“My playmate.” by Robert Edmand Jones, age 16.
MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN HISTORY.
By Zena Parker (page 14).
Many years ago, in 1769, when our beautiful State of Tennessee contained nothing but vast forests, winding rivers, and savage tribes of Indians, a little body of settlers crossed the boundary and made their camp by the banks of the Cumberland River.
Ir required brave men to thus face the hardships of a life in the wilds of the forests—a life that, too, was constantly threatened. with danger from the Indians. But these men were brave. Was it not the Tennessee pioneers who fought and won the battle of King’s Mountain? And, best of all, this party was led by one of the bravest and best men that ever lived—James Robertson, “Father of Tennessee.”
The settlers at once set to work, and Robertson was the help and inspiration of all of them. If any one was discouraged, it was Robertson who patiently helped and persuaded him to try again; if there was anything too dangerous for any one else to do it was James Robertson who did it.
They built forts and cabins, and prepared in every way for their families to come. Finally they came; but they had not been there very long when troubles with the Indians begun, “The settlers fought bravely through many attacks; but one day they discovered, to their consternation, that their ammunition was almost out. What were they to do? It meant almost certain death to go to the next settlement for more, as the Indians were on the alert and killed every one they could who encroached on their hunting-grounds.
But Robertson was always willing to go on the dangerous errands. How could he mind risking his life, when he might be successful in getting the ammunition, and thus keep his people from a horrible death?
He armed himself with the little shot he had left, bade farewell to his friends, and set out on his perilous journey.
Robertson returned safely from his expedition, to the great joy of the settlers, for they had nearly given up hope; and his timely arrival saved the people from an Indian massacre.
It was that great bravery und courage in all emergencies that won for Robertson in the years to come positions of great importance, commanding unfailing love and trust from his people; and we look back to those perilous days with much admiration and reverence for the courageous “Father of Tennessee.”
“A Heading for December.” by Helen Gardner Waterman, age 13. (Silver Badge
A COWARD.
By Pearl F. Kellogg (page 14).
It was Johnny’s birthday, and he had received several nice presents. First, there was a fine new baseball which papa. had given him; then, there was a silver-mounted clothes-brush from mama, a fascinating game from sister Nell, and, lastly, there were two peculiarly luminous green marbles which baby Dorothy had insisted upon purchasing for him.
When Johnny went to bed he laid his presents on the bureau instead of putting them away, as a good boy should have done. This very fact was the cause of his downfall, Johnny turned out the light and laid his tousled head on the pillow; but thoughts of his birthday danced through his head and he could not go to sleep, (One never can go to sleep on one’s birthday.) All redoubtable methods of enticing sleep had failed, and Johnny gave up in despair. His eyes began to rove around the room, which was faintly lighted by the shimmering Silver moonlight. Suddenly he perceived two great green eyes staring at him from the ghostly shadow. At first he thought it was all a terrible dream; but as the eyes continued to stare he realized that he was wide awake, and he uttered a scream of terror.
When his frightened mother had reached the room and turned on the light, she found a terror-stricken little boy with his head tightly wrapped in the bed-covers. After Johnny had satisfied himself that the terrible something had departed, he told his mother the cause of his scream.
