ENGLISH STORY (POCAHONTAS)

POCAHONTAS
THERE was once a very brave man whose name was John Smith. He
came to this country many years ago, when there were great woods
everywhere, and many wild beasts and Indians. Many tales are told of his
adventures, some of them true and some of them untrue. Among the
latter is the following story:—
One day when Smith was in the woods, some Indians came upon him,
and made him their prisoner. They led him to their king, and in a short
time they made ready to put him to death.
A large stone was brought in, and Smith was made to lie down with his
head on it. Then two tall Indians with big clubs in their hands came
forward. The king and all his great men stood around to see. The Indians
raised their clubs. In another moment they would fall on Smith's head.
But just then a little Indian girl rushed in. She was the daughter of the
king, and her name was Pocahontas. She ran and threw herself between
Smith and the uplifted clubs. She clasped Smith's head with her arms.
She laid her own head upon his.
"O father!" she cried, "spare this man's life. I am sure he has done you no
harm, and we ought to be his friends."
The men with the clubs could not strike, for they did not want to hurt
the child. The king at first did not know what to do. Then he spoke to
some of his warriors, and they lifted Smith from the ground. They untied
the cords from his wrists and feet, and set him free.
The next day the king sent Smith home; and several Indians went with
him to protect him from harm.
After that, as long as she lived, Pocahontas was the friend of the white
men, and she did a great many things to help them.
GEORGE WASHINGTON AND HIS HATCHET
WHEN George Washington was quite a little boy, his father gave him a
hatchet. It was bright and new, and George took great delight in going
about and chopping things with it.
He ran into the garden, and there he saw a tree which seemed to say to
him, "Come and cut me down!"
George had often seen his father's men chop down the great trees in the
forest, and he thought that it would be fine sport to see this tree fall
with a crash to the ground. So he set to work with his little hatchet, and,
as the tree was a very small one it did not take long to lay it low.
Soon after that, his father came home.
"Who has been cutting my fine young cherry tree?" he cried. "It was the
only tree of its kind in this country, and it cost me a great deal of money."
He was very angry when he came into the house.
"If I only knew who killed that cherry tree," he cried, "I would—yes, I
would"—
"Father!" cried little George. "I will tell you the truth about it. I chopped
the tree down with my hatchet."
His father forgot his anger.
"George," he said, and he took the little fellow in his arms, "George, I am
glad that you told me about it. I would rather lose a dozen cherry trees
than that you should tell one falsehood."