TURNING THE GRINDSTONE.
When I was a little boy, I remember, one cold winter's morning, I was accosted by a 
smiling man with an axe on his shoulder. "My pretty boy," said he, " has your father a 
grindstone ?" " Yes, sir," said I. " You are a fine 
little fellow," said he ; " will
you let me grind my axe on it ? " Pleased with the compliment of " fine little fellow," 
I answered, " Oh, yes, sir
it is down in the shop."
" And will you, my man," said he, patting me on the head, " bring me a little water ? " 
How could I 
refuse ? I ran, and
soon brought a kettleful. "How old are you, and what's your name? " and, not waiting 
for a reply, he 
continued, "I am
sure you are one of the finest lads that I have ever seen ; will you just turn a few 
minutes for me ?"
Tickled with the flattery, like a little fool, I went to work, and bitterly did I rue the 
day. It was 
a new axe, and I toiled
and tugged till I was almost tired to death. The school-bell rang, and I could not get 
away; my hands 
were blistered,
and the axe was not half ground. At length, however, it was sharpened; and the man 
turned to me with, 
" Now, you
little rascal, you've played truant; be off to school, or you'll rue it."
" Alas ! " thought I, " it was hard enough to turn a grindstone this cold day, but now to 
be called a 
little rascal is too
much." It sank deep in my mind, and often have I thought of it since. When I see a 
merchant 
over-polite to his
customers, thinks I, " That man has an axe to grind." When I see a man flattering the 
people, making 
great
professions of attachment to liberty, and know that in private life he is a tyrant, 
methinks, " Look 
out, good people !
that fellow would set you turning grindstones."
-BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

"PLEASE."
"Aunt," said a little girl, " I believe I have found a key to unlock 
people's hearts and make them willing to do anything I wish."
" What is the key?" asked her aunt.
" It is only one little word. Can you guess it ? " But aunt was not good at 
guessing.
" It is 'please,' " said the child. " Aunt, it is ' please.' If I say to 
one of the big girls in school, ' Please, explain this to
me,' she answers, ' Oh, yes,' and helps me at once. If I say to Sarah, 'Please, do this for 
me,' she will even take her
hands out of the suds to do it. If I speak to uncle, and begin with 
'Please,' he replies, 'Yes, dear'; and if I say,
'Please, aunt--'"
"What does aunt do ?"
"Oh! you look and smile just like mother, and that is the best of all," exclaimed the 
little girl.

IN THE RASPBERRY-GARDENS AT MOTUEKA.
" Frank," said Aunt Mary one day as the boys came in from school, " I think you will 
be able to earn 
the cost of your
camera and still have your holiday. Mrs. Brooke writes inviting you boys to go 
raspberry-picking with 
her family at
Nelson."
There was a chorus of delighted questions. " One at a time," cried Auntie, laughing.
"No, Ken, I cannot leave Wellington this year. There will be fifteen in Mrs. Brooke's 
party, and. they 
will have five
tents. The picking begins just after Christmas, and continues all through January; but 
you will be 
home in time for the
opening of the schools. You are to pick at Mr.
Knowles's
  famous gardens. You need not overwork yourselves; yet you should work steadily, 
for the 
fruit-growers look for
pickers, not for picnickers. But the work is very easy, and you will find camping great 
fun."
" Where do we camp? " "How much can we earn ? " Shall we get any play-time ? " 
came the questions 
again.
Aunt Mary turned to the letter in her hand.
"Our tents will be pitched in the orchard, not far from the river," wrote Mrs. Brooke. " 
The boys will 
have one to
themselves. We take our own food, but Mr. Knowles finds tents, morning and 
afternoon tea, and buckets 
for the fruit.
Pickers are paid a halfpenny a pound. Workers
can easily earn 4s. a day, though some, of course, working only a few hours, are 
content with much 
less. My boys
found they had plenty of time for play."
" It sounds all right," agreed the boys.
So, a week later, from the Queen's Wharf Aunt Mary watched three happy faces give 
place to three 
waving specks,
which at last were lost in the hull of the Nelson boat as she dropped down the harbour 
in the bright 
sunshine.
The Motueka district has been famous for its raspberry and hop growing ever since 
the great flood in 
1877. This
almost ruined the settlers, but the quantity of mud and silt left by the river turned the 
valley into 
a wonderfully fertile
plain.
The sandy soil is just what these two pretty crops require, and, helped also by the cold 
of winter and the warmth of
summer, they grow in it to perfection.
For many seasons past holiday-makers from Nelson and Marlborough, and even from 
distant Wellington, 
have gone in
parties to gather the fruit in January, and the beautiful hop-buds in February and early 
autumn. They 
camp in the
orchards by the river in tents, and after work is over can enjoy boating, bathing, and 
fishing, or 
can climb the
neighbouring hills or the distant Mount Arthur. In the bright sunshine and balmy air, 
and with the 
change of work
which, we are told, is play, they do not feel as hours of toil the time spent in the pretty 
gardens.
Frank and his brother thought the view splendid as they stood at their tent-door in the
early morning one day just after the New Year. With a faint mist rising over the river, 
and the deep tints of the gardens, the valley looked very beautiful in the clear morning 
light, and they 
could hear the music of
the river as it rippled its way over the shingle.
" It makes one want a dip," said Tom Brooke, joining them. " But it's 'Breakfast ho!' if 
we want to 
be first on the field.
It's the early boy picketh the raspberry.''
"Porridge, dry biscuits, and tea make a very
good breakfast," the boys had already decided.
But, then, Mrs. Brooke made porridge and tea
such as no one else had ever offered them.
And the raspberry jam made of the fresh fruit was far better than any they had tasted 
at home.
For, indeed, those who have left lessons and
the bustle of the towns behind them, who have
plenty to do and the sweetest air to do it in,
who have gone to bed early and risen with the
dawn, and who have slept in tents after working
all day in the fields, are so hungry that they
find the plainest of fare delicious.
At breakfast the talk was all about their work - the daily yield of the gardens, the 
quality of the 
fruit, the weights at the
last " weighing-up." One picker had gathered, on the average, 200 lb . a day. The 
record for the 
season so far was
250 lb. " I'll never do that," said little Ken ruefully, and there was a shout of laughter. 
So far, 
he had been proud of
earning 2s. 6d. a day.
By 6 o'clock most of the pickers were at work, though groups of twos and threes kept 
arriving from 
the other camps
till 7 o'clock, or even later.
Mr. Knowles's raspberry-garden, the largest in New Zealand, covers from twelve to 
thirteen acres. The 
soil is quite
loose, and is kept beautifully free from weeds. There is a space
of 6 ½  feet between the rows, of which the boys counted 400, and in the rows the 
canes are set 3 ½  feet apart. The
canes are at their best after the second picking.
Early in the season the work may be done by twenty or twenty-five pickers, but later, 
when a ton or more of fruit is
being sent daily to the jam-factory at Motueka, there are quite double that number.

THE RASPEBERRY-PICKERS AT WORK.

 The rules of the gardens are very few. Of course, the first-comer takes his choice, and 
having cleared his row -
picking cleanly and carefully - must go to the next " top," or unoccupied row. But 
there is no hard-and-fast time for
leaving off work, and lunch-hour comes when the pickers are hungry. The cry of "Tea 
ho ! " is heard regularly at half-past ten in the morning, and again in the middle of the
afternoon, and is always a welcome sound. But pickers come and go whenever they 
choose.
At lunch-time Mrs. Brooke's party stopped work for two hours, as they always began 
early. They had a swim, too,
and that was delightful. Sometimes they returned to the camp for their meal, but more 
often it was carried to some
quiet nook near the river.
" And the evenings were lovely, Aunt Mary," her nephews reported on their return 
home. " We had all sorts of trips
and games. Altogether we had splendid fun."
" Indeed," continued Frank, as he put the money for his camera into her hand, " I am 
not sure that I shall ever again
spend a holiday doing nothing. I think I shall try to work at Nelson every year."
And with this his brothers agreed.

A TEMPERANCE ANECDOTE.
A farmer in the south of England once employed a young man to work on his farm, 
without knowing anything of his habits. The farmer soon 
found, however, that
his new hand was given to drinking at the village inn, and that this habit interfered 
with his 
usefulness.
" John," said the farmer to the man, " you suit me in many respects, and I should be 
sorry
to part with you, so, in addition to your wages, I'll let you have one of my best sheep 
at the end
of the season if you give up drinking." "It's a bargain," replied the man.
A grown-up son of the farmer, overhearing this agreement, looked up, and asked, 
"Father, will you give me a sheep, too, if I do not drink this season ? '
" Yes," answered the farmer, " you may have a sheep on that condition."
Then a younger son spoke up and said, "Father, will you give me a sheep, too, if I do 
not drink ? "
" Yes, my son, you shall have a sheep also."
There was a moment's pause; then the youngest of the farmer's sons, a little fellow of 
seven or 
eight, looked up into
his father's face, and said, "Father, hadn't you better take a sheep, too ?"
" Really, I don't know," said the farmer, somewhat taken aback, and then suddenly 
concluded, " I 
declare I'll try the
plan and see how it turns out."
The old gentleman was afterwards heard to declare that he made the best investment 
of sheep that season he ever made in his life.

EVA IN THE HOSPITAL.
It was a very bad accident, and it came about in this way. Eva was a dreamy girl, and, 
as she walked 
along the
streets, she often forgot to look where she was going. One day, at a crossing, she went 
straight 
ahead without
looking to the right or to the left.
Now, that was just the moment when a runaway horse with a cart behind it came 
galloping down the street. The people shouted,
"Look out ! look out!" but it was too late.
Eva gave one loud scream as the horse struck
her ; she felt the wheel of the cart go over her,
and then for a long time she knew nothing more.
When she came to herself, she was in bed. At first she thought it was morning, and 
that she was in 
her own bed at
home ; but no - the room was too large, and there was another bed - and another - 
She gave a cry of fright, and tried to jump up ; but a firm hand held her gently, and a 
kindly voice 
said, " Don't be
afraid, my dear. You are quite safe."
She looked up, and saw a nurse bending over her. Eva had often heard about hospital 
nurses, and had 
seen them
about the streets; so she knew by her dress that this was one. The nurse wore a snowy 
white cap and apron, and long white 
cuffs. Everything
about her was so clean that it was a pleasure to look at her. Then she seemed so kind, 
and spoke so 
gently, that
Eva forgot her fear.
" Am I in a hospital ? " she asked.
" Yes, my dear. Do you not remember that the horse knocked you down ? "
" Yes, I remember that. Am I badly hurt ? Has mother heard about it ? "

Zak., Photo, Wellington.]
CHILDREN IN A HOSPITAL.

"We did not know your name or address, and we could not fetch your mother. Tell me 
now, and I shall 
send to her
at once."
The nurse wrote down Eva's full name, and where she lived. Then, saying, " Now lie 
still; I shall 
come back soon,"
she went away. 
Eva felt her head aching badly, and one arm was so stiff that she could not move it. 
When the nurse 
came back, she
told Eva that her arm was broken, but that it had been set by the doctor. It was now 
tied up, so that it could not be 
moved until the
bones had grown together. There was also a bad cut on her head.
"But," said the nurse cheerfully, " if you are a good little girl, and do just as you are 
told, we 
shall soon have you well
again."
After Eva's father and mother had come to see her - and very glad they were to find 
her safe and well 
cared for - nurse
brought some tea on a nice clean tray, and Eva watched the children in the other beds 
having their 
tea also.
Next came a visit from the doctor, who looked in to see that all were doing well, and 
then everything 
was got ready for
the night. Beds were made, and each child was looked after in turn.
After supper the lights were turned low, and the long ward was quiet ; but Eva could 
not sleep for 
the pain in her head,
until the nurse came and smoothed it softly with her cool hand. At last she slept ; but, 
each time 
she awoke, the
nurse was there wide awake, and ready to attend to her or to any one who needed 
help.
Eva found that the nurses had a great deal to do, and that the work was very hard. 
Some nurses were 
there all day,
others took their turn at night and had to sleep during the day. They seemed to be very 
busy, but 
they were quick and
cheerful, and the work was always done in good time.
What was their work ? Washing and feeding those who were too ill to wait on 
themselves, making beds, 
dressing
wounds, giving food and medicine, and doing everything that needed to be done in the 
ward. The 
younger nurses had
to study, too, for they had to pass examinations.
Twice a day the doctors - some of the best doctors to be had - came to attend to the 
sick people, many of 
whom were
too poor to pay either for a doctor or for a nurse at home.
Eva was soon well again, but, when the time came, she was almost sorry to leave the 
hospital, so kind 
had every one
been to her. She had learned to love dearly the friends who had watched over her 
night and day when 
she was so
helpless.
What fine places hospitals are! How many sick and suffering people who would 
otherwise have no help 
are nursed
there ! Kind people give money to build hospitals and to keep them up ; and it is the 
duty of us all 
to help in this good
work as far as we can.
-From the " Prince Edward Reader," published by William Collins, Sons, & Co.

A TRIP TO CABLE BAY.
Arthur Goodwin was spending his summer holidays with his uncle in Nelson. 
Uncle Bob had been very good to him,
and had promised to take him for a drive to Cable Bay. The long-looked-for 
day had at last arrived, and Arthur went
with his uncle to the stable to get the horse and trap ready.
"Uncle Bob," he asked, as they drove along, "why is the place we are going to called 
Cable Bay?"
"Because the first New Zealand cable was laid from there to New South 
Wales, in the year 1876."
" What is a cable, Uncle Bob?"
" A cable," said his uncle, " is what may be called a telegraph-line that 
runs under the sea. To look at it you would
think that it was some strange kind of rope.
Inside it is the ' core,' consisting of a number of copper wires, usually 
seven, covered with gutta-percha. The copper
wires are twisted to make one wire. Along this seven-fold wire messages are 
flashed, and the gutta-percha keeps the
current of electricity passing along the wire,
and prevents it escaping into the water or into the ground.
" But this core is very weak, and would be easily worn away by the rocks, 
or injured by the monsters that live in the
sea. It is therefore bound round with hemp or jute, * and protected by a 
sheath of armour made of iron wires.
"There's a long description, Arthur. It's like being at school, isn't it ? 
Do you think you understand ? "
" Yes, I think so, uncle. At any rate, I can see why the cable has to be 
made very strong. Can you tell me anything
more about the cable, uncle ? "
" Well, last night you heard me reading from the newspaper a message from 
London."
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, it was by means of a cable that we received that message. It may not 
have come by way of Sydney, for there
are several cables connecting New Zealand with the rest of the world. If 
the message came by that which is laid to
Cable Bay it would leave London and go over land and under water till it 
reached the north-west of Australia. It would
cross Australia by telegraph-line to Sydney, and then come to New Zealand 
by cable. So quickly can a message
travel that cases have been known where a message has been sent to England 
and a reply has been received in less
than three hours."
" How far is it to Cable Bay, uncle, and when shall we get there ? " asked 
Arthur.
"It is fourteen and a half miles from Nelson, and I expect we shall 
arrive about midday."
As the trap bowled merrily along, Arthur noticed the orchards laden with 
fruit, the quaint country homesteads, and the long ranges, of hills over which fat, 
woolly sheep wandered, contentedly.

* Jute---the coarse, strong fibre of an Asiatic plant.

THE CABLE STATION.

In about an hour and a half they passed a road branching off to the right. Uncle Bob 
said this led to Havelock and Blenheim.
When the trap reached the last bend in the road Arthur caught sight of the blue waters 
of the sea again.
Uncle Bob pointed out an old Maori burial
ground, and also the house in which Mrs. Martin, known as the New Zealand Grace 
Darling, used to live.
After Arthur and his uncle had eaten their lunch, they went on to the Cable Station. 
When they entered a room where
some men  were working, Arthur saw one of them tapping a "key" on an instrument, 
and asked his uncle what the
man was doing.
"He is sending a cable message to Sydney. You see, Arthur, in telegraphing, the 
alphabet consists of two signs - a
dot and a dash  - so many dots, or dashes, or both, standing for each letter. The dot is 
given by a short tap of the
telegraph-key, and the dash by pressing down, the key for a longer time."

THE INSTRUMENT THAT RECEIVES THE MESSAGES.

" The man is tapping two separate keys, uncle. What is that for ? "
"There are two separate keys used in cabling," explained his uncle, " one for the dot 
and one for the dash. If the man
wishes to send the, letter ' a ' to Sydney he taps ' dot-dash.' This flies under the sea, 
and is marked on a piece of
paper, called a tape, at the other end of the cable. Here, you see, is a tape for receiving 
a message. It is about half
an inch wide. Now a message is coming.  Look at that curious glass pen which is 
filled with violet ink. It is making
marks over the paper, zigzagging across it. The dots are shown by the marks above 
the centre of the line, and the
dashes by the marks below.

A PIECE OF THE TAPE, SHOWING, FOR THE LETTERS a, b, AND c,
(1) THE MARKS ON THE TAPE, (2) THE DOTS AND DASHES  
CORRESPONDING TO THE MARKS.

The men read the message, and then the news, good or bad, is sent on its journey in 
New Zealand."
Arthur was so interested in all he saw that the men explained everything to him. His 
uncle and he then set out on
their homeward journey. When the holidays were over and Arthur went back to 
Wellington, how pleased he was to tell
his mother all he had seen and heard about cables! In reading the newspapers, too, 
how much more interest did he
take in the messages flashed with lightning speed over those wonderful copper wires 
deep down beneath the surface of the ocean!

THE REWARD OF UNSELFISHNESS.
If there was one thing Tom dearly liked above all others it was sliding on the ice. He 
lived in a 
village in the north of
England. There, as you may know, the winter is so cold that for days at a time the ice 
is quite safe 
for skating and
sliding.
Except in some parts of the South Island, children in New Zealand have not the same 
chance of amusing 
themselves
in this way, for the winters here are not cold enough. Many an hour had Tom spent 
with his two chums, 
Willie and
Fred, sliding and snowballing by turns.
One day in the middle of winter Tom went home from school, and began to learn his 
lessons for the 
next day.
Suddenly there came a loud knock at the door - rat-tat-tat !
Tom's father went to the door and opened it. There he found a little girl, pale, 
trembling, and tired 
out with running.
" Oh, sir," she panted, " I've been sent to bring the doctor to see a lady who has hurt 
herself; she 
is down by the
bridge. It's too far for me to run, and perhaps the poor lady will die if the doctor 
doesn't come 
quickly. Can you send
some one, sir, instead of me ? "
" I'll go, father," said Tom, jumping up before his father had time to speak, and, 
snatching up his 
cap, he was off down
the road in a twinkling, running at top speed.
He had not gone very far when he heard voices gleefully calling him, " Tom, Tom - I 
say. Tom, where are 
you off to ?
Come with us; we're going for a slide." The voices were those of his two chums, Fred 
and Willie. For 
a moment Tom
was tempted to join them: but only for a moment. The next instant he
shouted, "I can't go this time; I'm off for the doctor."
" He's out," came the reply. " You'll not be able to see him. He passed us 
five minutes ago, going up the hill. You'd
better come for a slide now, and go for the doctor when he gets home."
" I can't come this time," shouted Tom, as he ran on. It cost him something 
to say it, but he felt in his heart that he
was doing right. You will soon hear how well he was rewarded.
In a few minutes he arrived at the doctor's door. He was somewhat surprised 
to find the doctor in, and was glad that
he had come straight on instead of going for a slide. The doctor had been 
out for only a few moments, and had just
returned. On hearing Tom's story, he lost no time in setting out to see the 
injured lady.
"Jump up here beside me, little man," he said.
Tom sprang up into the gig, and away they went. When they reached the 
bridge they found that a large crowd had by
this time gathered, but all made way for the doctor.
As Tom alighted, he caught sight of a pale, upturned face. A thrill of 
horror went through him when he found he was
looking into the face of his own dear mother. Oh, how thankful he then 
felt, that he had not listened to his chums
when they asked him to join in their games!
"In another minute," said the doctor to him next day, "I should have been 
too late to save your mother's life."'
You can understand how pleased Tom was that he had not allowed play to draw 
him from his duty, and how proud of him his father and mother were when they heard 
the story of his unselfishness.

A TALE FROM SHAKESPEARE.
"AS YOU LIKE IT."
In Part II of the School Journal for September you were told about a great writer, 
William Shakespeare, who lived in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Here is the story 
told in one of the many 
plays he wrote:
Long years ago there lived in France two girls who were the very best of friends. 
They were cousins, 
and both were very beautiful. The elder and stronger was called
Rosalind, and the younger and more delicate was called Celia.
Rosalind's father was a great Duke whose lands had been taken from him by his 
wicked brother, Celia's 
father. When driven from his castle the Duke, with some of his
friends, went to live in the beautiful Forest of Arden, where they found the sweet, 
quiet life under 
the greenwood trees more pleasant than the life they had left. Rosalind had
been kept by the wicked brother to be a companion to Celia. She was very unhappy at 
being separated 
from her father; but the kind and gentle Celia did all she could to
comfort and console her.
One day, when Celia was talking in her usual kind manner to Rosalind, saying, " I 
pray you,
my sweet cousin, be merry," a messenger came to tell them that a wrestling-match 
was about
to take place, and if they wished to see it they must come at once. Thinking the match 
might amuse 
Rosalind, Celia urged that they
should go.
When they came before the palace they found that a huge and powerful wrestler, who 
had
slain many men, was about to wrestle with a young stranger named Orlando. Orlando 
was so slim and 
looked so young, and brave, and
handsome, that all felt sorry for him, fearing that he might be killed. Rosalind and 
Celia begged him 
not to go on with the match ; but he answered, " I am sorry to deny
such fair
and excellent ladies anything ; but let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to 
my trial. If I am killed no one will be sorry, and
the empty place I leave may be better filled by another man."
The kindness of the two gentle ladies gave strength to the young man, and, instead of 
being killed by 
the wrestler, he seized the strong man in his arms and dashed him to
the ground. Everybody was much pleased at the courage and skill of Orlando. Celia's 
father asked him
his name and who his parents were. When he heard that the victor was the son of a 
dear friend of 
his banished brother all his liking
changed to displeasure, and he turned away. Going up to Orlando, Celia and Rosalind 
praised him for 
his bravery, and the latter, taking from,
her neck a gold chain, gave it to him. 
The wicked brother hated Rosalind for her kindness to Orlando, and roughly told her 
to
leave the castle. Celia entreated her father to let her friend remain, but her pleadings 
made him still more angry. So Celia made up her mind to travel with Rosalind to the 
Forest of Arden.
They knew they might meet with robbers on the way; so it was quickly agreed 
between them that, as 
Rosalind was the taller, she should dress as a young countryman, and Celia
as a country lass, and that they should pretend they were brother and sister. They took 
their money 
and jewels with them; but in their disguises they looked as if they were not
worth robbing.
" Shall we take Touchstone with us ? " asked Rosalind ; "he would be a great comfort 
to.
us."  Touchstone was a
jester, who loved his mistress, Celia, very dearly. He was a merry fellow, and with his 
jokes and fun 
was always a cheery companion.
" He would go over the wide world with me," replied Celia. " Let us ask him to 
come."
So when they set out Touchstone led the way, with the bells on his cap tinkling, and 
the peas in 
his rattle keeping time to their steps.
When at last they came to the Forest of Arden, the girls were so tired and weary, and 
so much in 
want of food and rest, that, in spite of Touchstone's merry face and his funny
jokes, they felt inclined to cry. Just as they had given up hope they obtained food and 
shelter at 
the house of a shepherd. They soon came to enjoy their new life, and almost
fancied themselves the shepherd and shepherdess they pretended to be. Yet Rosalind 
sometimes 
remembered that she had been the fair lady who had dearly loved the brave
Orlando so far, far away.
But Orlando was indeed not far away, for he also had fled from his enemies to the 
forest, taking 
with him an old faithful servant. They wandered on till they were almost spent with 
hunger and fatigue.

From "The Henry Irving Shakespeare."]
ROSALIND, CELIA, AND TOUCHSTONE IN THE FOREST OF ARDEN.

At last the old servant laid himself down, saying, " O my dear master! I die for 
want of food; I can go no farther."
Seeing his weak state, Orlando picked him up and carried him to the pleasant shelter
of the trees, where, after some cheery words of comfort, he left him while he went to 
seek for food.
Suddenly Orlando came upon a little glade in the forest, and before him saw 
Rosalind's father and 
his friends just about to sit down to dinner.
" Forbear and eat no more," cried he, drawing his sword; " I must have your food."
They asked him to sit down and eat ; but he replied, " There is with me a poor old 
man who has limped 
after me many a weary step in pure love. Till he is satisfied I must not touch."
"Go, bring him hither; we will wait till you return," said the Duke, much pleased with 
the young man.
Presently Orlando returned bearing his servant in his arms, and both were made 
welcome. When it was 
found that Orlando was the son of the Duke's old friend he was made more
welcome still, and lived very happily with his comrades of the forest.
Now, being very much in love with Rosalind, Orlando used to carve her name on the 
trees and write 
verses in her honour. At last he met Rosalind and Celia ; but he did not know
them in the dresses they wore, and took them for the shepherd-boy and his sister they 
pretended to 
be. He became great friends with them, and often talked to them of Rosalind,
the beautiful lady that he loved.
One day as he was going through the forest he saw his brother Oliver, who had come 
to seek for him, 
lying asleep under a tree. Crouching near the sleeping man was a lion ready
to spring upon him. Orlando fought the lion and slew it, but not before it had torn his 
arm with its strong, sharp teeth. During the struggle Oliver awoke, and, after the 
brothers had embraced, they 
made their way to the Duke's camp.
The injury to Orlando's arm prevented his visiting Rosalind for some time. Oliver, 
who went to 
explain his brother's absence, at once, fell in love with Celia. It was arranged that. 
they
were to be married on a certain day and that the Duke, his friends, and Orlando were. 
to be invited.
Orlando, seeing Oliver's happiness, said how much he wished he could be married on 
the same day, and 
Rosalind promised that he should have his desire. Every one, except
Celia, of course, was astonished at such a promise, for how could Rosalind, who was 
thought to be so 
far away, be made to appear, and at the same time be willing to marry a
man of whom she had seen so little!
However, on the morning of the wedding-day Rosalind and Celia appeared before 
their friends, in their 
proper dresses.
 To her father Rosalind said, " To you I give
myself, for I am yours";  and to Orlando,
"To you I give myself, for I am yours." Then the Duke knew that his daughter had 
come to him, and 
Orlando knew that the shepherd-boy was his own fair Rosalind.
A happier wedding-day never was passed; and, that nothing should be wanting to 
complete the joy of 
all, a messenger arrived to tell the Duke that his brother was sorry for his wickedness 
and had given up the land and castles he had so wrongfully kept.
Thus did the good Duke obtain his own again, and all hearts were happy that day 
under the greenwood tree.


