his house. I give him leave to go and get it. His honor as a knight will make him pay his debt to you.”
“A knight!” said the lad. “He is no knight. He is only John Haldudo, the farmer.”
“What of that?” said Don Quixote. “Why may not the Haldudos have a knight in the family?”
“Well, he is not much of a knight. A knight would pay his debts,” said the lad.
“And he will pay you, for I have commanded him,” said Don Quixote.
Then turning to the farmer, he said, “Go, and make sure that you obey me. I will come this way again soon, and if you have failed, I will punish you. I will find you out, even though you hide yourself as close as a lizard.”
The farmer arose from his knees and was about to speak, but the knight would not listen.
“I will have no words from you,” he said. “You have naught to do but to obey. And if you would ask who it is that commands you, know that I am the valorous Don Quixote de la Mancha, the righter of wrongs and the friend of the downtrodden. So, goodbye!”
Having said this, he gave spurs to Rozinante and galloped away.
The farmer watched him until he was quite out of sight. Then he turned and called to the boy.
“Come, Andrew,” he said. “Come to me now, and I will pay thee what I owe thee. I will obey this friend of the downtrodden.”
“You will do well to obey him,” said the boy. “He is a knight, and if you fail to pay me, he will come back and make things hot for you.”
“Yes, I know,” answered the farmer. “I will pay you well and show you how much I love you.”
Then, without another word, he caught hold of the boy and again tied him to the tree. The boy yelled lustily, but Don Quixote was too far away to hear his cries. The farmer fell upon him and beat him with fists and sticks until he was almost dead. Finally he loosed him and let him go.
“Now, Andrew, go find your friend of the downtrodden,” he said. “Tell him how well I have paid you.”
Poor Andrew said nothing. He hobbled slowly away, while the farmer mounted his horse and rode grimly homeward.
In the meanwhile, Don Quixote was speeding toward his own village. He was very much pleased with himself and with his first adventure as a knight.
“O Dulcinea, most beautiful of beauties,” he cried, “well mayest thyself be happy. For thy knight has done a noble deed this day.”
And thus he rode gallantly onward, his lance clanging against his coat of mail at every motion of his steed.
One morning in midsummer, Don Quixote arose very early, long before anyone else was awake.
He put on his coat of mail and the old helmet which he had patched with pasteboard and green ribbons.
He took down the short sword that had been his great-grandfather’s, and belted it to his side. He grasped his long lance. He swung the leather shield upon his shoulder.
Then he went out very quietly by the back door, lest he should awaken his niece or the housekeeper.
He went softly to the barn and saddled his steed. Then he mounted and rode silently away through the sleeping village and the quiet fields.
He was pleased to think how easily he had managed things. He was glad that he had gotten away from the house and the village without any unpleasant scenes.
“I trust that I shall presently meet with some worthy adventure,” he said to himself.
But soon a dreadful thought came into his mind: He was not a knight, for no one had conferred that honor upon him; and the laws of chivalry would not permit him to contend in battle with anyone of noble rank until he himself was knighted.
“Whoa, Rozinante!” he said. “I must consider this matter.”
He stopped underneath a tree, and thought and thought. Must he give up his enterprise and return home?
“No, that I shall never do!” he cried. “I will ride onward, and the first worthy man that I meet shall make me knight.”
So he spoke cheeringly to Rozinante and resumed his journey. He dropped the reins loosely upon the horse’s neck, and allowed him to stroll hither and thither as he pleased.
“It is thus,” he said, “that knights ride out upon their quests. They go where fortune and their steeds may carry them.”
Thus, leisurely, he sat in the saddle, while Rozinante wandered in unfrequented paths, cropped the green herbage by the roadside, or rested himself in the shade of some friendly tree. The hours passed, but neither man nor beast took note of time or distance.
“We shall have an adventure by and by,” said Don Quixote softly to himself.
The sun was just sinking in the west when Rozinante, in quest of sweeter grass, carried his master to the summit of a gentle hill. There, in the valley below him, Don Quixote beheld a little inn nestling snugly by the roadside.
“Ha!” he cried. “Did I not say that we should have an adventure?”
He gathered up the reins; he took his long lance in his hand; he struck spurs into his loitering steed, and charged down the hill with the speed of a plow horse.
He imagined that the inn was a great castle with four towers and a deep moat and a drawbridge.
At some distance from the gate he checked his steed and waited. He expected to see a dwarf come out on the wall of the castle and sound a trumpet to give notice of the arrival of a strange knight; for it was always so in the books which he had read.
But nobody came. Don Quixote grew impatient. At length he urged Rozinante forward at a gentle pace, and was soon within hailing distance of the inn. Just then a swineherd, in a field near by, blew his horn to call his pigs together.
“Ah, ha!” cried Don Quixote. “There is the dwarf at last. He is blowing his bugle to tell them that I am coming.” And with the greatest joy in the world he rode onward to the door of the inn.
The innkeeper was both fat and jolly; and when he saw Don Quixote riding up, he went out to welcome him. He could not help laughing at the war-like appearance of his visitor — with his long lance, his battered shield, and his ancient coat of mail. But he kept as sober a face as possible and spoke very humbly.
“Sir Knight,” he said, “will you honor me by alighting from your steed? I have no bed to offer you, but you shall have every other accommodation that you may ask.”
Don Quixote still supposed that the inn was a castle; and he thought that the innkeeper must be the governor. So he answered in pompous tones:—
“Senior Castellano, anything is enough for me. I care for nothing but arms, and no bed is so sweet to me as the field of battle.”
The innkeeper was much amused. “You speak well, Sir Knight. Since your wants are so few, I can promise that you shall lack nothing. Alight, and enter!” And with that he went and held Don Quixote’s stirrup while he dismounted.
The poor old man had eaten nothing all day. His armor was very heavy. He was stiff from riding so long. He could hardly stand on his feet. But with the innkeeper’s help he was soon comfortably seated in the kitchen of the inn.
“I pray you, Senior Castellano,” he said, “take good care of my steed. There is not a finer horse in the universe.”
The innkeeper promised that the horse should lack nothing, and led him away to the stable.
When he returned to the kitchen he found Don Quixote pulling off his armor. He had relieved himself of the greater part of his coat of mail; but the helmet had been tied fast with the green ribbons, as I have told you, and it could not be taken off without cutting them.
“Never shall anyone harm those ribbons,” cried Don Quixote; and after vainly trying to untie them he was obliged to leave them as they were. It was a funny sight to see him sitting there with his head enclosed in the old patched-up helmet.
“Now, Sir Knight,” said the innkeeper, “will you not deign to partake of a little food? It is quite past our supper time, and all our guests have eaten. But perhaps you will not object to taking a little refreshment alone.”
“I will, indeed, take some with all my heart,” answered Don Quixote. “I think I shall enjoy a few mouthfuls of food more than anything else in the world.”
As ill luck would have it, it was Friday, and there was no meat in the house. There were only a few small pieces of salt fish in the pantry, and these had been picked over by the other guests.
“Will you try some of our fresh trout?” asked the landlord. “They are very small, but they are wholesome.”
“Well,” answered Don Quixote, “if there are, several of the small fry, I shall like them as well as a single large fish. But whatever you have, I pray you bring it quickly; for the heavy armor and the day’s travel have given me a good appetite.”
So a small table was set close by the door, for the sake of fresh air; and Don Quixote drew his chair up beside it.
Then the innkeeper brought some bits of the fish, ill-dressed and poorly cooked. The bread was as brown and moldy as Don Quixote’s armor; and there was nothing to drink but cold water.
It was hard for the poor man to get the food to his mouth, for his helmet was much in his way. By using both hands, however, he managed to help himself. Then you would have laughed to see him eat; for, indeed, he was very hungry.
“No true knight will complain of that which is set before him,” he said to himself.
Suddenly, however, the thought again came to him that he was not yet a knight. He stopped eating. The last poor morsel of fish was left untouched on the table before him. His appetite had left him.
“Alas! alas!” he groaned. “I cannot lawfully ride out on any adventure until I have been dubbed a knight. I must see to this business at once.”
He arose and beckoned to the innkeeper to follow him to the barn. “I have something to say to you,” he whispered.
“Your steed, Sir Knight,” said the innkeeper, “has already had his oats. I assure you he will be well taken care of.”
“It is not of the steed that I wish to speak,” answered Don Quixote; and he carefully shut the door behind them.
Then falling at the innkeeper’s feet, he cried, “Sir, I shall never rise from this place till you have promised to grant the boon which I am about to beg of you.”
The innkeeper did not know what to do. He tried to raise the poor man up, but he could not. At last he said, “I promise. Name the boon which you wish, and I will give it to you.”
“Oh, noble sir,” answered Don Quixote, “I knew you would not refuse me. The boon which I beg is this: Allow me to watch my armor in the chapel of your castle tonight, and then in the morning — oh, in the morning — “
“And what shall I do in the morning?” asked the innkeeper.
“Kind sir,” he answered, “do this: Bestow on me the honor of knighthood. For I long to ride through every corner of the earth in quest of adventures; and this I cannot do until after I have been dubbed a knight.”
The innkeeper smiled, and his eyes twinkled. For he was a right jolly fellow, and he saw that here was a chance for some merry sport.
“Certainly, certainly,” he said, right kindly. “You are well worthy to be a knight, and I honor you for choosing so noble a calling. Arise, and I will do all that you ask of me.”
“I thank you,” said Don Quixote. “Now lead me to your chapel. I will watch my armor there, as many a true and worthy knight has done in the days of yore.”
“I would gladly lead you thither,” said the innkeeper, but at the present time there is no chapel in my castle. It will do just as well, however, to watch your armor in some other convenient place. Many of the greatest knights have done this when there was no chapel to be found.”
“Noble sir, I believe you are right,” said Don Quixote. “I have read of their doing so. And since you have no chapel, I shall be content with any place.”
“Then bring your armor into the courtyard of my castle,” said the innkeeper. “Guard it bravely until morning, and at sunrise I will dub you a knight.”
“I thank you, noble sir,” said Don Quixote. “I will bring the armor at once.”
“But stop!” cried the innkeeper. “Have you any money?”
“Not a penny,” was the answer. “I have never read of any knight carrying money with him.”
“Oh, well, you are mistaken there,” said the innkeeper. “The books you have read may not say anything about it. But that is because the authors never thought it worth while to write about such common things as money and clean shirts and the like.”
“Have you any proof of that?”
“Most certainly I have. I know quite well that every knight had his purse stuffed full of money. Everyone, also, carried some clean shirts and a small box of salve for the healing of wounds.”
“It does look reasonable,” agreed Don Quixote, “but I never thought of it.”
“Then let me advise you as a father advises his son,” said the innkeeper. “As soon as you have been made a knight, ride homeward and provide yourself with these necessary articles.”
“I will obey you, most noble sir,” answered Don Quixote.
He then made haste and got his armor together. He carried it to the barnyard and laid it in a horse trough by the well.
The evening was now well gone, and it was growing dark. Don Quixote took his shield upon his left arm. He grasped his long lance in his right hand. Then he began to pace to and fro across the barnyard. He held his head high, like a soldier on duty; and the old patched helmet, falling down over his face, gave him a droll if not fearful appearance.
The full moon rose, bright and clear. The barnyard was lighted up, almost as by day. The innkeeper and his guests stood at the windows of the inn, and watched to see what would happen. Presently a mule driver came into the yard to water his mules. He saw something lying in the trough, and was stooping to take it out before drawing water from the well. But at that moment Don Quixote rushed upon him.
“Stop, rash knight!” he cried. “Touch not those arms. They are the arms of the bravest man that ever lived. Touch them not, or instant death shall be your doom.”
The mule driver was a dull fellow and very slow. He but dimly understood what was said to him, and so paid no attention to the warning. He laid hold of the coat of mail and threw it upon the ground.
“O my lady Dulcinea! Help me in this first trial of my valor!” cried Don Quixote.
At the same moment he lifted his lance with both hands and gave the mule driver a thrust which laid him flat in the dust of the barnyard.
Another such knock would have put an end to the poor fellow. But Don Quixote was too brave to think of striking a fallen foe.
He picked up the coat of mail and laid it again in the horse trough. Then he went on, walking back and forth as though nothing had happened.
The poor mule driver lay senseless by the side of the trough. The innkeeper and his friends still watched from the inn.
“He is a hard-headed fellow,” said one. “He is used to rough knocks, and will soon recover.”
In a few moments a noisy wagoner drove into the barnyard. He took his team quite close to the trough. Then he began to clear it out in order to give water to his horses.
Don Quixote, however, was ready for him. He said not a word, but lifted his lance and hurled it at the wagoner’s head. It is a wonder that the fellow’s skull was not broken.
The wagoner fell to the ground, yelling most grievously. The people in the inn were frightened, and all ran quickly to the barnyard to put an end to the rough sport.
When Don Quixote saw them coming, he braced himself on his shield and drew his sword.
“O my Dulcinea, thou queen of beauty!” he cried. “Now give strength to my arm and courage to my beating heart.”
He felt brave enough to fight all the wagoners and mule drivers in the world. But just then several of the wagoner’s friends came running into the barnyard, and each began to throw stones at Don Quixote.
The stones fell in a shower about his head, and he was forced to shelter himself under his shield. Yet he stood bravely at his post, and nothing could make him abandon his arms.
“Fling on!” he cried. “Do your worst. I dare you to come within my reach.”
He spoke with such fierceness that every man shrank back in fear. Some took refuge in the barn, but kept on throwing stones.
“Let him alone,” cried the innkeeper. “He is a harmless fellow who wishes to become a knight. He has lost his senses through too much reading. Come away and leave him in peace.”
The men stopped throwing stones. Don Quixote put down his shield and began again to pace back and forth between the horse trough and the barn. He allowed the servants to carry away the wounded wagoner and the unconscious mule driver; but he glared at them so fiercely that they were glad to be out of his reach.
The innkeeper began to think that he had carried the sport far enough. He was afraid that more and worse mischief might be done. So he spoke right gently to Don Quixote:—
“Brave sir, you have done nobly. You have guarded your armor with courage. You have shown yourself worthy of knighthood, and I will give you that honor without further delay.”
“But it is not yet daybreak,” answered Don Quixote. “I must guard my armor till the dawn appears.”
“It is not at all necessary,” said the innkeeper. “I have read of some very famous knights who stood guard only two hours; and you have watched for more than four hours although beset by many foes.”
“Time flies swiftly when one is doing his duty,” said Don Quixote. “The brave man is bravest when he curbs his anger; but if I am again attacked, I shall not be able to restrain my fury. Not a man in this castle shall be left alive unless it be to please you.”
“You shall not be attacked,” said the innkeeper. “You have guarded your armor quite long enough, and I will make you a knight at once, if you are willing.”
“Nothing can please me better,” answered Don Quixote; and he laid his lance gently down by the side of his armor. The innkeeper, thereupon, called to his guests and servants to come and see the ceremony. A book was brought to him in which he kept his accounts of hay and straw. He opened it with much dignity while Don Quixote stood with closed eyes beside his armor.
The women of the inn gathered in a circle about them. A boy held a piece of lighted candle, while the innkeeper pretended to read a chapter from the book.
The reading being finished, Don Quixote knelt down in the dust of the barnyard. The innkeeper stood over him and mumbled some words without meaning. He gave him a blow on the neck with his hand. Then he slapped him on the back with the flat of his sword.
“Arise, Sir Knight,” he said. “Thou are Don Quixote de la Mancha, the most valorous of men. Be brave, be brave, be always brave.”
Don Quixote arose, feeling that he was now in truth a knight and ready to do valorous deeds.
One of the women handed him his sword. “May your worship be a lucky knight,” she said.
Another arranged the green ribbons which held his helmet in place. “May you prosper, brave sir, wherever you go,” she said.
Don Quixote threw his arms around the innkeeper’s neck and thanked him. He could not rest until he had done some gallant deed. So he sat up all the rest of the night, polishing his armor and thinking impatiently of the morrow.
Dear Mother,—I am safely here. My dress was not much tumbled and Aunt Jane helped me press it out. I like Mr. Cobb very much. He chews but throws newspapers straight up to the doors. I rode outside a little while, but got inside before I got to Aunt Miranda’s house. I did not want to, but thought you would like it better. Miranda is such a long word that I think I will say Aunt M. and Aunt J. in my Sunday letters. Aunt J. has given me a dictionary to look up all the hard words in. It takes a good deal of time and I am glad people can talk without stoping to spell. It is much eesier to talk than write and much more fun. The brick house looks just the same as you have told us. The parler is splendid and gives you creeps and chills when you look in the door. The furnature is ellergant too, and all the rooms but there are no good sitting-down places exsept in the kitchen. The same cat is here but they do not save kittens when she has them, and the cat is too old to play with. Hannah told me once you ran away with father and I can see it would be nice. If Aunt M. would run away I think I should like to live with Aunt J. She does not hate me as bad as Aunt M. does. Tell Mark he can have my paint box, but I should like him to keep the red cake in case I come home again. I hope Hannah and John do not get tired doing my chores.
Your afectionate friend Rebecca.
P. S. Please give the piece of poetry to John because he likes my poetry even when it is not very good. This piece is not very good but it is true but I hope you won’t mind what is in it as you ran away.
This house is dark and dull and dreer No light doth shine from far or near Its like the tomb.
And those of us who live herein Are most as dead as serrafim Though not as good.
My gardian angel is asleep At leest he doth no vigil keep
Ah! woe is me!
Then give me back my lonely farm Where none alive did wish me harm Dear home of youth!
P. S. again. I made the poetry like a piece in a book but could not get it right at first. You see “tomb” and “good” do not sound well together but I wanted to say “tomb” dreadfully and as serrafim are always “good” I couldn’t take that out. I have made it over now. It does not say my thoughts as well but think it is more right. Give the best one to John as he keeps them in a box with his birds’ eggs. This is the best one.
SUNDAY THOUGHTS
BY
REBECCA ROWENA RANDALL
This house is dark and dull and drear No light doth shine from far or near Nor ever could.
And those of us who live herein Are most as dead as seraphim Though not as good.
My guardian angel is asleep At least he doth no vigil keep But far doth roam.
Then give me back my lonely farm Where none alive did wish me harm, Dear childhood home!
Dear Mother,—I am thrilling with unhappyness this morning. I got that out of Cora The Doctor’s Wife whose husband’s mother was very cross and unfealing to her like Aunt M. to me. I wish Hannah had come instead of me for it was Hannah that was wanted and she is better than I am and does not answer back so quick. Are there any peaces of my buff calico. Aunt J. wants enough to make a new waste button behind so I wont look so outlandish. The stiles are quite pretty in Riverboro and those at Meeting quite ellergant more so than in Temperance.
This town is stilish, gay and fair, And full of wellthy riches rare, But I would pillow on my arm The thought of my sweet Brookside Farm.
School is pretty good. The Teacher can answer more questions than the Temperance one but not so many as I can ask. I am smarter than all the girls but one but not so smart as two boys. Emma Jane can add and subtract in her head like a streek of lightning and knows the speling book right through but has no thoughts of any kind. She is in the Third Reader but does not like stories in books. I am in the Sixth Reader but just because I cannot say the seven multiplication Table Miss Dearborn threttens to put me in the baby primer class with Elijah and Elisha Simpson, little twins.
Sore is my heart and bent my stubborn pride, With Lijah and with Lisha am I tied, My soul recoyles like Cora Doctor’s Wife, Like her I feer I cannot bare this life.
I am going to try for the speling prize but fear I cannot get it. I would not care but wrong speling looks dreadful in poetry. Last Sunday when I found seraphim in the dictionary I was ashamed I had made it serrafim but seraphim is not a word you can guess at like another long one outlandish in this letter which spells itself. Miss Dearborn says use the words you CAN spell and if you cant spell seraphim make angel do but angels are not just the same as seraphims. Seraphims are brighter whiter and have bigger wings and I think are older and longer dead than angels which are just freshly dead and after a long time in heaven around the great white throne grow to be seraphims.
I sew on brown gingham dresses every afternoon when Emma Jane and the Simpsons are playing house or running on the Logs when their mothers do not know it. Their mothers are afraid they will drown and Aunt M. is afraid I will wet my clothes so will not let me either. I can play from half past four to supper and after supper a little bit and Saturday afternoons. I am glad our cow has a calf and it is spotted. It is going to be a good year for apples and hay so you and John will be glad and we can pay a little more morgage. Miss Dearborn asked us what is the object of edducation and I said the object of mine was to help pay off the morgage. She told Aunt M. and I had to sew extra for punishment because she says a morgage is disgrace like stealing or smallpox and it will be all over town that we have one on our farm. Emma Jane is not morgaged nor Richard Carter nor Dr. Winship but the Simpsons are.
Rise my soul, strain every nerve, Thy morgage to remove, Gain thy mother’s heartfelt thanks Thy family’s grateful love.
Pronounce family QUICK or it won’t sound right
Your loving little friend Rebecca
Dear John,—You remember when we tide the new dog in the barn how he bit the rope and howled I am just like him only the brick house is the barn and I can not bite Aunt M. because I must be grateful and edducation is going to be the making of me and help you pay off the morgage when we grow up. Your loving
Men who do great things are men we all like to read about. This is the story of Christopher Columbus, the man who discovered America. He lived four hundred years ago. When he was a little boy he lived in Genoa. It was a beautiful city in the northwestern part of the country called Italy. The mountains were behind it; the sea was in front of it, and it was so beautiful a place that the people who lived there called it “Genoa the Superb.” Christopher Columbus was born in this beautiful city of Genoa in the year 1446, at number 27 Ponticello Street. He was a bright little fellow with a fresh-looking face, a clear eye and golden hair. His father’s name was Domenico Columbus; his mother’s name was Susanna. His father was a wool-comber. He cleaned and straightened out the snarled-up wool that was cut from the sheep so as to make it ready to be woven into cloth.
Christopher helped his father do this when he grew strong enough, but he went to school, too, and learned to read and write and to draw maps and charts. These charts were maps of the sea, to show the sailors where they could steer without running on the rocks and sand, and how to sail safely from one country to another.
This world was not as big then as it is now—or, should say, people did not know it was as big. Most of the lands that Columbus had studied about in school, and most of the people he had heard about, were in Europe and parts of Asia and Africa. The city of Genoa where Columbus lived was a very busy and a very rich city. It was on the Mediterranean Sea, and many of the people who lived there were sailors who went in their ships on voyages to distant lands. They sailed to other places on the Mediterranean Sea, which is a very large body of water, you know, and to England, to France, to Norway, and even as far away as the cold northern island of Iceland. This was thought to be a great journey.
The time in which Columbus lived was not as nice a time as is this in which you live. People were always quarreling and fighting about one thing or another, and the sailors who belonged to one country would try to catch and steal the ships or the things that belonged to the sailors or the storekeepers of another country. This is what we call piracy, and a pirate, you know, is thought to be a very wicked man.
But when Columbus lived, men did not think it was so very wicked to be a sort of half-way pirate, although they did know that they would be killed if they were caught. So almost every sailor was about half pirate. Every boy who lived near the seashore and saw the ships and the sailors, felt as though he would like to sail away to far-off lands and see all the strange sights and do all the brave things that the sailors told about. Many of them even said they would like to be pirates and fight with other sailors, and show how strong and brave and plucky they could be.
Columbus was one of these. He was what is called an adventurous boy. He did not like to stay quietly at home with his father and comb out the tangled wool. He thought it would be much nicer to sail away to sea and be a brave captain or a rich merchant.
When he was about fourteen years old he really did go to sea. There was a captain of a sailing vessel that sometimes came to Genoa who had the same last name—Columbus. He was no relation, but the little Christopher somehow got acquainted with him among the wharves of Genoa. Perhaps he had run on errands for him, or helped him with some of the sea-charts he knew so well how to draw. At any rate he sailed away with this Captain Columbus as his cabin boy, and went to the wars with him and had quite an exciting life for a boy.
Sailors are very fond of telling big stories about their own adventures or about far-off lands and countries. Columbus, listened to many of these sea-stories, and heard many wonderful things about a very rich land away to the East that folks called Cathay.
If you look in your geographies you will not find any such place on the map as Cathay, but you will find China, and that was what men in the time of Columbus called Cathay. They told very big stories about this far-off Eastern land. They said its kings lived in golden houses, that they were covered with pearls and diamonds, and that everybody there was so rich that money was as plentiful as the stones in the street.
This, of course, made the sailors and storekeepers, who were part pirate, very anxious to go to Cathay and get some of the gold and jewels and spices and splendor for themselves. But Cathay was miles and miles away from Italy and Spain and France and England. It was away across the deserts and mountains and seas and rivers, and they had to give it up because they could not sail there.
At last a man whose name was Marco Polo, and who was a very brave and famous traveler, really did go there, in spite of all the trouble it took. And when he got back his stories were so very surprising that men were all the more anxious to find a way to sail in their ships to Cathay and see it for themselves.
But of course they could not sail over the deserts and mountains, and they were very much troubled because they had to give up the idea, until the son of the king of Portugal, named Prince Henry, said he believed that ships could sail around Africa and so get to India or “the Indies” as they called that land, and finally to Cathay.
Just look at your map again and see what a long, long voyage it would be to sail from Spain and around Africa to India, China and Japan. It is such a long sail that, as you know, the Suez Canal was dug some twenty years ago so that ships could sail through the Mediterranean Sea and out into the Indian Ocean, and not have to go away around Africa.
But when Columbus was a boy it was even worse than now, for no one really knew how long Africa was, or whether ships really could sail around it. But Prince Henry said he knew they could, and he sent out ships to try. He died before his Portuguese sailors, Bartholomew Diaz, in 1493, and Vasco de Gama, in 1497, at last did sail around it and got as far as “the Indies.”
So while Prince Henry was trying to see whether ships could sail around Africa and reach Cathay in that way, the boy Columbus was listening to the stories the sailors told and was wondering whether some other and easier way to Cathay might not be found.
When he was at school he had studied about a certain man named Pythagoras, who had lived in Greece thousands of years before he was born, and who had said that the earth was round “like a ball or an orange.”
As Columbus grew older and made maps and studied the sea, and read books and listened to what other people said, he began to believe that this man named Pythagoras might be right, and that the earth was round, though everybody declared it was flat. If it is round, he said to himself, “what is the use of trying to sail around Africa to get to Cathay? Why not just sail west from Italy or Spain and keep going right around the world until you strike Cathay? I believe it could be done,” said Columbus.
By this time Columbus was a man. He was thirty years old and was a great sailor. He had been captain of a number of vessels; he had sailed north and south and east; he knew all about a ship and all about the sea. But, though he was so good a sailor, when he said that he believed the earth was round, everybody laughed at him and said that he was crazy. “Why, how can the earth be round?” they cried. “The water would all spill out if it were, and the men who live on the other side would all be standing on their heads with their feet waving in the air.” And then they laughed all the harder.
But Columbus did not think it was anything to laugh at. He believed it so strongly, and felt so sure that he was right, that he set to work to find some king or prince or great lord to let him have ships and sailors and money enough to try to find a way to Cathay by sailing out into the West and across the Atlantic Ocean.
Now this Atlantic Ocean, the western waves of which break upon our rocks and beaches, was thought in Columbus’s day to be a dreadful place. People called it the Sea of Darkness, because they did not know what was on the other side of it, or what dangers lay beyond that distant blue rim where the sky and water seem to meet, and which we call the horizon. They thought the ocean stretched to the end of a flat world, straight away to a sort of “jumping-off place,” and that in this horrible jumping-off place were giants and goblins and dragons and monsters and all sorts of terrible things that would catch the ships and destroy them and the sailors.
So when Columbus said that he wanted to sail away toward this dreadful jumping-off place, the people said that he was worse than crazy. They said he was a wicked man and ought to be punished.
But they could not frighten Columbus. He kept on trying. He went from place to place trying to get the ships and sailors he wanted and was bound to have. As you will see in the next chapter, he tried to get help wherever he thought it could be had. He asked the people of his own home, the city of Genoa, where he had lived and played when a boy; he asked the people of the beautiful city that is built in the sea—Venice; he tried the king of Portugal, the king of England, the king of France the king and queen of Spain. But for a long time nobody cared to listen to such a wild and foolish and dangerous plan—to go to Cathay by the way of the Sea of Darkness and the Jumping-off place. You would never get there alive, they said.
And so, Columbus waited. And his hair grew white while he waited, though he was not yet an old man. He had thought and worked and hoped so much that he began to look like an old man when he was forty years old. But still he would never say that perhaps he was wrong, after all. He said he knew he was right, and that someday he should find the Indies and sail to Cathay.
Print out this page. As you do the assignments, write down the day that you completed each assignment. This will be your attendance record. Also, you can use this to record your scores. Parents, please see the lesson index for more important notes. Remember if any links don’t work, leave a detailed comment in the comments and I will fix it as soon as possible.
Monday
Math
Notes:
This course uses Khan Academy. If you have not done so already, please create a free account.
Please be sure to take notes on important points. Write down some of the sample problems in your notes.
There will be practice worksheets for you to keep for your records.
Read the first chapter on Characteristics of Living Organisms. Before you can use this site, you will need to register. Ask a parent to help you create a username and password.
This online textbook does not teach that God created the world in six days. It will speak of millions of years. You aren’t expected to take that as fact. You won’t be learning about this, but it mentions evolution, the hypothesis that all living things came from a single-cell organism that mutated and changed and developed into something else. That’s why people call primates our ancestors. They say they changed little by little until they became human. It takes a lot more faith to believe amazing things like DNA and the human eye were made by accident than to believe our incredible world was designed. I call it a hypothesis because it has never been observed happening and therefore cannot be called scientific theory, let alone fact.
Watch the video on the introduction to the characteristics of life. You can also watch this cell video. You can jump 40 seconds into it. You don’t need to know all these words, but it’s kind of fascinating watching it all work. It can give you some images in your mind for when you are learning about these things.
Answer the review questions 1-5 in your notebook. That’s where you stopped reading.
STUDY TIP: Go to the end and read the questions first. That way you can be looking for the answers while you read. It will make it easier for you if you will just take an extra minute to look at the questions before the reading.
Social Studies
Watch animation about the Growth of the Nation for review and preview. You can click on the box in the corner to watch it full screen.
Language Arts: A combination of reading, writing, and grammar.
Reading:
You will be reading Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin
While reading if you come across any words that you don’t know, write them down and look them up in a dictionary.
Write down in your notebook:
a list of characters. add to this list every time there is new character mentioned.
a summary of what you read.
Study the vocabulary words.
Superintended: Supervised or overseen. Leghorn: A type of dried plaited wheat straw fabric or a hat made of such material. Seminary: A private residential school for girls. Sententiously: Concisely or pithily. Hair Trunk: A trunk covered with animal skin with the hair still attached. Genteel: Refined or excessively polite.
Writing
Later in the school year there will be cursive handwriting assignments. If you would like to get ahead start here is a cursive handwriting chart. You could laminate this chart and write and wipe.
We’ll learn about cells later, but you should remember that everything in your body is made up of cells. Each cell is about 70% water, so what atoms do you know are present in your cells? (answer: hydrogen and oxygen –H20)
Read about skin. You should have created a free account yesterday.
While reading if you come across any words that you don’t know, write them down and look them up in a dictionary.
Write a summary of this chapter.
Study the vocabulary words
Spinster: A woman who has never been married, especially one past the typical marrying age according to social traditions. Votary: Someone who is devoted to a particular pursuit etc; an enthusiast. Muses: One of the nine Ancient Greek deities of the arts. Plucky: Having or showing courage or spirit in trying circumstances. Dauntless: Invulnerable to fear or intimidation. Brood: The children in one family. Foreshadow: To suggest or hint at something in advance.
Spelling
How are your spelling skills? Place the vowel combination in the correct coconut to make a word. Choose the hard level.
Internet Safety Reminders: Do not download anything onto your computer without permission. Do not click on any advertising on a website even if it looks like a game to play.
Print out this page. As you do the assignments, write down the day that you completed each assignment. This will be your attendance record. Also, you can use this to record your scores. Remember to save all work that is done on paper. Take pictures of any art projects. This can be used to prove you did schoolwork for those who must show proof of work.
Monday
Math
Notes:
This course used Khan Academy. If you don’t already have a free account with them, it would be helpful to make one
Do the activity pages that you’ll see after the reading. This is the only part that
Put biotic and abiotic items into two separate bags. Ask others to reach in and feel what’s there without looking and tell if it’s biotic or abiotic. You tell them whether they are right or not.
Social Studies
This year we’re going to be learning about the places of the world and the people who live in them. First, we have to find them. To do that we need a map!
Look at this map of America and the maps on this page. Using your list of map vocabulary words, find each of those things on this map. (Example: Find the title. Find the date….)
Classifying nouns: person, place or thing worksheet.
Bible
This year you will be studying the New Testament. Every day you will read a section of the Bible and then complete the activities. You will notice that versions of most of the activities. Complete the version that is most appropriate for you.
Look at your skin with a magnifying glass. Make observations. (If you have a microscope, you can rub some skin off of you and look at it with your microscope.) Here’s an image of skin under a microscope.
Social Studies
Practice your map skills with the neighborhood map page located at the end of this day’s assignments.
remember to do all parts of lesson 2. There are 2 sections of practice problems.
Science
(Materials: white paper, tape, or butcher paper)
Get big paper, or tape together white paper. Put all the tape on the back. You need one piece of paper big enough for you to lie down on.
Have someone trace your body onto the paper.
This is the beginning of a project you will work on as you learn about the body. Put it somewhere so you can add to it when you are instructed to do so.
Social Studies
Watch video on the different types of maps. (The goal isn’t to know every kind of map, but to understand that there are lots of different kinds and that they each show something different about the area.)
Start where you left off and read up to the beginning of the bone section.
Social Studies
Draw your house. Be sure to include the various rooms. Label the rooms. Add a compass rose to your map. Remember it is the symbol that tells you where north, south, east, and west is.
Now bend and stretch your arms and legs. Do you feel your biceps and quadriceps moving? Picture what they are doing. Describe to someone what they are doing.
Social Studies
Do this treasure map activity. Download and print the activity.
write down the vocabulary words and their meanings in a notebook.
Make a list of the main characters from this chapters in your notebook.
Write down about two or three things that is interesting from this chapter in the notebook.
Map
For chapter 5, add the spring of clear water and the Tin Woodman near the cabin. Extend the yellow brick road and draw an overgrowth of trees and branches blocking the road as described in the chapter.
When nouns are names, they are called proper nouns and are always capitalized. They always start with a capital letter.
Some examples: name of a person is Mary; name of a place is California; name of a thing is Oreos. If the noun is a name and starts with a capital letter, it is proper.
articlesforchristians 
