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diff --git a/1599-h/1599-h.htm b/1599-h/1599-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4054702 --- /dev/null +++ b/1599-h/1599-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4070 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Cinderella, or the Little Glass Slipper, and Other Stories, by Anonymous + Authors + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cinderella; or, The Little Glass Slipper +and Other Stories, by Anonymous + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Cinderella; or, The Little Glass Slipper and Other Stories + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: September 26, 2008 [EBook #1599] +Last Updated: October 8, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CINDERELLA AND OTHERS *** + + + + +Produced by Dianne Bean, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + CINDERELLA <br /> OR, THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER<br /> AND OTHER STORIES + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Anonymous Authors + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> CINDERELLA; OR THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> FANNY’S TELEPHONE ORDER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE RAINDROPS’ NEW DRESSES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> SIR GOBBLE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> WHAT IS IT? </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> JOHN’S BRIGHT IDEA. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> A SAD THANKSGIVING PARTY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> GUY AND THE BEE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> A MEAN BOY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> A NAUGHTY PUMPKIN’S FATE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> SOMETHING ABOUT FIRES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> THE ICE-KING’S REIGN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> MALMO, THE WOUNDED RAT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> MAMA’S HAPPY CHRISTMAS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> CURED OF CARELESSNESS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> A VISIT FROM A PRINCE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> STRINGING CRANBERRIES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> CHRISTMAS IN CALIFORNIA. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> A TROUBLESOME CALL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> BERTIE’S CORN-POPPER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> FIRE! FIRE!! FIRE!!! </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> THE DOLLS AND THE OTHER DOLLS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> WHY DID MAMMA CHANGE HER MIND? </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> CLARA’S “FUNERAL.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> THE CHICKADEE-DEE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> THE CHILDREN’S PARTY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> BRAVE TOMASSO. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> TOMMY FROST SEES A BEAR. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> MYSELF. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> TWO STRANGE SIGHTS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> A CAT’S INSTINCTS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> DINAH’S NEW YEAR’S PRESENT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> NIGHT FLOWERS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> THE FIRST SNOW-STORM. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> FRED’S STOLEN RIDE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> A VALENTINE PARTY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> THE VENTURESOME RAT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> THE BEARS’ FEAST. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> PATTY-SAYINGS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> BABIE’S CURLS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> THE RED APPLES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> BUBBLES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> A HORSE WHO WORE SNOW SHOES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> THE ANGRY BOBOLINK. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> HOW HIRAM SPENT HIS SHRIMP MONEY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> THE ANT’S HOUSE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> THE FOOLISH PUG. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> THE SILHOUETTE PARTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> THE SNOW BIRDS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> A KIND HEART. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> TOWSER TALKS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> JUST AS SHE PLEASED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> THE WORKING TOOLS OF INSECTS. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CINDERELLA; OR THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER. + </h2> + <p> + Once there was a gentleman who married for his second wife the proudest + and most haughty woman that was ever seen. She had by a former husband two + daughters of her own humor, who were, indeed, exactly like her in all + things. He had likewise, by another wife, a young daughter, but of + unparalleled goodness and sweetness of temper, which she took from her + mother, who was the best creature in the world. + </p> + <p> + No sooner were the ceremonies of the wedding over but the mother-in-law + began to show herself in her true colors. She could not bear the good + qualities of this pretty girl, and the less because they made her own + daughters appear the more odious. She employed her in meanest work of the + house: she scoured the dishes, tables, etc., and scrubbed madam’s chamber + and those of misses, her daughters; she lay up in a sorry garret, upon a + wretched straw bed, while her sisters lay in fine rooms, with floors all + inlaid, upon beds of the very newest fashion, and where they had + looking-glasses so large that they might see themselves at their full + length from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + The poor girl bore all patiently and dared not tell her father, who would + have rattled her off; for his wife governed him entirely. When she had + done her work she used to go into the chimney-corner and sit down among + cinders and ashes, which made her commonly be called a cinder maid; but + the youngest, who was not so rude and uncivil as the eldest, called her + Cinderella. However, Cinderella, notwithstanding her mean apparel, was a + hundred times handsomer than her sisters, though they were always dressed + very richly. + </p> + <p> + It happened that the King’s son gave a ball and invited all persons, of + fashion to it. Our young misses were also invited, for they cut a very + grand figure among the quality. They were mightily delighted at this + invitation, and wonderfully busy in choosing out such gowns, petticoats, + and head-clothes as might become them. This was a new trouble to + Cinderella, for it was she who ironed her sisters’ linen and plaited their + ruffles. They talked all day long of nothing but how they should be + dressed. + </p> + <p> + “For my part,” said the eldest, “I will wear my red velvet suit with + French trimming.” + </p> + <p> + “And I,” said the youngest, “shall have my usual petticoat; but then, to + make amends for that, I will put on my gold-flowered manteau and my + diamond stomacher, which is far from being the most ordinary one in the + world.” + </p> + <p> + They sent for the best tire-woman they could get to make up their + head-dresses and adjust their double pinners, and they had their red + brushes and patches from Mademoiselle de la Poche. + </p> + <p> + Cinderella was likewise called up to them to be consulted in all these + matters, for she had excellent notions and advised them always for the + best, nay, and offered her services to dress their heads, which they were + very willing she should do. As she was doing this they said to her: + </p> + <p> + “Cinderella, would you not be glad to go to the ball?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said she, “you only jeer me. It is not for such as I am to go + thither.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art in the right of it,” replied they. “It would make the people + laugh to see a cinder wench at a ball.” + </p> + <p> + Any one but Cinderella would have dressed their heads awry, but she was + very good and dressed them perfectly well. They were almost two days + without eating, so much they were transported with joy. They broke above a + dozen of laces in trying to be laced up close, that they might have a + fine, slender shape, and they were continually at their looking-glass. At + last the happy day came. They went to Court, and Cinderella followed them + with her eyes as long as she could, and when she had lost sight of them + she fell a-crying. + </p> + <p> + Her Godmother, who saw her all in tears, asked her what was the matter. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could—I wish I could—” + </p> + <p> + She was not able to speak the rest being interrupted by her tears and + sobbing. + </p> + <p> + This Godmother of hers, who was a fairy, said to her: “Thou wishest thou + could’st go to the ball. Is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “Y—es,” cried Cinderella, with a great sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said her Godmother, “be but a good girl, and I will contrive that + thou shalt go.” Then she took her into her chamber and said to her: “Run + into the garden and bring me a pumpkin.” + </p> + <p> + Cinderella went immediately to gather the finest she could get and brought + it to her Godmother, not being able to imagine how this pumpkin could make + her go to the ball. Her Godmother scooped out all the inside of it, having + left nothing but the rind; which done, she struck it with her wand, and + the pumpkin was instantly turned into a fine coach, gilded all over with + gold. + </p> + <p> + She then went to look into her mousetrap, where she found six mice all + alive, and ordered Cinderella to lift up a little the trapdoor, when, + giving each mouse as it went out a little tap with her wand, the mouse was + that moment turned into a fine horse, which altogether made a very fine + set of six horses of a beautiful mouse-colored dapple-gray. Being at a + loss for a coachman, Cinderella said: + </p> + <p> + “I will go and see if there is never a rat in the rattrap—we may + make a coachman of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art in the right,” replied her Godmother. “Go and look.” + </p> + <p> + Cinderella brought the trap to her, and in it there were three huge rats. + The fairy made choice of one of the three which had the largest beard, and + having touched him with her wand he was turned into a fat, jolly coachman, + who had the smartest whiskers eyes ever beheld. After that she said to + her: + </p> + <p> + “Go again into the garden, and you will find six lizards behind the + watering-pot. Bring them to me.” + </p> + <p> + She had no sooner done so but her Godmother turned them into six footmen, + who skipped up immediately behind the coach, with their liveries all + bedaubed with gold and silver, and clung as close behind each other as if + they had done nothing else their whole lives. The fairy then said to + Cinderella: + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see here an equipage fit to go to the ball with. Are you not + pleased with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes,” cried she; “but must I go thither as I am, in these dirty + rags?” + </p> + <p> + Her Godmother only just touched her with her wand, and at the same instant + her clothes were turned into cloth-of-gold and silver, all beset with + jewels. Ah! who can describe a robe made by the fairies? It was white as + snow, and as dazzling; round the hem hung a fringe of diamonds, sparkling + like dewdrops in the sunshine. The lace about the throat and arms could + only have been spun by fairy spiders. Surely it was a dream! Cinderella + put her daintily gloved hand to her throat, and softly touched the pearls + that encircled her neck. + </p> + <p> + “Come, child,” said the Godmother, “or you will be late.” + </p> + <p> + As Cinderella moved, the firelight shone upon her dainty shoes. + </p> + <p> + “They are of diamonds,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered her Godmother, smiling; “they are better than that—they + are of glass, made by the fairies. And now, child, go, and enjoy yourself + to your heart’s content.” + </p> + <p> + But her Godmother, above all things, commanded her not to stay till after + midnight, telling her at the same time that if she stayed one moment + longer the coach would be a pumpkin again, her horses mice, her coachman a + rat, her footmen lizards, and her clothes become just as they were before. + </p> + <p> + She promised her Godmother she would not fail of leaving the ball before + midnight, and then away she drives, scarce able to contain herself for + joy. The King’s son, who was told that a great Princess, whom nobody knew, + was come, ran out to receive her. He gave her his hand as she alighted out + of the coach; and led her into the hall among all the company. There was + immediately a profound silence, they left off dancing, and the violins + ceased to play, so attentive was every one to contemplate the singular + beauties of the unknown newcomer. Nothing was then heard but a confused + noise of “Ha! how handsome she is! Ha! how handsome she is!” + </p> + <p> + The King himself, old as he was, could not help watching her and telling + the Queen softly that it was a long time since he had seen so beautiful + and lovely a creature. + </p> + <p> + All the ladies were busied in considering her clothes and headdress, that + they might have some made next day after the same pattern, provided they + could meet with such fine materials and as able hands to make them. + </p> + <p> + The King’s son conducted her to the most honorable seat and afterward took + her out to dance with him. She danced so very gracefully that they all + more and more admired her. A fine collation was served up, whereof the + young Prince ate not a morsel, so intently was he busied in gazing on her. + </p> + <p> + She went and sat down by her sisters, showing them a thousand civilities, + giving them part of the oranges and citrons which the Prince had presented + her with, which very much surprised them, for they did not know her. While + Cinderella was thus amusing her sisters, she heard the clock strike eleven + and three-quarters, whereupon she immediately made a courtesy to the + company and hastened away as fast as she could. + </p> + <p> + Being got home, she ran to seek out her Godmother, and after having + thanked her she said she could not but heartily wish she might go next day + to the ball, because the King’s son had desired her. + </p> + <p> + As she was eagerly telling her Godmother what had passed at the ball her + two sisters knocked at the door, which Cinderella ran and opened. + </p> + <p> + “How long you have stayed!” cried she, gaping, rubbing her eyes, and + stretching herself as if she had been just waked out of her sleep. She had + not, however, had any manner of inclination to sleep since they went from + home. + </p> + <p> + “If thou hadst been at the ball,” said one of her sisters, “thou would’st + not have been tired with it. There came thither the finest Princess, the + most beautiful ever was seen with mortal eyes. She showed us a thousand + civilities and gave us oranges and citrons.” + </p> + <p> + Cinderella seemed very indifferent in the matter. Indeed, she asked them + the name of that Princess, but they told her they did not know it, and + that the King’s son was very uneasy on her account, and would give all the + world to know who she was. At this Cinderella, smiling, replied: + </p> + <p> + “She must, then, be very beautiful indeed. How happy you have been! Could + not I see her? Ah! dear Miss Charlotte, do lend me your yellow suit of + clothes which you wear every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, to be sure,” cried Miss Charlotte; “lend my clothes to such it dirty + cinder maid as thou art! I should be a fool.” + </p> + <p> + Cinderella expected well such answer and was very glad of the refusal, for + she would have been sadly put to it if her sister had lent her what she + asked for jestingly. + </p> + <p> + The next day the two sisters were at the ball, and so was Cinderella, but + dressed more magnificently than before. The King’s son was always by her, + and never ceased his compliments and kind speeches to her, to whom all + this was so far from being tiresome that she quite forgot what her + Godmother had recommended to her, so that she at last counted the clock + striking twelve when she took it to be no more than eleven. She then rose + up and fled as nimble as a deer. The Prince followed, but could not + overtake her. She left behind one of her glass slippers, which the Prince + took up most carefully. She got home, but quite out of breath, and in her + old clothes, having nothing left her of all her finery but one of the + little slippers, fellow to that she dropped. The guards at the palace gate + were asked if they had not seen a Princess go out. + </p> + <p> + They said they had seen nobody go out but a young girl, very meanly + dressed, and who had more of the air of a poor country girl than a + gentlewoman. + </p> + <p> + When the two sisters returned from the ball Cinderella asked them if they + had been well diverted and if the beautiful Princess had been there. + </p> + <p> + They told her yes, but that she hurried away immediately when the clock + struck twelve, and with so much haste that she dropped one of her little + glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which the King’s son had taken + up; that he had done nothing but look at her all the time at the ball, and + that most certainly he was very much in love with the beautiful person who + owned the glass slipper. + </p> + <p> + What they said was very true, for a few days after the King’s son caused + it to be proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, that he would marry her whose + foot this slipper would just fit. They whom he employed began to try it + upon the Princesses, then the Duchesses and all the Court, but in vain. It + was brought to the two sisters, who did all they possibly could to thrust + their feet into the slipper, but they could not effect it. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning there was a great noise of trumpets and drums, + and a procession passed through the town, at the head of which rode the + King’s son. Behind him came a herald, bearing a velvet cushion, upon which + rested a little glass slipper. The herald blew a blast upon the trumpet, + and then read a proclamation saying that the King’s son would wed any lady + in the land who could fit the slipper upon her foot, if she could produce + another to match it. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the sisters tried to squeeze their feet into the slipper, but + it was of no use—they were much too large. Then Cinderella shyly + begged that she might try. How the sisters laughed with scorn when the + Prince knelt to fit the slipper on the cinder maid’s foot; but what was + their surprise when it slipped on with the greatest ease, and the next + moment Cinderella produced the other from her pocket! Once more she stood + in the slippers, and once more the sisters saw before them the lovely + Princess who was to be the Prince’s bride. For at the touch of the magic + shoes the little gray frock disappeared forever, and in place of it she + wore the beautiful robe the fairy Godmother had given to her. + </p> + <p> + The sisters hung their heads with sorrow and vexation; but kind little + Cinderella put her arms round their necks, kissed them, and forgave them + for all their unkindness, so that they could not help but love her. + </p> + <p> + The Prince could not bear to part from his little love again, so he + carried her back to the palace in his grand coach, and they were married + that very day. Cinderella’s stepsisters were present at the feast, but in + the place of honor sat the fairy Godmother. + </p> + <p> + So the poor little cinder maid married the Prince, and in time they came + to be King and Queen, and lived happily ever after. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FANNY’S TELEPHONE ORDER. + </h2> + <p> + Little Fanny Desmond was a dear child, and, like a good many other little + children, she liked to do whatever she saw the grown people do. + </p> + <p> + She would listen with great interest when she saw her mother use the + telephone. She was especially surprised when her mother ordered things, + and later in the day they would be brought to the house. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had a telephone of my own,” she said to her papa. “Mama just + puts her mouth up to that funny thing, and gets whatever she asks for. + Yesterday she asked somebody to send us ice-cream for dinner, and sure + enough, it came.” + </p> + <p> + Papa laughed. “It does seem a very convenient thing,” he said. “I will try + to arrange one for you.” So papa took a horn which had been put away in a + closet and hung it up where Fanny could talk into it. “There, that shall + be your own private telephone,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Now, shall I get whatever I ask for?” said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “Not if you ask for impossible things,” replied her papa. + </p> + <p> + “But what are impossible things?” asked Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” laughed papa, “I think if you should ask for the moon you would + not get it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t want the moon,” said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “Ask for something before I go down-town,” said papa. + </p> + <p> + Fanny thought a moment, and then spoke up quite distinctly: + </p> + <p> + “Please send me some peppermints, and some new shoes for my doll, and a + bunch of pansies for my mama, and a new bicycle for my papa, and—and—that’s + all this time. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a very good order,” said her papa, “but kiss me good-bye, for I + must be off.” + </p> + <p> + About half an hour later the front door-bell rang. Very soon the maid + appeared with a package directed to Miss Fanny Desmond. In great + excitement, Fanny opened it. It was a box of peppermints. The child’s + delight was great, but when, in another half hour, there came a bundle + which proved to be a new pair of shoes for her doll, she was too happy for + words. But that surprise was hardly over when another package was brought + her. She opened it in great excitement, and behold there was a bunch of + beautiful pansies. + </p> + <p> + “They are for you, mama,” she cried, “and now everything has come but + papa’s new bicycle.” + </p> + <p> + Just then she looked out of the window, and there was her papa coming up + the drive on a fine new wheel. She rushed down to meet him, exclaiming, as + she threw herself into his arms: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, papa, I did get everything; my telephone is beautiful, and the + man at the other end is just lovely!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said papa, “I am delighted he is so satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE RAINDROPS’ NEW DRESSES. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “We’re so tired of these gray dresses!” + Cried the little drops of rain, + As they came down helter-skelter + From the Nimbus cloud fast train. + + And they bobbed against each other + In a spiteful sort of way, + Just like children when bad temper + Gets the upper hand some day. + + Then the Sun peeped out a minute. + “Dears, be good and do not fight, + I have ordered you new dresses, + Dainty robes of purest white.” + + Ah! then all the tiny raindrops + Hummed a merry glad refrain, + And the old folks cried: “How pleasant + Is the music of the rain!” + + Just at even, when the children + Had been safely tucked in bed, + There was such a rush and bustle + In the dark clouds overhead! + + Then those raindrops hurried earthward, + At the North Wind’s call, you know, + And the wee folks, in the morning, + Laughed to see the flakes of snow. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SIR GOBBLE. + </h2> + <p> + Bessie Curtis was in a great deal of trouble. She was spending a year in + the country while her father and mother were in Europe. It was not that + which was troubling her. She liked the country, she loved her uncle and + aunt with whom she lived, and she heard every week from her father and + mother. But something disturbed her. As the summer passed, and the autumn + came, she had moments when she looked very sober. What was the reason? + </p> + <p> + I will tell you. + </p> + <p> + Early in the spring her uncle had given her a young turkey. + </p> + <p> + “There, Bessie,” he had said, “that is one of the prettiest turkeys I have + ever seen. I will give him into your care, and on Thanksgiving Day we will + have him on the dinner-table.” + </p> + <p> + For some time Bessie fed the turkey every day without feeling particularly + fond of him. Very soon, however, he began to know her; he not only ran to + meet her when she brought him his corn and meal, but he would follow her + about just the way Mary’s little lamb followed HER about. + </p> + <p> + Her uncle often called after her: “And everywhere that Bessie goes, the + turkey’s sure to go.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, round the garden, up and down the avenue, and even into the house + itself the turkey followed Bessie. + </p> + <p> + Then why was she so sad? + </p> + <p> + Alas! she remembered her uncle’s words when he gave her the turkey, “On + Thanksgiving Day we will have him on the table.” + </p> + <p> + Thanksgiving Day would be here in a week. + </p> + <p> + Now, if Bessie had been like some little girls, she would have told her + trouble to her uncle. But she never mentioned it to any one, although she + cried herself to sleep several nights before Thanksgiving Day. + </p> + <p> + At last the day came, and Bessie, instead of going out to the fowlyard as + usual, kept in the house all the morning. She was afraid that, if she + went, she would not find her beloved friend. Dinner-time came, and, with a + heavy heart, she seated herself at the table. Her uncle and aunt noticed + her sober face, and thought that she missed her father and mother. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said her uncle, “we must cheer up; no sad looks on + Thanksgiving Day. Maria, BRING IN THE TURKEY.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Bessie! she could not look up as the door opened, and something was + brought in on a big platter. But, as the platter was placed on the table, + she saw that it did indeed hold her turkey, but he was alive and well. + </p> + <p> + She looked so astonished that suddenly her uncle understood all her past + troubles. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Bessie,” he said, “did you think I would kill your pet? No, indeed, + but I told you he should be on the table Thanksgiving Day, so here he is.” + </p> + <p> + Then Bessie’s uncle struck the turkey gently with his carving-knife, the + way the queen strikes a man with a sword when she makes him a knight. + </p> + <p> + “Behold!” said Bessie’s uncle, “I dub you ‘Sir Gobble;’ you shall never be + killed, but die a natural death, and never be parted from Bessie.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WHAT IS IT? + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What is that ugly thing I see + Which follows, follows, follows me, + Which ever way I turn or go? + What is that thing? I want to know. + + If I but turn to left or right + It does the same with all its might; + It looks so ugly and so black + When o’er my shoulder I look back. + + Sometimes it runs ahead of me, + Sometimes quite short it seems to be, + And then again it’s very tall; + I don’t know what it is at all. + + I’ll climb into my little bed, + And on my pillow lay my bead, + For when I’m there I never see + That thing in front or back of me. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JOHN’S BRIGHT IDEA. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Meredith was a most kind and thoughtful woman. She spent a great deal + of time visiting the poor. One morning she told her children about a + family which she had visited the day before. There was a man sick in bed, + his wife who took care of him, and could not go out to work, and their + little boy. The little boy—his name was Bernard—had interested + her very much. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you could see him,” she said to her own children, John, Harry, and + Clara, “he is such a help to his mother. He wants very much to earn some + money, but I don’t see what he can do.” + </p> + <p> + After their mother had left the room, the children sat thinking about + little Bernard. + </p> + <p> + “I wish we could help him to earn money,” said little Clara. + </p> + <p> + “So do I,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + For some moments John said nothing, but, suddenly, he sprang to his feet + and cried: + </p> + <p> + “I have an idea!” + </p> + <p> + The other children also jumped up all attention. When John had an idea, it + was sure to be a good one. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what we can do,” said John. “You know that big box of corn + Uncle Sam sent us for popping? Well, we can pop it, and put it into paper + bags, and Bernard can take it round to the houses and sell.” + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Meredith heard of John’s idea, she, too, thought it a good one. + </p> + <p> + Very soon the children were busy popping the corn, while their mother went + out to buy the paper bags. When she came back, she brought Bernard with + her. + </p> + <p> + In a short time, he started out on his new business, and, much sooner than + could be expected, returned with an empty basket. + </p> + <p> + Tucked into one of his mittens were ten nickels. He had never earned so + much money before in his life. When he found that it was all to be his, he + was so delighted he could hardly speak, but his bright smiling face spoke + for him. After he had run home to take the money to his mother, John said: + </p> + <p> + “We have corn enough left to send Bernard out ever so many times. May we + do it again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mrs. Meredith, “you may send him every Saturday morning, if + you will pop the corn for him yourselves. John, will you agree to take + charge of the work?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I will,” replied John, and he kept his word. For many weeks, every + Saturday morning, no matter what plan was on foot, no matter how good the + coasting or skating, he saw that the corn was all popped, the paper bags + filled, and arranged in the basket when Bernard arrived. + </p> + <p> + People began to watch for the “little pop-corn boy,” and every week he had + at least fifty cents to take home, and often more. And all this was + because of John’s bright idea, and the way he carried it out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A SAD THANKSGIVING PARTY. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Four hungry-looking animals + All seated in a row; + Why does not some one speak to them? + That’s what I want to know. + + They all of them were bidden to + A fine Thanksgiving feast, + And now, it seems to me, their host + Might welcome them, at least. + + ‘Twas Master Pug invited them, + Why does he not appear? + ‘Tis plain they think his absence looks + Extremely rude and queer. + + Alas! poor Pug’s in trouble sore, + The host he cannot play; + No feast for self or friends has he + On this Thanksgiving Day. + + He saw a turkey, large and fat, + Upon the kitchen shelf. + “That’s just the very thing I want,” + Said he unto himself. + + He caught the turkey, but the cook + Caught him with firmer grasp, + And shook him till he could not bark + But only choke and gasp. + + Meanwhile, those hungry animals, + Who’d waited there in vain, + Declared they never would be guest + Of Mr. Pug again. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GUY AND THE BEE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One day a jolly bumble-bee, + In coat of black and yellow, + Got caught inside a window-pane; + The silly little fellow. + + He buzzed and buzzed against the glass, + To Guy’s great enjoyment, + Who thought to watch this funny thing + Was just the best employment. + + But soon to touch those gauzy wings, + Became Guy’s great desire, + Although mama had told him that + A bee could sting like fire. + + But Guy, silly as the bee, + Paid no heed to mama, + He touched the bee, then gave a howl + Which could be heard afar. + + Mama a soothing poultice mixed, + And on his finger laid. + “Another time you’ll be more wise,” + Was everything she said. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A MEAN BOY. + </h2> + <p> + Harry Burton woke one night and heard a strange noise in his closet. He + got out of bed, crossed the floor in his bare feet, and carefully opened + the closet door. The noise stopped, instantly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Harry, “I knew it was mice made that noise. How I wish I could + catch them.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning he told his mother about the noises he had heard. + </p> + <p> + “I will get you a mouse-trap,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want the kind that kills the mice, I only want to catch them and + tame them,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + His mother laughed and told him when he had tamed his mice he must keep + them well out of her way. + </p> + <p> + The trap was set, the mice were caught, and sure enough, in a short time + were so tame they would eat from Harry’s hand. He made a little house for + them, and kept in it his bedroom. Whenever he went out, he always shut the + door carefully. + </p> + <p> + Now it happened that among Harry’s acquaintances, there was one very + disagreeable boy. His name was Dick Taft. Harry did not play with him very + often, for he was so ugly it was hard to get along with him. + </p> + <p> + Dick never liked to be beaten at any game, and sometimes made it very + uncomfortable for the one who got ahead of him. + </p> + <p> + One day Harry happened to beat him at one of their school games. Dick + called after him when it was over, “I’ll pay you for this, see if I + don’t.” + </p> + <p> + Harry only laughed as he walked away going in the opposite direction from + his own house. + </p> + <p> + When he was out of sight, Dick ran to Harry’s house, made some excuse to + go up in his bedroom, and let in the big cat, who was eagerly watching + outside. + </p> + <p> + When Harry came home, the mouse house was open, and not one of his pets + was to be seen. The poor fellow was almost heart-broken. He asked every + one in the house who had left his door open. The maid told him she thought + it must have been that boy he sent up to his room. + </p> + <p> + She described the boy, and Harry knew in a moment that it was Dick Taft. + </p> + <p> + “So that is the way he paid me for beating him at a game,” cried Harry. + “Well, never again, so long as I live, will I play with a boy who is mean + enough to do such a trick as that.” + </p> + <p> + And he kept his word. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A NAUGHTY PUMPKIN’S FATE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A queer little pumpkin, a jolly fat fellow, + Stood close to his mother so rotund and yellow. + “What a stupid old place! how I long to aspire,” + Cried he, “I was destined for something much higher.” + + “My son,” said the mother, “pray do be content, + There’s great satisfaction in life that’s well spent!” + But he shrugged up his shoulders, this pumpkin, ‘t is true, + And acted just like some bad children will do. + + With a shout and a whoop, in the garden they ran, + Tom and Ned, for they’d thought of the loveliest plan + To astonish their friends from the city, you see, + With a fine Jack-o’-lantern—“Ah, this one suits me!” + + Neddie seized the bad pumpkin, and dug out his brains, + Till he felt so light-headed and brimful of pains; + Then two eyes, a long nose, and a mouth big and wide, + They cut in a minute, and laid him aside + + Until night, when they hung him upon a stout limb, + With a candle inside; how his poor head did swim, + As they twisted him this way, then twirled him round that, + Till at last, with a crash, he fell on the ground flat, + + A wreck of the once jolly, fat little fellow, + Who stood by his mother so rotund and yellow. + Just then a lean cow, who was passing that way, + Ate him up, just to finish HER “Thanksgiving Day.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SOMETHING ABOUT FIRES. + </h2> + <p> + It was a cold day. Fred was tired of reading, tired of looking out of the + window, and so he poked the fire for a change. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose there are a good many different sorts of fires,” he said to his + mamma, as he laid down the poker. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” she answered. “It is very interesting to know how people + keep warm in all parts of the world, especially where fuel is scarce and + dear. In Iceland, for example, fires are often made of fish-bones! Think + of that. In Holland and other countries a kind of turf called peat is dug + up in great quantities and used for fuel. And in France a coarse yellow + and brown sea-weed, which is found in Finistere, is carefully dried and + piled up for winter use. A false log, resembling wood, but made of some + composition which does not consume, is often used in that country. It + absorbs and throws out the heat, and adds to the looks of the hearth and + to the comfort of the room. + </p> + <p> + “The French have also a movable stove, which can be wheeled from room to + room, or even carried up or down stairs while full of burning coke. In + Russia the poorer people use a large porcelain stove, flat on top like a + great table, with a small fire inside which gives out a gentle, + summer-like warmth. It often serves as a bed for the whole family, who + sleep on top of it. + </p> + <p> + “There are, besides gas-stoves, oil-stoves, various methods of obtaining + warmth by heated air and steam, and, doubtless, other devices that I never + heard of. + </p> + <p> + “In some countries, however, no fires are needed. In looking at pictures + of tropical towns you will at once notice the absence of chimneys.” + </p> + <p> + Fred looked admiringly at his mamma as she paused. + </p> + <p> + “There never was such a little mother,” he said; “you can think of + something to say about everything.” + </p> + <p> + His mamma was pleased at this pleasant compliment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she replied, laughing, “I could go on and tell you more about + bonfires, beacon-fires, signals, drift-wood fires, and gypsy-tea fires; + but I have told you enough for to-day.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ICE-KING’S REIGN. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sun had gone down with promises sweet, + When, keen from the north, the wind + Came blustering along on its coursers fleet, + And left frozen tracks behind. + + Maude stood at the window; the moon shimmered down + On whirling leaves, stiff and dead, + All piteously driven; she turned with a frown, + And soft to herself she said:— + + “The old tyrant Winter leaves nothing to prize, + Leaves nothing that’s bright or fair; + He has stolen the blue from the bending skies, + The warmth from the earth and air. + + “The summer’s dear blossoms are withered and dead; + My garden is brown and bare; + The chipper of birds in the nest overhead + Is hushed, for no birdlings are here. + + “The woodlands no longer are shady and sweet, + Dry leafage encumbers the ground; + The pathways, once verdant and soft to my feet, + In fetters of ice are bound. + + “The pride of the barn-yard sits humped with the cold, + One frozen foot under his wing; + And the sheep huddle closely, for warmth, in their fold; + The ice tyrant reigns as king.” + + She turns from this picture of ruin and death, + And seeks the broad casement again; + And, lo! from the dews of her wasted breath + Great forests have grown on the pane. + + Such beautiful trees! such ferns! and such flowers! + Such rivers and mountains bold! + Such charming cascades! she gazes for hours, + And worships the ice king cold. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MALMO, THE WOUNDED RAT. + </h2> + <p> + A poor man saw, by the roadside, a large white rat. It seemed to be dead. + Moving it gently he found it was alive, but had a broken leg. He took it + up and carried it to his lonely home. He bound up the bruised leg, fed the + poor creature, and soon it was quite well. + </p> + <p> + Sam Tills trained the rat to gentle ways, and taught it many little + tricks. Malmo was the only company Sam had. He worked in a cotton mill, + and took Malmo with him. He rode in his master’s coat-pocket. It looked + droll to see his white head peeping out. + </p> + <p> + Sundays both went to dine with Sam’s sister. Malmo’s funny ways made + everybody laugh. When Sam said, “Malmo, go sit in my hat,” he went at + once. He curled himself up in it, and nodded off to sleep. + </p> + <p> + When his master said, “Malmo, we’re going now; slip in,” the droll pet + jumped from the hat, ran up to his pocket-nest, said good-by in his own + fashion, and was ready to start. Evenings, when Sam was reading or singing + from his mother’s hymn-book, Malmo had a nap on his master’s head. When it + was time to go to bed Sam stroked Malmo’s soft fur. The rat rubbed himself + against his master’s hand. It was their good-night to each other. Then + Malmo crept into his basket, and the candle was blown out. Soon both were + fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MAMA’S HAPPY CHRISTMAS. + </h2> + <p> + It had seemed to the little Wendell children that they would have a very + sad Christmas. Mama had been very ill, and papa had been so anxious about + mama that he could not think of anything else. + </p> + <p> + When Christmas Day came, however, mama was so much better that she could + lie on the lounge. The children all brought their stockings into her room + to open them. + </p> + <p> + “You children all seem as happy as if you had had your usual Christmas + tree,” said mama, as they sat around her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I NEVER had such a happy Christmas before,” said sweet little Agnes. + “And it’s just because you are well again.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I think you must all run out for the rest of the day,” said the + nurse, “because your mama wants to see you all again this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish we could get up something expressly for mama’s amusement,” said + Agnes, when they had gone into the nursery. + </p> + <p> + “How would you like to have some tableaux in here?” asked their French + governess, Miss Marcelle. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” they all cried, “it would be fun, mama loves tableaux.” + </p> + <p> + So all day long they were busy arranging five tableaux for the evening. + The tableaux were to be in the room which had folding-doors opening into + Mrs. Wendell’s sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + At the proper time Miss Marcelle stepped outside the folding-doors and + made a pretty little speech. She said that some young ladies and a young + gentleman had asked permission to show some tableaux to Mrs. Wendell if + she would like to see them. Mrs. Wendell replied that she would be + charmed. + </p> + <p> + Then mademoiselle announced the tableaux; opening the doors wide for each + one. This is a list of the tableaux: First, The Sleeping Beauty; second, + Little Red Riding Hood third, The Fairy Queen; fourth, Old Mother Hubbard; + fifth, The Lord High Admiral. + </p> + <p> + Miss Marcelle had arranged everything so nicely, and Celeste, the French + maid, helped so much with the dressing, that the pictures all went off + without a single mistake. + </p> + <p> + Mama was delighted. She said she must kiss those dear young ladies, and + that delightful young man who had given her such a charming surprise. + </p> + <p> + So all the children came in rosy and smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Why, didn’t you know us?” asked the little Lord Admiral. + </p> + <p> + “I know this,” said mama, “I am like Agnes. I NEVER had such a happy + Christmas before.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CURED OF CARELESSNESS. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Bertram sat reading a book one morning, or trying to. It was not easy + to do so, for her little boy, Roger, was out in the hall playing with his + drum. Suddenly the drumming ceased, and in a moment Roger rushed into the + room crying as if his heart would break. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve burst it. I’ve burst it,” he sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “Your drum,” asked his mother. “How did you do that?” + </p> + <p> + “I was beating it with the poker and the tongs and—” + </p> + <p> + “With the poker and tongs!” exclaimed his mother. “Why, where were your + drum-sticks?” + </p> + <p> + Then Roger stopped crying, and hung his head with shame. + </p> + <p> + “Where are your drum-sticks?” asked his mother, again. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—don’t know,” sobbed Roger. + </p> + <p> + “Have you lost those, too?” said Mrs. Bertram. She needed no words for + answer. Roger’s manner was quite enough. “You know, dear, what I said + would happen the next time you lost anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Roger, “I you said I must give away all my toys to some little + boys who would take care of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said his mother. “I see you remember. I shall send them all + to-night to the Children’s Hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “But, mama,” said Roger, “if I don’t have any toys to take care of, how + can I learn to take care of them?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bertram had to turn away so that Roger should not see her smile. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to think of some other way to teach you to be careful. Now + go and bring me all your toys.” + </p> + <p> + Roger went out of the room to do as his mother said. When he had gone, + Mrs. Bertram sat thinking until he came back. + </p> + <p> + “I have decided that I want you to dust the library every morning.” + </p> + <p> + Roger looked astonished. “Boys don’t dust,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes,” said his mother, smilingly. “Your Uncle Fred had to dust his + own room when he was at West Point. Now if you dust the library every + morning for two months faithfully, and do not break a single ornament, I + shall know you have grown careful in one way, and that may help you to be + careful in another.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning Roger began his work. At first he disliked it very much, + but after a while he grew very particular. It was not pleasant to be + without any toys, and he determined to earn them. + </p> + <p> + The day when his trial of two months would be up, would be Christmas Day. + He did not know if his presents this year would be toys or useful things. + All his mother had said about his work was, “My dear, you are improving.” + </p> + <p> + Christmas night came, and with it a beautiful tree. Imagine Roger’s + delight when he saw on and about it new skates, a new sled, a new violin + and a new drum. + </p> + <p> + And up in the highest branches, in letters of gold, these words: “For the + boy who has proved he can be careful when he tries.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A VISIT FROM A PRINCE. + </h2> + <p> + Harry was playing with his letter blocks one afternoon, when a prince came + to visit him. + </p> + <p> + Harry knew the prince very well, indeed. As soon as the prince came into + the room Harry said: + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, old fellow, is that you?” + </p> + <p> + Was not that a very strange way to greet a prince? + </p> + <p> + And wasn’t it stranger yet for Harry to say next: + </p> + <p> + “Come, sit up, old boy, and give us your—” + </p> + <p> + Was it hand Harry was going to say? No, indeed, it was paw. “Sit up, old + boy, and give us your paw.” + </p> + <p> + Prince was a beautiful dog, as black as a coal. Indeed, his real name, his + whole name, was Edward, the Black Prince. Now you must ask somebody to + tell you about the man who was called the “Black Prince,” the man for whom + Harry’s dog was named. + </p> + <p> + When Harry asked Prince to give his paw, the dog did not do it as quickly + as he ought to have done. + </p> + <p> + Did Harry beat him for that? No, indeed. Did he say, “Never mind, Prince, + you need not obey me if you do not want to?” No, indeed, again. + </p> + <p> + He sat up himself, and then he made Prince sit up on his hind legs. Then + he ordered Prince to give his paw. Prince did so. Then Harry made him do + it again, then again and again and again, until the dog seemed to + understand that he must learn to obey when he was spoken to. + </p> + <p> + After Prince appeared to have learned that lesson quite perfectly, Harry + taught him something new. + </p> + <p> + He taught him to stand on his hind legs and hold a pipe in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + This he soon did so well that Harry clapped his hands and cried, “Good, + good, you smoke as well as his royal highness, the Black Prince, himself.” + </p> + <p> + Which remark showed that Harry had not yet begun to study history. If he + had, he would have known that in the country where the Black Prince lived, + tobacco was never heard of until many, many, MANY years after his death. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + STRINGING CRANBERRIES. + </h2> + <p> + Arthur Bancroft was feeling very cross one morning in December. He had a + bad cold, and his mother did not think it would be wise for him to go + out-of-doors. That was why he was cross. The skating was finer than it had + been that season; every other boy he knew was enjoying it. + </p> + <p> + He walked about the house with a very sulky face; would take no notice of + books or games, and seemed determined to be miserable. + </p> + <p> + He was standing looking out of the window when his sister Laura came into + the room. Laura carried in her hand a basket filled with cranberries. + </p> + <p> + She put the basket on the table, took a needle from her mother’s needle + book, threaded it with a long, stout thread, and began stringing the + berries. + </p> + <p> + Laura was a dear little thing! She was always busy. No one ever heard her + say, “I wish I had something to do.” And she was generally doing something + for some one else. + </p> + <p> + She made a sweet little picture as she sat bending over the basket of + crimson cranberries. Some such idea may have come into Arthur’s mind as he + turned and looked at her. As he watched her silently for some moments, the + cross expression on his face became a little less cross. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Stringing cranberries for the Mullins’ Christmas tree,” answered Laura. + “Don’t you want to help me?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s girls’ work,” replied Arthur. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t a boy smart enough to do a girl’s work?” asked Laura. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, he’s SMART enough. I don’t mean that! Perhaps he doesn’t want + to.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Laura, “I wish you did want to.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Arthur. + </p> + <p> + “I promised to string all these for the Mullins’ Christmas tree,” replied + Laura. “The market-man brought them so late, I have not much time now.” + </p> + <p> + “Thread another needle,” said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments he was working as busily as Laura, herself. As Arthur + finished his last long string, he tied the ends together and threw it + around Laura’s neck. When she bent her head a little, it reached the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said he, “that proves that a boy can do a girl’s work.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Laura, “when”—then she stopped and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “When what?” asked Arthur. + </p> + <p> + “When he has a girl to show him how,” laughed Laura, as she danced out of + the room with the cranberry strings. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHRISTMAS IN CALIFORNIA. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To think that this is Christmas Day!” + Said Harold to his aunt, + “I know it really is, and yet, + Believe it—well, I can’t! + I’ve had a tree, my stocking, too, + This morning full I found, + But how can I believe it + With no snow upon the ground? + + Look at the sea so bright and blue, + And feel the soft, warm air, + And there are roses all in bloom, + And lilies, I declare! + I think that California + Is lovely, but it’s queer, + How different Christmas is at home + From what it is out here.” + + “Ah, Harold!” gently said his aunt, + “No matter where you go, + In country strewn with flowers like this, + Or clad in ice and snow, + The birthday of the Christ-child is + The same in every place, + And happy greetings in His name, + Bring smiles to every face.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A TROUBLESOME CALL. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We were going, on Saturday, ever so far,— + My mamma and I,—to the Dollies’ Bazaar, + Where fifty wax dollies,—the loveliest show, + Went walking about when they wound ‘em, you know. + + You wouldn’t believe half the things they could do: + Why, one said “Good morning,” as plainly as you. + One played the piano, and one, dressed in lace, + Walked up to a mirror and powdered her face. + + Well, when we were ready we stepped in the hall, + And there was a lady a-coming to call. + She said she just chanced to be passing that way, + And she really had only a minute to stay. + + We waited and waited, and hoped she would go, + Till I saw it was almost the time for the show, + For I heard the clocks striking all over the town, + And I knew that the dollies would all be run down. + + And so I just said, “I should s’pose, Mrs. Black, + Your little girl wonders why don’t you come back.” + That’s all that I spoke, every ‘dentical word; + But she said, “Little girls should be seen and not heard.” + + I guess that’s a proverb, so maybe ‘tis true; + But, if people won’t see, what can little girls do? + My mamma looked queer, but that ended the call, + And we went to the Dollies’ Bazaar, after all. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BERTIE’S CORN-POPPER + </h2> + <p> + Bertie had the desire of his heart,—a corn-popper! He had wanted it + for a long time,—three weeks, at least. Mamma brought it when she + came home from the city, and gave it to him for his very own. A bushel of + corn, ready popped, would not have been half so good. There was all the + delight of popping in store for the long winter evenings. + </p> + <p> + Bertie could hardly wait to eat his supper before he tried his + corn-popper. It proved to be a very good one. He popped corn that evening, + and the next, and the next. He fed all the family, gave some to all his + playmates, and carried a bag of pop-corn to school for his teacher. + </p> + <p> + Trip, the shaggy, little, yellow dog, came in for a share, and Mintie too. + Who or what was Mintie? + </p> + <p> + Mintie was a bantam biddy, very small, white as snow, and very pretty. She + had been left an orphan chick, and for a while kept in the house, near the + kitchen fire. She had been Bertie’s especial charge, and he fed and tended + her faithfully. + </p> + <p> + As she grew older she would rove about with the larger hens, but was very + tame, and always liked the house. She would come in very often. When + Bertie happened to pop corn in the daytime she was pretty apt to be + around, and pick up the kernels he threw to her. + </p> + <p> + One night he left his corn-popper on the kitchen table. It was open, and + two or three small kernels were still in it. + </p> + <p> + Early next morning, long before Bertie was dressed, Mintie came into the + kitchen. She flew up on the table, and helped herself to the corn in the + popper. The girl was busy getting breakfast, and did not mind much about + her. Presently she went down cellar, and Mintie had the room to herself. + </p> + <p> + When Bertie came down to breakfast there was a white egg in the + corn-popper! It was so small that it looked almost like a bird’s; but it + was Mintie’s first egg. + </p> + <p> + Bertie clapped his hands; he was very much pleased. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma! mamma!” he shouted. “See this pretty egg! Mintie put it into my + popper, and must have meant to give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + And mamma said, “Very likely she did.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FIRE! FIRE!! FIRE!!! + </h2> + <p> + Where is it? Where is it? Why, it is in the water! Isn’t that funny? But + you see it isn’t a real fire, but only a fire-fish. [*] Sweet creature, + isn’t he? Suppose you were a little, innocent mermaid, swimming alone for + the first time; how would you feel if you were to meet this fellow darting + towards you with his great red mouth open? Why, you would scream with + fright, and swim to your mother as fast as you could, and catch hold of + her tail for protection. At least, that is what I should do if I were a + mermaid. But Mrs. Mermaid won’t tell you that the fire-fish will not hurt + you unless you hurt him first, in which case he will prick you dreadfully + with his long, sharp spines. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Project Gutenberg ed. note: The picture is of a fish also + known as a scorpionfish. +</pre> + <p> + I never see his picture without thinking of a red Indian in his warpaint + and feathers. Perhaps—who knows?-perhaps when Indians are greedy, + and eat too much fish, they may turn into fire-fish, and have to swim + about forever under water, and never see a green forest again. If you are + an Indian I advise you to be careful, my dear. + </p> + <p> + Nobody knows why this fish has such enormous, wing-like fins. Wise men + used to think that he could raise himself out of the water with them, like + the flying-fish; but it is now proved that he cannot, and there seems to + be no reason why a set of plain, small fins would not serve him just as + well for swimming. He prefers warm water to cold; so he lives in the + tropical seas, swimming about the coasts of India, Africa, and Australia. + The natives of Ceylon call him Gini-maha, and they think he is very good + to eat. They take great care in catching him, for they are very much + afraid of him, thinking that his sharp spines are poisoned, and can + inflict a deadly wound. But in this they are too hard upon the fellow. He + can prick them deeply and painfully, and he will if they meddle with him; + but he is a perfectly respectable fish, and would not think of such a + cowardly thing as poisoning anybody. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DOLLS AND THE OTHER DOLLS. + </h2> + <p> + “Mamma,” little Nellie asked, “is it right to give away things that have + been given to you?” + </p> + <p> + Her mamma replied that it might be quite right sometimes; and she said, + “But I should feel sorry if I had made a little friend a present she did + not value, and so was glad to part with it.” + </p> + <p> + “O mamma!” said Nellie, “you know how I value my dollies, every one, that + my dear aunts and cousins sent me because I was sick. Now I am well again. + To-morrow is New-Year’s. Some sick little girls in the hospital want + dollies. Could I, if I knew which one to choose, keep only one for myself, + and send the whole five of them for those poor children who haven’t any?” + </p> + <p> + Her mamma liked the plan. She gave Nellie a box, and Nellie began kissing + her babies, and laying them, one after another, in the box. + </p> + <p> + There were two of nearly the same size, that were very dear to this little + mother. She called them twins. They wore white frocks and blue kid boots. + They had real blonde hair and their eyes would open and shut. + </p> + <p> + These lovely twins Nellie held in her arms a long time before she could + decide which to part with. When she did place one in the box, to be her + own no more, a tear was on the doll’s cheek. I do not think the drop came + from dolly’s eye. + </p> + <p> + A few days after the dolls were given Nellie’s mamma let her invite three + little girls to play with her. Each girl brought her Christmas or her + New-Year’s doll; and the three dolls, with Nellie’s, looked sweetly + sitting together in a row. + </p> + <p> + By and by Nellie’s mamma came to her room, which she had given to the + party for its use that afternoon. She told the children she would give + them a little supper of cakes and pears and grapes, and it would be ready + as soon as Biddy could bring the ice-cream from down street. + </p> + <p> + The smiling child-visitors gathered around the kind lady, saying, “We + thank you, and we love you ever so much.” + </p> + <p> + Nellie said softly, “Mamma dear, I wouldn’t take my dollies back if I + could. I love to think they amuse the sick children. But I do wish that + for just a minute we had as many at this party.” + </p> + <p> + Her mamma turned to her dressing-case. It stood low enough for the + smallest child to look into the mirror at the back easily. Moving off the + toilet cushions and cologne-bottles, the lady put the four dolls in front + of the looking-glass. Their reflection in the glass showed four more. + </p> + <p> + “Six, seven, eight,” cried the girls, delighted. “And all are twins—four + pairs of twins!” + </p> + <p> + After supper they made, the twins sit, and stand, and dance, bow and shake + hands, before the looking-glass. So they played till dusk, when the other + little girls’ mammas sent to take them home, after kissing Nellie + good-night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WHY DID MAMMA CHANGE HER MIND? + </h2> + <p> + Mamma Miller told Fay and Lonnie that they might have a party, so they + tried to get ready for it. But the party was very different to what they + expected. It always happens so about everything, if we pay no regard to + one another’s wishes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Miller said they might invite ten children. + </p> + <p> + “You write to five little girls, Fay,” said she, “and Lonnie will write to + the five little boys.” + </p> + <p> + So they went into the library. Lonnie sat down in papa’s big chair, while + Fay climbed up on one arm, close beside him, and they tried to think whom + they would like to come to their party. + </p> + <p> + “Make out your list first,” said Lonnie. Fay did, and her brother agreed + to all the girls. But as soon as Lonnie commenced writing his names, Fay + began to find fault. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like boys, anyway,” said Fay, “only you, Lonnie. Let’s have all + girls at our party.” + </p> + <p> + “But it won’t be my party,” said Lonnie, “if you have all girls.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care, all those are horrid,” pointing to his paper. + </p> + <p> + “You say that because you don’t like boys.” And then he told his sister + that every little fellow whose name he had written was just as good as + gold. And so they were just as good as Lonnie Miller, and he was one of + the best boys that ever lived, so everybody said. + </p> + <p> + “I sha’n’t play with him if he comes,” Fay kept saying to every name + Lonnie wrote. + </p> + <p> + “You can have your party,” said Lonnie, getting up out of the easy-chair + and sitting down in a smaller one, “you and your girls. I’m going to learn + some new pieces,” taking up his little silver blower. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like boys,” Fay kept saying, jumping down off the arm of the + chair, and aiming a blow at the spot where her brother had sat with the + rustic stick their sister Lucia had brought home May Day. + </p> + <p> + Lucia was passing the door just then, so she thought she would see what + all the noise was about. + </p> + <p> + “I’d better call you to lunch,” said she, and there they were just through + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Mamma herself came hurrying in at sound of the bell. When they told her + about the invitations, she said, “I shall not let you have any party at + all, now.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you change your mind?” said Fay. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma will give her little girl just one week to find out why she has + changed her mind,” said Mrs. Miller. + </p> + <p> + And for all Fay’s coaxing, she could not be persuaded to stay a minute + longer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLARA’S “FUNERAL.” + </h2> + <p> + Clara was the most unfortunate of dollies. She had had the mumps and + whooping cough; and no sooner did she recover from the scarlet fever than + she contracted pneumonia and nearly died. One morning Blanche was applying + hot bandages to relieve bronchitis, and before night Clara had the + small-pox. + </p> + <p> + The next day mamma stopped at the nursery door. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, little nurse,” she said; “how is poor Clara this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “She’s DEADED,” said Blanche, with a long face. + </p> + <p> + “Dreadful! What did she die of, small-pox? It seems to me that that was + what she was suffering from last evening.” + </p> + <p> + “No’m’” said Blanche, “‘twasn’t small-pox. She DID have that bad; but I + think she DIED of measles. The SUNERAL (Blanche could not say ‘funeral’) + is to be at twelve sharp. Will you come, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m so sorry, darling, but I must go to lunch with Mrs. Mathews at one. + But Jack will go.” + </p> + <p> + The “suneral” took place at noon, and Blanche and Daisy, Jack and old + Hector followed poor Clara in Benny’s wagon to the grave yard at the + bottom of the orchard. It was rather a jolly “suneral,” for they had + “refreshments” under the trees afterward. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon, as mamma, came up the orchard path, she was surprised to + see a doll’s foot and leg sticking straight up out of the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you leave her foot out in this way?” asked mamma. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Blanche, “I thought perhaps she could get to Heaven easier.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE CHICKADEE-DEE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Little darling of the snow, + Careless how the winds may blow, + Happy as a bird can be, + Singing, oh, so cheerily, + Chickadee-dee! Chickadee-dee! + + When the skies are cold and gray, + When he trills his happiest lay, + Through the clouds he seems to see + Hidden things to you and me. + Chickadee-dee! chickadee-dee! + + Very likely little birds + Have their thoughts too deep for word, + But we know, and all agree, + That the world would dreary be + Without birds, dear chickadee! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE CHILDREN’S PARTY. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What a merry, merry rout! + See the wee ones dance about! + Dickie’s leading off the ball; + There,—he almost had a fall. + + Who’s his partner in the whirls, + —Rosiest of all the girls? + But a doll—a DOLL you say; + Dancing in that sprightly way? + + Well I never! Oh, see there, + See—just see those horses tear! + Meg and Madge will sure be thrown. + What a vicious looking roan! + + Not a real live horse you say, + Prancing in that frightful way? + Well, I never! Toys to-day + Surely seem more “real” than “play.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BRAVE TOMASSO. + </h2> + <p> + There were once two very beautiful cats named Tomasso and Lilia. It would + be very hard indeed to say which was more beautiful than the other, + Tomasso the husband, or Lilia his wife. + </p> + <p> + They were about the same size, although, perhaps, Tomasso was a little the + stouter of the two. There could be no question that at times the + expression of his face was decidedly more fierce than that of his gentle + wife. + </p> + <p> + The fur of each of them was as white as the driven snow, and as soft, and + fine, and glossy as the most perfect silk gloss. + </p> + <p> + Add to these natural charms the fact that they always kept themselves + beautifully clean, and always wore round their necks cravats made of the + richest satin ribbon, and I am sure you will agree with me in thinking + that they were cats of very high degree. + </p> + <p> + Their neighbors considered them extremely proud and haughty. They never + were known to play with any of the cats in their street. To be with each + other was all they asked. Sometimes these neighbors took a great deal of + pains to get a glimpse of Tomasso and Lilia as, paw in paw, they danced a + minuet together. + </p> + <p> + Even the most grumpy grimalkin declared it was a beautiful sight. There + was no doubt the young couple was very graceful and their manners were + perfect. Then he said that cats brought up as Tomasso and his wife had + always lived, OUGHT to be amiable and beautiful. He understood that a jar + of Orange County cream was ordered for them every day. Then he muttered + something which sounded very much as if he thought Tomasso would be not + over courageous in a moment of danger. “Alone, white tail is all very + fine,” said he, “but mark my word, at a sudden fright it would turn into a + white feather. I should pity his wife if she had no one but him to protect + her.” + </p> + <p> + Now it happened that that very afternoon Tomasso’s courage was put to the + test. As he and Lilia were taking a quiet walk, suddenly a huge dog rushed + out at them. In an instant Tomasso placed himself across Lilia’s trembling + body. She had fallen to the ground in terror. The great dog made a jump at + Tomasso, but was met with such a snarl, and then such a blow from a set of + sharp claws that he ran away howling. + </p> + <p> + That night the news of Tomasso’s bravery spread through the whole + neighborhood. But he was very quiet and modest. His proud wife was much + disturbed at a bad scratch Tomasso had received in the struggle. They both + examined it carefully with the aid of a hand-glass. + </p> + <p> + “I hope it will not leave a scar,” said Lilia, “but if it does it will + only be a proof of the noble courage of my brave Tomasso.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TOMMY FROST SEES A BEAR. + </h2> + <p> + Tommy Frost was making his first visit in the country. He was enjoying it + very much. He liked to ramble about in the woods close by the house of his + aunt, Mrs. Drew. Tommy had never even seen any birds before this, but + pigeons and sparrows. That is, any birds out of cages. He had lived all + his short life in the centre of a great city. He wanted very much to see a + wild animal. He had heard Mr. Drew and some of his friends talking about + “bear tracks” in the woods. Mr. Drew said they must go off some day and + hunt for that bear. + </p> + <p> + Now Tommy had no idea what a bear was like. He wished very much that he + might see one. Every day he said to himself, “If I could only find the one + the big men were talking about I’d feel proud.” One day as he was + strolling about, he suddenly saw something moving in one of the trees. He + stopped, and looked up excitedly, then he rushed for the house screaming + at the top of his voice, “Aunt Maria! Aunt Maria! come quick, I’ve seen + it, it’s in the woods.” + </p> + <p> + “What is in the woods?” asked Mrs. Drew. + </p> + <p> + “The bear!” cried Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “The bear?” repeated Mrs. Drew, hardly understanding. + </p> + <p> + Then she drew a long breath and turned very white as she stood a moment + shielding her eyes from the sun, looking in the direction in which Tommy + pointed. Then she ran back into the house, and came out in a moment, + bringing with her a huge horn. It was a megaphone. She was trembling so + she could scarcely lift it, but she managed to raise it to her mouth and + call through it. “John! Murray! come! come this instant! The bear is in + the woods back of the house.” + </p> + <p> + In a few moments her husband and brother came running from the field where + they were at work. + </p> + <p> + They stopped for no questions, but rushed into the house for their guns. + But as they came out Mr. Drew asked, “Who saw it? When, where?” + </p> + <p> + “I did,” said Tommy, not a bit frightened, but feeling very excited and + proud. “I did, back there in a tree.” + </p> + <p> + “In a tree?” cried Mrs. Drew’s brother, stopping in his quick run for the + woods. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Tommy, “it was a bear, but it looked,—it LOOKED just + like my picture of a wiggle-tail.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” cried Mrs. Drew, as she sank on the door-step, “the child has seen a + gray squirrel!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MYSELF. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One little head so smooth and round, + With soft hair covered, golden or brown, + One little forehead smooth and white, + Two little eye-brows dark or light. + Two little eyes that we see through. + See us looking, now, at you? + Two little cheeks so plump and round, + Where the red rose of health is found. + Two little ears where sound comes in; + One little nose and mouth and chin. + Rows of little teeth all in white; + Ready for use when lunch is in sight. + One little tongue kind words to say— + Bright little smiles which round them play. + One little head where all are seen. + One little neck which stands between + Head and shoulders to hold them fast. + Now are we ready to find, at last, + One little body with arms and hands + Two legs and two feet on which it stands. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TWO STRANGE SIGHTS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh come into the dining-room!” + Cries Fred, “come, grandma, dear. + For something very strange indeed + Is going on in here!” + And sure enough, when grandma comes, + Perhaps at first with fright, + She stands quite still, astonished at + An unexpected sight. + + For there upon the woollen rug, + A jug between her feet, + Sits Freddy’s little sister Bess + Absorbed in pleasures sweet. + Her finger in the syrup now + Behold she slyly dips, + And carries it with great delight + To her own rosy lips. + + “You little witch!” cries grandmama, + “You’re like the naughty rat + I found within the cellar once, + Who on a barrel sat, + Filled with molasses, which he reached + By dipping in the hole + His great long tail from which he licked + The sweets he thus had stole. + + “The rat was shot, but grandma’s babe, + Well, till she’s learned to know + Such tricks are wrong, why we of course + Must naught but patience show.” + Then grandma took her little pet, + And washed her sticky face, + Then put that tempting syrup-jug + Up in a safer place. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A CAT’S INSTINCTS. + </h2> + <p> + “Take that! and that! and that!” These words came from an angry little + girl. She was leaning over a big gray puss which she was holding down with + one hand, while with the other she struck him a sharp blow every time she + said “THAT.” + </p> + <p> + It is a wonder puss did not bite her, for he was so strong he could have + done so. He was a very gentle cat. “Gentle?” I hear some one ask. Then why + did he deserve such a whipping as the little girl was giving him? + </p> + <p> + That is a question we must try to have answered. For my part I do not + believe he deserved it at all. Let us see what happened next. Just as the + little girl struck the last blow her Aunt Margaret came into the room. + Aunt Margaret stopped in the doorway, astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Why Flora,” she said, as puss darted out of the room, “what are you + beating Griffin for?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think he was doing?” cried Flora, her cheeks still flushed + with anger. “He was on the table just ready to spring at this beautiful + bird in my new hat. If I had not come he would have torn it to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + “But he knew no better,” said Aunt Margaret, “it is perfectly natural for + a cat to spring at a bird. Yes, and for him to kill it too, if he has not + been trained to do otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “But it would have made me feel dreadfully to have this beautiful bird + torn to bits. I really love it. Besides, it was killed long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Aunt Margaret, “killed that you might wear it on a hat.” + </p> + <p> + There was something in Aunt Margaret’s voice which made Flora and the + little girls who were visiting her stand very still and look up. + </p> + <p> + “You say,” continued Aunt Margaret very gently, “you say you love your + beautiful bird. That you would feel dreadfully if it were torn to bits. + How do you think its bird-mother felt when it was torn from her nest, and + she never saw it again?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Flora, “I never thought of that before. I’m afraid,—I’m + afraid I’m more to blame than the cat.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DINAH’S NEW YEAR’S PRESENT. + </h2> + <p> + Dinah Morris is a colored girl. She lives in the South. By South we mean + in the southern part of the United States. + </p> + <p> + Dinah is one of the most good-natured children that ever lived, but she is + very, very lazy. There is nothing she likes, or used to like, so much as + to curl up in some warm corner in the sun and do nothing. + </p> + <p> + Dinah’s mother wished very much that her child should learn to read, but + the lady who tried to teach her soon gave it up. “It is no use,” she said, + “Dinah will not learn. She is not a stupid child, but she is too lazy for + anything.” + </p> + <p> + It happened, soon after this, that a young man from Massachusetts came to + the house where Dinah lived. He brought with him something no one else in + the neighborhood had ever seen before—a pair of roller-skates. + </p> + <p> + When Dinah saw the young man going rapidly up and down the piazza on his + skates she was so astonished she hardly knew what to think. She ran after + him like a cat, her black eyes shining as they had never shone before. + </p> + <p> + One day the young man allowed her to try on the skates. The child was too + happy for words. Of course she fell down, and sprawled about the floor, + but did not mind at all. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Dinah,” said the young man, “I understand that my aunt has + been trying to teach you to read.” + </p> + <p> + Dinah answered that she certainly had. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you learn?” asked the young man. “You need not trouble to + answer,” said he, “it was just because you are too lazy. Now, if, on the + first of January, you can read, I tell you what I will do. I will send you + as good a pair of roller-skates as I can buy in Boston.” + </p> + <p> + How Dinah’s eyes snapped. For a moment she said nothing, then exclaimed + decidedly, “I’ll have those skates, sure.” + </p> + <p> + And she did. When she bent her mind on her work she could always do it + well, no matter what it was. + </p> + <p> + The lady who had before this found her such a difficult child to teach, + now had no trouble. If Dinah showed the least sign of her former laziness + the word SKATES! was enough to make her bend her mind on her lesson + instantly. + </p> + <p> + On New Year’s morning she received a box marked in large printed letters: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MISS DINAH MORRIS, + Care of Mrs. Lawrence Delaney, + NEW ORLEANS, LA. + + If she can read what is on the outside of + this box she can have what is inside. +</pre> + <p> + And as Dinah read every word plainly and quickly, of course she had for + her very own the fine roller-skates the box held. And now sitting curled + up in the sun, doing nothing, is not the thing she likes to do best. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NIGHT FLOWERS. + </h2> + <p> + There are some flowers that never see the sun. One of the most curious is + the “evening primrose.” About six o’clock it suddenly bursts open, with a + popping sound, and at six next morning closes. + </p> + <p> + If you watch that pretty flower, and listen, you can hear this strange + performance. + </p> + <p> + This is why it does so. The little calyx holds the petals in such a way + that the moment it turns back they are let loose. At once it bursts out + into full flower, with this funny noise, like a pop-gun. + </p> + <p> + So the “night-blooming cereus” blossom in the night, only for an hour, + giving out its sweet fragrance, and then dies. Just think of never seeing + the sun at all! + </p> + <p> + In a far Eastern country there is a kind of jasmine called the “sorrowful + tree.” It droops as if sick in the daytime, and at night grows fresh and + bright. It opens its lovely flowers with a very pleasant odor till + morning, and then wilts and looks wretched again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FIRST SNOW-STORM. + </h2> + <p> + Away off on a warm sunny island, little Harry Hall was born. Flowers + bloomed all the year round. The sun shone most of the time, although now + and then there were thunder-showers. + </p> + <p> + Many wonderful plants grew wild, while on the shore shells and seaweed and + queer little fishes were often to be found. + </p> + <p> + When Harry was six years old his parents took a journey to New York. + </p> + <p> + It seemed very odd to the little boy to live in a place where there were + so many people, and such great houses. After a while the weather grew + cold, and he had to wear thick woollen clothing. The house in which they + lived was heated by a furnace; but one day they had a fire of logs on the + hearth. Harry enjoyed it very much, and thought the bright blaze so + pretty. + </p> + <p> + The sky was gray and cloudy one afternoon, and Harry had been standing by + the window watching the street cars. Suddenly the air grew thick, and he + could scarcely see the houses opposite. Something white and feathery fell + slowly down and rested on the window ledge. Then it disappeared. But more + and more of the little flakes came, until there was quite a ridge outside + of the window. + </p> + <p> + Harry opened the sash gently, fearing it might fly away. He was surprised + when he touched it to find it so cold. He took some up in his hand, but in + a moment it was only a drop of water. + </p> + <p> + By that time the street and the men’s hats and coats were quite white. + Harry was puzzled to find a name for the beautiful white substance, so he + ran to his mamma and asked her about it. + </p> + <p> + She told him it was snow, and because the air was so warm on the beautiful + island where he was born they never had any. + </p> + <p> + The next morning he saw the little children of the neighborhood playing in + it; but before noon the sun was so bright and warm the snow had all melted + away. + </p> + <p> + When the second snow-storm came Harry’s papa brought home a beautiful + sleigh, and gave his little boy great pleasure by drawing him up and down + the street. + </p> + <p> + Harry soon learned to go out by himself, and made many friends; especially + of the little girls, as he was very generous with his sleigh. + </p> + <p> + But he has never forgotten his surprise when he saw the first snow-storm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FRED’S STOLEN RIDE. + </h2> + <p> + One day little Fred’s mother, who had been sick a long time, told him she + was going out with a friend to take a drive. Fred wanted to go, too, but + his mother said there would not be room in the buggy. Fred felt very cross + and unhappy, and sat down on the front steps, ready to cry as soon as he + should see his mother go away. + </p> + <p> + A buggy came to the gate, and the gentleman who was driving went into the + house. Fred ran out and climbed into the buggy to sit there until his + mother came out. + </p> + <p> + In looking around he saw there was a wide space under the seat, in which a + boy might hide. He crawled in, thinking he would take a ride, and his + mother would not know it. + </p> + <p> + He waited a long time, but no one came, and at last he grew tired and fell + asleep. + </p> + <p> + He was waked by feeling a big jolt, as a wheel of the buggy struck a + stone; but he kept still. After what seemed to him a long time the buggy + stopped and he heard some one taking the horse from the shafts. He waited + until all was quiet, and then crawled out from his hiding-place. + </p> + <p> + He found it was almost dark, and everything about him was strange. He was + very much frightened, but he jumped down and went to a farm-house close + by. A woman he had never seen before came to the door. When he told her + where he lived she said he was fifteen miles from home, and he found that + he had taken his stolen ride in the buggy of a man who had called to see + his father on business. + </p> + <p> + It was too late for Fred to go home that night, and he had to stay at the + farmer’s house until the next day. Then he was taken home, and I am very + sure he never tried to steal another ride. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A VALENTINE PARTY. + </h2> + <p> + The children had a valentine party, the very nicest party,—they all + declared, that they had ever been to in their lives. All the cousins in + the neighborhood—and there were a lot of them—were there. + </p> + <p> + What fun they had opening their valentines, which a “really” postman + brought with his gray uniform and his whistle and his great leather pack. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” he said, pretending to groan, as he handed the missives, “if + you had a party every day here I think I should be completely worn out!” + But his eyes twinkled merrily. + </p> + <p> + Such shouts and exclamations as the valentines were opened and read! And + such fun looking at everybody else’s. Here are two, Bessie’s and Fred’s:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I’m for the boy + Who can stand on his head, + And who NEVER likes + To go to bed. + If there’s more than one of them,— + I’m for FRED! + + I bring a kiss + From far away; + It’s travelled many + Miles to-day. + + Take it, my dear, + And send one back + To your old, loving + Uncle Jack. +</pre> + <p> + Don’t you think that the children OUGHT to have had a good time if all + received as dear little valentines as these? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE VENTURESOME RAT. + </h2> + <p> + He was a fine young rat and lived with his father and mother, and brothers + and sisters in a farm-cellar. + </p> + <p> + Now this young rat was not of a very quiet disposition. In fact he was + quite gay, and thought the life in the farm-cellar was very dull and + stupid and longed to see more of the world. + </p> + <p> + He sat near his father and mother one day when they were entertaining a + caller, a stranger who seemed to have travelled all over the world, and + told in a very interesting manner of the many wonderful things he had + seen. “Why,” said the caller, “how you can be contented to live as you do + I cannot imagine, and to bring up your children in such ignorance fills me + with surprise. They would learn more in one night prowling through the big + house to which this farm belongs than they will learn here for the rest of + their lives.” + </p> + <p> + After this caller had taken his leave, the young rat decided that he would + venture forth himself. He would that very night visit the big house and + see what was to be seen there. He pretended to cuddle down on his own bed, + and go sound asleep. He was really watching his parents out of the corners + of his wicked eyes, and as soon as they were sound asleep, off he started. + He found his way to the house much more easily than he had expected; in + short, almost before he could believe it, he was in a fine great pantry. A + pantry whose shelves were covered with such good things to eat as he had + never seen. Rich cake, pies, cookies, and cheese such as he had heard the + caller describe. The first nibble fairly melted in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + After he had eaten his fill he began looking about the pantry for other + means of amusement. Suddenly he saw a curious thing; it seemed to be a + little house or hut made of wire. Inside the hut was a piece of cheese. “I + really think I have eaten enough,” said the young rat, “but if that cheese + is so fine that it is kept in a house by itself it must be very fine + indeed.” With these words he crawled into the hole in the side of the hut + and ate the cheese, but when, later, he tried to get out he could not to + save his life. + </p> + <p> + Hours and hours he remained there until the night passed, and the day + came. Indeed he had fallen into a little nap when he was awakened by a + loud cry. Some one was shouting, “we’ve caught the rascal at last, now + we’ll drown him.” + </p> + <p> + The poor little fellow knew they were wrong; he could not be the rascal + they meant, for this was the first time he had ever been in the house. At + that moment a boy’s voice was heard to say. “Let me see him. No, you shall + not drown him. I will tame him if I can.” + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that the young rat did see a good deal of the world, + but how? THROUGH THE BARS OF A CAGE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BEARS’ FEAST. + </h2> + <p> + A man had come to town with two tame bears. They were very clever bears, + and could climb posts and trees, dance and turn summersets and do a great + many other tricks besides. + </p> + <p> + One day the man was taken ill and had to stay in the house all day. He + thought the bears were locked up in the barn. But the bears decided they + would go for a walk by themselves. They managed to get away without being + seen and started in the direction of the schoolhouse. + </p> + <p> + The children were at recess when they suddenly saw the bears. They were + frightened and ran screaming into the school-house. + </p> + <p> + The bears were very tame and kind and wanted to make friends with the + children, so they followed them. + </p> + <p> + The children jumped on the desks screaming and crying and the teachers + were frightened too. + </p> + <p> + When the bears saw that they could not make friends or play they began + quietly walking about the school-room. + </p> + <p> + Finally they came to the dressing-room where all the dinner-pails and + baskets were hanging. + </p> + <p> + Smelling the food, they managed to knock some of the baskets down and then + such a feast as they had! + </p> + <p> + They sat on their haunches and ate sandwiches and fruit and drank milk out + of the bottles just as the children would do. When they had eaten enough + they quietly left the school-house and trotted down the road toward home. + </p> + <p> + After the bears were gone the children became calm again and returned to + their lessons. + </p> + <p> + The man and the bears disappeared the next day and were never seen again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PATTY-SAYINGS. + </h2> + <p> + “I’ve been reading Bible stories,” Patty said, “and I believe That Adam’s + name MEANT ‘Morning,’ Because his wife was ‘Eve.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BABIE’S CURLS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Little Bessie Boothby + Had a little sister Sue: + And a baby brother, + Whom she thought the world of, too. + + Only one thing troubled + These dear little girls; + ‘Though baby Tom was pretty, + He hadn’t any curls. + + They found a box of vaseline + And rubbed it on his head; + But even then no hair would grow: + It made his head quite red. + + Bessie once was brushing + Dollie’s golden hair, + When off it fell, alas! and left + Poor dollie’s head quite bare. + + Little Sue was frightened, + But to comfort, Bessie said, + “Susie dear, do listen, + ‘Tis just like babie’s head. + + “Let’s put the wig on baby Tom, + And then he’ll have some curls; + I would not even be surprised + If he looked just like us girls.” + + When Mamma saw her baby boy + With all this growth of hair, + She laughed until she nearly cried, + At the naughty little pair. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE RED APPLES. + </h2> + <p> + One windy day in March Kitty Miller was on her way to school, when she + spied in a store window, a great pile of lovely red apples. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she said, “how lovely! if Mamma could only have one!” + </p> + <p> + Kittie’s mother was very poor. She had been a dress-maker ever since Mr. + Miller died, and had worked so hard to earn a living for herself and Kitty + that she had become sick. She was obliged to lie in bed all day, and when + Kitty was away at school, the house was very lonesome to the invalid. + </p> + <p> + When Kitty reached the school that day her thoughts were full of her sick + mother and the lovely apples. + </p> + <p> + She was usually a good scholar, but to-day she made so many blunders that + the teacher looked at her in surprise. The little girl could only sit at + her desk, with her book before her, and dream of those red apples. When + school was dismissed, Kitty started slowly homeward. She had gone only a + short distance when she saw a gentleman in front of her drop his purse. + Running quickly forward she picked it up. It felt quite heavy in Kittie’s + little hand. + </p> + <p> + “There must be a good deal of money in it,” thought Kitty. “How I wish I + could keep it. Then I could buy Mamma a red apple and so many other things + she needs.” + </p> + <p> + But she knew this would not be right, so she hurried after the gentleman. + Touching him on the arm, she said, “Please, Sir, you dropped your purse.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear,” said the gentleman taking the purse. + </p> + <p> + Then noticing how poorly dressed she was, he said, “Why did you not keep + the purse, my child?” + </p> + <p> + “Because that would be stealing,” replied Kitty. “But,” she continued + honestly, “before I thought I must give it back to you, I did wish I could + keep it, for then I could buy Mamma a red apple.” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman smiled kindly and said, “You are a good little girl to + return my purse. I would like to give you a little present and then you + can buy a red apple.” + </p> + <p> + He handed her a silver dollar and then bade her good-by. + </p> + <p> + Kitty was so surprised that she started hastily for home, forgetting all + about the red apples until she stood in front of the store. + </p> + <p> + The store-keeper happened to look out and saw the same little girl who + stood looking so longingly in at his window in the morning. He quickly + picked out the biggest, roundest, reddest apple he could find and taking + it out to Kitty said, “Would you like this, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + She took the apple, looking so pleased and thanking him so prettily, that + the good man thought of it for many a day. When Kitty reached home with + her treasures she found her mother fast asleep. So she put the apple and + silver piece on a plate where her mother could see them when she awoke. + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Miller was told the wonderful story, she kissed her little + daughter and said, “You see, dear, it always pays to be honest and + truthful.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BUBBLES. + </h2> + <h3> + “Now, Tommie, what will you do while I write letters this morning?” + </h3> + <p> + “Blow soap bubbles, Mamma, please,” and Tommie jumped up and down, + clapping his hands for pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Well, run and get me your pipe and bowl and I will mix you some suds.” + </p> + <p> + The soap-suds were soon ready, and Tommie took his favorite position on + the broad window-sill with the bowl in his lap. + </p> + <p> + Mamma, writing in the next room, could hear the Oh’s and squeals of + delight, as the bubbles grew larger and rounder. + </p> + <p> + “Why is Tommie in all the bubbles?” asked the little boy at last. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said Mamma, “the bubbles are like a mirror, and when my little + boy is near enough to look at them, he will be reflected in them, just the + same as when he looks in Mamma’s long mirror.” + </p> + <p> + “But the mirror doesn’t break like the bubbles,” said Tommie. “Where do + they go when they break, Mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “They evaporate, dear; that is a big word for my little boy. Spell it + after Mamma and then perhaps you will remember. E-v-a-p-o-r-a-t-e + evaporate.” + </p> + <p> + “What does evaporate mean,” asked Tommie bringing out the long word with a + jerk. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember, dear,” answered Mamma, “that early in the morning when + the grass is all wet with dew, my little boy cannot run in it without his + rubbers? But before long it is all dry and then my little boy takes off + his rubbers and does not get his feet wet. The sun and the air absorb or + suck up the water and carry it off to their homes. Now, the bubbles are + made of a little water and a little air. The water is on the end of the + pipe, and Tommie blows the air into the pipe, and the bubble grows big and + round. When it breaks, the air sucks up the water, which was the outside + of the bubble, and the air which was inside mixes with the air in the + room.” + </p> + <p> + “Now do you suppose you can tell Papa all about it, when he comes home to + dinner?” asked Mamma. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I can,” said Tommie, proudly. “Haven’t you just told me all + about it?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A HORSE WHO WORE SNOW SHOES. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Brown had to go to his camp at Pine Tree Valley, which is in the midst + of the mountains in California. + </p> + <p> + His men were cutting down the giant trees, and piling them in readiness + for the Spring freshet, or floods of the river, when the snows melted. + Then they would slide them down the mountain sides to the little villages + below. + </p> + <p> + There was a great deal of snow on the mountains, and Mr. Brown knew it + would be hard work climbing to the camp, but Lady Gray was strong, and + used to it. + </p> + <p> + Lady Gray was Mr. Brown’s pet horse, and carried him everywhere. She was + always happy when her master was in the saddle. + </p> + <p> + But to-day the snow was very deep and soon Mr. Brown had to get off, throw + away the saddle, and lead her. They had to stop very often, and lean + against the trees and rocks for support, while they rested and regained + their breath. + </p> + <p> + In places the snow was so deep and soft, that they sank above their knees. + Late in the afternoon they reached the camp nearly exhausted, and it was + several days before they were able to return. + </p> + <p> + The snow was still deep and Mr. Brown knew he must go back on snow-shoes, + but he was afraid Lady Gray would have to be left behind. + </p> + <p> + Finally one of the men suggested making her some snow-shoes. They cut four + round pieces of board, twelve inches across, and fastened them on with + rope. Lady Gray seemed to understand what they were for and tried very + hard to walk in them. + </p> + <p> + She was very awkward at first and could hardly stand up, but by practicing + a little every day she was soon able to manage nicely. + </p> + <p> + So Mr. Brown and Lady Gray both returned on snow-shoes, and how every one + did laugh when they saw them. + </p> + <p> + But Lady Gray never could have done it if she had not tried. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ANGRY BOBOLINK. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Pretty little bobolink + In your satin coat, + Trimmed with white across the neck + Black about the throat, + Why so angry do you seem? + Why so fierce your mien? + That you’re scolding somebody + Plainly can be seen. + + “Don’t you know,” says bobolink, + As he shakes his head, + That my nest is hidden in + This soft grassy bed? + Somebody has come too near, + And I wish to say + There is no admittance here + Pass the other way. + + “If my gentle little wife + Sits so calm above, + It’s because she knows I’ll guard + This dear nest we love.” + Fear not, pretty bobolink, + Sing your joyous song, + Never will I trouble you, + Sing, the whole day long. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HOW HIRAM SPENT HIS SHRIMP MONEY. + </h2> + <p> + “I wish my mother had a ring like those the ladies wear at the hotel,” + said Hiram Green to himself one day. “There isn’t one of those ladies as + pretty as my mother; she ought to wear rings too.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram was the son of a fisherman, but the fisherman had died when Hiram + was a little boy. Hiram’s mother took in sewing and fancy work to earn + money to support herself and her son. He helped her what he could out of + school hours, and in vacation. He had two uncles who wad taught him how to + catch shrimps. With the money he earned by selling them he could buy + things for his own use or pleasure. He had a bank almost full of what he + called his “shrimp-money.” He did not mean to count his money until the + bank was full. + </p> + <p> + Now Hiram loved his mother more than anything else in the world. Whenever + he dreamed of being rich some time, as boys often do, it was not for + himself he wanted the money, but that his dear little mother might drive + in a carriage, drawn by a pair of horses with clanking chains. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the flashing gems on the hands of some of the summer visitors + at the fishing village in which he lived had added a new article to the + list of beautiful things his mother was some day to own. He had heard that + just one single diamond was sometimes worth five hundred dollars or more. + This had discouraged him very much. But one day happening to pass a shop + in the neighboring town he saw a number of rings displayed in the window. + Diamond rings which flashed and sparkled, it seemed to him, just as those + worn by the ladies in the hotels. He stopped fascinated, ana pressed his + face against the glass eagerly to see if any prices were marked upon them. + Imagine his surprise when he saw upon the largest one a tag marked $4.75. + He looked again to see if he had not made a mistake. Perhaps it was + $475.00. But no, he knew enough about figures to see that he was right the + first time. + </p> + <p> + Home he went as fast as he could get there, and ran up into his bedroom. + Then, for the first time since he had begun to save his “shrimp-money” he + opened his bank and counted its contents. “Three dollars and twenty-two + cents!” he cried, “almost enough. I was going to buy something for myself + this time, but I’ll have that ring before another week.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram worked early and late for the next few days. He caught more shrimps + than he had ever caught in the same length of time, and sold them readily. + </p> + <p> + “I think there must be something you are wanting, very much, my boy,” said + his mother. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is,” replied Hiram. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the week he had the sum he desired. Hurrying to the shop + where he had seen the ring, before going inside he gave one hasty, almost + frightened look into the window. Could it be gone! No, there it was + flashing and sparkling as before. + </p> + <p> + That evening, he placed it on his mother’s finger. She looked at it in + surprise. “It is yours, mother,” he cried, proudly, “your very own, I + bought it with my shrimp money. I was determined my mother should have a + ring as handsome as those ladies wear.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” said his mother, while something as bright as the shining + stone flashed in her eyes, “Not one of those ladies can value their rings + as I shall value mine.” + </p> + <p> + Years afterwards Hiram learned that what he had bought for a diamond was + only a bit of glass. + </p> + <p> + “Did you know it then, mother?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + His mother nodded. “And you never told me.” + </p> + <p> + “It was brighter to me than any real diamond,” she said, “the brightness I + saw flash in it was the unselfish love of my boy.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ANT’S HOUSE. + </h2> + <p> + “What a curious picture that is at the head of this story.” That is what I + think I hear some of the “Little Ones” say. “What does it mean?” some one + asks. It looks like a procession of ants. That is just what it is. A + procession of ants all marching off to find a new home. Some one has + destroyed their old one. Let us hope no one did it on purpose. + </p> + <p> + The ants are very busy and very nice little creatures. If their houses are + stepped upon, or injured so as to be useless the ants immediately go to + work to repair damages. They do not sit down and fuss about it first, but + I have no doubt they let each other know what they think. And how do you + suppose they do this? By touching each other with their tiny feelers. + </p> + <p> + After they have talked in this way, and decided what is to be done some of + them take the eggs from the ruins and carry them to a safe place. Look + carefully at the pictures, and you will see that almost every ant is + carrying an egg. They know that if they lose the eggs all the young ants + inside the eggs will be lost too. + </p> + <p> + While ants do not seem to have a very keen sense of hearing, their sense + of smell is very strong. And where do you think it lies? In the same + little feelers with which they talk to each other. The first ant’s house + seen in the round picture has been cut in two to show you how wonderfully + these little creatures can build. + </p> + <p> + It was made by the ants that live in tropical countries. The house at the + back of the picture has not been disturbed. Does it not look as if an + architect had planned it? Ask some of the older people in your family to + tell you something more about ants. There is much more of interest in + regard to them than I have space to write you. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FOOLISH PUG. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A pompous pug once thought that he + A dashing swell would try to be, + And on his neighbors one and all, + Sat out to make a stylish call. + + He wore a glass upon one eye, + And on his head a silk hat high; + A wide, stiff collar around his throat, + And last an English overcoat. + + So fine and splendid was his air + The very birds stood still to stare, + As walking on his two hind feet + He sauntered boldly down the street. + + But oh, alas! it comes to all + To learn that pride must have a fall, + And e’er the corner he had turned + Poor pug that bitter lesson learned. + + A saucy maid with one great whack, + Brought down her broom upon his back, + And as he raised a frightened wail + Another soused him from her pail. + + Poor pug! that night he sat and thought + Of all the trouble he had brought + Upon himself, because that he + A foolish dude had tried to be. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SILHOUETTE PARTY + </h2> + <p> + “Children,” said Grandpa, one afternoon, “I am going to build a bonfire + this evening, to burn up this rubbish, so you may have a silhouette + party.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is a silhouette party?” asked Lucy, opening her eyes very wide. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Ralph, “it is funny black pictures on something white.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right,” laughed Grandpa. “Now you fly round and write your friends + and Grandma and I will get everything ready.” + </p> + <p> + When the young people arrived at half past seven, they found a blazing + fire, and in front of it was stretched a sheet between two large apple + trees. + </p> + <p> + Quite a distance in front of the sheet were some seats, where Grandpa told + some of the children to sit, while the others took part in the pictures. + </p> + <p> + He then disappeared with them in a tent close by where Grandma was waiting + to dress them in their different costumes. Shouts of laughter came from + the tent as the children put on their odd dresses; indeed there was so + much fun that it took quite some time. + </p> + <p> + When all was ready Grandpa came out and addressing the children who were + waiting said, “These are to be Mother Goose pictures, which you will all + know. You must guess whom they represent and the one who guesses correctly + the largest number will receive a prize.” + </p> + <p> + He threw a large pine knot on the fire, which burned up brightly, and + there the children saw a shadow on the sheet, a little bent figure with a + broom over its shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “The old woman who swept the cob-webs out of the sky,” cried some one. + </p> + <p> + Following this, came a figure with a long cloak and tall peaked hat, + leading a dog. + </p> + <p> + “Old Mother Hubbard,” guessed another. + </p> + <p> + Then came a boy and a girl carrying a pail. + </p> + <p> + “Jack and Jill,” chorused the children. + </p> + <p> + After this a girl with a shepherd’s crook. + </p> + <p> + “Little Bo-peep,” again was guessed. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Grandpa, “it is time the others had their turn at acting.” + </p> + <p> + So the exchange being made, the pictures continued. + </p> + <p> + “Jack Horner,” “Little Miss Muffet,” “Old King Cole,” and “Mary, who had a + little lamb,” followed in quick succession. + </p> + <p> + Then Grandpa announced that the pictures were over. + </p> + <p> + “As we cannot decide who has guessed the largest number of pictures,” said + he, “I will give you each a prize.” And he passed them each a card. + </p> + <p> + It proved to be a picture of Ralph and Lucy cut from black paper and + pasted on a white card. + </p> + <p> + “These,” said Grandpa, “are silhouette pictures too. Will you always know + what a silhouette picture is now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” said the children. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SNOW BIRDS. + </h2> + <p> + It had snowed very hard. Ralph and Edward, who were visiting Grandma in + the country, had to stay in the house all day. + </p> + <p> + When they went to bed it was still snowing, and every time they woke up + during the night, they could hear the wind sighing and whistling around + the house, and through he branches of the old pine tres. + </p> + <p> + But the next morning the sun was shining brightly. Such a glorious day! + How the branches of the pine trees did sparkle. + </p> + <p> + “It looks as if they had been sprinkled with gold dust and diamonds,” + exclaimed Ralph. + </p> + <p> + “Oh Grandma! Please do hurry breakfast. We are going out to build a fort,” + cried the boys, bursting into the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + Grandma smiled and told them to eat a good breakfast, for building a fort + was hard work. + </p> + <p> + They were soon out in the snow, and what a splendid time they did have. + </p> + <p> + The fort did not grow very fast, for they had to stop so often to + snow-ball each other. + </p> + <p> + When Grandma called them in to dinner they wondered where the time had + gone since breakfast. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, Ralph was looking out of the window, when he spied two + little birds cuddled up on a branch of a pine-tree. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Edward! come here,” he called. “See those poor little birds. They + look half frozen and so hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little things,” replied Edward. “Doesn’t it make you feel mean to + think what a jolly time we had this morning out of the snow which has + covered up the places where they get their food?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us get some food from Grandma and throw it out to them,” said Ralph. + “Perhaps they will find it.” + </p> + <p> + The little birds were soon chirpping and flying about merrily and Ralph + said it sounded as if they kept saying, “thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Will not other little children be as kind as Ralph and Edward? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A KIND HEART. + </h2> + <h3> + The day Ethel Brown was seven years old she had a tea party. + </h3> + <p> + Mrs. Brown had sent tiny cards of invitation to all the little girls on + the street to come and bring their dolls. She also sent one to Nellie Day, + her washer-woman’s little girl, at Ethel’s special request. + </p> + <p> + “She is a nice little girl,” said Ethel, “and doesn’t ever go anywhere + like me. May I have her at my party?” + </p> + <p> + “That is right, little daughter,” said Mrs. Brown. “Always be kind to + those who have less pleasure than yourself. Of course she may come to your + party.” + </p> + <p> + They all arrived at four o’clock and looked very pretty in their white + dresses and bright ribbons, and the dolls looked nearly as pretty as the + little girls themselves. + </p> + <p> + Ethel noticed that Nellie Day did not have a doll with her. “So,” thought + she, “I will ask her to pour the tea and then she won’t feel bad because + she hasn’t one.” + </p> + <p> + The little girls talked and played games and Ethel’s grown up sister + played on the piano and then they sang. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Mrs. Brown, coming into the room, “if you will choose + partners, Florence will play for you and you can march out to tea.” + </p> + <p> + During the confusion Ethel said to her mamma, “I shall ask Nellie to pour + the tea because she has not any doll.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, dear,” answered Mrs. Brown. + </p> + <p> + But when they turned to find her, she was not with the others. + </p> + <p> + “Where can she be?” exclaimed Ethel. + </p> + <p> + And then began the search. Tea was delayed and they hunted the house over + for her. Finally Mrs. Brown went out on a side porch seldom used, and + there she found the little girl. + </p> + <p> + The child had brought a cushion to sit on, and clasped tightly in her arms + were three of Ethel’s dolls. Mrs. Brown persuaded her to come in with the + promise that she might keep the dolls. + </p> + <p> + So Ethel rang the bell, and they all marched in to tea again, with Nellie + Day leading the line, holding her three dollies. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma,” said Ethel, as the little girls were going home, “may I give + Nellie Day the dolls? I have so many and she has not one.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes indeed,” replied Mrs. Brown, as she kissed her little daughter. “I am + sure it will make her very happy.” + </p> + <p> + And Nellie Day went home that night, the happiest little girl in the town. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TOWSER TALKS. + </h2> + <p> + I am not a big dog and I don’t know very much, but I know more than I used + to. The reason why I know more than I used to is because I asked Carlo + some questions once. I asked him what made him so gaunt and thin and why + he had such an enquiring expression on his face and such a hump on the top + of his head. He didn’t answer right away, and—I noticed the + enquiring expression vanished. He looked quite decided. Then something + happened,—I don’t know exactly what, but Mary, the cook, told the + butler that it made her dizzy just to look on. And then Carlo said:— + </p> + <p> + “One reason why I am gaunt and thin is because I am not a little up-start + of a pug,—of no earthly use under Heaven, and nothing to do but + waddle around and accumulate fat. + </p> + <p> + “The reason I have an enquiring expression on my face is because I am ever + on the outlook to anticipate my master’s will and do his slightest + bidding. + </p> + <p> + “As for the hump on the top of my head, that is a mark given by the + Creator only to dogs that have intellect. Pray that yours may grow!” + </p> + <p> + That is all he said, but it was enough for one day and has furnished me + food for thought ever since. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JUST AS SHE PLEASED. + </h2> + <p> + “Now, children, I am tired of you; I am going down stairs for the rest of + the morning,” and Polly started to leave the nursery. + </p> + <p> + “Put your dolls away before you go,” said Nurse, “I don’t want them left + in the middle of the floor.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t. I did not put them there.” Polly tossed her head and ran quickly + out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Nurse had baby in her lap and could not run after her. + </p> + <p> + The little girl went to the kitchen, but cook was cross and said she would + not have Polly bothering her. + </p> + <p> + Then she went to the library hoping to find her Uncle Edward, but he was + not there. + </p> + <p> + She wandered from room to room and could find nothing to amuse her. + </p> + <p> + She wanted to go back into the nursery, but she had told a lie when she + said she had not put the dolls on the floor, and she was afraid to. + </p> + <p> + She felt lonesome and a few tears ran down her face. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Uncle Edward entered the room, and, seeing the doleful + little face, took her in his arms, tossing her into the air. + </p> + <p> + As he did so, he knocked over a vase which fell to the floor, broken. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! see what you have done,” cried Polly. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care. I shall say I didn’t do it,” replied Uncle Edward. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! But that would be a lie,” said Polly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, who put the dolls on the nursery floor?” + </p> + <p> + “Nurse must have told you. But I am sorry,” and Polly began to cry again. + </p> + <p> + “There, there!” said Uncle Edward. “We will go up and tell Nurse we are + sorry.” + </p> + <p> + They went up to the nursery but Nurse and baby had gone and the dolls were + still on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Polly wanted to play circus and Uncle Edward made believe he was the + elephant and gave the dollies a ride. He kicked so once that black Diana + fell off and broke her neck. + </p> + <p> + After a while Nurse came in with baby and interrupted the frolic. + </p> + <p> + When Polly told her she was sorry because she had told a lie, Nursie said + she would forgive her and Polly promised not to do so again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WORKING TOOLS OF INSECTS. + </h2> + <p> + I wonder if you know that the smallest insects you see about you have + tools given them to do their work with. There is a little fly called a + saw-fly, because it has a saw to work with. It is really a very much nicer + saw than you could make, if you were ever so old. + </p> + <p> + The fly uses it to make places where the eggs will be safe. What is more + strange, it has a sort of homemade glue which fastens them where they are + laid. + </p> + <p> + Some insects have cutting instruments that work just as your scissors do. + The poppy-bee is one of them, whose work is wonderful. This bee has a + boring tool, too. Its nest is usually made in old wood. This borer cleans + out the nest ready for use. When all is ready the insect cuts out pieces + of leaves to line the nest and to make the cells. These linings are out in + the shape of the cells. You, would be surprised to see the care taken to + have every piece of just the right size, so that it will fit. When they + are fitted, the pieces are nicely fastened together and put into the nest. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cinderella; or, The Little Glass +Slipper and Other Stories, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CINDERELLA AND OTHERS *** + +***** This file should be named 1599-h.htm or 1599-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/9/1599/ + +Produced by Dianne Bean, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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