music is in the weird, plaintive minor key that seems natural with primitive people throughout the world. Not only the tone but the sentiment of their hymns and ballads is usually of a melancholy nature, expressing the wrath of God and the doom of sinners, or the luckless adventures of wild blades and of maidens all forlorn. A highlander might well say, with the clown in A Winter's Tale, "I love a ballad but even too well; if it be doleful matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably." But where banjo and fiddle enter the vapors vanish. Up strike the Fox Chase, Shady Grove, Gamglin' Man, Sourwood Mountain, and knees are limbered, and merry voices rise. Call up your dog, O call up your dog! Call up your dog! Call up your dog! Let's a-go huntin' to ketch a groundhog. Wherever the church has not put its ban on "twistifications" the country dance is the chief amusement of young and old. In homes where dancing is not permitted, and often in others, "play-parties" are held, at which social games are practised with childlike abandon: Roll the Platter, Weavilly Wheat, Needle's Eye, We Fish Who Bite, Grin an' Go 'Foot, Swing the Cymblin, Skip t' m' Lou (pronounced "Skip-tum a-loo"), and many others of a rollicking, half-dancing nature. Round the house; skip t' m' Lou, my darlin'. A substitute for the church fair is the "poke-supper," at which dainty pokes (bags) of cake and other home-made delicacies are auctioned off to the highest bidder. Whoever bids-in a poke is entitled to eat with the girl who prepared it. and escort her home. The rivalry excited among the mountain swains by such artful lures may be judged from the fact that, in a neighborhood where a man's work brings only a dollar a day, a pretty girl's poke may be bid up to ten, twenty, or even fifty dollars. As a rule, the only holidays observed in the mountains, outside the towns, are Christmas and New Year's. Christmas is celebrated after the Southern fashion, which seems strange indeed to one witnessing it for the first time. The boys and men, having no firecrackers (which they would disdain, anyway), go about shooting revolvers. Blank cartridges are never used in this uproarious jollification, and the courses of the bullets are left to chance, so that discreet people keep their noses indoors. There is no church festivity, nor are Christmas trees ever set up. Few mountain children hang up their stockings, and many have never heard of Santa Claus. READING TEST Test the thoroughness of your reading by seeing how many of the following sentences you can complete correctly. Do this without looking at the selection. On your paper copy the words which make the sentences true. 1. The average mountain home is: a. happy. b. unhappy. 2. The chief authority in a mountain family rests with the: a. father. b. mother. 3. In addition to the household work mountain women: 6. Mountain children usually play: a. few games. b. many games. 7. The children of the mountaineers are: a. allowed to do as they please. b. not allowed to do as they please. 8. The hymns and ballads of the mountaineers are usually: a. sad and gloomy. b. bright and cheerful. 9. The chief amusements in a mountaineer neighborhood are: a. hunting, fishing, and swimming. b. music, dancing, and parties. 10. The only holidays ordinarily observed among the mountaineers are: a. Christmas and New Year's. b. Fourth of July and Thanksgiving. Scoring Your Reading Count the words you had read when the signal to stop reading was given. How can you find your reading rate per minute? Correct endings to the sentences should be given ten points each. What is your total score? Keep your reading rate and your score in readiness for later use as a means of measuring your progress in reading. 2. ROBERT OF LINCOLN WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT Merrily swinging on brier and weed, Over the mountain-side or mead, Robert of Lincoln is telling his name: Spink, spank, spink; Snug and safe is that nest of ours, Robert of Lincoln is gayly drest, Wearing a bright black wedding-coat; White are his shoulders and white his crest. Hear him call in his merry note: Spink, spank, spink, Look, what a nice new coat is mine, Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life, Broods in the grass while her husband sings: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Brood, kind creature; you need not fear Modest and shy as a nun is she; Spink, spank, spink; Never was I afraid of man; Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can! Six white eggs on a bed of hay, Freckled with purple, a pretty sight! There as the mother sits all day, Robert is singing with all his might: Spink, spank, spink; Nice good wife that never goes out, Soon as the little ones chip the shell, This new life is likely to be Hard for a gay young fellow like me. Robert of Lincoln at length is made Spink, spank, spink; Nobody knows but my mate and I Summer wanes; the children are grown; Spink, spank, spink; When you can pipe that merry old strain, CLASS ACTIVITIES 1. Does this poem have an unhappy end? Give reasons for your answer. 2. If you can, bring a picture of a bobolink to class? Tell, if possible, what the habits of the bobolink are. 3. Explain whether this poem refers to the family life of bobolinks only. |