Chapter II: Introduction

Robert Louis Stevenson, the poet of childhood, and the child poet! In giving poetic expression to the dearest thoughts and feelings and experiences of his own childhood, he spoke for all children. Better still, he spoke _to_ all children, and in their own language. For Stevenson to remember his childhood was to become a child again; as a child, he wrote his poems of childhood. Hence it is that we all, of whatever age, must read these poems as children, or we fail to read them at all.

Children read them, understand them, and enjoy them without an effort. They need no interpretation; they cannot be interpreted. Similar childish ideas and experiences alone qualify the little reader to appreciate Stevenson’s thought. With this qualification in mind the selections were made for this book. They are quite within the interest and comprehension of normal children of six or seven years of age.

The stories in prose expand and supplement the poetic selections. The whole book is a child’s biography of a child. All the stories introduced are true in spirit, that is, true to the child character of Stevenson; most of them are also substantially true in fact. They show the child’s intense love of stories, of poetry, of drama; the fertility of his imagination; the courageous power of his spirit to overcome bodily suffering; his ceaseless activity, and his broad and tender sympathy.

The words used in the stories have been chosen with due regard not only to the child’s understanding, but to his reading vocabulary. Beside the words used in the poems, only such words are introduced as will be found in any well-graded Primer and First Reader. Hence, both in subject-matter and in language, this book is especially adapted to use in the second grade.

A suggestion about the manner of using the book may not be out of place. As an introduction the teachers should read the selection beginning on page 79. The children will read this for themselves when it is reached, following the order of the book. Each poem should be read and reread, until every word is thoroughly familiar. This will make easy the reading of the prose immediately following, which employs, to a large extent, the vocabulary of the poem.

F. E. SPAULDING.

AT THE SEA-SIDE

When I was down beside the sea,
A wooden spade they gave to me,
To dig the sandy shore.

My holes were empty like a cup.
In every hole the sea came up,
Till it could come no more.

PLAYING AT THE SEA-SHORE

Were you ever at the sea-shore?

Did you play in the sand?

All children like to play in the fine, white sand.

One summer Louis was down at the sea-shore.

His mother gave him a little wooden spade.

All day he played on the shore with his nurse.

He liked to dig holes in the sand.

“See, Nursie!” he would call. “See what a deep hole I have made!

I shall dig more holes.”

So he would dig and dig with his wooden spade.

“O Nurse! I have so many holes.

But they are all empty like a cup.

I don’t want empty holes.

I want to put something into them.

Shall I fill them with water?”

“Not now, laddie,” Nurse answered.

“It is time to go home to tea.

To-morrow we will see about filling your holes.”

Next morning Nurse and Louis came back to the sea-shore.

“Look, look, Nursie!” called the child.

“Someone has filled all the holes I made.

Now, they look like wells.

Who could have done it?

Some other little boy, I think.”

“No, laddie,” Nurse replied.

“No other little boy filled the holes.

Last night, when you were sleeping, the sea came up.

It filled the holes till they could hold no more.”

“Does the sea come up every night, Nursie?”

“Yes, laddie.”

“Then every day I will dig more holes.

I will make them deep and empty like a cup.

Every night the sea will fill them all.

I shall call them my sea wells.”

MY BED IS A BOAT

My bed is like a little boat;
Nurse helps me in when I embark;
She girds me in my sailor’s coat
And starts me in the dark.

At night, I go on board and say
Good-night to all my friends on shore;
I shut my eyes and sail away
And see and hear no more.

. . . . .

All night across the dark we steer;
But when the day returns at last,
Safe in my room beside the pier,
I find my vessel fast.

SAILING THE SEA OF DARK

Did you ever hear a child cry when it was time to go to bed?

Did you ever hear a child coax to “stay up a little longer”?

Let us see how our boy, Louis, went to bed.

* * * * *

“Come, laddie, it is time to go to bed,” calls Nurse.

“Bed! Do you call that a bed?

I call it my boat.

I never go to bed at night.

I just sail away to the land of dreams in my boat.”

“Well, child, put on your night-gown before you go.”

“O Nurse! That is not a night-gown!

That is my sailor-coat.

All night-sailors wear coats like that.”

“Very well, my dear. Now, then! shall I lift you into your boat?”

“No, no, Nursie!

You don’t play right.

You should say, ‘shall I help you aboard?’

Now, all aboard for the land of dreams!

Good-night, Nursie! Good-night, all my friends on shore!

I will shut my eyes, and sail away from the Dayland shores.

My boat sails so fast!

Soon I shall see the shores no more.

I cannot hear you, Nurse, if you call.

I shall be sailing miles away.

All night long I shall sail over the Dark sea.

But when the morning comes I will return.

When you come into my room in the morning, Nurse, you will find me.

My vessel will have returned safe.

You will find it safe beside the pier.

Good-night, dear Nurse.

Good-night, all my friends on shore.”

THE LAND OF NOD

From breakfast on through all the day
At home among my friends I stay,
But every night I go abroad,
Afar into the land of Nod.

All by myself I have to go,
With none to tell me what to do--
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain sides of dreams.

The strangest things are there for me,
Both things to eat and things to see,
And many frightening sights abroad
Till morning in the land of Nod.

Try as I like to find the way,
I never can get back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious music that I hear.

BACK TO THE LAND OF DAY

You remember how Louis sailed away over the Sea of Dark.

Shall I tell you how he returned?

In the morning when Nurse went into his room, there he was in bed.

“Good-morning, my sailor-laddie.

Have you come back to your friends on shore?”

“Good-morning, Nursie.

I have just returned from sailing all night long.”

“To what land did you sail, my child?”

“Away to the land of Nod.”

“And is it far, far away?”

“Yes, it is miles and miles from here.

I have to sail all night to go and return.”

“Who goes with you, in your boat, little sailor-boy?”

“No one. I go all alone.”

“But how can you find your way in the dark?”

“Oh, I go every night. So I know the way.”

“Tell me some of the things you see and do in the land of Nod.”

“There are many streams to be seen.

Sometimes I sail on them.

Sometimes I walk beside them.

Then there are high mountains.

They are the mountains of dreams.

I often climb these mountains.

All kinds of good things are in the land of Nod.

There are strange things to eat and strange things to see.

And, Nursie, there are some things that frighten me.

I cannot tell you about these frightening things.

But I do wish I could tell you about the music I hear there.

It is the most curious music.

It is so beautiful and so sad.

I hear it plainly in the land of Nod.

But I cannot remember it when I come back to you.

The land of Nod is a strange land.

It is the land where dreams live.”

“Why do you never go to this strange land by day?”

“Nursie, I often try to go by day.

But I never can find my way.

Only at night when I am asleep, can I sail to the strange land of Nod.

Only in my dreams can I see the little streams and high mountains.

All day from morning till night I must stay here.

But every night I get into my boat and sail away to the land of Nod.”

* * * * *

When Louis became a man, he still had many strange dreams.

He remembered these dreams and made them into stories.

When you are older you will read them.

Some tell about the strange things and strange people.

Some tell all about beautiful things.

Some tell about the “frightening things” he saw.

I know you will like them all.

A GOOD PLAY

We built a ship upon the stairs
All made of the back-bedroom chairs,
And filled it full of sofa pillows
To go a-sailing on the billows.

We took a saw and several nails,
And water in the nursery pails;
And Tom said, “Let us also take
An apple and a slice of cake;”--
Which was enough for Tom and me
To go a-sailing on, till tea.

We sailed along for days and days,
And had the very best of plays;
And Tom fell out and hurt his knee;
So there was no one left but me.

AN INDOOR GAME

Sometimes Louis could not go out to play.

Then he made up a game to play in the house.

One day his cousin Tom came to visit him.

They played every game they knew.

Then Tom said, “I wish we could go out to play.”

“But we cannot,” answered Louis.

“If we could go out, what would you like best to play, Tom?”

“Sailing boats,” answered Tom.

“So would I,” said Louis.

“Let us build a boat, Tom.”

“Where? In the house? A real boat, Louis?”

“No, a make-believe one.

We can build it on the back stairs.”

“Of what shall we build it, Louis?”

“Chairs,” answered Louis.

“Go get all the chairs from the back bedroom.

I will run and get some sofa pillows.

They will make fine cushions for our boat.”

Soon the boat was built.

“All aboard!” shouted Tom.

“What are you thinking of, Tom?” asked Louis.

“Sailors do not sail for miles and miles and days and days in an empty ship, do they?”

“What shall we take with us, Louis?”

“Suppose the ship should leak when we are miles from land.

What would we need then, Tom?”

“Tools to mend it,” answered Tom.

“Yes, so let us get some tools to take with us.”

The boys found some nails and a saw.

These they put into the boat.

“Now, are we ready to sail over the billows?” asked Tom.

“The water of the sea is salt.

I know, for I tasted it when I was at the sea-shore.

We cannot drink it.

So I think I will get some water in a pail from the nursery,” answered Louis.

“I am always thirsty when I am sailing.”

“Yes,” said Tom, “and we cannot sail for miles and miles without getting hungry.”

The boys filled the nursery pails with water and carried them to the boat.

Then they went down stairs for something to eat.

They got an apple and a slice of cake.

“This is enough for you and me, Tom.

We shall want nothing more till tea-time.”

The lads climbed into the boat and sailed away.

They sailed, they said, for days and days.

The apple, the cake and the water were soon gone.

It was the very best of play!

They were having a fine time till Tom fell out of the boat.

He did not get drowned.

But he must have thought the billows were hard, for he hurt his knee.

So Tom would play no longer.

There was now but one sailor left.

He did not like to sail alone, so he too came ashore.

And the play was ended.

WHERE GO THE BOATS?

Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand,
It flows along forever,
With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating--
Where will all come home?

On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.

Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.

LOUIS’S BOATS

You know Louis liked to play with boats.

His bed he called a boat.

He built a boat of chairs on the stairs.

Often he sailed little boats on the river.

Sometimes he played that large, green leaves were his boats.

“See, Nursie,” he would call, “what a fine fleet of boats I have.

They are all painted green.

I call them my Green Fleet.

Do you know who painted them?”

“Did you paint them, Louis?”

“No, Nurse; try again!”

“Did Bob?”

“No, no! Try once more.”

“Then it must have been Tom.”

“You have not guessed the right one yet, Nurse.

Will you give it up?”

“Yes, my child, I give it up.”

“Why, it was Mr. Sun,--a very good friend of mine,” laughed Louis.

Sometimes the boy used chips for boats.

He often put little stones, or berries, or bright flowers on them.

“This is my Tree Fleet, Nursie.

These ships are sailing to the Far-away lands.

They are loaded with all kinds of good things.

How glad the little children of those lands will be to see my ships come in!

O Nursie! I wish I were big and strong enough to go to the Far-away lands, too!”

And it may be the nurse would answer, “So you shall, some day, dearie.”

“But, Nursie, when will my ships all come home again?”

“After they have sailed to the Far-away lands and left all the good things they carry.”

“And what will they bring back to me?”

Then Nurse would tell him of the strange things that come from the Far-away lands. And the boy would again wish that he might visit them.

Sometimes he had pretty little toy-ships given to him.

I am sure when he saw their white sails he would call to his nurse, “This is my Bird Fleet.

My ships fly over the water like birds!

See, their sails look like white wings!

O Nurse! Do you think I shall ever sail in a big ship over the water to visit the strange lands?”

We know the kind nurse would again answer, “Yes, my child, when you are older.”

If some of his ships floated out of sight, away down the river, do you think he cried?

No, indeed!

“Never mind, Nurse! Do not try to get them,” he would say.

“They will float down the river away past the mill.

They may float a hundred miles or more.

Then they will come ashore.

Perhaps some other little children will find my boats.

Do you think they will like to play with them, Nursie?”

When the boy grew tired of his boats, his nurse would call him.

“Come, laddie, rest awhile, and I will tell you a story about a boat.”

There beside the brown river, under the tall trees, the boy rested and listened to some strange story of the sea.

I do not know what story the nurse told Louis, but I think you will like the one I shall tell you.

THE LOST BOAT