&&000 CANADIAN SCHOOLBOOKS                                                                    CA505.TXT
THIS SAMPLE IS FROM 5TH GRADE 1950S
sampled 9-10 Dec and edited Dec 19 by dph
Re-edited 20 June 2005

&&111

"There are none any more," replied =BigJohn. "There were pirates a great many years ago, when
Trinidad was one of the islands of the =SpanishMain, though it was long after =Columbus had
discovered the island in =1496. He found =Trinidad four years after he first discovered the
=WestIndies." 
There was very little sleep in their house that night. Mother lay awake worrying about leaving all
her friends and neighbors. =BigJohn spent hours planning how to pack all their furniture to send
to =Trinidad. =SmallJohn lay wide awake trying to think what =PortofSpain would be like and
whether the boys played hockey and baseball there. =Frances kept wondering if she would
become dark, like the people in the pictures of =Trinidad, which =BigJohn had shown them and
if the humming-birds, which he told them were everywhere on the island, might really be fairies
in disguise. Baby just slept.
During the next two weeks everything was upset in their house. It was very hard to decide what
to take and what to leave behind. At last all the big boxes were packed and the time had come to
say good-bye to their friends. That was not easy, and sometimes they had big lumps in their
throats when they thought of leaving the place and the people they had known all their lives.
Then the great day arrived and, almost before they knew it, they were on the train for =Halifax. 




Now the submarine was almost beneath them.
Down went the depth charge! The long gray submarine shook. Its nose rose up into the air. With
a last shudder, it slid into the dark sea. Only a dark patch of oil was left to show where it had
been.
Meanwhile =Hornell and his men had troubles of their own. Fifteen feet above the water, the
starboard engine fell out. The plane could not remain in the air. As =Hornell skillfully made a,
forced landing, a twelve-foot wave struck the plane. It bounced like a big rubber ball-up one
hundred and fifty feet, down; up fifty feet, down. It came to rest on the top of the water.
The oil and fuel tanks flamed. Out the escape hatches went the crew. One rubber dinghy was
launched. It disappeared in the swirling smoke. The wireless air gunner wanted to swim back to
the plane for the emergency radio, but he was not allowed to go, as the plane might blow up.
=David =Hornell was a quiet, fair young man. At home in =Mimico, =Ontario, he had been a
Sunday School Superintendent. .He had played football and hockey, and had gone fishing and
swimming. Everyone liked him, for he was kind and friendly. Sometimes people will do wrong,
because they are afraid other people will think they are stupid. =Hornell was not like that. He was
brave, and did only what he thought was right. 


that election time was near and that Mr =Allen was journeying up and down the country urging
the people to make no mistakes in their votes. Farming people live so far apart," he explained,
"that they do not always find out the real truth about such matters."
=Peter listened with great interest. Mr =Allen seemed to know each man, woman, and child in
the neighborhood, and as the two went along and passed one farm after another, he had
something to tell of the family which lived in each house. Sometimes he got down and led the
calf and made =Peter ride, but his gay flow of talk never stopped.
They had reached a corner where a little lane branched off the main highway, when =EthanAllen
drew up his horse. "I want to ride up and see how =JennyMcGowan is doing," he said. "I hate to
ask you and this black and white friend of yours to travel two miles out of the way, but I cannot
go by this place. =Jenny has four fatherless children and, at the very best of it, they are as poor as
poverty itself. I am always anxious about her."
They turned aside and made their way up the rutty track toward the little gray house that stood at
the end of it. They had hardly gone halfway before they saw someone coming toward them. It
was a tall boy, a few years.



lay in bed, the room was over-run with rats and mice. Sometimes he could hardly sleep a wink.
One day when he had earned a penny for cleaning a gentleman's shoes, he met a little girl with a
cat in her arms and asked whether she would not sell it to him. Yes, she would, she said, though
the cat was such a good mouser that she was sorry to part with her. This just suited =Dick, who
kept the cat up in his garret, feeding her on scraps of his own dinner that he saved for her every
day. In a little while he had no more bother with the rats and mice and slept soundly every night.
Just about this time Mr =Fitzwarren had a ship ready to sail to the East. It was always his custom
to give his servants a chance of good fortune as well as himself, so he called them all into the
counting-house and asked them what they would send out.
Everyone had something that he was willing to venture except poor =Dick, who had neither
money nor goods, and so could send nothing. For this reason he did not come into the room with
the rest. Miss =Alice guessed what was the matter, however, and ordered him to be called in. She
then said, "I will lay down some money for him out' of my own purse." However, her father told
her that would not do, and that what =Dick sent must be something of his own.
When =Dick heard this he said, "I have nothing what.


=Eskimos living near the mouth of the =Mackenzie River find enough driftwood to make log
cabins. =Eskimos in other districts, though, are lucky to find enough wood for sleds and tables,
so they make their winter houses of bricks of hard, drifted snow.
Each snow brick is cut so that one side slants a little. Then the. =Eskimo can fit the bricks
together in a beehive shape, and it saves him the trouble of making a flat roof. This part of the
house, or igloo, is about ten feet in diameter, and about six feet high. Generally the =Eskimo adds
a front porch of snow blocks, to shelter the doorway.
There is often a door made of driftwood, which is salvaged each spring, to be used again the next
year. The windows are made of sheets of ice. Salt water ice is too dark, so the =Eskimo takes ice
from a nearby fresh water pond. Sometimes, too, the hut is lined with a sealskin tent, to make it
warmer.
In the spring, when the snow begins to melt, the =Eskimos move out of their winter igloos, and
into their summer houses. These are made of caribou fur or sealskin, and are shaped like a box or
an Indian tipi. Windows in these summer dwellings are made by scraping hair from certain
patches of the skin "walls". Sometimes the =Eskimos use their winter doors of wood on these
summer tents.
Lack of wood affects the furniture of the =Eskimo hut.



house, prepared to defend the cowboy tradition with all his might. The owner of the ranch, 
=EdWilson, met the two men at the door.
"Mighty glad you could get here for the round-up." =Shorthorn shook hands with the boss of the
Bar =18.
"I hear you've got the chuck wagon all ready to go, =Shorthorn."
"That's right, Boss."
They turned into the dining-room where a long table was set for breakfast.
"I understand you brought some fellow here who can t drink canned milk, and thinks 'cowboy' is
just another name for 'milk-maid'," =Shorthorn said sternly.
The foreman and =EdWilson exchanged glances.
"Look here, =Shorthorn, I shouldn't want you to hurt this fellow," the boss said. "He hasn't been
around a ranch before."
"I won't hurt him, =Ed. I'll just tell him. Where is he?" At that moment several people came in
from the kitchen. =Shorthorn turned toward them.
"Oh, Father =Wilson, I don't know what to do ." It was a girl's voice, distressed. A wild, doleful
squall issued from the bundle in her arms.
"There he is, =Shorthorn," =Jim said. "You argue with him."
=Shorthorn turned very red. "You mean it's a  he's



It happened that a mountie sergeant in =Alberta bought =Dale for his own use. Part of his duty
was searching box cars late at night, and he thought it would be a good idea to take a dog with
him. =Dale was partly trained, and the sergeant himself finished his training.
Soon =Dale was doing much more than helping to search box cars. He found money, tracked
thieves, and even saved lives. So the =RoyalCanadianMountedPolice bought =Dale from the
sergeant, and used him in other districts, too. Later they set up their own training schools for
dogs. To begin with, they trained only =German Shepherd dogs. They knew that breed was
clever, and could work through our cold =Canadian winters. =Chief, =Duke, =Tell, =Tuff,
=Black =Lux, and =Sultan are all =German Shepherds. Later the mounties also trained three
other breeds. Two of these were suggested by the =SouthAfrican police, who had found them
useful in =SouthAfrica. By =1945 about thirty trained dogs were working with the mounties all
across =Canada. More are being trained all the time. If you would like to keep up to date on news
of our =Canadian police dogs, just watch the newspapers. They, too, know that a good dog story
is always interesting.


"Hides to sell! Fine fresh hides to sell!"
Out came the cobbler:
"How much for your hides, my men?" "Their weight in gold."
"Is it making game of me you are! Take that for your
pains," and the cobbler dealt =Hudden a blow that made
him stagger. Up the people came running from one end of the fair to the other. "What's the
matter? What's the matter?" cried they.
"Here are a couple of vagabonds selling hides at their
weight in gold," said the cobbler.
"Hold them fast; hold them fast!" bawled the inn-keeper, who was the last to come up, he was
so fat. "I'll wager it's one of the rogues who tricked me out of thirty gold pieces yesterday for a
wretched hide."
It was more kicks than halfpence that =Hudden and =Dudden got before they were well on their
way home again, and they didn't run the slower because all the dogs of the town were at their
heels.
Well, as you may fancy, if they loved =Donald little before, they loved him less now. "What's the
matter, friends?" said he, as he saw them
tearing along, their hats knocked in, and their coats torn off, and their faces black and blue. "Is it
fighting you've been? or maybe you met the police, ill luck to them?"


a yellow leaf  charro suit, red sash, silver-spurred boots, and felt sombrero trimmed with silver
dollars. "Viva =Salaza! Viva! Viva!" The people sent up loud shouts as the last of the twenty
riders reached the centre of the village. Once or twice the charro favorite raised his wide hat and
nodded a thank you. At first =Flint was speechless, his mouth open in wonder
at the sight. Then he, too, waved his hat and began to cheer. =Salazar was a rider! the best of the
twenty. He sat his horse as if he had been born in the saddle. His slight
body moved in perfect time with the movement of his ti horse. =Flint blinked as the charro came
closer. "Look at that, =Cim! Isn't that an outfit!" Holding his quivering horse, =Flint stared at the
bright yellow outfit, the gold spangled sombrero with braided gold cords, and a startling
tiger-striped sarape flung carelessly over one shoulder. His mount was a beautiful reddish brown
colour with a coat as smooth as satin.
"This is the real thing, =Cim! Know what it means? Rodeo! Trick riding, roping, bucking
contests-maybe the =chivocolgado!" =Flint watched the yellow, back of =Salazar until it was just
a spot of gold melting in the strong sunlight. "Come on, Boy, we're going to get into the fun.
We're going to see the Chief of Police."
A spin around the square and they came to the police



"I like your lost name better," said small =Peter, thoughtfully. "That is my name, too, but I am
not Mr =King. I . I am  lame," he added, looking fearfully into the face above him to see if it
made a difference. But the tired eyes only smiled more tenderly, and the man said:
"You are a prince, =Peter. There is a story about a little prince, you know, whose foot was lame.
He could not run away when he was in danger or afraid. He learned never to be afraid of anything
and grew into the bravest man just because he was lame and could not run. Are you afraid of
things, =Peter?"
=Peter felt very brave in the shelter of the coat. He was ready to say: "No, I am not afraid," but
the words caught in his throat. Behind the rusty stove a shadow moved and two yellow eyes
stared into his own. "The dog, Mr =Peter." he whispered, pointing with a shaking finger. The
man turned his head. "Poor thing," he said, "look how it trembles. Be kind to it, =Peter; it's only a
homeless dog." He lowered his voice to a soothing murmur as he spoke to the dog. "Come here,
pal; come. We shall not hurt you. Come, like a good dog, come" It came. A timid wag began at
the tip of its tail, then slowly the dog crept out of the shadow of the stove, toward the fire and the
voice that was so kind. Inch by inch it edged closer, half eager, half afraid. It began to