diff options
Diffstat (limited to '473.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 473.txt | 6571 |
1 files changed, 6571 insertions, 0 deletions
@@ -0,0 +1,6571 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Stories to Tell to Children, by Sara Cone Bryant + +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: Stories to Tell to Children + +Author: Sara Cone Bryant + +Posting Date: August 12, 2008 [EBook #473] +Release Date: March, 1996 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES TO TELL TO CHILDREN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + +Stories to Tell to Children + + +by + +Sara Cone Bryant + + + + +CONTENTS + + SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR THE STORY-TELLER + STORIES FOR REPRODUCTION + STORY-TELLING IN TEACHING ENGLISH + TWO LITTLE RIDDLES IN RHYME + THE LITTLE PINK ROSE + THE COCK-A-DOO-DLE-DOO + THE CLOUD + THE LITTLE RED HEN + THE GINGERBREAD MAN + THE LITTLE JACKALS AND THE LION + THE COUNTRY MOUSE AND THE CITY MOUSE + LITTLE JACK ROLLAROUND + HOW BROTHER RABBIT FOOLED THE WHALE AND THE ELEPHANT + THE LITTLE HALF-CHICK + THE LAMBIKIN + THE BLACKBERRY-BUSH + THE FAIRIES + THE ADVENTURES OF THE LITTLE FIELD MOUSE + ANOTHER LITTLE RED HEN + THE STORY OF THE LITTLE RID HIN + THE STORY OF EPAMINONDAS AND HIS AUNTIE + THE BOY WHO CRIED "WOLF!" + THE FROG KING + THE SUN AND THE WIND + THE LITTLE JACKAL AND THE ALLIGATOR + THE LARKS IN THE CORNFIELD + A TRUE STORY ABOUT A GIRL + MY KINGDOM + PICCOLA + THE LITTLE FIR TREE + HOW MOSES WAS SAVED + THE TEN FAIRIES + THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER + WHO KILLED THE OTTER'S BABIES? + EARLY + THE BRAHMIN, THE TIGER, AND THE JACKAL + THE LITTLE JACKAL AND THE CAMEL + THE GULLS OF SALT LAKE + THE NIGHTINGALE + MARGERY'S GARDEN + THE LITTLE COTYLEDONS + THE TALKATIVE TORTOISE + ROBERT OF SICILY + THE JEALOUS COURTIERS + PRINCE CHERRY + THE GOLD IN THE ORCHARD + MARGARET OF NEW ORLEANS + THE DAGDA'S HARP + THE TAILOR AND THE THREE BEASTS + THE CASTLE OF FORTUNE + DAVID AND GOLIATH + THE SHEPHERD'S SONG + THE HIDDEN SERVANTS + + + + +SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR THE STORY-TELLER + +Concerning the fundamental points of method in telling a story, I have +little to add to the principles which I have already stated as +necessary, in my opinion, in the book of which this is, in a way, the +continuation. But in the two years which have passed since that book +was written, I have had the happiness of working on stories and the +telling of them, among teachers and students all over this country, and +in that experience certain secondary points of method have come to seem +more important, or at least more in need of emphasis, than they did +before. As so often happens, I had assumed that "those things are +taken for granted;" whereas, to the beginner or the teacher not +naturally a story-teller, the secondary or implied technique is often +of greater difficulty than the mastery of underlying principles. The +few suggestions which follow are of this practical, obvious kind. + +Take your story seriously. No matter how riotously absurd it is, or +how full of inane repetition, remember, if it is good enough to tell, +it is a real story, and must be treated with respect. If you cannot +feel so toward it, do not tell it. Have faith in the story, and in the +attitude of the children toward it and you. If you fail in this, the +immediate result will be a touch of shame-facedness, affecting your +manner unfavorably, and, probably, influencing your accuracy and +imaginative vividness. + +Perhaps I can make the point clearer by telling you about one of the +girls in a class which was studying stories last winter; I feel sure if +she or any of her fellow students recognizes the incident, she will not +resent being made to serve the good cause, even in the unattractive +guise of a warning example. + +A few members of the class had prepared the story of "The Fisherman and +his Wife." The first girl called on was evidently inclined to feel +that it was rather a foolish story. She tried to tell it well, but +there were parts of it which produced in her the touch of +shamefacedness to which I have referred. + +When she came to the rhyme,-- + + "O man of the sea, come, listen to me, + For Alice, my wife, the plague of my life, + Has sent me to beg a boon of thee," + +she said it rather rapidly. At the first repetition she said it still +more rapidly; the next time she came to the jingle she said it so fast +and so low that it was unintelligible; and the next recurrence was too +much for her. With a blush and a hesitating smile she said, "And he +said that same thing, you know!" Of course everybody laughed, and of +course the thread of interest and illusion was hopelessly broken for +everybody. + +Now, any one who chanced to hear Miss Shedlock tell that same story +will remember that the absurd rhyme gave great opportunity for +expression, in its very repetition; each time that the fisherman came +to the water's edge his chagrin and unwillingness was greater, and his +summons to the magic fish mirrored his feeling. The jingle IS foolish; +that is a part of the charm. But if the person who tells it FEELS +foolish, there is no charm at all! It is the same principle which +applies to any address to any assemblage: if the speaker has the air of +finding what he has to say absurd or unworthy of effort, the audience +naturally tends to follow his lead, and find it not worth listening to. + +Let me urge, then, take your story seriously. + +Next, "take your time." This suggestion needs explaining, perhaps. It +does not mean license to dawdle. Nothing is much more annoying in a +speaker than too great deliberateness, or than hesitation of speech. +But it means a quiet realization of the fact that the floor is yours, +everybody wants to hear you, there is time enough for every point and +shade of meaning and no one will think the story too long. This mental +attitude must underlie proper control of speed. Never hurry. A +business-like leisure is the true attitude of the storyteller. + +And the result is best attained by concentrating one's attention on the +episodes of the story. Pass lightly, and comparatively swiftly, over +the portions between actual episodes, but take all the time you need +for the elaboration of those. And above all, do not FEEL hurried. + +The next suggestion is eminently plain and practical, if not an all too +obvious one. It is this: if all your preparation and confidence fails +you at the crucial moment, and memory plays the part of traitor in some +particular, if, in short, you blunder on a detail of the story, NEVER +ADMIT IT. If it was an unimportant detail which you misstated, pass +right on, accepting whatever you said, and continuing with it; if you +have been so unfortunate as to omit a fact which was a necessary link +in the chain, put it in, later, as skillfully as you can, and with as +deceptive an appearance of its being in the intended order; but never +take the children behind the scenes, and let them hear the creaking of +your mental machinery. You must be infallible. You must be in the +secret of the mystery, and admit your audience on somewhat unequal +terms; they should have no creeping doubts as to your complete +initiation into the secrets of the happenings you relate. + +Plainly, there can be lapses of memory so complete, so all-embracing, +that frank failure is the only outcome, but these are so few as not to +need consideration, when dealing with so simple material as that of +children's stories. There are times, too, before an adult audience, +when a speaker can afford to let his hearers be amused with him over a +chance mistake. But with children it is most unwise to break the spell +of the entertainment in that way. Consider, in the matter of a detail +of action or description, how absolutely unimportant the mere accuracy +is, compared with the effect of smoothness and the enjoyment of the +hearers. They will not remember the detail, for good or evil, half so +long as they will remember the fact that you did not know it. So, for +their sakes, as well as for the success of your story, cover your slips +of memory, and let them be as if they were not. + +And now I come to two points in method which have to do especially with +humorous stories. The first is the power of initiating the +appreciation of the joke. Every natural humorist does this by instinct +and the value of the power to story-teller can hardly be overestimated. +To initiate appreciation does not mean that one necessarily gives way +to mirth, though even that is sometimes natural and effective; one +merely feels the approach of the humorous climax, and subtly suggests +to the hearers that it will soon be "time to laugh." The suggestion +usually comes in the form of facial expression, and in the tone. And +children are so much simpler, and so much more accustomed to following +another's lead than their elders, that the expression can be much more +outright and unguarded than would be permissible with a mature audience. + +Children like to feel the joke coming, in this way; they love the +anticipation of a laugh, and they will begin to dimple, often, at your +first unconscious suggestion of humor. If it is lacking, they are +sometimes afraid to follow their own instincts. Especially when you are +facing an audience of grown people and children together, you will find +that the latter are very hesitant about initiating their own expression +of humor. It is more difficult to make them forget their surroundings +then, and more desirable to give them a happy lead. Often at the +funniest point you will see some small listener in an agony of endeavor +to cloak the mirth which he--poor mite--fears to be indecorous. Let +him see that it is "the thing" to laugh, and that everybody is going to. + +Having so stimulated the appreciation of the humorous climax, it is +important to give your hearers time for the full savor of the jest to +permeate their consciousness. It is really robbing an audience of its +rights, to pass so quickly from one point to another that the mind must +lose a new one if it lingers to take in the old. Every vital point in +a tale must be given a certain amount of time: by an anticipatory +pause, by some form of vocal or repetitive emphasis, and by actual +time. But even more than other tales does the funny story demand this. +It cannot be funny without it. + +Every one who is familiar with the theatre must have noticed how +careful all comedians are to give this pause for appreciation and +laughter. Often the opportunity is crudely given, or too liberally +offered; and that offends. But in a reasonable degree the practice is +undoubtedly necessary to any form of humorous expression. + +A remarkably good example of the type of humorous story to which these +principles of method apply, is the story of "Epaminondas." It will be +plain to any reader that all the several funny crises are of the +perfectly unmistakable sort children like, and that, moreover, these +funny spots are not only easy to see; they are easy to foresee. The +teller can hardly help sharing the joke in advance, and the tale is an +excellent one with which to practice for power in the points mentioned. + +Epaminondas is a valuable little rascal from other points of view, and +I mean to return to him, to point a moral. But just here I want space +for a word or two about the matter of variety of subject and style in +school stories. + +There are two wholly different kinds of story which are equally +necessary for children, I believe, and which ought to be given in about +the proportion of one to three, in favor of the second kind; I make the +ratio uneven because the first kind is more dominating in its effect. + +The first kind is represented by such stories as the "Pig Brother," +which has now grown so familiar to teachers that it will serve for +illustration without repetition here. It is the type of story which +specifically teaches a certain ethical or conduct lesson, in the form +of a fable or an allegory,--it passes on to the child the conclusions +as to conduct and character, to which the race has, in general, +attained through centuries of experience and moralizing. The story +becomes a part of the outfit of received ideas on manners and morals +which is an inescapable and necessary possession of the heir of +civilization. + +Children do not object to these stories in the least, if the stories +are good ones. They accept them with the relish which nature seems to +maintain for all truly nourishing material. And the little tales are +one of the media through which we elders may transmit some very slight +share of the benefit received by us, in turn, from actual or +transmitted experience. + +The second kind has no preconceived moral to offer, makes no attempt to +affect judgment or to pass on a standard. It simply presents a picture +of life, usually in fable or poetic image, and says to the hearer, +"These things are." The hearer, then, consciously or otherwise, passes +judgment on the facts. His mind says, "These things are good;" or, +"This was good, and that, bad;" or, "This thing is desirable," or the +contrary. + +The story of "The Little Jackal and the Alligator" is a good +illustration of this type. It is a character-story. In the naive form +of a folk tale, it doubtless embodies the observations of a seeing eye, +in a country and time when the little jackal and the great alligator +were even more vivid images of certain human characters than they now +are. Again and again, surely, the author or authors of the tales must +have seen the weak, small, clever being triumph over the bulky, +well-accoutred, stupid adversary. Again and again they had laughed at +the discomfiture of the latter, perhaps rejoicing in it the more +because it removed fear from their own houses. And probably never had +they concerned themselves particularly with the basic ethics of the +struggle. It was simply one of the things they saw. It was life. So +they made a picture of it. + +The folk tale so made, and of such character, comes to the child +somewhat as an unprejudiced newspaper account of to-day's happenings +comes to us. It pleads no cause, except through its contents; it +exercises no intentioned influence on our moral judgment; it is there, +as life is there, to be seen and judged. And only through such seeing +and judging can the individual perception attain to anything of power +or originality. Just as a certain amount of received ideas is +necessary to sane development, so is a definite opportunity for +first-hand judgments essential to power. + +In this epoch of well-trained minds we run some risk of an inundation +of accepted ethics. The mind which can make independent judgments, can +look at new facts with fresh vision, and reach conclusions with +simplicity, is the perennial power in the world. And this is the mind +we are not noticeably successful in developing, in our system of +schooling. Let us at least have its needs before our consciousness, in +our attempts to supplement the regular studies of school by such +side-activities as story-telling. Let us give the children a fair +proportion of stories which stimulate independent moral and practical +decisions. + +And now for a brief return to our little black friend. "Epaminondas" +belongs to a very large, very ancient type of funny story: the tale in +which the jest depends wholly on an abnormal degree of stupidity on the +part of the hero. Every race which produces stories seems to have +found this theme a natural outlet for its childlike laughter. The +stupidity of Lazy Jack, of Big Claus, of the Good Man, of Clever Alice, +all have their counterparts in the folly of the small Epaminondas. + +Evidently, such stories have served a purpose in the education of the +race. While the exaggeration of familiar attributes easily awakens +mirth in a simple mind, it does more: it teaches practical lessons of +wisdom and discretion. And possibly the lesson was the original cause +of the story. + +Not long ago, I happened upon an instance of the teaching power of +these nonsense tales, so amusing and convincing that I cannot forbear +to share it. A primary teacher who heard me tell "Epaminondas" one +evening, told it to her pupils the next morning, with great effect. A +young teacher who was observing in the room at the time told me what +befell. She said the children laughed very heartily over the story, and +evidently liked it much. About an hour later, one of them was sent to +the board to do a little problem. It happened that the child made an +excessively foolish mistake, and did not notice it. As he glanced at +the teacher for the familiar smile of encouragement, she simply raised +her hands, and ejaculated "'For the law's sake!'" + +It was sufficient. The child took the cue instantly. He looked +hastily at his work, broke into an irrepressible giggle, rubbed the +figures out, without a word, and began again. And the whole class +entered into the joke with the gusto of fellow-fools, for once wise. + +It is safe to assume that the child in question will make fewer +needless mistakes for a long time because of the wholesome reminder of +his likeness with one who "ain't got the sense he was born with." And +what occurred so visibly in his case goes on quietly in the hidden +recesses of the mind in many cases. One "Epaminondas" is worth three +lectures. + +I wish there were more of such funny little tales in the world's +literature, all ready, as this one is, for telling to the youngest of +our listeners. But masterpieces are few in any line, and stories for +telling are no exception; it took generations, probably, to make this +one. The demand for new sources of supply comes steadily from teachers +and mothers, and is the more insistent because so often met by the +disappointing recommendations of books which prove to be for reading +only, rather than for telling. It would be a delight to print a list +of fifty, twenty-five, even ten books which would be found full of +stories to tell without much adapting. But I am grateful to have found +even fewer than the ten, to which I am sure the teacher can turn with +real profit. The following names are, of course, additional to the +list contained in "How to Tell Stories to Children." + +ALL ABOUT JOHNNIE JONES. By Carolyn Verhoeff. Milton Bradley Co., +Springfield, Mass. Valuable for kindergartners as a supply of +realistic stories with practical lessons in simplest form. + +OLD DECCAN DAYS. By Mary Frere. Joseph McDonough, Albany, New York. +A splendid collection of Hindu folk tales, adaptable for all ages. + +THE SILVER CROWN. By Laura E. Richards. Little, Brown & Co., Boston. +Poetic fables with beautiful suggestions of ethical truths. + +THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. BY Eva March Tappan. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., +Boston, New York, and Chicago. A classified collection, in ten +volumes, of fairy, folk tales, fables, realistic, historical, and +poetical stories. + +FOR THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. BY Carolyn Bailey and Clara Lewis. Milton +Bradley Co., Springfield. A general collection of popular stories, well +told. + +THE SONS OF CORMAC. By Aldis Dunbar. Longmans, Green & Co., London. +Rather mature but very fine Irish stories. + + +For the benefit of suggestion to teachers in schools where +story-telling is newly or not yet introduced in systematic form, I am +glad to append the following list of stories which have been found, on +several years' trial, to be especially tellable and likable, in certain +grades of the Providence schools, in Rhode Island. The list is not +mine, although it embodies some of my suggestions. I offer it merely +as a practical result of the effort to equalize and extend the +story-hour throughout the schools. Its makers would be the last to +claim ideal merit for it, and they are constantly improving and +developing it. I am indebted for the privilege of using it to the +primary teachers of Providence, and to their supervisor, Miss Ella L. +Sweeney. + + + +STORIES FOR REPRODUCTION + + FIRST GRADE + Chicken Little The Dog and his Shadow + Barnyard Talk The Hare and the Hound + Little Red Hen Five Little Rabbits + Little Gingerbread Boy The Three Bears + The Lion and the Mouse The Red-headed Wood- + The Hungry Lion pecker + The Wind and the Sun Little Red Riding-Hood + The Fox and the Crow Little Half-Chick + The Duck and the Hen The Rabbit and the Turtle + The Hare and the Tortoise The Shoemaker and the + The Three Little Robins Fairies + The Wolf and the Kid The Wolf and the Crane + The Crow and the Pitcher The Cat and the Mouse + The Fox and the Grapes Snow-White and Rose-Red + + SECOND GRADE + The North Wind The Lark and her Little + The Mouse Pie Ones + The Wonderful Traveler The Wolf and the Goslings + The Wolf and the Fox The Ugly Duckling + The Star Dollars The Country Mouse and the + The Water-Lily City Mouse + The Three Goats The Three Little Pigs + The Boy and the Nuts Diamonds and Toads + The Honest Woodman The Thrifty Squirrel + The Pied Piper How the Robin's Breast + King Midas became Red + The Town Musicians The Old Woman and her + Raggylug Pig + Peter Rabbit The Sleeping Apple + The Boy who cried "Wolf" The Cat and the Parrot + + THIRD GRADE + The Crane Express How the Mole became + Little Black Sambo Blind + The Lantern and the Fan How Fire was brought to + Why the Bear has a Short the Indians + Tail Echo + Why the Fox has a White Piccola + Tip to his Tail The Story of the Morning- + Why the Wren flies low Glory Seed + Jack and the Beanstalk The Discontented Pine + The Talkative Tortoise Tree + Fleet Wing and Sweet Voice The Bag of Winds + The Golden Fleece The Foolish Weather-Vane + The Little Boy who wanted The Shut-up Posy + the Moon Pandora's Box + Benjy in Beastland The Little Match Girl + Tomtit's Peep at the World + + FOURTH GRADE + Arachne The First Snowdrop + The Porcelain Stove The Three Golden Apples + Moufflou Androclus and the Lion + Clytie The Old Man and his + The Legend of the Trailing Donkey + Arbutus The Leak in the Dike + Latona and the Frogs King Tawny Mane + Dick Whittington and his The Little Lame Prince + Cat Appleseed John + Dora, the Little Girl of the Narcissus + Lighthouse Why the Sea is Salt + Proserpine The Little Hero of Haarlem + The Miraculous Pitcher + The Bell of Justice + + + +STORY-TELLING IN TEACHING ENGLISH + +I have to speak now of a phase of elementary education which lies very +close to my warmest interest, which, indeed, could easily become an +active hobby if other interests did not beneficently tug at my skirts +when I am minded to mount and ride too wildly. It is the hobby of many +of you who are teachers, also, and I know you want to hear it +discussed. I mean the growing effort to teach English and English +literature to children in the natural way: by speaking and +hearing,--orally. + +We are coming to a realization of the fact that our ability, as a +people, to use English is pitifully inadequate and perverted. Those +Americans who are not blinded by a limited horizon of cultured +acquaintance, and who have given themselves opportunity to hear the +natural speech of the younger generation in varying sections of the +United States, must admit that it is no exaggeration to say that this +country at large has no standard of English speech. There is no +general sense of responsibility to our mother tongue (indeed, it is in +an overwhelming degree not our mother tongue) and no general +appreciation of its beauty or meaning. The average young person in +every district save a half-dozen jealously guarded little precincts of +good taste, uses inexpressive, ill-bred words, spoken without regard to +their just sound-effects, and in a voice which is an injury to the ear +of the mind, as well as a torment to the physical ear. + +The structure of the language and the choice of words are dark matters +to most of our young Americans; this has long been acknowledged and +struggled against. But even darker, and quite equally destructive to +English expression, is their state of mind regarding pronunciation, +enunciation, and voice. It is the essential connection of these +elements with English speech that we have been so slow to realize. We +have felt that they were externals, desirable but not necessary +adjuncts,--pretty tags of an exceptional gift or culture. Many an +intelligent school director to-day will say, "I don't care much about +HOW you say a thing; it is WHAT you say that counts." He cannot see +that voice and enunciation and pronunciation are essentials. But they +are. You can no more help affecting the meaning of your words by the +way you say them than you can prevent the expressions of your face from +carrying a message; the message may be perverted by an uncouth habit, +but it will no less surely insist on recognition. + +The fact is that speech is a method of carrying ideas from one human +soul to another, by way of the ear. And these ideas are very complex. +They are not unmixed emanations of pure intellect, transmitted to pure +intellect: they are compounded of emotions, thoughts, fancies, and are +enhanced or impeded in transmission by the use of word-symbols which +have acquired, by association, infinite complexities in themselves. +The mood of the moment, the especial weight of a turn of thought, the +desire of the speaker to share his exact soul-concept with you,--these +seek far more subtle means than the mere rendering of certain vocal +signs; they demand such variations and delicate adjustments of sound as +will inevitably affect the listening mind with the response desired. + +There is no "what" without the "how" in speech. The same written +sentence becomes two diametrically opposite ideas, given opposing +inflection and accompanying voice-effect. "He stood in the front rank +of the battle" can be made praiseful affirmation, scornful skepticism, +or simple question, by a simple varying of voice and inflection. This +is the more unmistakable way in which the "how" affects the "what." +Just as true is the less obvious fact. The same written sentiment, +spoken by Wendell Phillips and by a man from the Bowery or an +uneducated ranchman, is not the same to the listener. In one case the +sentiment comes to the mind's ear with certain completing and enhancing +qualities of sound which give it accuracy and poignancy. The words +themselves retain all their possible suggestiveness in the speaker's +just and clear enunciation, and have a borrowed beauty, besides, from +the associations of fine habit betrayed in the voice and manner of +speech. And, further, the immense personal equation shows itself in +the beauty and power of the vocal expressiveness, which carries shades +of meaning, unguessed delicacies of emotion, intimations of beauty, to +every ear. In the other case, the thought is clouded by unavoidable +suggestions of ignorance and ugliness, brought by the pronunciation and +voice, even to an unanalytical ear; the meaning is obscured by +inaccurate inflection and uncertain or corrupt enunciation; but, worst +of all, the personal atmosphere, the aroma, of the idea has been lost +in transmission through a clumsy, ill-fitted medium. + +The thing said may look the same on a printed page, but it is not the +same when spoken. And it is the spoken sentence which is the original +and the usual mode of communication. + +The widespread poverty of expression in English, which is thus a matter +of "how," and to which we are awakening, must be corrected chiefly, at +least at first, by the common schools. The home is the ideal place for +it, but the average home of the United States is no longer a possible +place for it. The child of foreign parents, the child of parents +little educated and bred in limited circumstances, the child of +powerful provincial influences, must all depend on the school for +standards of English. + +And it is the elementary school which must meet the need, if it is to +be met at all. For the conception of English expression which I am +talking of can find no mode of instruction adequate to its meaning, +save in constant appeal to the ear, at an age so early that unconscious +habit is formed. No rules, no analytical instruction in later +development, can accomplish what is needed. Hearing and speaking; +imitating, unwittingly and wittingly, a good model; it is to this +method we must look for redemption from present conditions. + +I believe we are on the eve of a real revolution in English +teaching,--only it is a revolution which will not break the peace. The +new way will leave an overwhelming preponderance of oral methods in use +up to the fifth or sixth grade, and will introduce a larger proportion +of oral work than has ever been contemplated in grammar and high school +work. It will recognize the fact that English is primarily something +spoken with the mouth and heard with the ear. And this recognition will +have greatest weight in the systems of elementary teaching. + +It is as an aid in oral teaching of English that story-telling in +school finds its second value; ethics is the first ground of its +usefulness, English the second,--and after these, the others. It is, +too, for the oral uses that the secondary forms of story-telling are so +available. By secondary I mean those devices which I have tried to +indicate, as used by many American teachers, in the chapter on +"Specific Schoolroom Uses," in my earlier book. They are re-telling, +dramatization, and forms of seat-work. All of these are a great power +in the hands of a wise teacher. If combined with much attention to +voice and enunciation in the recital of poetry, and with much good +reading aloud BY THE TEACHER, they will go far toward setting a +standard and developing good habit. + +But their provinces must not be confused or overestimated. I trust I +may be pardoned for offering a caution or two to the enthusiastic +advocate of these methods,--cautions the need of which has been forced +upon me, in experience with schools. + +A teacher who uses the oral story as an English feature with little +children must never lose sight of the fact that it is an aid in +unconscious development; not a factor in studied, conscious +improvement. This truth cannot be too strongly realized. Other +exercises, in sufficiency, give the opportunity for regulated effort +for definite results, but the story is one of the play-forces. Its use +in English teaching is most valuable when the teacher has a keen +appreciation of the natural order of growth in the art of expression: +that art requires, as the old rhetorics used often to put it, "a +natural facility, succeeded by an acquired difficulty." In other +words, the power of expression depends, first, on something more +fundamental than the art-element; the basis of it is something to say, +ACCOMPANIED BY AN URGENT DESIRE TO SAY IT, and YIELDED TO WITH FREEDOM; +only after this stage is reached can the art-phase be of any use. The +"why" and "how," the analytical and constructive phases, have no +natural place in this first vital epoch. + +Precisely here, however, does the dramatizing of stories and the +paper-cutting, etc., become useful. A fine and thoughtful principal of +a great school asked me, recently, with real concern, about the growing +use of such devices. He said, "Paper-cutting is good, but what has it +to do with English?" And then he added: "The children use abominable +language when they play the stories; can that directly aid them to +speak good English?" His observation was close and correct, and his +conservatism more valuable than the enthusiasm of some of his +colleagues who have advocated sweeping use of the supplementary work. +But his point of view ignored the basis of expression, which is to my +mind so important. Paper-cutting is external to English, of course. +Its only connection is in its power to correlate different forms of +expression, and to react on speech-expression through sense-stimulus. +But playing the story is a closer relative to English than this. It +helps, amazingly, in giving the "something to say, the urgent desire to +say it," and the freedom in trying. Never mind the crudities,--at +least, at the time; work only for joyous freedom, inventiveness, and +natural forms of reproduction of the ideas given. Look for very +gradual changes in speech, through the permeating power of imitation, +but do not forget that this is the stage of expression which inevitably +precedes art. + +All this will mean that no corrections are made, except in flagrant +cases of slang or grammar, though all bad slips are mentally noted, for +introduction at a more favorable time. It will mean that the teacher +will respect the continuity of thought and interest as completely as +she would wish an audience to respect her occasional prosy periods if +she were reading a report. She will remember, of course that she is +not training actors for amateur theatricals, however tempting her +show-material may be; she is simply letting the children play with +expression, just as a gymnasium teacher introduces muscular play,--for +power through relaxation. + +When the time comes that the actors lose their unconsciousness it is +the end of the story-play. Drilled work, the beginning of the art, is +then the necessity. + +I have indicated that the children may be left undisturbed in their +crudities and occasional absurdities. The teacher, on the other hand, +must avoid, with great judgment, certain absurdities which can easily +be initiated by her. The first direful possibility is in the choice of +material. It is very desirable that children should not be allowed to +dramatize stories of a kind so poetic, so delicate, or so potentially +valuable that the material is in danger of losing future beauty to the +pupils through its present crude handling. Mother Goose is a hardy old +lady, and will not suffer from the grasp of the seven-year-old; and the +familiar fables and tales of the "Goldilocks" variety have a firmness +of surface which does not let the glamour rub off; but stories in which +there is a hint of the beauty just beyond the palpable--or of a dignity +suggestive of developed literature--are sorely hurt in their +metamorphosis, and should be protected from it. They are for telling +only. + +Another point on which it is necessary to exercise reserve is in the +degree to which any story can be acted. In the justifiable desire to +bring a large number of children into the action one must not lose +sight of the sanity and propriety of the presentation. For example, one +must not make a ridiculous caricature, where a picture, however crude, +is the intention. Personally represent only such things as are +definitely and dramatically personified in the story. If a natural +force, the wind, for example, is represented as talking and acting like +a human being in the story, it can be imaged by a person in the play; +but if it remains a part of the picture in the story, performing only +its natural motions, it is a caricature to enact it as a role. The +most powerful instance of a mistake of this kind which I have ever seen +will doubtless make my meaning clear. In playing a pretty story about +animals and children, some children in a primary school were made by +the teacher to take the part of the sea. In the story, the sea was +said to "beat upon the shore," as a sea would, without doubt. In the +play, the children were allowed to thump the floor lustily, as a +presentation of their watery functions! It was unconscionably funny. +Fancy presenting even the crudest image of the mighty sea, surging up +on the shore, by a row of infants squatted on the floor and pounding +with their fists! Such pitfalls can be avoided by the simple rule of +personifying only characters that actually behave like human beings. + +A caution which directly concerns the art of story telling itself, must +be added here. There is a definite distinction between the arts of +narration and dramatization which must never be overlooked. Do not, +yourself, half tell and half act the story; and do not let the children +do it. It is done in very good schools, sometimes, because an +enthusiasm for realistic and lively presentation momentarily obscures +the faculty of discrimination. A much loved and respected teacher whom +I recently listened to, and who will laugh if she recognizes her +blunder here, offers a good "bad example" in this particular. She said +to an attentive audience of students that she had at last, with much +difficulty, brought herself to the point where she could forget herself +in her story: where she could, for instance, hop, like the fox, when +she told the story of the "sour grapes." She said, "It was hard at +first, but now it is a matter of course; AND THE CHILDREN DO IT TOO, +WHEN THEY TELL THE STORY." That was the pity! I saw the illustration +myself a little later. The child who played fox began with a story: he +said, "Once there was an old fox, and he saw some grapes;" then the +child walked to the other side of the room, and looked up at an +imaginary vine, and said, "He wanted some; he thought they would taste +good, so he jumped for them;" at this point the child did jump, like +his role; then he continued with his story, "but he couldn't get them." +And so he proceeded, with a constant alternation of narrative and +dramatization which was enough to make one dizzy. + +The trouble in such work is, plainly, a lack of discriminating +analysis. Telling a story necessarily implies non-identification of +the teller with the event; he relates what occurs or occurred, outside +of his circle of consciousness. Acting a play necessarily implies +identification of the actor with the event; he presents to you a +picture of the thing, in himself. It is a difference wide and clear, +and the least failure to recognize it confuses the audience and injures +both arts. + +In the preceding instances of secondary uses of story-telling I have +come some distance from the great point, the fundamental point, of the +power of imitation in breeding good habit. This power is less +noticeably active in the dramatizing than in simple re-telling; in the +listening and the re-telling, it is dominant for good. The child +imitates what he hears you say and sees you do, and the way you say and +do it, far more closely in the story-hour than in any lesson-period. +He is in a more absorbent state, as it were, because there is no +preoccupation of effort. Here is the great opportunity of the cultured +teacher; here is the appalling opportunity of the careless or ignorant +teacher. For the implications of the oral theory of teaching English +are evident, concerning the immense importance of the teacher's habit. +This is what it all comes to ultimately; the teacher of young children +must be a person who can speak English as it should be spoken,--purely, +clearly, pleasantly, and with force. + +It is a hard ideal to live up to, but it is a valuable ideal to try to +live up to. And one of the best chances to work toward attainment is +in telling stories, for there you have definite material, which you can +work into shape and practice on in private. That practice ought to +include conscious thought as to one's general manner in the schoolroom, +and intelligent effort to understand and improve one's own voice. I +hope I shall not seem to assume the dignity of an authority which no +personal taste can claim, if I beg a hearing for the following elements +of manner and voice, which appeal to me as essential. They will, +probably, appear self-evident to my readers, yet they are often found +wanting in the public school-teacher; it is so much easier to say "what +were good to do" than to do it! + +Three elements of manner seem to me an essential adjunct to the +personality of a teacher of little children: courtesy, repose vitality. +Repose and vitality explain themselves; by courtesy I specifically do +NOT mean the habit of mind which contents itself with drilling children +in "Good-mornings" and in hat-liftings. I mean the attitude of mind +which recognizes in the youngest, commonest child, the potential +dignity, majesty, and mystery of the developed human soul. Genuine +reverence for the humanity of the "other fellow" marks a definite +degree of courtesy in the intercourse of adults, does it not? And the +same quality of respect, tempered by the demands of a wise control, is +exactly what is needed among children. Again and again, in dealing +with young minds, the teacher who respects personality as sacred, no +matter how embryonic it be, wins the victories which count for true +education. Yet, all too often, we forget the claims of this reverence, +in the presence of the annoyances and the needed corrections. + +As for voice: work in schoolrooms brings two opposing mistakes +constantly before me: one is the repressed voice, and the other, the +forced. The best way to avoid either extreme, is to keep in mind that +the ideal is development of one's own natural voice, along its own +natural lines. A "quiet, gentle voice" is conscientiously aimed at by +many young teachers, with so great zeal that the tone becomes painfully +repressed, "breathy," and timid. This is quite as unpleasant as a loud +voice, which is, in turn, a frequent result of early admonitions to +"speak up." Neither is natural. It is wise to determine the natural +volume and pitch of one's speaking voice by a number of tests, made +when one is thoroughly rested, at ease, and alone. Find out where your +voice lies when it is left to itself, under favorable conditions, by +reading something aloud or by listening to yourself as you talk to an +intimate friend. Then practise keeping it in that general range, +unless it prove to have a distinct fault, such as a nervous sharpness, +or hoarseness. A quiet voice is good; a hushed voice is abnormal. A +clear tone is restful, but a loud one is wearying. + +Perhaps the common-sense way of setting a standard for one's own voice +is to remember that the purpose of a speaking voice is to communicate +with others; their ears and minds are the receivers of our tones. For +this purpose, evidently, a voice should be, first of all, easy to hear; +next, pleasant to hear; next, susceptible of sufficient variation to +express a wide range of meaning; and finally, indicative of personality. + +Is it too quixotic to urge teachers who tell stories to little children +to bear these thoughts, and better ones of their own, in mind? Not, I +think, if it be fully accepted that the story hour, as a play hour, is +a time peculiarly open to influences affecting the imitative faculty; +that this faculty is especially valuable in forming fine habits of +speech; and that an increasingly high and general standard of English +speech is one of our greatest needs and our most instant opportunities +in the American schools of to-day. + +And now we come to the stories! + + + +STORIES TO TELL TO CHILDREN + +TWO LITTLE RIDDLES IN RHYME[1] + +[1] These riddles were taken from the Gaelic, and are charming +examples of the naive beauty of the old Irish, and of Dr. Hyde's +accurate and sympathetic modern rendering. From "Beside the Fire" +(David Nutt, London). + + There's a garden that I ken, + Full of little gentlemen; + Little caps of blue they wear, + And green ribbons, very fair. + (Flax.) + + From house to house he goes, + A messenger small and slight, + And whether it rains or snows, + He sleeps outside in the night. + (The path.) + + + +THE LITTLE PINK ROSE + +Once there was a little pink Rosebud, and she lived down in a little +dark house under the ground. One day she was sitting there, all by +herself, and it was very still. Suddenly, she heard a little TAP, TAP, +TAP, at the door. + +"Who is that?" she said. + +"It's the Rain, and I want to come in;" said a soft, sad, little voice. + +"No, you can't come in," the little Rosebud said. + +By and by she heard another little TAP, TAP, TAP on the window pane. + +"Who is there?" she said. + +The same soft little voice answered, "It's the Rain, and I want to come +in!" + +"No, you can't come in," said the little Rosebud. + +Then it was very still for a long time. At last, there came a little +rustling, whispering sound, all round the window: RUSTLE, WHISPER, +WHISPER. + +"Who is there?" said the little Rosebud. + +"It's the Sunshine," said a little, soft, cheery voice, "and I want to +come in!" + +"N--no," said the little pink rose, "you can't come in." And she sat +still again. + +Pretty soon she heard the sweet little rustling noise at the key-hole. + +"Who is there?" she said. + +"It's the Sunshine," said the cheery little voice, "and I want to come +in, I want to come in!" + +"No, no," said the little pink rose, "you cannot come in." + +By and by, as she sat so still, she heard TAP, TAP, TAP, and RUSTLE, +WHISPER, RUSTLE, all up and down the window pane, and on the door, and +at the key-hole. + +"WHO IS THERE?" she said. + +"It's the Rain and the Sun, the Rain and the Sun," said two little +voices, together, "and we want to come in! We want to come in! We +want to come in!" + +"Dear, dear!" said the little Rosebud, "if there are two of you, I +s'pose I shall have to let you in." + +So she opened the door a little wee crack, and in they came. And one +took one of her little hands, and the other took her other little hand, +and they ran, ran, ran with her, right up to the top of the ground. +Then they said,-- + +"Poke your head through!" + +So she poked her head through; and she was in the midst of a beautiful +garden. It was springtime, and all the other flowers had their heads +poked through; and she was the prettiest little pink rose in the whole +garden! + + + +THE COCK-A-DOO-DLE-DOO[1] + +[1] From "The Ignominy of being Grown Up," by Dr. Samuel M. Crothers, +in the Atlantic Monthly for July, 1906. + + +A very little boy made this story up "out of his head," and told it to +his papa I think you littlest ones will like it; I do. + +Once upon a time there was a little boy, and he wanted to be a +cock-a-doo-dle-doo So he was a cock-a-doo-dle-doo. And he wanted to +fly up into the sky. So he did fly up into the sky. And he wanted to +get wings and a tail. So he did get some wings and a tail. + + + +THE CLOUD[2] + +[2] Adapted from the German of Robert Reinick's Maarchen, Lieder-und +Geschichtenbuch (Velhagen und Klasing, Bielefeld and Leipsic). + + +One hot summer morning a little Cloud rose out of the sea and floated +lightly and happily across the blue sky. Far below lay the earth, +brown, dry, and desolate, from drouth. The little Cloud could see the +poor people of the earth working and suffering in the hot fields, while +she herself floated on the morning breeze, hither and thither, without +a care. + +"Oh, if I could only help the poor people down there!" she thought. +"If I could but make their work easier, or give the hungry ones food, +or the thirsty a drink!" + +And as the day passed, and the Cloud became larger, this wish to do +something for the people of earth was ever greater in her heart. + +On earth it grew hotter and hotter; the sun burned down so fiercely +that the people were fainting in its rays; it seemed as if they must +die of heat, and yet they were obliged to go on with their work, for +they were very poor. Sometimes they stood and looked up at the Cloud, +as if they were praying, and saying, "Ah, if you could help us!" + +"I will help you; I will!" said the Cloud. And she began to sink softly +down toward the earth. + +But suddenly, as she floated down, she remembered something which had +been told her when she was a tiny Cloud-child, in the lap of Mother +Ocean: it had been whispered that if the Clouds go too near the earth +they die. When she remembered this she held herself from sinking, and +swayed here and there on the breeze, thinking,--thinking. But at last +she stood quite still, and spoke boldly and proudly. She said, "Men of +earth, I will help you, come what may!" + +The thought made her suddenly marvelously big and strong and powerful. +Never had she dreamed that she could be so big. Like a mighty angel of +blessing she stood above the earth, and lifted her head and spread her +wings far over the fields and woods. She was so great, so majestic, +that men and animals were awe-struck at the sight; the trees and the +grasses bowed before her; yet all the earth-creatures felt that she +meant them well. + +"Yes, I will help you," cried the Cloud once more. "Take me to +yourselves; I will give my life for you!" + +As she said the words a wonderful light glowed from her heart, the +sound of thunder rolled through the sky, and a love greater than words +can tell filled the Cloud; down, down, close to the earth she swept, +and gave up her life in a blessed, healing shower of rain. + +That rain was the Cloud's great deed; it was her death, too; but it was +also her glory. Over the whole country-side, as far as the rain fell, +a lovely rainbow sprang its arch, and all the brightest rays of heaven +made its colors; it was the last greeting of a love so great that it +sacrificed itself. + +Soon that, too, was gone, but long, long afterward the men and animals +who were saved by the Cloud kept her blessing in their hearts. + + + +THE LITTLE RED HEN + +The little Red Hen was in the farmyard with her chickens, when she +found a grain of wheat. + +"Who will plant this wheat?" she said. + +"Not I," said the Goose. + +"Not I," said the Duck. + +"I will, then," said the little Red Hen, and she planted the grain of +wheat. + +When the wheat was ripe she said, "Who will take this wheat to the +mill?" + +"Not I," said the Goose. + +"Not I," said the Duck. + +"I will, then," said the little Red Hen, and she took the wheat to the +mill. + +When she brought the flour home she said, "Who will make some bread +with this flour?" + +"Not I," said the Goose. + +"Not I," said the Duck. + +"I will, then," said the little Red Hen. + +When the bread was baked, she said, "Who will eat this bread?" + +"I will," said the Goose + +"I will," said the Duck + +"No, you won't," said the little Red Hen. "I shall eat it myself. +Cluck! cluck!" And she called her chickens to help her. + + + +THE GINGERBREAD MAN[1] + +[1] I have tried to give this story in the most familiar form; it +varies a good deal in the hands of different story-tellers, but this is +substantially the version I was "brought up on." The form of the +ending was suggested to me by the story in Carolyn Bailey's For the +Children's Hour (Milton Bradley Co.). + + +Once upon a time there was a little old woman and a little old man, and +they lived all alone in a little old house. They hadn't any little +girls or any little boys, at all. So one day, the little old woman +made a boy out of gingerbread; she made him a chocolate jacket, and put +cinnamon seeds in it for buttons; his eyes were made of fine, fat +currants; his mouth was made of rose-colored sugar; and he had a gay +little cap of orange sugar-candy. When the little old woman had rolled +him out, and dressed him up, and pinched his gingerbread shoes into +shape, she put him in a pan; then she put the pan in the oven and shut +the door; and she thought, "Now I shall have a little boy of my own." + +When it was time for the Gingerbread Boy to be done she opened the oven +door and pulled out the pan. Out jumped the little Gingerbread Boy on +to the floor, and away he ran, out of the door and down the street! +The little old woman and the little old man ran after him as fast as +they could, but he just laughed, and shouted,-- + + "Run! run! as fast as you can! + "You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!" + +And they couldn't catch him. + +The little Gingerbread Boy ran on and on, until he came to a cow, by +the roadside. "Stop, little Gingerbread Boy," said the cow; "I want to +eat you." The little Gingerbread Boy laughed, and said,-- + + "I have run away from a little old woman, + "And a little old man, + "And I can run away from you, I can!" + +And, as the cow chased him, he looked over his shoulder and cried,-- + + "Run! run! as fast as you can! + "You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!" + +And the cow couldn't catch him. + +The little Gingerbread Boy ran on, and on, and on, till he came to a +horse, in the pasture. "Please stop, little Gingerbread Boy," said the +horse, "you look very good to eat." But the little Gingerbread Boy +laughed out loud. "Oho! oho!" he said,-- + + "I have run away from a little old woman, + "A little old man, + "A cow, + "And I can run away from you, I can!" + +And, as the horse chased him, he looked over his shoulder and cried,-- + + "Run! run! as fast as you can! + "You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!" + +And the horse couldn't catch him. + +By and by the little Gingerbread Boy came to a barn full of threshers. +When the threshers smelled the Gingerbread Boy, they tried to pick him +up, and said, "Don't run so fast, little Gingerbread Boy; you look very +good to eat." But the little Gingerbread Boy ran harder than ever, and +as he ran he cried out,-- + + "I have run away from a little old woman, + "A little old man, + "A cow, + "A horse, + "And I can run away from you, I can!" + +And when he found that he was ahead of the threshers, he turned and +shouted back to them,-- + + "Run! run! as fast as you can! + "You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!" + +And the threshers couldn't catch him. + +Then the little Gingerbread Boy ran faster than ever. He ran and ran +until he came to a field full of mowers. When the mowers saw how fine +he looked, they ran after him, calling out, "Wait a bit! wait a bit, +little Gingerbread Boy, we wish to eat you!" But the little +Gingerbread Boy laughed harder than ever, and ran like the wind. "Oho! +oho!" he said,-- + + "I have run away from a little old woman, + "A little old man, + "A cow, + "A horse, + "A barn full of threshers, + "And I can run away from you, I can!" + +And when he found that he was ahead of the mowers, he turned and +shouted back to them,-- + + "Run! run! as fast as you can! + "You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!" + +And the mowers couldn't catch him. + +By this time the little Gingerbread Boy was so proud that he didn't +think anybody could catch him. Pretty soon he saw a fox coming across +a field. The fox looked at him and began to run. But the little +Gingerbread Boy shouted across to him, "You can't catch me!" The fox +began to run faster, and the little Gingerbread Boy ran faster, and as +he ran he chuckled,-- + + "I have run away from a little old woman, + "A little old man, + "A cow, + "A horse, + "A barn full of threshers, + "A field full of mowers, + "And I can run away from you, I can! + "Run! run! as fast as you can! + "You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!" + +"Why," said the fox, "I would not catch you if I could. I would not +think of disturbing you." + +Just then, the little Gingerbread Boy came to a river. He could not +swim across, and he wanted to keep running away from the cow and the +horse and the people. + +"Jump on my tail, and I will take you across," said the fox. + +So the little Gingerbread Boy jumped on the fox's tail, and the fox +swam into the river. When he was a little way from shore he turned his +head, and said, "You are too heavy on my tail, little Gingerbread Boy, +I fear I shall let you get wet; jump on my back." + +The little Gingerbread Boy jumped on his back. + +A little farther out, the fox said, "I am afraid the water will cover +you, there; jump on my shoulder." + +The little Gingerbread Boy jumped on his shoulder. + +In the middle of the stream the fox said, "Oh, dear! little Gingerbread +Boy, my shoulder is sinking; jump on my nose, and I can hold you out of +water." + +So the little Gingerbread Boy jumped on his nose. + +The minute the fox got on shore he threw back his head, and gave a snap! + +"Dear me!" said the little Gingerbread Boy, "I am a quarter gone!" The +next minute he said, "Why, I am half gone!" The next minute he said, +"My goodness gracious, I am three quarters gone!" + +And after that, the little Gingerbread Boy never said anything more at +all. + + + +THE LITTLE JACKALS AND THE LION[1] + +[1] The four stories of the little Jackal, in this book, are adapted +from stories in Old Deccan Days, a collection of orally transmitted +Hindu folk tales, which every teacher would gain by knowing. In the +Hindu animal legends the Jackal seems to play the role assigned in +Germanic lore to Reynard the Fox, and to "Bre'r Rabbit" in the stories +of our Southern negroes: he is the clever and humorous trickster who +comes out of every encounter with a whole skin, and turns the laugh on +every enemy, however mighty. + + +Once there was a great big jungle; and in the jungle there was a great +big Lion; and the Lion was king of the jungle. Whenever he wanted +anything to eat, all he had to do was to come up out of his cave in the +stones and earth and ROAR. When he had roared a few times all the +little people of the jungle were so frightened that they came out of +their holes and hiding-places and ran, this way and that, to get away. +Then, of course, the Lion could see where they were. And he pounced on +them, killed them, and gobbled them up. + +He did this so often that at last there was not a single thing left +alive in the jungle besides the Lion, except two little Jackals,--a +little father Jackal and a little mother Jackal. + +They had run away so many times that they were quite thin and very +tired, and they could not run so fast any more. And one day the Lion +was so near that the little mother Jackal grew frightened; she said,-- + +"Oh, Father Jackal, Father Jackal! I b'lieve our time has come! the +Lion will surely catch us this time!" + +"Pooh! nonsense, mother!" said the little father Jackal. "Come, we'll +run on a bit!" + +And they ran, ran, ran very fast, and the Lion did not catch them that +time. + +But at last a day came when the Lion was nearer still and the little +mother Jackal was frightened about to death. + +"Oh, Father Jackal, Father Jackal!" she cried; "I'm sure our time has +come! The Lion's going to eat us this time!" + +"Now, mother, don't you fret," said the little father Jackal; "you do +just as I tell you, and it will be all right." + +Then what did those cunning little Jackals do but take hold of hands +and run up towards the Lion, as if they had meant to come all the time. +When he saw them coming he stood up, and roared in a terrible voice,-- + +"You miserable little wretches, come here and be eaten, at once! Why +didn't you come before?" + +The father Jackal bowed very low. + +"Indeed, Father Lion," he said, "we meant to come before; we knew we +ought to come before; and we wanted to come before; but every time we +started to come, a dreadful great lion came out of the woods and roared +at us, and frightened us so that we ran away." + +"What do you mean?" roared the Lion. "There's no other lion in this +jungle, and you know it!" + +"Indeed, indeed, Father Lion," said the little Jackal, "I know that is +what everybody thinks; but indeed and indeed there is another lion! +And he is as much bigger than you as you are bigger than I! His face +is much more terrible, and his roar far, far more dreadful. Oh, he is +far more fearful than you!" + +At that the Lion stood up and roared so that the jungle shook. + +"Take me to this lion," he said; "I'll eat him up and then I'll eat you +up." + +The little Jackals danced on ahead, and the Lion stalked behind. They +led him to a place where there was a round, deep well of clear water. +They went round on one side of it, and the Lion stalked up to the other. + +"He lives down there, Father Lion!" said the little Jackal. "He lives +down there!" + +The Lion came close and looked down into the water,--and a lion's face +looked back at him out of the water! + +When he saw that, the Lion roared and shook his mane and showed his +teeth. And the lion in the water shook his mane and showed his teeth. +The Lion above shook his mane again and growled again, and made a +terrible face. But the lion in the water made just as terrible a one, +back. The Lion above couldn't stand that. He leaped down into the well +after the other lion. + +But, of course, as you know very well, there wasn't any other lion! It +was only the reflection in the water! + +So the poor old Lion floundered about and floundered about, and as he +couldn't get up the steep sides of the well, he was drowned dead. And +when he was drowned the little Jackals took hold of hands and danced +round the well, and sang,-- + +"The Lion is dead! The Lion is dead! + +"We have killed the great Lion who would have killed us! + +"The Lion is dead! The Lion is dead! + +"Ao! Ao! Ao!" + + + +THE COUNTRY MOUSE AND THE CITY MOUSE[1] + +[1] The following story of the two mice, with the similar fables of The +Boy who cried Wolf, The Frog King, and The Sun and the Wind, are given +here with the hope that they may be of use to the many teachers who +find the over-familiar material of the fables difficult to adapt, and +who are yet aware of the great usefulness of the stories to young +minds. A certain degree of vividness and amplitude must be added to +the compact statement of the famous collections, and yet it is not wise +to change the style-effect of a fable, wholly. I venture to give these +versions, not as perfect models, surely, but as renderings which have +been acceptable to children, and which I believe retain the original +point simply and strongly. + + +Once a little mouse who lived in the country invited a little Mouse +from the city to visit him. When the little City Mouse sat down to +dinner he was surprised to find that the Country Mouse had nothing to +eat except barley and grain. + +"Really," he said, "you do not live well at all; you should see how I +live! I have all sorts of fine things to eat every day. You must come +to visit me and see how nice it is to live in the city." + +The little Country Mouse was glad to do this, and after a while he went +to the city to visit his friend. + +The very first place that the City Mouse took the Country Mouse to see +was the kitchen cupboard of the house where he lived. There, on the +lowest shelf, behind some stone jars, stood a big paper bag of brown +sugar. The little City Mouse gnawed a hole in the bag and invited his +friend to nibble for himself. + +The two little mice nibbled and nibbled, and the Country Mouse thought +he had never tasted anything so delicious in his life. He was just +thinking how lucky the City Mouse was, when suddenly the door opened +with a bang, and in came the cook to get some flour. + +"Run!" whispered the City Mouse. And they ran as fast as they could to +the little hole where they had come in. The little Country Mouse was +shaking all over when they got safely away, but the little City Mouse +said, "That is nothing; she will soon go away and then we can go back." + +After the cook had gone away and shut the door they stole softly back, +and this time the City Mouse had something new to show: he took the +little Country Mouse into a corner on the top shelf, where a big jar of +dried prunes stood open. After much tugging and pulling they got a +large dried prune out of the jar on to the shelf and began to nibble at +it. This was even better than the brown sugar. The little Country +Mouse liked the taste so much that he could hardly nibble fast enough. +But all at once, in the midst of their eating, there came a scratching +at the door and a sharp, loud MIAOUW! + +"What is that?" said the Country Mouse. The City Mouse just whispered, +"Sh!" and ran as fast as he could to the hole. The Country Mouse ran +after, you may be sure, as fast as HE could. As soon as they were out +of danger the City Mouse said, "That was the old Cat; she is the best +mouser in town,--if she once gets you, you are lost." + +"This is very terrible," said the little Country Mouse; "let us not go +back to the cupboard again." + +"No," said the City Mouse, "I will take you to the cellar; there is +something especial there." + +So the City Mouse took his little friend down the cellar stairs and +into a big cupboard where there were many shelves. On the shelves were +jars of butter, and cheeses in bags and out of bags. Overhead hung +bunches of sausages, and there were spicy apples in barrels standing +about. It smelled so good that it went to the little Country Mouse's +head. He ran along the shelf and nibbled at a cheese here, and a bit +of butter there, until he saw an especially rich, very +delicious-smelling piece of cheese on a queer little stand in a corner. +He was just on the point of putting his teeth into the cheese when the +City Mouse saw him. + +"Stop! stop!" cried the City Mouse. "That is a trap!" + +The little Country Mouse stopped and said, "What is a trap?" + +"That thing is a trap," said the little City Mouse. "The minute you +touch the cheese with your teeth something comes down on your head +hard, and you're dead." + +The little Country Mouse looked at the trap, and he looked at the +cheese, and he looked at the little City Mouse. "If you'll excuse me," +he said, "I think I will go home. I'd rather have barley and grain to +eat and eat it in peace and comfort, than have brown sugar and dried +prunes and cheese,--and be frightened to death all the time!" + +So the little Country Mouse went back to his home, and there he stayed +all the rest of his life. + + + +LITTLE JACK ROLLAROUND[1] + +[1] Based on Theodor Storm's story of Der Kleine Hawelmanu (George +Westermann, Braunschweig). Very freely adapted from the German story. + + +Once upon a time there was a wee little boy who slept in a tiny +trundle-bed near his mother's great bed. The trundle-bed had castors +on it so that it could be rolled about, and there was nothing in the +world the little boy liked so much as to have it rolled. When his +mother came to bed he would cry, "Roll me around! roll me around!" And +his mother would put out her hand from the big bed and push the little +bed back and forth till she was tired. The little boy could never get +enough; so for this he was called "Little Jack Rollaround." + +One night he had made his mother roll him about, till she fell asleep, +and even then he kept crying, "Roll me around! roll me around!" His +mother pushed him about in her sleep, until she fell too soundly +aslumbering; then she stopped. But Little Jack Rollaround kept on +crying, "Roll around! roll around!" + +By and by the Moon peeped in at the window. He saw a funny sight: +Little Jack Rollaround was lying in his trundle-bed, and he had put up +one little fat leg for a mast, and fastened the corner of his wee shirt +to it for a sail, and he was blowing at it with all his might, and +saying, "Roll around! roll around!" Slowly, slowly, the little +trundle-bed boat began to move; it sailed along the floor and up the +wall and across the ceiling and down again! + +"More! more!" cried Little Jack Rollaround; and the little boat sailed +faster up the wall, across the ceiling, down the wall, and over the +floor. The Moon laughed at the sight; but when Little Jack Rollaround +saw the Moon, he called out, "Open the door, old Moon! I want to roll +through the town, so that the people can see me!" + +The Moon could not open the door, but he shone in through the keyhole, +in a broad band. And Little Jack Rollaround sailed his trundle-bed +boat up the beam, through the keyhole, and into the street. + +"Make a light, old Moon," he said; "I want the people to see me!" + +So the good Moon made a light and went along with him, and the little +trundle-bed boat went sailing down the streets into the main street of +the village. They rolled past the town hall and the schoolhouse and +the church; but nobody saw little Jack Rollaround, because everybody +was in bed, asleep. + +"Why don't the people come to see me?" he shouted. + +High up on the church steeple, the Weather-vane answered, "It is no +time for people to be in the streets; decent folk are in their beds." + +"Then I'll go to the woods, so that the animals may see me," said +Little Jack. "Come along, old Moon, and make a light!" + +The good Moon went along and made a light, and they came to the forest. +"Roll! roll!" cried the little boy; and the trundle-bed went trundling +among the trees in the great wood, scaring up the chipmunks and +startling the little leaves on the trees. The poor old Moon began to +have a bad time of it, for the tree-trunks got in his way so that he +could not go so fast as the bed, and every time he got behind, the +little boy called, "Hurry up, old Moon, I want the beasts to see me!" + +But all the animals were asleep, and nobody at all looked at Little +Jack Rollaround except an old White Owl; and all she said was, "Who are +you?" + +The little boy did not like her, so he blew harder, and the trundle-bed +boat went sailing through the forest till it came to the end of the +world. + +"I must go home now; it is late," said the Moon. + +"I will go with you; make a path!" said Little Jack Rollaround. + +The kind Moon made a path up to the sky, and up sailed the little bed +into the midst of the sky. All the little bright Stars were there with +their nice little lamps. And when he saw them, that naughty Little +Jack Rollaround began to tease. "Out of the way, there! I am coming!" +he shouted, and sailed the trundle-bed boat straight at them. He +bumped the little Stars right and left, all over the sky, until every +one of them put his little lamp out and left it dark. + +"Do not treat the little Stars so," said the good Moon. + +But Jack Rollaround only behaved the worse: "Get out of the way, old +Moon!" he shouted, "I am coming!" + +And he steered the little trundle-bed boat straight into the old Moon's +face, and bumped his nose! + +This was too much for the good Moon; he put out his big light, all at +once, and left the sky pitch-black. + +"Make a light, old Moon! Make a light!" shouted the little boy. But +the Moon answered never a word, and Jack Rollaround could not see where +to steer. He went rolling criss-cross, up and down, all over the sky, +knocking into the planets and stumbling into the clouds, till he did +not know where he was. + +Suddenly he saw a big yellow light at the very edge of the sky. He +thought it was the Moon. "Look out, I am coming!" he cried, and +steered for the light. + +But it was not the kind old Moon at all; it was the great mother Sun, +just coming up out of her home in the sea, to begin her day's work. + +"Aha, youngster, what are you doing in my sky?" she said. And she +picked Little Jack Rollaround up and threw him, trundle-bed boat and +all, into the middle of the sea! + +And I suppose he is there yet, unless somebody picked him out again. + + + +HOW BROTHER RABBIT FOOLED THE WHALE AND THE ELEPHANT[1] + +[1] Adapted from two tales included in the records of the American +Folk-Lore Society. + + +One day little Brother Rabbit was running along on the sand, lippety, +lippety, when he saw the Whale and the Elephant talking together. +Little Brother Rabbit crouched down and listened to what they were +saying. This was what they were saying:-- + +"You are the biggest thing on the land, Brother Elephant," said the +Whale, "and I am the biggest thing in the sea; if we join together we +can rule all the animals in the world, and have our way about +everything." + +"Very good, very good," trumpeted the Elephant; "that suits me; we will +do it." + +Little Brother Rabbit snickered to himself. "They won't rule me," he +said. He ran away and got a very long, very strong rope, and he got +his big drum, and hid the drum a long way off in the bushes. Then he +went along the beach till he came to the Whale. + +"Oh, please, dear, strong Mr. Whale," he said, "will you have the great +kindness to do me a favor? My cow is stuck in the mud, a quarter of a +mile from here. And I can't pull her out. But you are so strong and +so obliging, that I venture to trust you will help me out." + +The Whale was so pleased with the compliment that he said, "Yes," at +once. + +"Then," said the Rabbit, "I will tie this end of my long rope to you, +and I will run away and tie the other end round my cow, and when I am +ready I will beat my big drum. When you hear that, pull very, very +hard, for the cow is stuck very deep in the mud." + +"Huh!" grunted the Whale, "I'll pull her out, if she is stuck to the +horns." + +Little Brother Rabbit tied the rope-end to the whale, and ran off, +lippety, lippety, till he came to the place where the Elephant was. + +"Oh, please, mighty and kindly Elephant," he said, making a very low +bow "will you do me a favor?" + +"What is it?" asked the Elephant. + +"My cow is stuck in the mud, about a quarter of a mile from here," said +little Brother Rabbit, "and I cannot pull her out. Of course you +could. If you will be so very obliging as to help me--" + +"Certainly," said the Elephant grandly, "certainly." + +"Then," said little Brother Rabbit, "I will tie one end of this long +rope to your trunk, and the other to my cow, and as soon as I have tied +her tightly I will beat my big drum. When you hear that, pull; pull as +hard as you can, for my cow is very heavy." + +"Never fear," said the Elephant, "I could pull twenty cows." + +"I am sure you could," said the Rabbit, politely, "only be sure to +begin gently, and pull harder and harder till you get her." + +Then he tied the end of the rope tightly round the Elephant's trunk, +and ran away into the bushes. There he sat down and beat the big drum. + +The Whale began to pull, and the Elephant began to pull, and in a jiffy +the rope tightened till it was stretched as hard as could be. + +"This is a remarkably heavy cow," said the Elephant; "but I'll fetch +her!" And he braced his forefeet in the earth, and gave a tremendous +pull. + +"Dear me!" said the Whale. "That cow must be stuck mighty tight;" and +he drove his tail deep in the water, and gave a marvelous pull. + +He pulled harder; the Elephant pulled harder. Pretty soon the Whale +found himself sliding toward the land. The reason was, of course, that +the Elephant had something solid to brace against, and, too, as fast as +he pulled the rope in a little, he took a turn with it round his trunk! + +But when the Whale found himself sliding toward the land he was so +provoked with the cow that he dove head first, down to the bottom of +the sea. That was a pull! The Elephant was jerked off his feet, and +came slipping and sliding to the beach, and into the surf. He was +terribly angry. He braced himself with all his might, and pulled his +best. At the jerk, up came the Whale out of the water. + +"Who is pulling me?" spouted the Whale. + +"Who is pulling me?" trumpeted the Elephant. + +And then each saw the rope in the other's hold. + +"I'll teach you to play cow!" roared the Elephant. + +"I'll show you how to fool me!" fumed the Whale. And they began to +pull again. But this time the rope broke, the Whale turned a +somersault, and the Elephant fell over backwards. + +At that, they were both so ashamed that neither would speak to the +other. So that broke up the bargain between them. + +And little Brother Rabbit sat in the bushes and laughed, and laughed, +and laughed. + + + +THE LITTLE HALF-CHICK + +There was once upon a time a Spanish Hen, who hatched out some nice +little chickens. She was much pleased with their looks as they came +from the shell. One, two, three, came out plump and fluffy; but when +the fourth shell broke, out came a little half-chick! It had only one +leg and one wing and one eye! It was just half a chicken. + +The Hen-mother did not know what in the world to do with the queer +little Half-Chick. She was afraid something would happen to it, and +she tried hard to protect it and keep it from harm. But as soon as it +could walk the little Half-Chick showed a most headstrong spirit, worse +than any of its brothers. It would not mind, and it would go wherever +it wanted to; it walked with a funny little hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, +and got along pretty fast. + +One day the little Half-Chick said, "Mother, I am off to Madrid, to see +the King! Good-by." + +The poor Hen-mother did everything she could think of, to keep him from +doing so foolish a thing, but the little Half-Chick laughed at her +naughtily. "I'm for seeing the King," he said; "this life is too quiet +for me." And away he went, hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, over the fields. + +When he had gone some distance the little Half-Chick came to a little +brook that was caught in the weeds and in much trouble. + +"Little Half-Chick," whispered the Water, "I am so choked with these +weeds that I cannot move; I am almost lost, for want of room; please +push the sticks and weeds away with your bill and help me." + +"The idea!" said the little Half-Chick. "I cannot be bothered with you; +I am off for Madrid, to see the King!" And in spite of the brook's +begging he went away, hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick. + +A bit farther on, the Half-Chick came to a Fire, which was smothered in +damp sticks and in great distress. + +"Oh, little Half-Chick," said the Fire, "you are just in time to save +me. I am almost dead for want of air. Fan me a little with your wing, +I beg." + +"The idea!" said the little Half-Chick. "I cannot be bothered with you; +I am off to Madrid, to see the King!" And he went laughing off, +hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick. + +When he had hoppity-kicked a good way, and was near Madrid, he came to +a clump of bushes, where the Wind was caught fast. The Wind was +whimpering, and begging to be set free. + +"Little Half-Chick," said the Wind, "you are just in time to help me; +if you will brush aside these twigs and leaves, I can get my breath; +help me, quickly!" + +"Ho! the idea!" said the little Half-Chick. "I have no time to bother +with you. I am going to Madrid, to see the King." And he went off, +hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, leaving the Wind to smother. + +After a while he came to Madrid and to the palace of the King. +Hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, the little Half-Chick skipped past the +sentry at the gate, and hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, he crossed the +court. But as he was passing the windows of the kitchen the Cook looked +out and saw him. + +"The very thing for the King's dinner!" she said. "I was needing a +chicken!" And she seized the little Half-Chick by his one wing and +threw him into a kettle of water on the fire. + +The Water came over the little Half-Chick's feathers, over his head, +into his eye; It was terribly uncomfortable. The little Half-Chick +cried out,-- + +"Water, don't drown me! Stay down, don't come so high!" + +But the Water said, "Little Half-Chick, little Half-Chick, when I was +in trouble you would not help me," and came higher than ever. + +Now the Water grew warm, hot, hotter, frightfully hot; the little +Half-Chick cried out, "Do not burn so hot, Fire! You are burning me to +death! Stop!" + +But the Fire said, "Little Half-Chick, little Half-Chick, when I was in +trouble you would not help me," and burned hotter than ever. + +Just as the little Half-Chick thought he must suffocate, the Cook took +the cover off, to look at the dinner. "Dear me," she said, "this +chicken is no good; it is burned to a cinder." And she picked the +little Half-Chick up by one leg and threw him out of the window. + +In the air he was caught by a breeze and taken up higher than the +trees. Round and round he was twirled till he was so dizzy he thought +he must perish. "Don't blow me so? Wind," he cried, "let me down!" + +"Little Half-Chick, little Half-Chick," said the Wind, "when I was in +trouble you would not help me!" And the Wind blew him straight up to +the top of the church steeple, and stuck him there, fast! + +There he stands to this day, with his one eye, his one wing, and his +one leg. He cannot hoppity-kick any more, but he turns slowly round +when the wind blows, and keeps his head toward it, to hear what it says. + + + +THE LAMBIKIN[1] + +[1] From Indian Fairy Tales. By Joseph Jacobs (David Nutt). + + +Once upon a time there was a wee, wee Lambikin, who frolicked about on +his little tottery legs, and enjoyed himself amazingly. + +Now one day he set off to visit his Granny, and was jumping with joy to +think of all the good things he should get from her, when whom should +he meet but a Jackal, who looked at the tender young morsel and said, +"Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll EAT YOU!" + +But Lambikin only gave a little frisk and said,-- + + "To Granny's house I go, + Where I shall fatter grow; + Then you can eat me so." + + +The Jackal thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass. + +By and by he met a Vulture, and the Vulture, looking hungrily at the +tender morsel before him, said, "Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll EAT YOU!" + +But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said,-- + + "To Granny's house I go, + Where I shall fatter grow; + Then you can eat me so." + + +The Vulture thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass. + +And by and by he met a Tiger, and then a Wolf and a Dog and an Eagle, +and all these, when they saw the tender little morsel, said, "Lambikin! +Lambikin! I'll EAT YOU!" + +But to all of them Lambikin replied, with a little frisk,-- + + "To Granny's house I go, + Where I shall fatter grow; + Then you can eat me so." + + +At last he reached his Granny's house, and said, all in a great hurry, +"Granny, dear, I've promised to get very fat; so, as people ought to +keep their promises, please put me into the corn-bin AT ONCE." + +So his Granny said he was a good boy, and put him into the corn-bin, +and there the greedy little Lambikin stayed for seven days, and ate, +and ate, and ate, until he could scarcely waddle, and his Granny said +he was fat enough for anything, and must go home. But cunning little +Lambikin said that would never do, for some animal would be sure to eat +him on the way back, he was so plump and tender. + +"I'll tell you what you must do," said Master Lambikin; "you must make +a little drumikin out of the skin of my little brother who died, and +then I can sit inside and trundle along nicely, for I'm as tight as a +drum myself." + +So his Granny made a nice little drumikin out of his brother's skin, +with the wool inside, and Lambikin curled himself up snug and warm in +the middle and trundled away gayly. Soon he met with the Eagle, who +called out,-- + + "Drumikin! Drumikin! + Have you seen Lambikin?" + + +And Mr. Lambikin, curled up in his soft, warm nest, replied,-- + + "Fallen into the fire, and so will you + On little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too!" + + +"How very annoying!" sighed the Eagle, thinking regretfully of the +tender morsel he had let slip. + +Meanwhile Lambikin trundled along, laughing to himself, and singing,-- + + "Tum-pa, tum-too; + Tum-pa, tum-too!" + + +Every animal and bird he met asked him the same question,-- + + "Drumikin! Drumikin! + Have you seen Lambikin?" + + +And to each of them the little slyboots replied,-- + + "Fallen into the fire, and so will you + On little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too!" + Tum-pa, tum-too! tum-pa, tum-too!" + + +Then they all sighed to think of the tender little morsel they had let +slip. + +At last the Jackal came limping along, for all his sorry looks as sharp +as a needle, and he, too, called out,-- + + "Drumikin! Drumikin! + Have you seen Lambikin?" + + +And Lambikin, curled up in his snug little nest, replied gayly,-- + + "Fallen into the fire, and so will you + On little Drumikin! Tum-pa--" + + +But he never got any further, for the Jackal recognized his voice at +once, and cried, "Hullo! you've turned yourself inside out, have you? +Just you come out of that!" + +Whereupon he tore open Drumikin and gobbled up Lambikin. + + + +THE BLACKBERRY-BUSH[1] + +[1] From Celia Thaxter's Stories and Poems for Children. + + +A little boy sat at his mother's knees, by the long western window, +looking out into the garden. It was autumn, and the wind was sad; and +the golden elm leaves lay scattered about among the grass, and on the +gravel path. The mother was knitting a little stocking; her fingers +moved the bright needles; but her eyes were fixed on the clear evening +sky. + +As the darkness gathered, the wee boy laid his head on her lap and kept +so still that, at last, she leaned forward to look into his dear round +face. He was not asleep, but was watching very earnestly a +blackberry-bush, that waved its one tall, dark-red spray in the wind +outside the fence. + +"What are you thinking about, my darling?" she said, smoothing his +soft, honey-colored hair. + +"The blackberry-bush, mamma; what does it say? It keeps nodding, +nodding to me behind the fence; what does it say, mamma?" + +"It says," she answered, 'I see a happy little boy in the warm, +fire-lighted room. The wind blows cold, and here it is dark and lonely; +but that little boy is warm and happy and safe at his mother's knees. I +nod to him, and he looks at me. I wonder if he knows how happy he is! + +"'See, all my leaves are dark crimson. Every day they dry and wither +more and more; by and by they will be so weak they can scarcely cling +to my branches, and the north wind will tear them all away, and nobody +will remember them any more. Then the snow will sink down and wrap me +close. Then the snow will melt again and icy rain will clothe me, and +the bitter wind will rattle my bare twigs up and down. + +"'I nod my head to all who pass, and dreary nights and dreary days go +by; but in the happy house, so warm and bright, the little boy plays +all day with books and toys. His mother and his father cherish him; he +nestles on their knees in the red firelight at night, while they read +to him lovely stories, or sing sweet old songs to him,--the happy +little boy! And outside I peep over the snow and see a stream of ruddy +light from a crack in the window-shutter, and I nod out here alone in +the dark, thinking how beautiful it is. + +"'And here I wait patiently. I take the snow and the rain and the +cold, and I am not sorry, but glad; for in my roots I feel warmth and +life, and I know that a store of greenness and beauty is shut up safe +in my small brown buds. Day and night go again and again; little by +little the snow melts all away; the ground grows soft; the sky is blue; +the little birds fly over crying, "It is spring! it is spring!" Ah! +then through all my twigs I feel the slow sap stirring. + +"'Warmer grow the sunbeams, and softer the air. The small blades of +grass creep thick about my feet; the sweet rain helps swell my shining +buds. More and more I push forth my leaves, till out I burst in a gay +green dress, and nod in joy and pride. The little boy comes running to +look at me, and cries, "Oh, mamma! the little blackberry-bush is alive +and beautiful and green. Oh, come and see!" And I hear; and I bow my +head in the summer wind; and every day they watch me grow more +beautiful, till at last I shake out blossoms, fair and fragrant. + +"'A few days more, and I drop the white petals down among the grass, +and, lo! the green tiny berries! Carefully I hold them up to the sun; +carefully I gather the dew in the summer nights; slowly they ripen; +they grow larger and redder and darker, and at last they are black, +shining, delicious. I hold them as high as I can for the little boy, +who comes dancing out. He shouts with joy, and gathers them in his +dear hand; and he runs to share them with his mother, saying, "Here is +what the patient blackberry-bush bore for us: see how nice, mamma!" + +"'Ah! then indeed I am glad, and would say, if I could, "Yes, take +them, dear little boy; I kept them for you, held them long up to sun +and rain to make them sweet and ripe for you;" and I nod and nod in +full content, for my work is done. From the window he watches me and +thinks, "There is the little blackberry-bush that was so kind to me. I +see it and I love it. I know it is safe out there nodding all alone, +and next summer it will hold ripe berries up for me to gather again."'" + + +Then the wee boy smiled, and liked the little story. His mother took +him up in her arms, and they went out to supper and left the +blackberry-bush nodding up and down in the wind; and there it is +nodding yet. + + + +THE FAIRIES[1] + +[1] By William Allingham. + + Up the airy mountain, + Down the rushy glen, + We daren't go a-hunting + For fear of little men. + Wee folk, good folk, + Trooping all together; + Green jacket, red cap, + And white owl's feather! + + Down along the rocky shore + Some make their home-- + They live on crispy pancakes + Of yellow tide-foam; + Some in the reeds + Of the black mountain-lake, + With frogs for their watch-dogs, + All night awake. + + High on the hilltop + The old King sits; + He is now so old and gray, + He's nigh lost his wits. + With a bridge of white mist + Columbkill he crosses, + On his stately journeys + From Slieveleague to Rosses; + Or going up with music + On cold starry nights, + To sup with the Queen + Of the gay Northern Lights. + + They stole little Bridget + For seven years long; + When she came down again + Her friends were all gone. + They took her lightly back, + Between the night and morrow; + They thought that she was fast asleep, + But she was dead with sorrow. + They have kept her ever since + Deep within the lake, + On a bed of flag-leaves, + Watching till she wake. + + By the craggy hillside, + Through the mosses bare, + They have planted thorn-trees, + For pleasure here and there. + Is any man so daring + As dig them up in spite, + He shall find their sharpest thorns + In his bed at night. + + Up the airy mountain, + Down the rushy glen, + We daren't go a-hunting + For fear of little men. + Wee folk, good folk, + Trooping all together; + Green jacket, red cap, + And white owl's feather! + + + +THE ADVENTURES OF THE LITTLE FIELD MOUSE + +Once upon a time, there was a little brown Field Mouse; and one day he +was out in the fields to see what he could see. He was running along +in the grass, poking his nose into everything and looking with his two +eyes all about, when he saw a smooth, shiny acorn, lying in the grass. +It was such a fine shiny little acorn that he thought he would take it +home with him; so he put out his paw to touch it, but the little acorn +rolled away from him. He ran after it, but it kept rolling on, just +ahead of him, till it came to a place where a big oak-tree had its +roots spread all over the ground. Then it rolled under a big round +root. + +Little Mr. Field Mouse ran to the root and poked his nose under after +the acorn, and there he saw a small round hole in the ground. He +slipped through and saw some stairs going down into the earth. The +acorn was rolling down, with a soft tapping sound, ahead of him, so +down he went too. Down, down, down, rolled the acorn, and down, down, +down, went the Field Mouse, until suddenly he saw a tiny door at the +foot of the stairs. + +The shiny acorn rolled to the door and struck against it with a tap. +Quickly the little door opened and the acorn rolled inside. The Field +Mouse hurried as fast as he could down the last stairs, and pushed +through just as the door was closing. It shut behind him, and he was +in a little room. And there, before him, stood a queer little Red Man! +He had a little red cap, and a little red jacket, and odd little red +shoes with points at the toes. + +"You are my prisoner," he said to the Field Mouse. + +"What for?" said the Field Mouse. + +"Because you tried to steal my acorn," said the little Red Man. + +"It is my acorn," said the Field Mouse; "I found it." + +"No, it isn't," said the little Red Man, "I have it; you will never see +it again." + +The little Field Mouse looked all about the room as fast as he could, +but he could not see any acorn. Then he thought he would go back up +the tiny stairs to his own home. But the little door was locked, and +the little Red Man had the key. And he said to the poor mouse,-- + +"You shall be my servant; you shall make my bed and sweep my room and +cook my broth." + +So the little brown Mouse was the little Red Man's servant, and every +day he made the little Red Man's bed and swept the little Red Man's +room and cooked the little Red Man's broth. And every day the little +Red Man went away through the tiny door, and did not come back till +afternoon. But he always locked the door after him, and carried away +the key. + +At last, one day he was in such a hurry that he turned the key before +the door was quite latched, which, of course, didn't lock it at all. +He went away without noticing,--he was in such a hurry. + +The little Field Mouse knew that his chance had come to run away home. +But he didn't want to go without the pretty, shiny acorn. Where it was +he didn't know, so he looked everywhere. He opened every little drawer +and looked in, but it wasn't in any of the drawers; he peeped on every +shelf, but it wasn't on a shelf; he hunted in every closet, but it +wasn't in there. Finally, he climbed up on a chair and opened a wee, +wee door in the chimney-piece,--and there it was! + +He took it quickly in his forepaws, and then he took it in his mouth, +and then he ran away. He pushed open the little door; he climbed up, +up, up the little stairs; he came out through the hole under the root; +he ran and ran through the fields; and at last he came to his own house. + +When he was in his own house he set the shiny acorn on the table. I +guess he set it down hard, for all at once, with a little snap, it +opened!--exactly like a little box. + +And what do you think! There was a tiny necklace inside! It was a +most beautiful tiny necklace, all made of jewels, and it was just big +enough for a lady mouse. So the little Field Mouse gave the tiny +necklace to his little Mouse-sister. She thought it was perfectly +lovely. And when she wasn't wearing it she kept it in the shiny acorn +box. + +And the little Red Man never knew what had become of it, because he +didn't know where the little Field Mouse lived. + + + +ANOTHER LITTLE RED HEN[1] + +[1] Adapted from the verse version, which is given here as an +alternative. + + +Once upon a time there was a little Red Hen, who lived on a farm all by +herself. An old Fox, crafty and sly, had a den in the rocks, on a hill +near her house. Many and many a night this old Fox used to lie awake +and think to himself how good that little Red Hen would taste if he +could once get her in his big kettle and boil her for dinner. But he +couldn't catch the little Red Hen, because she was too wise for him. +Every time she went out to market she locked the door of the house +behind her, and as soon as she came in again she locked the door behind +her and put the key in her apron pocket, where she kept her scissors +and a sugar cooky. + +At last the old Fox thought up a way to catch the little Red Hen. +Early in the morning he said to his old mother, "Have the kettle +boiling when I come home to-night, for I'll be bringing the little Red +Hen for supper." Then he took a big bag and slung it over his +shoulder, and walked till he came to the little Red Hen's house. The +little Red Hen was just coming out of her door to pick up a few sticks +for kindling wood. So the old Fox hid behind the wood-pile, and as +soon as she bent down to get a stick, into the house he slipped, and +scurried behind the door. + +In a minute the little Red Hen came quickly in, and shut the door and +locked it. "I'm glad I'm safely in," she said. Just as she said it, +she turned round, and there stood the ugly old Fox, with his big bag +over his shoulder. Whiff! how scared the little Red Hen was! She +dropped her apronful of sticks, and flew up to the big beam across the +ceiling. There she perched, and she said to the old Fox, down below, +"You may as well go home, for you can't get me." + +"Can't I, though!" said the Fox. And what do you think he did? He +stood on the floor underneath the little Red Hen and twirled round in a +circle after his own tail. And as he spun, and spun, and spun, faster, +and faster, and faster, the poor little Red Hen got so dizzy watching +him that she couldn't hold on to the perch. She dropped off, and the +old Fox picked her up and put her in his bag, slung the bag over his +shoulder, and started for home, where the kettle was boiling. + +He had a very long way to go, up hill, and the little Red Hen was still +so dizzy that she didn't know where she was. But when the dizziness +began to go off, she whisked her little scissors out of her apron +pocket, and snip! she cut a little hole in the bag; then she poked her +head out and saw where she was, and as soon as they came to a good spot +she cut the hole bigger and jumped out herself. There was a great big +stone lying there, and the little Red Hen picked it up and put it in +the bag as quick as a wink. Then she ran as fast as she could till she +came to her own little farm-house, and she went in and locked the door +with the big key. + +The old Fox went on carrying the stone and never knew the difference. +My, but it bumped him well! He was pretty tired when he got home. But +he was so pleased to think of the supper he was going to have that he +did not mind that at all. As soon as his mother opened the door he +said, "Is the kettle boiling?" + +"Yes," said his mother; "have you got the little Red Hen?" + +"I have," said the old Fox. "When I open the bag you hold the cover +off the kettle and I'll shake the bag so that the Hen will fall in, and +then you pop the cover on, before she can jump out." + +"All right," said his mean old mother; and she stood close by the +boiling kettle, ready to put the cover on. + +The Fox lifted the big, heavy bag up till it was over the open kettle, +and gave it a shake. Splash! thump! splash! In went the stone and out +came the boiling water, all over the old Fox and the old Fox's mother! + +And they were scalded to death. + +But the little Red Hen lived happily ever after, in her own little +farmhouse. + + + +THE STORY OF THE LITTLE RID HIN[1] + +[1] From Horace E. Scudder's Doings of the Bodley Family in Town and +Country (Houghton, Mifflin & Co.). + + + There was once't upon a time + A little small Rid Hin, + Off in the good ould country + Where yees ha' nivir bin. + + Nice and quiet shure she was, + And nivir did any harrum; + She lived alane all be herself, + And worked upon her farrum. + + There lived out o'er the hill, + In a great din o' rocks, + A crafty, shly, and wicked + Ould folly iv a Fox. + + This rashkill iv a Fox, + He tuk it in his head + He'd have the little Rid Hin: + So, whin he wint to bed, + + He laid awake and thaught + What a foine thing 'twad be + To fetch her home and bile her up + For his ould marm and he. + + And so he thaught and thaught, + Until he grew so thin + That there was nothin' left of him + But jist his bones and shkin. + + But the small Rid Hin was wise, + She always locked her door, + And in her pocket pit the key, + To keep the Fox out shure. + + But at last there came a schame + Intil his wicked head, + And he tuk a great big bag + And to his mither said,-- + + "Now have the pot all bilin' + Agin the time I come; + We'll ate the small Rid Hin to-night, + For shure I'll bring her home." + + And so away he wint + Wid the bag upon his back, + An' up the hill and through the woods + Saftly he made his track. + + An' thin he came alang, + Craping as shtill's a mouse, + To where the little small Rid Hin + Lived in her shnug ould house. + + An' out she comes hersel', + Jist as he got in sight, + To pick up shticks to make her fire: + "Aha!" says Fox, "all right. + + "Begorra, now, I'll have yees + Widout much throuble more;" + An' in he shlips quite unbeknownst, + An' hides be'ind the door. + + An' thin, a minute afther, + In comes the small Rid Hin, + An' shuts the door, and locks it, too, + An' thinks, "I'm safely in." + + An' thin she tarns around + An' looks be'ind the door; + There shtands the Fox wid his big tail + Shpread out upon the floor. + + Dear me! she was so schared + Wid such a wondrous sight, + She dropped her apronful of shticks, + An' flew up in a fright, + + An' lighted on the bame + Across on top the room; + "Aha!" says she, "ye don't have me; + Ye may as well go home." + + "Aha!" says Fox, "we'll see; + I'll bring yees down from that." + So out he marched upon the floor + Right under where she sat. + + An' thin he whiruled around, + An' round an' round an' round, + Fashter an' fashter an' fashter, + Afther his tail on the ground. + + Until the small Rid Hin + She got so dizzy, shure, + Wid lookin' at the Fox's tail, + She jist dropped on the floor. + + An' Fox he whipped her up, + An' pit her in his bag, + An' off he started all alone, + Him and his little dag. + + All day he tracked the wood + Up hill an' down again; + An' wid him, shmotherin' in the bag, + The little small Rid Hin. + + Sorra a know she knowed + Awhere she was that day; + Says she, "I'm biled an' ate up, shure, + An' what'll be to pay?" + + Thin she betho't hersel', + An' tuk her schissors out, + An' shnipped a big hole in the bag, + So she could look about. + + An' 'fore ould Fox could think + She lept right out--she did, + An' thin picked up a great big shtone, + An' popped it in instid. + + An' thin she rins off home, + Her outside door she locks; + Thinks she, "You see you don't have me, + You crafty, shly ould Fox." + + An' Fox, he tugged away + Wid the great big hivy shtone, + Thimpin' his shoulders very bad + As he wint in alone. + + An' whin he came in sight + O' his great din o' rocks, + Jist watchin' for him at the door + He shpied ould mither Fox. + + "Have ye the pot a-bilin'?" + Says he to ould Fox thin; + "Shure an' it is, me child," says she; + "Have ye the small Rid Hin?" + + "Yes, jist here in me bag, + As shure as I shtand here; + Open the lid till I pit her in: + Open it--niver fear." + + So the rashkill cut the sthring, + An' hild the big bag over; + "Now when I shake it in," says he, + "Do ye pit on the cover." + + "Yis, that I will;" an' thin + The shtone wint in wid a dash, + An' the pot oy bilin' wather + Came over them ker-splash. + + An' schalted 'em both to death, + So they couldn't brathe no more; + An' the little small Rid Hin lived safe, + Jist where she lived before. + + + +THE STORY OF EPAMINONDAS AND HIS AUNTIE[1] + +[1] A Southern nonsense tale. + +Epaminondas used to go to see his Auntie 'most every day, and she +nearly always gave him something to take home to his Mammy. + +One day she gave him a big piece of cake; nice, yellow, rich gold-cake. + +Epaminondas took it in his fist and held it all scrunched up tight, +like this, and came along home. By the time he got home there wasn't +anything left but a fistful of crumbs. His Mammy said,-- + +"What you got there, Epaminondas?" + +"Cake, Mammy," said Epaminondas. + +"Cake!" said his Mammy. "Epaminondas, you ain't got the sense you was +born with! That's no way to carry cake. The way to carry cake is to +wrap it all up nice in some leaves and put it in your hat, and put your +hat on your head, and come along home. You hear me, Epaminondas?" + +"Yes, Mammy," said Epaminondas. + +Next day Epaminondas went to see his Auntie, and she gave him a pound +of butter for his Mammy; fine, fresh, sweet butter. + +Epaminondas wrapped it up in leaves and put it in his hat, and put his +hat on his head, and came along home. It was a very hot day. Pretty +soon the butter began to melt. It melted, and melted, and as it melted +it ran down Epaminondas' forehead; then it ran over his face, and in +his ears, and down his neck. When he got home, all the butter +Epaminondas had was ON HIM. His Mammy looked at him, and then she +said,-- + +"Law's sake! Epaminondas, what you got in your hat?" + +"Butter, Mammy," said Epaminondas; "Auntie gave it to me." + +"Butter!" said his Mammy. "Epaminondas, you ain't got the sense you +was born with! Don't you know that's no way to carry butter? The way +to carry butter is to wrap it up in some leaves and take it down to the +brook, and cool it in the water, and cool it in the water, and cool it +in the water, and then take it on your hands, careful, and bring it +along home." + +"Yes, Mammy," said Epaminondas. + +By and by, another day, Epaminondas went to see his Auntie again, and +this time she gave him a little new puppy-dog to take home. + +Epaminondas put it in some leaves and took it down to the brook; and +there he cooled it in the water, and cooled it in the water, and cooled +it in the water; then he took it in his hands and came along home. When +he got home, the puppy-dog was dead. His Mammy looked at it, and she +said,-- + +"Law's sake! Epaminondas, what you got there?" + +"A puppy-dog, Mammy," said Epaminondas. + +"A PUPPY-DOG!" said his Mammy. "My gracious sakes alive, Epaminondas, +you ain't got the sense you was born with! That ain't the way to carry +a puppy-dog! The way to carry a puppy-dog is to take a long piece of +string and tie one end of it round the puppy-dog's neck and put the +puppy-dog on the ground, and take hold of the other end of the string +and come along home, like this." + +"All right, Mammy," said Epaminondas. + +Next day, Epaminondas went to see his Auntie again, and when he came to +go home she gave him a loaf of bread to carry to his Mammy; a brown, +fresh, crusty loaf of bread. + +So Epaminondas tied a string around the end of the loaf and took hold +of the end of the string and came along home, like this. (Imitate +dragging something along the ground.) When he got home his Mammy +looked at the thing on the end of the string, and she said,-- + +"My laws a-massy! Epaminondas, what you got on the end of that string?" + +"Bread, Mammy," said Epaminondas; "Auntie gave it to me." + +"Bread!!!" said his Mammy. "O Epaminondas, Epaminondas, you ain't got +the sense you was born with; you never did have the sense you was born +with; you never will have the sense you was born with! Now I ain't +gwine tell you any more ways to bring truck home. And don't you go see +your Auntie, neither. I'll go see her my own self. But I'll just tell +you one thing, Epaminondas! You see these here six mince pies I done +make? You see how I done set 'em on the doorstep to cool? Well, now, +you hear me, Epaminondas, YOU BE CAREFUL HOW YOU STEP ON THOSE PIES!" + +"Yes, Mammy," said Epaminondas. + +Then Epaminondas' Mammy put on her bonnet and her shawl and took a +basket in her hand and went away to see Auntie. The six mince pies sat +cooling in a row on the doorstep. + +And then,--and then,--Epaminondas WAS careful how he stepped on those +pies! + +He stepped (imitate)--right--in--the--middle--of--every--one. + . . . . . . . . +And, do you know, children, nobody knows what happened next! The +person who told me the story didn't know; nobody knows. But you can +guess. + + + +THE BOY WHO CRIED "WOLF!" + +There was once a shepherd-boy who kept his flock at a little distance +from the village. Once he thought he would play a trick on the +villagers and have some fun at their expense. So he ran toward the +village crying out, with all his might,-- + +"Wolf! Wolf! Come and help! The wolves are at my lambs!" + +The kind villagers left their work and ran to the field to help him. +But when they got there the boy laughed at them for their pains; there +was no wolf there. + +Still another day the boy tried the same trick, and the villagers came +running to help and got laughed at again. Then one day a wolf did break +into the fold and began killing the lambs. In great fright, the boy +ran for help. "Wolf! Wolf!" he screamed. "There is a wolf in the +flock! Help!" + +The villagers heard him, but they thought it was another mean trick; no +one paid the least attention, or went near him. And the shepherd-boy +lost all his sheep. + +That is the kind of thing that happens to people who lie: even when +they tell the truth no one believes them. + + + +THE FROG KING + +Did you ever hear the old story about the foolish Frogs? The Frogs in +a certain swamp decided that they needed a king; they had always got +along perfectly well without one, but they suddenly made up their minds +that a king they must have. They sent a messenger to Jove and begged +him to send a king to rule over them. + +Jove saw how stupid they were, and sent a king who could not harm them: +he tossed a big log into the middle of the pond. + +At the splash the Frogs were terribly frightened, and dove into their +holes to hide from King Log. But after a while, when they saw that the +king never moved, they got over their fright and went and sat on him. +And as soon as they found he really could not hurt them they began to +despise him; and finally they sent another messenger to Jove to ask for +a new king. + +Jove sent an eel. + +The Frogs were much pleased and a good deal frightened when King Eel +came wriggling and swimming among them. But as the days went on, and +the eel was perfectly harmless, they stopped being afraid; and as soon +as they stopped fearing King Eel they stopped respecting him. + +Soon they sent a third messenger to Jove, and begged that they might +have a better king,--a king who was worth while. + +It was too much; Jove was angry at their stupidity at last. "I will +give you a king such as you deserve!" he said; and he sent them a Stork. + +As soon as the Frogs came to the surface to greet the new king, King +Stork caught them in his long bill and gobbled them up. One after +another they came bobbing up, and one after another the stork ate them. +He was indeed a king worthy of them! + + + +THE SUN AND THE WIND + +The Sun and the Wind once had a quarrel as to which was the stronger. +Each believed himself to be the more powerful. While they were arguing +they saw a traveler walking along the country highway, wearing a great +cloak. + +"Here is a chance to test our strength," said the Wind; "let us see +which of us is strong enough to make that traveler take off his cloak; +the one who can do that shall be acknowledged the more powerful." + +"Agreed," said the Sun. + +Instantly the Wind began to blow; he puffed and tugged at the man's +cloak, and raised a storm of hail and rain, to beat at it. But the +colder it grew and the more it stormed, the tighter the traveler held +his cloak around him. The Wind could not get it off. + +Now it was the Sun's turn. He shone with all his beams on the man's +shoulders. As it grew hotter and hotter, the man unfastened his cloak; +then he threw it back; at last he took it off! The Sun had won. + + + +THE LITTLE JACKAL AND THE ALLIGATOR + +The little Jackal was very fond of shell-fish. He used to go down by +the river and hunt along the edges for crabs and such things. And +once, when he was hunting for crabs, he was so hungry that he put his +paw into the water after a crab without looking first,--which you never +should do! The minute he put in his paw, SNAP!--the big Alligator who +lives in the mud down there had it in his jaws. + +"Oh, dear!" thought the little Jackal; "the big Alligator has my paw in +his mouth! In another minute he will pull me down and gobble me up! +What shall I do? what shall I do?" Then he thought, suddenly, "I'll +deceive him!" + +So he put on a very cheerful voice, as if nothing at all were the +matter, and he said,-- + +"Ho! ho! Clever Mr. Alligator! Smart Mr. Alligator, to take that old +bulrush root for my paw! I'll hope you'll find it very tender!" + +The old Alligator was hidden away beneath the mud and bulrush leaves, +and he couldn't see anything. He thought, "Pshaw! I've made a +mistake." So he opened his mouth and let the little Jackal go. + +The little Jackal ran away as fast as he could, and as he ran he called +out,-- + +"Thank you, Mr. Alligator! Kind Mr. Alligator! SO kind of you to let +me go!" + +The old Alligator lashed with his tail and snapped with his jaws, but +it was too late; the little Jackal was out of reach. + +After this the little Jackal kept away from the river, out of danger. +But after about a week he got such an appetite for crabs that nothing +else would do at all; he felt that he must have a crab. So he went +down by the river and looked all around, very carefully. He didn't see +the old Alligator, but he thought to himself, "I think I'll not take +any chances." So he stood still and began to talk out loud to himself. +He said,-- + +"When I don't see any little crabs on the land I most generally see +them sticking out of the water, and then I put my paw in and catch +them. I wonder if there are any fat little crabs in the water today?" + +The old Alligator was hidden down in the mud at the bottom of the +river, and when he heard what the little Jackal said, he thought, "Aha! +I'll pretend to be a little crab, and when he puts his paw in, I'll +make my dinner of him." So he stuck the black end of his snout above +the water and waited. + +The little Jackal took one look, and then he said,-- + +"Thank you, Mr. Alligator! Kind Mr. Alligator! You are EXCEEDINGLY +kind to show me where you are! I will have dinner elsewhere." And he +ran away like the wind. + +The old Alligator foamed at the mouth, he was so angry, but the little +Jackal was gone. + +For two whole weeks the little Jackal kept away from the river. Then, +one day he got a feeling inside him that nothing but crabs could +satisfy; he felt that he must have at least one crab. Very cautiously, +he went down to the river and looked all around. He saw no sign of the +old Alligator. Still, he did not mean to take any chances. So he +stood quite still and began to talk to himself,--it was a little way he +had. He said,-- + +"When I don't see any little crabs on the shore, or sticking up out of +the water, I usually see them blowing bubbles from under the water; the +little bubbles go PUFF, PUFF, PUFF, and then they go POP, POP, POP, and +they show me where the little juicy crabs are, so I can put my paw in +and catch them. I wonder if I shall see any little bubbles to-day?" + +The old Alligator, lying low in the mud and weeds, heard this, and he +thought, "Pooh! THAT'S easy enough; I'll just blow some little +crab-bubbles, and then he will put his paw in where I can get it." + +So he blew, and he blew, a mighty blast, and the bubbles rose in a +perfect whirlpool, fizzing and swirling. + +The little Jackal didn't have to be told who was underneath those +bubbles: he took one quick look, and off he ran. But as he went, he +sang,-- + +"Thank you, Mr. Alligator! Kind Mr. Alligator! You are the kindest +Alligator in the world, to show me where you are, so nicely! I'll +breakfast at another part of the river." + +The old Alligator was so furious that he crawled up on the bank and +went after the little Jackal; but, dear, dear, he couldn't catch the +little Jackal; he ran far too fast. + +After this, the little Jackal did not like to risk going near the +water, so he ate no more crabs. But he found a garden of wild figs, +which were so good that he went there every day, and ate them instead +of shell-fish. + +Now the old Alligator found this out, and he made up his mind to have +the little Jackal for supper, or to die trying. So he crept, and +crawled, and dragged himself over the ground to the garden of wild +figs. There he made a huge pile of figs under the biggest of the wild +fig trees, and hid himself in the pile. + +After a while the little Jackal came dancing into the garden, very +happy and care-free,--BUT looking all around. He saw the huge pile of +figs under the big fig tree. + +"H-m," he thought, "that looks singularly like my friend, the +Alligator. I'll investigate a bit." + +He stood quite still and began to talk to himself,--it was a little way +he had. He said,-- + +"The little figs I like best are the fat, ripe, juicy ones that drop +off when the breeze blows; and then the wind blows them about on the +ground, this way and that; the great heap of figs over there is so +still that I think they must be all bad figs." + +The old Alligator, underneath his fig pile, thought,-- + +"Bother the suspicious little Jackal, I shall have to make these figs +roll about, so that he will think the wind moves them." And +straightway he humped himself up and moved, and sent the little figs +flying,--and his back showed through. + +The little Jackal did not wait for a second look. He ran out of the +garden like the wind. But as he ran he called back,-- + +"Thank you, again, Mr. Alligator; very sweet of you to show me where +you are; I can't stay to thank you as I should like: good-by!" + +At this the old Alligator was beside himself with rage. He vowed that +he would have the little Jackal for supper this time, come what might. +So he crept and crawled over the ground till he came to the little +Jackal's house. Then he crept and crawled inside, and hid himself +there in the house, to wait till the little Jackal should come home. + +By and by the little Jackal came dancing home, happy and +care-free,--BUT looking all around. Presently, as he came along, he +saw that the ground was all scratched up as if something very heavy had +been dragged over it. The little Jackal stopped and looked. + +"What's this? what's this?" he said. + +Then he saw that the door of his house was crushed at the sides and +broken, as if something very big had gone through it. + +"What's this? What's this?" the little Jackal said. "I think I'll +investigate a little!" + +So he stood quite still and began to talk to himself (you remember, it +was a little way he had), but loudly. He said,-- + +"How strange that my little House doesn't speak to me! Why don't you +speak to me, little House? You always speak to me, if everything is +all right, when I come home. I wonder if anything is wrong with my +little House?" + +The old Alligator thought to himself that he must certainly pretend to +be the little House, or the little Jackal would never come in. So he +put on as pleasant a voice as he could (which is not saying much) and +said,-- + +"Hullo, little Jackal!" + +Oh! when the little Jackal heard that, he was frightened enough, for +once. + +"It's the old Alligator," he said, "and if I don't make an end of him +this time he will certainly make an end of me. What shall I do?" + +He thought very fast. Then he spoke out pleasantly. + +"Thank you, little House," he said, "it's good to hear your pretty +voice, dear little House, and I will be in with you in a minute; only +first I must gather some firewood for dinner." + +Then he went and gathered firewood, and more firewood, and more +firewood; and he piled it all up solid against the door and round the +house; and then he set fire to it! + +And it smoked and burned till it smoked that old Alligator to smoked +herring! + + + +THE LARKS IN THE CORNFIELD + +There was once a family of little Larks who lived with their mother in +a nest in a cornfield. When the corn was ripe the mother Lark watched +very carefully to see if there were any sign of the reapers' coming, +for she knew that when they came their sharp knives would cut down the +nest and hurt the baby Larks. So every day, when she went out for +food, she told the little Larks to look and listen very closely to +everything that went on, and to tell her all they saw and heard when +she came home. + +One day when she came home the little Larks were much frightened. + +"Oh, Mother, dear Mother," they said, "you must move us away to-night! +The farmer was in the field to-day, and he said, 'The corn is ready to +cut; we must call in the neighbors to help.' And then he told his son +to go out to-night and ask all the neighbors to come and reap the corn +to-morrow." + +The mother Lark laughed. "Don't be frightened," she said; "if he waits +for his neighbors to reap the corn we shall have plenty of time to +move; tell me what he says to-morrow." + +The next night the little Larks were quite trembling with fear; the +moment their mother got home they cried out, "Mother, you must surely +move us to-night! The farmer came to-day and said, 'The corn is +getting too ripe; we cannot wait for our neighbors; we must ask our +relatives to help us.' And then he called his son and told him to ask +all the uncles and cousins to come to-morrow and cut the corn. Shall +we not move to-night?" + +"Don't worry," said the mother Lark; "the uncles and cousins have +plenty of reaping to do for themselves; we'll not move yet." + +The third night, when the mother Lark came home, the baby Larks said, +"Mother, dear, the farmer came to the field to-day, and when he looked +at the corn he was quite angry; he said, 'This will never do! The corn +is getting too ripe; it's no use to wait for our relatives, we shall +have to cut this corn ourselves.' And then he called his son and said, +'Go out to-night and hire reapers, and to-morrow we will begin to cut.'" + +"Well," said the mother, "that is another story; when a man begins to +do his own business, instead of asking somebody else to do it, things +get done. I will move you out to-night." + + + +A TRUE STORY ABOUT A GIRL + +Once there were four little girls who lived in a big, bare house, in +the country. They were very poor, but they had the happiest times you +ever heard of, because they were very rich in everything except just +money. They had a wonderful, wise father, who knew stories to tell, +and who taught them their lessons in such a beautiful way that it was +better than play; they had a lovely, merry, kind mother, who was never +too tired to help them work or watch them play; and they had all the +great green country to play in. There were dark, shadowy woods, and +fields of flowers, and a river. And there was a big barn. + +One of the little girls was named Louisa. She was very pretty, and ever +so strong; she could run for miles through the woods and not get tired. +And she had a splendid brain in her little head; it liked study, and it +thought interesting thoughts all day long. + +Louisa liked to sit in a corner by herself, sometimes, and write +thoughts in her diary; all the little girls kept diaries. She liked to +make up stories out of her own head, and sometimes she made verses. + +When the four little sisters had finished their lessons, and had helped +their mother sew and clean, they used to go to the big barn to play; +and the best play of all was theatricals. Louisa liked theatricals +better than anything. + +They made the barn into a theatre, and the grown people came to see the +plays they acted. They used to climb up on the hay-mow for a stage, +and the grown people sat in chairs on the floor. It was great fun. One +of the plays they acted was Jack and the Bean-Stalk. They had a ladder +from the floor to the loft, and on the ladder they tied a squash vine +all the way up to the loft, to look like the wonderful bean-stalk. One +of the little girls was dressed up to look like Jack, and she acted +that part. When it came to the place in the story where the giant tried +to follow Jack, the little girl cut down the bean-stalk, and down came +the giant tumbling from the loft. The giant was made out of pillows, +with a great, fierce head of paper, and funny clothes. + +Another story that they acted was Cinderella. They made a wonderful +big pumpkin out of the wheelbarrow, trimmed with yellow paper, and +Cinderella rolled away in it, when the fairy godmother waved her wand. + +One other beautiful story they used to play. It was the story of +Pilgrim's Progress; if you have never heard it, you must be sure to +read it as soon as you can read well enough to understand the +old-fashioned words. The little girls used to put shells in their hats +for a sign they were on a pilgrimage, as the old pilgrims used to do; +then they made journeys over the hill behind the house, and through the +woods, and down the lanes; and when the pilgrimage was over they had +apples and nuts to eat, in the happy land of home. + +Louisa loved all these plays, and she made some of her own and wrote +them down so that the children could act them. + +But better than fun or writing Louisa loved her mother, and by and by, +as the little girl began to grow into a big girl, she felt very sad to +see her dear mother work so hard. She helped all she could with the +housework, but nothing could really help the tired mother except money; +she needed money for food and clothes, and some one grown up, to help +in the house. But there never was enough money for these things, and +Louisa's mother grew more and more weary, and sometimes ill. I cannot +tell you how much Louisa suffered over this. + +At last, as Louisa thought about it, she came to care more about +helping her mother and her father and her sisters than about anything +else in all the world. And she began to work very hard to earn money. +She sewed for people, and when she was a little older she taught some +little girls their lessons, and then she wrote stories for the papers. +Every bit of money she earned, except what she had to use, she gave to +her dear family. It helped very much, but it was so little that Louisa +never felt as if she were doing anything. + +Every year she grew more unselfish, and every year she worked harder. +She liked writing stories best of all her work, but she did not get +much money for them, and some people told her she was wasting her time. + +At last, one day, a publisher asked Louisa, who was now a woman, to +write a book for girls. Louisa was not very well, and she was very +tired, but she always said, "I'll try," when she had a chance to work; +so she said, "I'll try," to the publisher. When she thought about the +book she remembered the good times she used to have with her sisters in +the big, bare house in the country. And so she wrote a story and put +all that in it; she put her dear mother and her wise father in it, and +all the little sisters, and besides the jolly times and the plays, she +put the sad, hard times in,--the work and worry and going without +things. + +When the book was written, she called it "Little Women," and sent it to +the publisher. + +And, children, the little book made Louisa famous. It was so sweet and +funny and sad and real,--like our own lives,--that everybody wanted to +read it. Everybody bought it, and much money came from it. After so +many years, little Louisa's wish came true: she bought a nice house for +her family; she sent one of her sisters to Europe, to study; she gave +her father books; but best of all, she was able to see to it that the +beloved mother, so tired and so ill, could have rest and happiness. +Never again did the dear mother have to do any hard work, and she had +pretty things about her all the rest of her life. + +Louisa Alcott, for that was Louisa's name, wrote many beautiful books +after this, and she became one of the most famous women of America. +But I think the most beautiful thing about her is what I have been +telling you: that she loved her mother so well that she gave her whole +life to make her happy. + + + +MY KINGDOM + +The little Louisa I told you about, who wrote verses and stories in her +diary, used to like to play that she was a princess, and that her +kingdom was her own mind. When she had unkind or dissatisfied thoughts, +she tried to get rid of them by playing they were enemies of the +kingdom; and she drove them out with soldiers; the soldiers were +patience, duty, and love. It used to help Louisa to be good to play +this, and I think it may have helped make her the splendid woman she +was afterward. Maybe you would like to hear a poem she wrote about it, +when she was only fourteen years old.[1] It will help you, too, to +think the same thoughts. + +[1] From Louisa M. Alcott's Life, Letters, and Journals (Little, Brown +& Co.). Copyright, 1878, by Louisa M. Alcott. Copyright, 1906, by J. +S. P. Alcott. + + + A little kingdom I possess, + Where thoughts and feelings dwell, + And very hard I find the task + Of governing it well; + For passion tempts and troubles me, + A wayward will misleads, + And selfishness its shadow casts + On all my words and deeds. + + How can I learn to rule myself, + To be the child I should, + Honest and brave, nor ever tire + Of trying to be good? + How can I keep a sunny soul + To shine along life's way? + How can I tune my little heart + To sweetly sing all day? + + Dear Father, help me with the love + That casteth out my fear, + Teach me to lean on thee, and feel + That thou art very near, + + That no temptation is unseen, + No childish grief too small, + Since thou, with patience infinite, + Doth soothe and comfort all. + + I do not ask for any crown + But that which all may win, + Nor seek to conquer any world, + Except the one within. + Be thou my guide until I find, + Led by a tender hand, + Thy happy kingdom in MYSELF, + And dare to take command. + + + +PICCOLA[1] + +[1] From Celia Thaxter's Stories and Poems for Children (Houghton, +Mifflin & Co.). + + Poor, sweet Piccola! Did you hear + What happened to Piccola, children dear? + 'T is seldom Fortune such favor grants + As fell to this little maid of France. + + 'Twas Christmas-time, and her parents poor + Could hardly drive the wolf from the door, + Striving with poverty's patient pain + Only to live till summer again. + + No gifts for Piccola! Sad were they + When dawned the morning of Christmas-day; + Their little darling no joy might stir, + St. Nicholas nothing would bring to her! + + But Piccola never doubted at all + That something beautiful must befall + Every child upon Christmas-day, + And so she slept till the dawn was gray. + + And full of faith, when at last she woke, + She stole to her shoe as the morning broke; + Such sounds of gladness filled all the air, + 'T was plain St. Nicholas had been there! + + In rushed Piccola sweet, half wild: + Never was seen such a joyful child. + "See what the good saint brought!" she cried, + And mother and father must peep inside. + + Now such a story who ever heard? + There was a little shivering bird! + A sparrow, that in at the window flew, + Had crept into Piccola's tiny shoe! + + "How good poor Piccola must have been!" + She cried, as happy as any queen, + While the starving sparrow she fed and warmed, + And danced with rapture, she was so charmed. + + Children, this story I tell to you, + Of Piccola sweet and her bird, is true. + In the far-off land of France, they say, + Still do they live to this very day. + + + +THE LITTLE FIR TREE + +[When I was a very little girl some one, probably my mother, read to me +Hans Christian Andersen's story of the Little Fir Tree. It happened +that I did not read it for myself or hear it again during my childhood. +One Christmas day, when I was grown up, I found myself at a loss for +the "one more" story called for by some little children with whom I was +spending the holiday. In the mental search for buried treasure which +ensued, I came upon one or two word-impressions of the experiences of +the Little Fir Tree, and forthwith wove them into what I supposed to be +something of a reproduction of the original. The latter part of the +story had wholly faded from my memory, so that I "made up" to suit the +tastes of my audience. Afterward I told the story to a good many +children, at one time or another, and it gradually took the shape it +has here. It was not until several years later that, in re-reading +Andersen for other purposes, I came upon the real story of the Little +Fir Tree, and read it for myself. Then indeed I was amused, and +somewhat distressed, to find how far I had wandered from the text. + +I give this explanation that the reader may know I do not presume to +offer the little tale which follows as an "adaptation" of Andersen's +famous story. I offer it plainly as a story which children have liked, +and which grew out of my early memories of Andersen's "The Little Fir +Tree"]. + +Once there was a Little Fir Tree, slim and pointed, and shiny, which +stood in the great forest in the midst of some big fir trees, broad, +and tall, and shadowy green. The Little Fir Tree was very unhappy +because he was not big like the others. When the birds came flying +into the woods and lit on the branches of the big trees and built their +nests there, he used to call up to them,-- + +"Come down, come down, rest in my branches!" But they always said,-- +"Oh, no, no; you are too little!" + +And when the splendid wind came blowing and singing through the forest, +it bent and rocked and swung the tops of the big trees, and murmured to +them. Then the Little Fir Tree looked up, and called,-- + +"Oh, please, dear wind, come down and play with me!" But he always +said,-- + +"Oh, no; you are too little, you are too little!" + +And in the winter the white snow fell softly, softly, and covered the +great trees all over with wonderful caps and coats of white. The +Little Fir Tree, close down in the cover of the others, would call up,-- + +"Oh, please, dear snow, give me a cap, too! I want to play, too!" But +the snow always said,-- + +"Oh no, no, no; you are too little, you are too little!" + +The worst of all was when men came into the wood, with sledges and +teams of horses. They came to cut the big trees down and carry them +away. And when one had been cut down and carried away the others +talked about it, and nodded their heads. And the Little Fir Tree +listened, and heard them say that when you were carried away so, you +might become the mast of a mighty ship, and go far away over the ocean, +and see many wonderful things; or you might be part of a fine house in +a great city, and see much of life. The Little Fir Tree wanted greatly +to see life, but he was always too little; the men passed him by. + +But by and by, one cold winter's morning, men came with a sledge and +horses, and after they had cut here and there they came to the circle +of trees round the Little Fir Tree, and looked all about. + +"There are none little enough," they said. + +Oh! how the Little Fir Tree pricked up his needles! + +"Here is one," said one of the men, "it is just little enough." And he +touched the Little Fir Tree. + +The Little Fir Tree was happy as a bird, because he knew they were +about to cut him down. And when he was being carried away on the +sledge he lay wondering, SO contentedly, whether he should be the mast +of a ship or part of a fine city house. But when they came to the town +he was taken out and set upright in a tub and placed on the edge of a +sidewalk in a row of other fir trees, all small, but none so little as +he. And then the Little Fir Tree began to see life. + +People kept coming to look at the trees and to take them away. But +always when they saw the Little Fir Tree they shook their heads and +said,-- + +"It is too little, too little." + +Until, finally, two children came along, hand in hand, looking +carefully at all the small trees. When they saw the Little Fir Tree +they cried out,-- + +"We'll take this one; it is just little enough!" + +They took him out of his tub and carried him away, between them. And +the happy Little Fir Tree spent all his time wondering what it could be +that he was just little enough for; he knew it could hardly be a mast +or a house, since he was going away with children. + +He kept wondering, while they took him in through some big doors, and +set him up in another tub, on the table, in a bare little room. Pretty +soon they went away, and came back again with a big basket, carried +between them. Then some pretty ladies, with white caps on their heads +and white aprons over their blue dresses, came bringing little parcels. +The children took things out of the basket and began to play with the +Little Fir Tree, just as he had often begged the wind and the snow and +the birds to do. He felt their soft little touches on his head and his +twigs and his branches. And when he looked down at himself, as far as +he could look, he saw that he was all hung with gold and silver chains! +There were strings of white fluffy stuff drooping around him; his twigs +held little gold nuts and pink, rosy balls and silver stars; he had +pretty little pink and white candles in his arms; but last, and most +wonderful of all, the children hung a beautiful white, floating +doll-angel over his head! The Little Fir Tree could not breathe, for +joy and wonder. What was it that he was, now? Why was this glory for +him? + +After a time every one went away and left him. It grew dusk, and the +Little Fir Tree began to hear strange sounds through the closed doors. +Sometimes he heard a child crying. He was beginning to be lonely. It +grew more and more shadowy. + +All at once, the doors opened and the two children came in. Two of the +pretty ladies were with them. They came up to the Little Fir Tree and +quickly lighted all the little pink and white candles. Then the two +pretty ladies took hold of the table with the Little Fir Tree on it and +pushed it, very smoothly and quickly, out of the doors, across a hall, +and in at another door. + +The Little Fir Tree had a sudden sight of a long room with many little +white beds in it, of children propped up on pillows in the beds, and of +other children in great wheeled chairs, and others hobbling about or +sitting in little chairs. He wondered why all the little children +looked so white and tired; he did not know that he was in a hospital. +But before he could wonder any more his breath was quite taken away by +the shout those little white children gave. + +"Oh! oh! m-m! m-m!" they cried. + +"How pretty! How beautiful! Oh, isn't it lovely!" + +He knew they must mean him, for all their shining eyes were looking +straight at him. He stood as straight as a mast, and quivered in every +needle, for joy. Presently one little weak child-voice called out,-- + +"It's the nicest Christmas tree I ever saw!" + +And then, at last, the Little Fir Tree knew what he was; he was a +Christmas tree! And from his shiny head to his feet he was glad, +through and through, because he was just little enough to be the nicest +kind of tree in the world! + + + +HOW MOSES WAS SAVED + +Thousands of years ago, many years before David lived, there was a very +wise and good man of his people who was a friend and adviser of the +king of Egypt. And for love of this friend, the king of Egypt had let +numbers of the Israelites settle in his land. But after the king and +his Israelitish friend were dead, there was a new king, who hated the +Israelites. When he saw how strong they were, and how many there were +of them, he began to be afraid that some day they might number more +than the Egyptians, and might take his land from him. + +Then he and his rulers did a wicked thing. They made the Israelites +slaves. And they gave them terrible tasks to do, without proper rest, +or food, or clothes. For they hoped that the hardship would kill off +the Israelites. They thought the old men would die and the young men +be so ill and weary that they could not bring up families, and so the +race would vanish away. + +But in spite of the work and suffering, the Israelites remained strong, +and more and more boys grew up, to make the king afraid. + +Then he did the wickedest thing of all. He ordered his soldiers to kill +every boy baby that should be born in an Israelitish family; he did not +care about the girls, because they could not grow up to fight. + +Very soon after this evil order, a boy baby was born in a certain +Israelitish family. When his mother first looked at him her heart was +nearly broken, for he was even more beautiful than most babies are,--so +strong and fair and sweet. But he was a boy! How could she save him +from death? + +Somehow, she contrived to keep him hidden for three whole months. But +at the end of that time, she saw that it was not going to be possible +to keep him safe any longer. She had been thinking all this time about +what she should do, and now she carried out her plan. + +First, she took a basket made of bulrushes and daubed it all over with +pitch so that it was water-tight, and then she laid the baby in it; +then she carried it to the edge of the river and laid it in the flags +by the river's brink. It did not show at all, unless one were quite +near it. Then she kissed her little son and left him there. But his +sister stood far off, not seeming to watch, but really watching +carefully to see what would happen to the baby. + +Soon there was the sound of talk and laughter, and a train of beautiful +women came down to the water's edge. It was the king's daughter, come +down to bathe in the river, with her maidens. The maidens walked along +by the river's side. + +As the king's daughter came near to the water, she saw the strange +little basket lying in the flags, and she sent her maid to bring it to +her. And when she had opened it, she saw the child; the poor baby was +crying. When she saw him, so helpless and so beautiful, crying for his +mother, the king's daughter pitied him and loved him. She knew the +cruel order of her father, and she said at once, "This is one of the +Hebrews' children." + +At that moment the baby's sister came to the princess and said, "Shall +I go and find thee a nurse from the Hebrew women, so that she may nurse +the child for thee?" Not a word did she say about whose child it was, +but perhaps the princess guessed; I don't know. At all events, she +told the little girl to go. + +So the maiden went, and brought her mother! + +Then the king's daughter said to the baby's mother, "Take this child +away and nurse it for me, and I will give thee wages." + +Was not that a strange thing? And can you think how happy the baby's +mother was? For now the baby would be known only as the princess's +adopted child, and would be safe. + +And it was so. The mother kept him until he was old enough to be taken +to the princess's palace. Then he was brought and given to the king's +daughter, and he became her son. And she named him Moses. + +But the strangest part of the whole story is, that when Moses grew to +be a man he became so strong and wise that it was he who at last saved +his people from the king and conquered the Egyptians. The one child +saved by the king's own daughter was the very one the king would most +have wanted to kill, if he had known. + + + +THE TEN FAIRIES[1] + +[1] Adapted from the facts given in the German of Die Zehn {Feeen?}, by +H. A. Guerber. + + +Once upon a time there was a dear little girl, whose name was Elsa. +Elsa's father and mother worked very hard and became rich. But they +loved Elsa so much that they did not like to have her do any work; very +foolishly, they let her play all the time. So when Elsa grew up, she +did not know how to do anything; she could not make bread, she could +not sweep a room, she could not sew a seam; she could only laugh and +sing. But she was so sweet and merry that everybody loved her. And by +and by, she married one of the people who loved her, and had a house of +her own to take care of. + +Then, then, my dears, came hard times for Elsa! There were so many +things to be done in the house, and she did not know how to do any of +them! And because she had never worked at all it made her very tired +even to try; she was tired before the morning was over, every day. The +maid would come and say, "How shall I do this?" or "How shall I do +that?" And Elsa would have to say, "I don't know." Then the maid would +pretend that she did not know, either; and when she saw her mistress +sitting about doing nothing, she, too, sat about, idle. + +Elsa's husband had a hard time of it; he did not have good things to +eat, and they were not ready at the right time, and the house looked +all in a clutter. It made him sad, and that made Elsa sad, for she +wanted to do everything just right. + +At last, one day, Elsa's husband went away quite cross; he said to her, +as he went out the door, "It is no wonder that the house looks so, when +you sit all day with your hands in your lap!" + +Little Elsa cried bitterly when he was gone, for she did not want to +make her husband unhappy and cross, and she wanted the house to look +nice. "Oh, dear," she sobbed, "I wish I could do things right! I wish +I could work! I wish--I wish I had ten good fairies to work for me! +Then I could keep the house!" + +As she said the words, a great gray man stood before her; he was +wrapped in a strange gray cloak that covered him from head to foot; and +he smiled at Elsa. "What is the matter, dear?" he said. "Why do you +cry?" + +"Oh, I am crying because I do not know how to keep the house," said +Elsa. "I cannot make bread, I cannot sweep, I cannot sew a seam; when +I was a little girl I never learned to work, and now I cannot do +anything right. I wish I had ten good fairies to help me!" + +"You shall have them, dear," said the gray man, and he shook his +strange gray cloak. Pouf! Out hopped ten tiny fairies, no bigger than +that! + +"These shall be your servants, Elsa," said the gray man; "they are +faithful and clever, and they will do everything you want them to, just +right. But the neighbors might stare and ask questions if they saw +these little chaps running about your house, so I will hide them away +for you. Give me your little useless hands." + +Wondering, Elsa stretched out her pretty, little, white hands. + +"Now stretch out your little useless fingers, dear!" + +Elsa stretched out her pretty pink fingers. + +The gray man touched each one of the ten little fingers, and as he +touched them he said their names: "Little Thumb; Fore-finger; +Thimble-finger; Ring-finger; Little Finger; Little Thumb; Forefinger; +Thimble-finger; Ring-finger; Little Finger!" And as he named the +fingers, one after another, the tiny fairies bowed their tiny heads; +there was a fairy for every name. + +"Hop! hide yourselves away!" said the gray man. + +Hop, hop! The fairies sprang to Elsa's knee, then to the palms of her +hands, and then-whisk! they were all hidden away in her little pink +fingers, a fairy in every finger! And the gray man was gone. + +Elsa sat and looked with wonder at her little white hands and the ten +useless fingers. But suddenly the little fingers began to stir. The +tiny fairies who were hidden away there weren't used to staying still, +and they were getting restless. They stirred so that Elsa jumped up and +ran to the cooking table, and took hold of the bread board. No sooner +had she touched the bread board than the little fairies began to work: +they measured the flour, mixed the bread, kneaded the loaves, and set +them to rise, quicker than you could wink; and when the bread was done, +it was the nicest you could wish. Then the little fairy-fingers seized +the broom, and in a twinkling they were making the house clean. And so +it went, all day. Elsa flew about from one thing to another, and the +ten fairies did it all, just right. + +When the maid saw her mistress working, she began to work, too; and +when she saw how beautifully everything was done, she was ashamed to do +anything badly herself. In a little while the housework was going +smoothly, and Elsa could laugh and sing again. + +There was no more crossness in that house. Elsa's husband grew so +proud of her that he went about saying to everybody, "My grandmother +was a fine housekeeper, and my mother was a fine housekeeper, but +neither of them could hold a candle to my wife. She has only one maid, +but, to see the work done, you would think she had as many servants as +she has fingers on her hands!" + +When Elsa heard that, she used to laugh, but she never, never told. + + + +THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER + +Once upon a time there was an honest shoemaker, who was very poor. He +worked as hard as he could, and still he could not earn enough to keep +himself and his wife. At last there came a day when he had nothing left +but one piece of leather, big enough to make one pair of shoes. He cut +out the shoes, ready to stitch, and left them on the bench; then he +said his prayers and went to bed, trusting that he could finish the +shoes on the next day and sell them. + +Bright and early the next morning, he rose and went to his work-bench. +There lay a pair of shoes, beautifully made, and the leather was gone! +There was no sign of any one's having been there. The shoemaker and +his wife did not know what to make of it. But the first customer who +came was so pleased with the beautiful shoes that he bought them, and +paid so much that the shoemaker was able to buy leather enough for two +pairs. + +Happily, he cut them out, and then, as it was late, he left the pieces +on the bench, ready to sew in the morning. But when morning came, two +pairs of shoes lay on the bench, most beautifully made, and no sign of +any one who had been there. The shoemaker and his wife were quite at a +loss. + +That day a customer came and bought both pairs, and paid so much for +them that the shoemaker bought leather for four pairs, with the money. + +Once more he cut out the shoes and left them on the bench. And in the +morning all four pairs were made. + +It went on like this until the shoemaker and his wife were prosperous +people. But they could not be satisfied to have so much done for them +and not know to whom they should be grateful. So one night, after the +shoemaker had left the pieces of leather on the bench, he and his wife +hid themselves behind a curtain, and left a light in the room. + +Just as the clock struck twelve the door opened softly, and two tiny +elves came dancing into the room, hopped on to the bench, and began to +put the pieces together. They were quite naked, but they had wee +little scissors and hammers and thread. Tap! tap! went the little +hammers; stitch, stitch, went the thread, and the little elves were +hard at work. No one ever worked so fast as they. In almost no time +all the shoes were stitched and finished. Then the tiny elves took +hold of each other's hands and danced round the shoes on the bench, +till the shoemaker and his wife had hard work not to laugh aloud. But +as the clock struck two, the little creatures whisked away out of the +window, and left the room all as it was before. + +The shoemaker and his wife looked at each other, and said, "How can we +thank the little elves who have made us happy and prosperous?" + +"I should like to make them some pretty clothes," said the wife, "they +are quite naked." + +"I will make the shoes if you will make the coats," said her husband. + +That very day they set about it. The wife cut out two tiny, tiny coats +of green, two weeny, weeny waistcoats of yellow, two little pairs of +trousers, of white, two bits of caps, bright red (for every one knows +the elves love bright colors), and her husband made two little pairs of +shoes with long, pointed toes. They made the wee clothes as dainty as +could be, with nice little stitches and pretty buttons; and by +Christmas time, they were finished. + +On Christmas eve, the shoemaker cleaned his bench, and on it, instead +of leather, he laid the two sets of gay little fairy-clothes. Then he +and his wife hid away as before, to watch. + +Promptly at midnight, the little naked elves came in. They hopped upon +the bench; but when they saw the little clothes there, they laughed and +danced for joy. Each one caught up his little coat and things and began +to put them on. Then they looked at each other and made all kinds of +funny motions in their delight. At last they began to dance, and when +the clock struck two, they danced quite away, out of the window. + +They never came back any more, but from that day they gave the +shoemaker and his wife good luck, so that they never needed any more +help. + + + +WHO KILLED THE OTTER'S BABIES[1]? + +[1] Adapted from the story as told in Fables and Folk Tales From an +Eastern Forest, by Walter Skeat. + + +Once the Otter came to the Mouse-deer and said, "Friend Mouse-deer, +will you please take care of my babies while I go to the river, to +catch fish?" + +"Certainly," said the Mouse-deer, "go along." + +But when the Otter came back from the river, with a string of fish, he +found his babies crushed flat. + +"What does this mean, Friend Mouse-deer?" he said. "Who killed my +children while you were taking care of them?" + +"I am very sorry," said the Mouse-deer, "but you know I am Chief Dancer +of the War-dance, and the Woodpecker came and sounded the war-gong, so +I danced. I forgot your children, and trod on them." + +"I shall go to King Solomon," said the Otter, "and you shall be +punished." + +Soon the Mouse-deer was called before King Solomon. + +"Did you kill the Otter's babies?" said the king. + +"Yes, your Majesty," said the Mouse-deer, "but I did not mean to." + +"How did it happen?" said the king. + +"Your Majesty knows," said the Mouse-deer, "that I am Chief Dancer of +the War-dance. The Woodpecker came and sounded the war-gong, and I had +to dance; and as I danced I trod on the Otter's children." + +"Send for the Woodpecker," said King Solomon. And when the Woodpecker +came, he said to him, "Was it you who sounded the war-gong?" + +"Yes, your Majesty," said the Woodpecker, "but I had to." + +"Why?" said the king. + +"Your Majesty knows," said the Woodpecker, "that I am Chief Beater of +the War-gong, and I sounded the gong because I saw the Great Lizard +wearing his sword." + +"Send for the Great Lizard," said King Solomon. When the Great Lizard +came, he asked him, "Was it you who were wearing your sword?" + +"Yes, your Majesty," said the Great Lizard; "but I had to." + +"Why?" said the king. + +"Your Majesty knows," said the Great Lizard, "that I am Chief Protector +of the Sword. I wore my sword because the Tortoise came wearing his +coat of mail." + +So the Tortoise was sent for. + +"Why did you wear your coat of mail?" said the king. + +"I put it on, your Majesty," said the Tortoise, "because I saw the +King-crab trailing his three-edged pike." + +Then the King-crab was sent for. + +"Why were you trailing your three-edged pike?" said King Solomon. + +"Because, your Majesty," said the Kingerab, "I saw that the Crayfish +had shouldered his lance." + +Immediately the Crayfish was sent for. + +"Why did you shoulder your lance?" said the king. + +"Because, your Majesty," said the Crayfish, "I saw the Otter coming +down to the river to kill my children." + +"Oh," said King Solomon, "if that is the case, the Otter killed the +Otter's children. And the Mouse-deer cannot be held, by the law of the +land!" + + + +EARLY[1] + +[1] From The singing Leaves, by Josephine Preston Peabody (Houghton, +Mifflin and Co.). + + I like to lie and wait to see + My mother braid her hair. + It is as long as it can be, + And yet she doesn't care. + I love my mother's hair. + + And then the way her fingers go; + They look so quick and white,-- + In and out, and to and fro, + And braiding in the light, + And it is always right. + + So then she winds it, shiny brown, + Around her head into a crown, + Just like the day before. + And then she looks and pats it down, + And looks a minute more; + While I stay here all still and cool. + Oh, isn't morning beautiful? + + + +THE BRAHMIN, THE TIGER, AND THE JACKAL + +Do you know what a Brahmin is? A Brahmin is a very good and gentle +kind of man who lives in India, and who treats all the beasts as if +they were his brothers. There is a great deal more to know about +Brahmins, but that is enough for the story. + +One day a Brahmin was walking along a country road when he came upon a +Tiger, shut up in a strong iron cage. The villagers had caught him and +shut him up there for his wickedness. + +"Oh, Brother Brahmin, Brother Brahmin," said the Tiger, "please let me +out, to get a little drink! I am so thirsty, and there is no water +here." + +"But Brother Tiger," said the Brahmin, "you know if I should let you +out, you would spring on me and eat me up." + +"Never, Brother Brahmin!" said the Tiger. "Never in the world would I +do such an ungrateful thing! Just let me out a little minute, to get a +little, little drink of water, Brother Brahmin!" + +So the Brahmin unlocked the door and let the Tiger out. The moment he +was out he sprang on the Brahmin, and was about to eat him up. + +"But, Brother Tiger," said the Brahmin, "you promised you would not. +It is not fair or just that you should eat me, when I set you free." + +"It is perfectly right and just," said the Tiger, "and I shall eat you +up." + +However, the Brahmin argued so hard that at last the Tiger agreed to +wait and ask the first five whom they should meet, whether it was fair +for him to eat the Brahmin, and to abide by their decision. + +The first thing they came to, to ask, was an old Banyan Tree, by the +wayside. (A banyan tree is a kind of fruit tree.) + +"Brother Banyan," said the Brahmin, eagerly, "does it seem to you right +or just that this Tiger should eat me, when I set him free from his +cage?" + +The Banyan Tree looked down at them and spoke in a tired voice. + +"In the summer," he said, "when the sun is hot, men come and sit in the +cool of my shade and refresh themselves with the fruit of my branches. +But when evening falls, and they are rested, they break my twigs and +scatter my leaves, and stone my boughs for more fruit. Men are an +ungrateful race. Let the Tiger eat the Brahmin." + +The Tiger sprang to eat the Brahmin, but the Brahmin said,-- + +"Wait, wait; we have asked only one. We have still four to ask." + +Presently they came to a place where an old Bullock was lying by the +road. The Brahmin went up to him and said,-- + +"Brother Bullock, oh, Brother Bullock, does it seem to you a fair thing +that this Tiger should eat me up, after I have just freed him from a +cage?" + +The Bullock looked up, and answered in a deep, grumbling voice,-- + +"When I was young and strong my master used me hard, and I served him +well. I carried heavy loads and carried them far. Now that I am old +and weak and cannot work, he leaves me without food or water, to die by +the wayside. Men are a thankless lot. Let the Tiger eat the Brahmin." + +The Tiger sprang, but the Brahmin spoke very quickly:-- + +"Oh, but this is only the second, Brother Tiger; you promised to ask +five." + +The Tiger grumbled a good deal, but at last he went on again with the +Brahmin. And after a time they saw an Eagle, high overhead. The +Brahmin called up to him imploringly,-- + +"Oh, Brother Eagle, Brother Eagle! Tell us if it seems to you fair that +this Tiger should eat me up, when I have just saved him from a +frightful cage?" + +The Eagle soared slowly overhead a moment, then he came lower, and +spoke in a thin, clear voice. + +"I live high in the air," he said, "and I do no man any harm. Yet as +often as they find my eyrie, men stone my young and rob my nest and +shoot at me with arrows. Men are a cruel breed. Let the Tiger eat the +Brahmin!" + +The Tiger sprang upon the Brahmin, to eat him up; and this time the +Brahmin had very hard work to persuade him to wait. At last he did +persuade him, however, and they walked on together. And in a little +while they saw an old Alligator, lying half buried in mud and slime, at +the river's edge. + +"Brother Alligator, oh, Brother Alligator!" said the Brahmin, "does it +seem at all right or fair to you that this Tiger should eat me up, when +I have just now let him out of a cage?" + +The old Alligator turned in the mud, and grunted, and snorted; then he +said, + +"I lie here in the mud all day, as harmless as a pigeon; I hunt no man, +yet every time a man sees me, he throws stones at me, and pokes me with +sharp sticks, and jeers at me. Men are a worthless lot. Let the Tiger +eat the Brahmin!" + +At this the Tiger was bound to eat the Brahmin at once. The poor +Brahmin had to remind him, again and again, that they had asked only +four. + +"Wait till we've asked one more! Wait until we see a fifth!" he begged. + +Finally, the Tiger walked on with him. + +After a time, they met the little Jackal, coming gayly down the road +toward them. + +"Oh, Brother Jackal, dear Brother Jackal," said the Brahmin, "give us +your opinion! Do you think it right or fair that this Tiger should eat +me, when I set him free from a terrible cage?" + +"Beg pardon?" said the little Jackal. + +"I said," said the Brahmin, raising his voice, "do you think it is fair +that the Tiger should eat me, when I set him free from his cage?" + +"Cage?" said the little Jackal, vacantly. + +"Yes, yes, his cage," said the Brahmin. "We want your opinion. Do you +think--" + +"Oh," said the little Jackal, "you want my opinion? Then may I beg you +to speak a little more loudly, and make the matter quite clear? I am a +little slow of understanding. Now what was it?" + +"Do you think," said the Brahmin, "it is right for this Tiger to eat +me, when I set him free from his cage?" + +"What cage?" said the little Jackal. + +"Why, the cage he was in," said the Brahmin. "You see--" + +"But I don't altogether understand," said the little Jackal, "You 'set +him free,' you say?" + +"Yes, yes, yes!" said the Brahmin. + +"It was this way: I was walking along, and I saw the Tiger--" + +"Oh, dear, dear!" interrupted the little Jackal; "I never can see +through it, if you go on like that, with a long story. If you really +want my opinion you must make the matter clear. What sort of cage was +it?" + +"Why, a big, ordinary cage, an iron cage," said the Brahmin. + +"That gives me no idea at all," said the little Jackal. "See here, my +friends, if we are to get on with this matter you'd best show me the +spot. Then I can understand in a jiffy. Show me the cage." + +So the Brahmin, the Tiger, and the little Jackal walked back together +to the spot where the cage was. + +"Now, let us understand the situation," said the little Jackal. +"Brahmin, where were you?" + +"I stood here by the roadside," said the Brahmin. + +"Tiger, where were you?" said the little Jackal. + +"Why, in the cage, of course," roared the Tiger. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon, Father Tiger," said the little Jackal, "I +really am SO stupid; I cannot QUITE understand what happened. If you +will have a little patience,--HOW were you in the cage? What position +were you in?" + +"I stood here," said the Tiger, leaping into the cage, "with my head +over my shoulder, so." + +"Oh, thank you, thank you," said the little Jackal, "that makes it MUCH +clearer; but I still don't QUITE understand--forgive my slow mind--why +did you not come out, by yourself?" + +"Can't you see that the door shut me in?" said the Tiger. + +"Oh, I do beg your pardon," said the little Jackal. "I know I am very +slow; I can never understand things well unless I see just how they +were if you could show me now exactly how that door works I am sure I +could understand. How does it shut?" + +"It shuts like this," said the Brahmin, pushing it to. + +"Yes; but I don't see any lock," said the little Jackal, "does it lock +on the outside?" + +"It locks like this," said the Brahmin. And he shut and bolted the door! + +"Oh, does it, indeed?" said the little Jackal. "Does it, INDEED! +Well, Brother Brahmin, now that it is locked, I should advise you to +let it stay locked! As for you, my friend," he said to the Tiger, "I +think you will wait a good while before you'll find any one to let you +out again!" + +Then he made a very low bow to the Brahmin. + +"Good-by, Brother," he said. "Your way lies that way, and mine lies +this; good-by!" + + + +THE LITTLE JACKAL AND THE CAMEL + +All these stories about the little Jackal that I have told you, show +how clever the little Jackal was. But you know--if you don't, you will +when you are grown up-- that no matter how clever you are, sooner or +later you surely meet some one who is cleverer. It is always so in +life. And it was so with the little Jackal. This is what happened. + +The little Jackal was, as you know, exceedingly fond of shell-fish, +especially of river crabs. Now there came a time when he had eaten all +the crabs to be found on his own side of the river. He knew there must +be plenty on the other side, if he could only get to them, but he could +not swim. + +One day he thought of a plan. He went to his friend the Camel, and +said,-- + +"Friend Camel, I know a spot where the sugar-cane grows thick; I'll +show you the way, if you will take me there." + +"Indeed I will," said the Camel, who was very fond of sugar-cane. +"Where is it?" + +"It is on the other side of the river," said the little Jackal; "but we +can manage it nicely, if you will take me on your back and swim over." + +The Camel was perfectly willing, so the little Jackal jumped on his +back, and the Camel swam across the river, carrying him. When they were +safely over, the little Jackal jumped down and showed the Camel the +sugar-cane field; then he ran swiftly along the river bank, to hunt for +crabs; the Camel began to eat sugar-cane. He ate happily, and noticed +nothing around him. + +Now, you know, a Camel is very big, and a Jackal is very little. +Consequently, the little Jackal had eaten his fill by the time the +Camel had barely taken a mouthful. The little Jackal had no mind to +wait for his slow friend; he wanted to be off home again, about his +business. So he ran round and round the sugar-cane field, and as he +ran he sang and shouted, and made a great hullabaloo. + +Of course, the villagers heard him at once. + +"There is a Jackal in the sugar-cane," they said; "he will dig holes +and destroy the roots; we must go down and drive him out." So they +came down, with sticks and stones. When they got there, there was no +Jackal to be seen; but they saw the great Camel, eating away at the +juicy sugar-cane. They ran at him and beat him, and stoned him, and +drove him away half dead. + +When they had gone, leaving the poor Camel half killed, the little +Jackal came dancing back from somewhere or other. + +"I think it's time to go home, now," he said; "don't you?" + +"Well, you ARE a pretty friend!" said the Camel. "The idea of your +making such a noise, with your shouting and singing! You brought this +upon me. What in the world made you do it? Why did you shout and +sing?" + +"Oh, I don't know WHY," said the little Jackal,--"I always sing after +dinner!" + +"So?" said the Camel, "Ah, very well, let us go home now." + +He took the little Jackal kindly on his back and started into the +water. When he began to swim he swam out to where the river was the +very deepest. There he stopped, and said,-- + +"Oh, Jackal!" + +"Yes," said the little Jackal. + +"I have the strangest feeling," said the Camel,--"I feel as if I must +roll over." + +"'Roll over'!" cried the Jackal. "My goodness, don't do that! If you +do that, you'll drown me! What in the world makes you want to do such +a crazy thing? Why should you want to roll over?" + +"Oh, I don't know WHY," said the Camel slowly, "but I always roll over +after dinner!" + +So he rolled over. + +And the little Jackal was drowned, for his sins, but the Camel came +safely home. + + + +THE GULLS OF SALT LAKE + +The story I am going to tell you is about something that really +happened, many years ago, when most of the mothers and fathers of the +children here were not born, themselves. At that time, nearly all the +people in the United States lived between the Atlantic Ocean and the +Mississippi River. Beyond were plains, reaching to the foot of the +mighty Rocky Mountains, where Indians and wild beasts roamed. The only +white men there were a few hunters and trappers. + +One year a brave little company of people traveled across the plains in +big covered wagons with many horses, and finally succeeded in climbing +to the top of the great Rockies and down again into a valley in the +very midst of the mountains. It was a valley of brown, bare, desert +soil, in a climate where almost no rain falls; but the snows on the +mountain-tops sent down little streams of pure water, the winds were +gentle, and lying like a blue jewel at the foot of the western hills +was a marvelous lake of salt water,--an inland sea. So the pioneers +settled there and built them huts and cabins for the first winter. + +It had taken them many months to make the terrible journey; many had +died of weariness and illness on the way; many died of hardship during +the winter; and the provisions they had brought in their wagons were so +nearly gone that, by spring, they were living partly on roots, dug from +the ground. All their lives now depended on the crops of grain and +vegetables which they could raise in the valley. They made the barren +land good by spreading water from the little streams over it,--what we +call "irrigating;" and they planted enough corn and grain and +vegetables for all the people. Every one helped, and every one watched +for the sprouting, with hopes, and prayers, and careful eyes. + +In good time the seeds sprouted, and the dry, brown earth was covered +with a carpet of tender, green, growing things. No farmer's garden at +home in the East could have looked better than the great garden of the +desert valley. And from day to day the little shoots grew and +flourished till they were all well above the ground. + +Then a terrible thing happened. One day the men who were watering the +crops saw a great number of crickets swarming over the ground at the +edge of the gardens nearest the mountains. They were hopping from the +barren places into the young, green crops, and as they settled down +they ate the tiny shoots and leaves to the ground. More came, and more, +and ever more, and as they came they spread out till they covered a big +corner of the grain field. And still more and more, till it was like +an army of black, hopping, crawling crickets, streaming down the side +of the mountain to kill the crops. + +The men tried to kill the crickets by beating the ground, but the +numbers were so great that it was like beating at the sea. Then they +ran and told the terrible news, and all the village came to help. They +started fires; they dug trenches and filled them with water; they ran +wildly about in the fields, killing what they could. But while they +fought in one place new armies of crickets marched down the +mountain-sides and attacked the fields in other places. And at last the +people fell on their knees and wept and cried in despair, for they saw +starvation and death in the fields. + +A few knelt to pray. Others gathered round and joined them, weeping. +More left their useless struggles and knelt beside their neighbors. At +last nearly all the people were kneeling on the desolate fields praying +for deliverance from the plague of crickets. + +Suddenly, from far off in the air toward the great salt lake, there was +the sound of flapping wings. It grew louder. Some of the people +looked up, startled. They saw, like a white cloud rising from the +lake, a flock of sea gulls flying toward them. Snow-white in the sun, +with great wings beating and soaring, in hundreds and hundreds, they +rose and circled and came on. + +"The gulls! the gulls!" was the cry. "What does it mean?" + +The gulls flew overhead, with a shrill chorus of whimpering cries, and +then, in a marvelous white cloud of spread wings and hovering breasts, +they settled down over the seeded ground. + +"Oh! woe! woe!" cried the people. "The gulls are eating what the +crickets have left! they will strip root and branch!" + +But all at once, some one called out,-- + +"No, no! See! they are eating the crickets! They are eating only the +crickets!" + +It was true. The gulls devoured the crickets in dozens, in hundreds, +in swarms. They ate until they were gorged, and then they flew heavily +back to the lake, only to come again with new appetite. And when at +last they finished, they had stripped the fields of the cricket army; +and the people were saved. + +To this day, in the beautiful city of Salt Lake, which grew out of that +pioneer village, the little children are taught to love the sea gulls. +And when they learn drawing and weaving in the schools, their first +design is often a picture of a cricket and a gull. + + + +THE NIGHTINGALE[1] + +[1] Adapted from Hans Christian Andersen. + + +A long, long time ago, as long ago as when there were fairies, there +lived an emperor in China, who had a most beautiful palace, all made of +crystal. Outside the palace was the loveliest garden in the whole +world, and farther away was a forest where the trees were taller than +any other trees in the world, and farther away, still, was a deep wood. +And in this wood lived a little Nightingale. The Nightingale sang so +beautifully that everybody who heard her remembered her song better +than anything else that he heard or saw. People came from all over the +world to see the crystal palace and the wonderful garden and the great +forest; but when they went home and wrote books about these things they +always wrote, "But the Nightingale is the best of all." + +At last it happened that the Emperor came upon a book which said this, +and he at once sent for his Chamberlain. + +"Who is this Nightingale?" said the Emperor. "Why have I never heard +him sing?" + +The Chamberlain, who was a very important person, said, "There cannot +be any such person; I have never heard his name." + +"The book says there is a Nightingale," said the Emperor. "I command +that the Nightingale be brought here to sing for me this evening." + +The Chamberlain went out and asked all the great lords and ladies and +pages where the Nightingale could be found, but not one of them had +ever heard of him. So the Chamberlain went back to the Emperor and +said, "There is no such person." + +"The book says there is a Nightingale," said the Emperor; "if the +Nightingale is not here to sing for me this evening I will have the +court trampled upon, immediately after supper." + +The Chamberlain did not want to be trampled upon, so he ran out and +asked everybody in the palace about the Nightingale. At last, a little +girl who worked in the kitchen to help the cook's helper, said, "Oh, +yes, I know the Nightingale very well. Every night, when I go to carry +scraps from the kitchen to my mother, who lives in the wood beyond the +forest, I hear the Nightingale sing." + +The Chamberlain asked the little cook-maid to take him to the +Nightingale's home, and many of the lords and ladies followed after. +When they had gone a little way, they heard a cow moo. + +"Ah!" said the lords and ladies, "that must be the Nightingale; what a +large voice for so small a creature!" + +"Oh, no," said the little girl, "that is just a cow, mooing." + +A little farther on they heard some bull-frogs, in a swamp. "Surely +that is the Nightingale," said the courtiers; "it really sounds like +church-bells!" + +"Oh, no," said the little girl, "those are bullfrogs, croaking." + +At last they came to the wood where the Nightingale was. "Hush!" said +the little girl, "she is going to sing." And, sure enough, the little +Nightingale began to sing. She sang so beautifully that you have never +in all your life heard anything like it. + +"Dear, dear," said the courtiers, "that is very pleasant; does that +little gray bird really make all that noise? She is so pale that I +think she has lost her color for fear of us." + +The Chamberlain asked the little Nightingale to come and sing for the +Emperor. The little Nightingale said she could sing better in her own +greenwood, but she was so sweet and kind that she came with them. + +That evening the palace was all trimmed with the most beautiful flowers +you can imagine, and rows and rows of little silver bells, that tinkled +when the wind blew in, and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of wax +candles, that shone like tiny stars. In the great hall there was a +gold perch for the Nightingale, beside the Emperor's throne. + +When all the people were there, the Emperor asked the Nightingale to +sing. Then the little gray Nightingale filled her throat full, and +sang. And, my dears, she sang so beautifully that the Emperor's eyes +filled up with tears! And, you know, emperors do not cry at all +easily. So he asked her to sing again, and this time she sang so +marvelously that the tears came out of his eyes and ran down his +cheeks. That was a great success. They asked the little Nightingale +to sing, over and over again, and when they had listened enough the +Emperor said that she should be made "Singer in Chief to the Court." +She was to have a golden perch near the Emperor's bed, and a little +gold cage, and was to be allowed to go out twice every day. But there +were twelve servants appointed to wait on her, and those twelve +servants went with her every time she went out, and each of the twelve +had hold of the end of a silken string which was tied to the little +Nightingale's leg! It was not so very much fun to go out that way! + +For a long, long time the Nightingale sang every evening to the Emperor +and his court, and they liked her so much that the ladies all tried to +sound like her; they used to put water in their mouths and then make +little sounds like this: glu-glu-glug. And when the courtiers met each +other in the halls, one would say "Night," and the other would say +"ingale," and that was conversation. + +At last, one day, there came a little package to the Emperor, on the +outside of which was written, "The Nightingale." Inside was an +artificial bird, something like a Nightingale, only it was made of +gold, and silver, and rubies, and emeralds, and diamonds. When it was +wound up it played a waltz tune, and as it played it moved its little +tail up and down. Everybody in the court was filled with delight at +the music of the new nightingale. They made it sing that same tune +thirty-three times, and still they had not had enough. They would have +made it sing the tune thirty-four times, but the Emperor said, "I +should like to hear the real Nightingale sing, now." + +But when they looked about for the real little Nightingale, they could +not find her anywhere! She had taken the chance, while everybody was +listening to the waltz tunes, to fly away through the window to her own +greenwood. + +"What a very ungrateful bird!" said the lords and ladies. "But it does +not matter; the new nightingale is just as good." + +So the artificial nightingale was given the real Nightingale's little +gold perch, and every night the Emperor wound her up, and she sang +waltz tunes to him. The people in the court liked her even better than +the old Nightingale, because they could all whistle her tunes,--which +you can't do with real nightingales. + +About a year after the artificial nightingale came, the Emperor was +listening to her waltz-tune, when there was a SNAP and WHIR-R-R inside +the bird, and the music stopped. The Emperor ran to his doctor but he +could not do anything. Then he ran to his clock-maker, but he could +not do much. Nobody could do much. The best they could do was to +patch the gold nightingale up so that it could sing once a year; even +that was almost too much, and the tune was pretty shaky. Still, the +Emperor kept the gold nightingale on the perch in his own room. + +A long time went by, and then, at last, the Emperor grew very ill, and +was about to die. When it was sure that he could not live much longer, +the people chose a new emperor and waited for the old one to die. The +poor Emperor lay, quite cold and pale, in his great big bed, with +velvet curtains, and tall candlesticks all about. He was quite alone, +for all the courtiers had gone to congratulate the new emperor, and all +the servants had gone to talk it over. + +When the Emperor woke up, he felt a terrible weight on his chest. He +opened his eyes, and there was Death, sitting on his heart. Death had +put on the Emperor's gold crown, and he had the gold sceptre in one +hand, and the silken banner in the other; and he looked at the Emperor +with his great hollow eyes. The room was full of shadows, and the +shadows were full of faces. Everywhere the Emperor looked, there were +faces. Some were very, very ugly, and some were sweet and lovely; they +were all the things the Emperor had done in his life, good and bad. +And as he looked at them they began to whisper. They whispered, "DO YOU +REMEMBER THIS?" "DO YOU REMEMBER THAT?" The Emperor remembered so much +that he cried out loud, "Oh, bring the great drum! Make music, so that +I may not hear these dreadful whispers!" But there was nobody there to +bring the drum. + +Then the Emperor cried, "You little gold nightingale, can you not sing +something for me? I have given you gifts of gold and jewels, and kept +you always by my side; will you not help me now?" But there was nobody +to wind the little gold nightingale up, and of course it could not sing. + +The Emperor's heart grew colder and colder where Death crouched upon +it, and the dreadful whispers grew louder and louder, and the Emperor's +life was almost gone. Suddenly, through the open window, there came a +most lovely song. It was so sweet and so loud that the whispers died +quite away. Presently the Emperor felt his heart grow warm, then he +felt the blood flow through his limbs again; he listened to the song +until the tears ran down his cheeks; he knew that it was the little +real Nightingale who had flown away from him when the gold nightingale +came. + +Death was listening to the song, too; and when it was done and the +Emperor begged for more, Death, too, said, "Please sing again, little +Nightingale!" + +"Will you give me the Emperor's gold crown for a song?" said the little +Nightingale. + +"Yes," said Death; and the little Nightingale bought the Emperor's +crown for a song. + +"Oh, sing again, little Nightingale," begged Death. + +"Will you give me the Emperor's sceptre for another song?" said the +little gray Nightingale. + +"Yes," said Death; and the little Nightingale bought the Emperor's +sceptre for another song. + +Once more Death begged for a song, and this time the little Nightingale +got the banner for her singing. Then she sang one more song, so sweet +and so sad that it made Death think of his garden in the churchyard, +where he always liked best to be. And he rose from the Emperor's heart +and floated away through the window. + +When Death was gone, the Emperor said to the little Nightingale, "Oh, +dear little Nightingale, you have saved me from Death! Do not leave me +again. Stay with me on this little gold perch, and sing to me always!" + + +"No, dear Emperor," said the little Nightingale, "I sing best when I am +free; I cannot live in a palace. But every night when you are quite +alone, I will come and sit in the window and sing to you, and tell you +everything that goes on in your kingdom: I will tell you where the poor +people are who ought to be helped, and where the wicked people are who +ought to be punished. Only, dear Emperor, be sure that you never let +anybody know that you have a little bird who tells you everything." + +After the little Nightingale had flown away, the Emperor felt so well +and strong that he dressed himself in his royal robes and took his gold +sceptre in his hand. And when the courtiers came in to see if he were +dead, there stood the Emperor with his sword in one hand and his +sceptre in the other, and said, "Good-morning!" + + + +MARGERY'S GARDEN[1] + +[1] I have always been inclined to avoid, in my work among children, +the "how to make" and "how to do" kind of story; it is too likely to +trespass on the ground belonging by right to its more artistic and less +intentional kinsfolk. Nevertheless, there is a legitimate place for +the instruction-story. Within its own limits, and especially in a +school use, it has a real purpose to serve, and a real desire to meet. +Children have a genuine taste for such morsels of practical +information, if the bites aren't made too big and too solid. And to +the teacher of the first grades, from whom so much is demanded in the +way of practical instruction, I know that these stories are a boon. +They must be chosen with care, and used with discretion, but they need +never be ignored. + +I venture to give some little stories of this type, which I hope may be +of use in the schools where country life and country work is an unknown +experience to the children. + + +There was once a little girl named Margery, who had always lived in the +city. The flat where her mother and father lived was at the top of a +big apartment-house, and you couldn't see a great deal from the +windows, except clothes-lines on other people's roofs. Margery did not +know much about trees and flowers, but she loved them dearly; whenever +it was a pleasant Sunday she used to go with her mother and father to +the park and look at the lovely flower-beds. They seemed always to be +finished, though, and Margery was always wishing she could see them +grow. + +One spring, when Margery was nine, her father's work changed so that he +could move into the country, and he took a little house a short +distance outside the town where his new position was. Margery was +delighted. And the very first thing she said, when her father told her +about it, was, "Oh, may I have a garden? MAY I have a garden?" + +Margery's mother was almost as eager for a garden as she was, and +Margery's father said he expected to live on their vegetables all the +rest of his life! So it was soon agreed that the garden should be the +first thing attended to. + +Behind the little house were apple trees, a plum tree, and two or three +pear trees; then came a stretch of rough grass, and then a stone wall, +with a gate leading into the pasture. It was in the grassy land that +the garden was to be. A big piece was to be used for corn and peas and +beans, and a little piece at the end was to be saved for Margery. + +"What shall we have in it?" asked her mother. + +"Flowers," said Margery, with shining eyes,--"blue, and white, and +yellow, and pink,--every kind of flower!" + +"Surely, flowers," said her mother, "and shall we not have a little +salad garden in the midst, as they do in England?" + +"What is a salad garden?" Margery asked. + +"It is a garden where you have all the things that make nice salad," +said her mother, laughing, for Margery was fond of salads; "you have +lettuce, and endive, and romaine, and parsley, and radishes, and +cucumbers, and perhaps little beets and young onions." + +"Oh! how good it sounds!" said Margery. "I vote for the salad garden." + +That very evening, Margery's father took pencil and paper, and drew out +a plan for her garden; first, they talked it all over, then he drew +what they decided on; it looked like the diagram on the next page. + +"The outside strip is for flowers," said Margery's father, "and the +next marks mean a footpath, all the way round the beds; that is so you +can get at the flowers to weed and to pick; there is a wider path +through the middle, and the rest is all for rows of salad vegetables." + +"Papa, it is glorious!" said Margery. + +Papa laughed. "I hope you will still think it glorious when the +weeding time comes," he said, "for you know, you and mother have +promised to take care of this garden, while I take care of the big one." + +"I wouldn't NOT take care of it for anything!" said Margery. "I want +to feel that it is my very own." + +Her father kissed her, and said it was certainly her "very own." + +Two evenings after that, when Margery was called in from her first +ramble in a "really, truly pasture," she found the expressman at the +door of the little house. + +"Something for you, Margery," said her mother, with the look she had +when something nice was happening. + +It was a box, quite a big box, with a label on it that said:-- + + MISS MARGERY BROWN, + WOODVILLE, MASS. + +From Seeds and Plants Company, Boston. + + +Margery could hardly wait to open it. It was filled with little +packages, all with printed labels; and in the packages, of course, were +seeds. It made Margery dance, just to read the names,--nasturtium, +giant helianthus, coreopsis, calendula, Canterbury bells: more names +than I can tell you, and other packages, bigger, that said, "Peas: +Dwarf Telephone," and "Sweet Corn," and such things! Margery could +almost smell the posies, she was so excited. Only, she had seen so +little of flowers that she did not always know what the names meant. +She did not know that a helianthus was a sunflower till her mother told +her, and she had never seen the dear, blue, bell-shaped flowers that +always grow in old-fashioned gardens, and are called Canterbury bells. +She thought the calendula must be a strange, grand flower, by its name; +but her mother told her it was the gay, sturdy, every-dayish little +posy called a marigold. There was a great deal for a little city girl +to be surprised about, and it did seem as if morning was a long way off! + +"Did you think you could plant them in the morning?" asked her mother. +"You know, dear, the ground has to be made ready first; it takes a +little time,--it may be several days before you can plant." + +That was another surprise. Margery had thought she could begin to sow +the seed right off. + +But this was what was done. Early the next morning, a man came driving +into the yard, with two strong white horses; in his wagon was a plough. +I suppose you have seen ploughs, but Margery never had, and she watched +with great interest, while the man and her father took the plough from +the cart and harnessed the horses to it. It was a great, three-cornered +piece of sharp steel, with long handles coming up from it, so that a +man could hold it in place. It looked like this:-- + +"I brought a two-horse plough because it's green land," the man said. +Margery wondered what in the world he meant; it was green grass, of +course, but what had that to do with the kind of plough? "What does he +mean, father?" she whispered, when she got a chance. "He means that +this land has not been ploughed before, or not for many years; it will +be hard to turn the soil, and one horse could not pull the plough," +said her father. So Margery had learned what "green land" was. + +The man was for two hours ploughing the little strip of land. He drove +the sharp end of the plough into the soil, and held it firmly so, while +the horses dragged it along in a straight line. Margery found it +fascinating to see the long line of dark earth and green grass come +rolling up and turn over, as the knife passed it. She could see that +it took real skill and strength to keep the line even, and to avoid the +stones. Sometimes the plough struck a hidden stone, and then the man +was jerked almost off his feet. But he only laughed, and said, "Tough +piece of land; be a lot better the second year." + +When he had ploughed, the man went back to his cart and unloaded +another farm implement. This one was like a three-cornered platform of +wood, with a long, curved, strong rake under it. It was called a +harrow, and it looked like this:-- + +The man harnessed the horses to it, and then he stood on the platform +and drove all over the strip of land. It was fun to watch, but perhaps +it was a little hard to do. The man's weight kept the harrow steady, +and let the teeth of the rake scratch and cut the ground up, so that it +did not stay in ridges. + +"He scrambles the ground, father!" said Margery. + +"It needs scrambling," laughed her father. "We are going to get more +weeds than we want on this green land, and the more the ground is +broken, the fewer there will be." + +After the ploughing and harrowing, the man drove off, and Margery's +father said he would do the rest of the work in the late afternoons, +when he came home from business; they could not afford too much help, +he said, and he had learned to take care of a garden when he was a boy. +So Margery did not see any more done until the next day. + +But the next day there was hard work for Margery's father! Every bit +of that "scrambled" turf had to be broken up still more with a mattock +and a spade, and then the pieces which were full of grass-roots had to +be taken on a fork and shaken, till the earth fell out; then the grass +was thrown to one side. That would not have had to be done if the land +had been ploughed in the fall; the grass would have rotted in the +ground, and would have made fertilizer for the plants. Now, Margery's +father put the fertilizer on the top, and then raked it into the earth. + +At last, it was time to make the place for the seeds. Margery and her +mother helped. Father tied one end of a cord to a little stake, and +drove the stake in the ground at one end of the garden. Then he took +the cord to the other end of the garden and pulled it tight, tied it to +another stake, and drove that down. That made a straight line for him +to see. Then he hoed a trench, a few inches deep, the whole length of +the cord, and scattered fertilizer in it. Pretty soon the whole garden +was in lines of little trenches. + +"Now for the corn," said father. + +Margery ran and brought the seed box, and found the package of corn. +It looked like kernels of gold, when it was opened. + +"May I help?" Margery asked, when she saw how pretty it was. + +"If you watch me sow one row, I think you can do the next," said her +father. + +So Margery watched. Her father took a handful of kernels, and, +stooping, walked slowly along the line, letting the kernels fall, five +or six at a time, in spots about a foot apart; he swung his arm with a +gentle, throwing motion, and the golden seeds trickled out like little +showers, very exactly. It was pretty to watch; it made Margery think +of a photograph her teacher had, a photograph of a famous picture +called "The Sower." Perhaps you have seen it. + +Putting in the seed was not so easy to do as to watch; sometimes +Margery got in too much, and sometimes not enough; but her father +helped fix it, and soon she did better. + +They planted peas, beans, spinach, carrots, and parsnips. And +Margery's father made a row of holes, after that, for the tomato +plants. He said those had to be transplanted; they could not be sown +from seed. + +When the seeds were in the trenches they had to be covered up, and +Margery really helped at that. It is fun to do it. You stand beside +the little trench and walk backward, and as you walk you hoe the loose +earth back over the seeds; the same dirt that was hoed up you pull back +again. Then you rake very gently over the surface, with the back of a +rake, to even it all off. Margery liked it, because now the garden +began to look LIKE a garden. + +But best of all was the work next day, when her own little particular +garden was begun. Father Brown loved Margery and Margery's mother so +much that he wanted their garden to be perfect, and that meant a great +deal more work. He knew very well that the old grass would begin to +come through again on such "green" soil, and that it would make +terribly hard weeding. He was not going to have any such thing for his +two "little girls," as he called them. So he fixed that little garden +very fine! This is what he did. + +After he had thrown out all the turf, he shoveled clean earth on to the +garden,-- as much as three solid inches of it; not a bit of grass was +in that. Then it was ready for raking and fertilizing, and for the +lines. The little footpaths were marked out by Father Brown's feet; +Margery and her mother laughed well when they saw it, for it looked +like some kind of dance. Mr. Brown had seen gardeners do it when he +was a little boy, and he did it very nicely: he walked along the sides +of the square, with one foot turned a little out, and the other +straight, taking such tiny steps that his feet touched each other all +the time. This tramped out a path just wide enough for a person to walk. + +The wider path was marked with lines and raked. + +Margery thought, of course, all the flowers would be put in as the +vegetables were; but she found that it was not so. For some, her father +poked little holes with his finger; for some, he made very shallow +ditches; and some very small seeds were just scattered lightly over the +top of the ground. + +Margery and her mother had taken so much pains in thinking out how the +flowers would look prettiest, that maybe you will like to hear just how +they designed that garden. At the back were the sweet peas, which +would grow tall, like a screen; on the two sides, for a kind of hedge, +were yellow sunflowers; and along the front edge were the gay +nasturtiums. Margery planned that, so that she could look into the +garden from the front, but have it shut away from the vegetable patch +by the tall flowers on the sides. The two front corners had coreopsis +in them. Coreopsis is a tall, pretty, daisy-like flower, very dainty +and bright. And then, in little square patches all round the garden, +were planted white sweet alyssum, blue bachelor's buttons, yellow +marigolds, tall larkspur, many-colored asters and zinnias. All these +lovely flowers used to grow in our grandmothers' gardens, and if you +don't know what they look like, I hope you can find out next summer. + +Between the flowers and the middle path went the seeds for that +wonderful salad garden; all the things Mrs. Brown had named to Margery +were there. Margery had never seen anything so cunning as the little +round lettuce-seeds. They looked like tiny beads; it did not seem +possible that green lettuce leaves could come from those. But they +surely would. + +Mother and father and Margery were all late to supper that evening. +But they were all so happy that it did not matter. The last thing +Margery thought of, as she went to sleep at night, was the dear, smooth +little garden, with its funny foot-path, and with the little sticks +standing at the end of the rows, labeled "lettuce," "beets," +"helianthus," and so on. + +"I have a garden! I have a garden!" thought Margery, and then she went +off to dreamland. + + + +THE LITTLE COTYLEDONS + +This is another story about Margery's garden. + +The next morning after the garden was planted, Margery was up and out +at six o'clock. She could not wait to look at her garden. To be sure, +she knew that the seeds could not sprout in a single night, but she had +a feeling that SOMETHING might happen while she was not looking. The +garden was just as smooth and brown as the night before, and no little +seeds were in sight. + +But a very few mornings after that, when Margery went out, there was a +funny little crack opening up through the earth, the whole length of +the patch. Quickly she knelt down in the footpath, to see. Yes! Tiny +green leaves, a whole row of them, were pushing their way through the +crust! Margery knew what she had put there: it was the radish-row; +these must be radish leaves. She examined them very closely, so that +she might know a radish next time. The little leaves, no bigger than +half your little-finger nail, grew in twos,--two on each tiny stem; +they were almost round. + +Margery flew back to her mother, to say that the first seeds were up. +And her mother, nearly as excited as Margery, came to look at the +little crack. + +Each day, after that, the row of radishes grew, till, in a week, it +stood as high as your finger, green and sturdy. But about the third +day, while Margery was stooping over the radishes, she saw something +very, very small and green, peeping above ground, where the lettuce was +planted. Could it be weeds? No, for on looking very closely she saw +that the wee leaves faintly marked a regular row. They did not make a +crack, like the radishes; they seemed too small and too far apart to +push the earth up like that. Margery leaned down and looked with all +her eyes at the baby plants. The tiny leaves grew two on a stem, and +were almost round. The more she looked at them the more it seemed to +Margery that they looked exactly as the radish looked when it first +came up. "Do you suppose," Margery said to herself, "that lettuce and +radish look alike? They don't look alike in the market!" + +Day by day the lettuce grew, and soon the little round leaves were +easier to examine; they certainly were very much like radish leaves. + +Then, one morning, while she was searching the ground for signs of +seeds, Margery discovered the beets. In irregular patches on the row, +hints of green were coming. The next day and the next they grew, until +the beet leaves were big enough to see. + +Margery looked. Then she looked again. Then she wrinkled her forehead. +"Can we have made a mistake?" she thought. "Do you suppose we can have +planted all radishes?" + +For those little beet leaves were almost round, and they grew two on a +stem, precisely like the lettuce and the radish; except for the size, +all three rows looked alike. + +It was too much for Margery. She ran to the house and found her +father. Her little face was so anxious that he thought something +unpleasant had happened. "Papa," she said, all out of breath, "do you +think we could have made a mistake about my garden? Do you think we +could have put radishes in all the rows?" + +Father laughed. "What makes you think such a thing?" he asked. + +"Papa," said Margery, "the little leaves all look exactly alike! every +plant has just two tiny leaves on it, and shaped the same; they are +roundish, and grow out of the stem at the same place." + +Papa's eyes began to twinkle. "Many of the dicotyledonous plants look +alike at the beginning," he said, with a little drawl on the big word. +That was to tease Margery, because she always wanted to know the big +words she heard. + +"What's 'dicotyledonous'?" said Margery, carefully. + +"Wait till I come home to-night, dear," said her father, "and I'll tell +you." + +That evening Margery was waiting eagerly for him, when her father +finished his supper. Together they went to the garden, and father +examined the seedlings carefully. Then he pulled up a little radish +plant and a tiny beet. + +"These little leaves," he said, "are not the real leaves of the plant; +they are only little food-supply leaves, little pockets to hold food +for the plant to live on till it gets strong enough to push up into the +air. As soon as the real leaves come out and begin to draw food from +the air, these little substitutes wither up and fall off. These two +lie folded up in the little seed from the beginning, and are full of +plant food. They don't have to be very special in shape, you see, +because they don't stay on the plant after it is grown up." + +"Then every plant looks like this at first?" said Margery. + +"No, dear, not every one; plants are divided into two kinds: those +which have two food leaves, like these plants, and those which have +only one; these are called dicotyledonous, and the ones which have but +one food leaf are monocotyledonous. Many of the dicotyledons look +alike." + +"I think that is interesting," said Margery. "I always supposed the +plants were different from the minute they began to grow." + +"Indeed, no," said father. "Even some of the trees look like this when +they first come through; you would not think a birch tree could look +like a vegetable or a flower, would you? But it does, at first; it +looks so much like these things that in the great nurseries, where +trees are raised for forests and parks, the workmen have to be very +carefully trained, or else they would pull up the trees when they are +weeding. They have to be taught the difference between a birch tree +and a weed." + +"How funny!" said Margery dimpling. + +"Yes, it sounds funny," said father; "but you see, the birch tree is +dicotyledonous, and so are many weeds, and the dicotyledons look much +alike at first." + +"I am glad to know that, father," said Margery, soberly. "I believe +maybe I shall learn a good deal from living in the country; don't you +think so?" + +Margery's father took her in his arms. "I hope so, dear," he said; "the +country is a good place for little girls." + +And that was all that happened, that day. + + + +THE TALKATIVE TORTOISE[1] + +[1] Very freely adapted from one of the Fables of Bidpai. + + +Once upon a time, a Tortoise lived in a pond with two Ducks, who were +her very good friends. She enjoyed the company of the Ducks, because +she could talk with them to her heart's content; the Tortoise liked to +talk. She always had something to say, and she liked to hear herself +say it. + +After many years of this pleasant living, the pond became very low, in +a dry season; and finally it dried up. The two Ducks saw that they +could no longer live there, so they decided to fly to another region, +where there was more water. They went to the Tortoise to bid her +good-by. + +"Oh, don't leave me behind!" begged the Tortoise. "Take me with you; I +must die if I am left here." + +"But you cannot fly!" said the Ducks. "How can we take you with us?" + +"Take me with you! take me with you!" said the Tortoise. + +The Ducks felt so sorry for her that at last they thought of a way to +take her. "We have thought of a way which will be possible," they said, +"if only you can manage to keep still long enough. We will each take +hold of one end of a stout stick, and do you take the middle in your +mouth; then we will fly up in the air with you and carry you with us. +But remember not to talk! If you open your mouth, you are lost." + +The Tortoise said she would not say a word; she would not so much as +move her mouth; and she was very grateful. So the Ducks brought a +strong little stick and took hold of the ends, while the Tortoise bit +firmly on the middle. Then the two Ducks rose slowly in the air and +flew away with their burden. + +When they were above the treetops, the Tortoise wanted to say, "How +high we are!" But she remembered, and kept still. When they passed +the church steeple she wanted to say, "What is that which shines?" But +she remembered, and held her peace. Then they came over the village +square, and the people looked up and saw them. "Look at the Ducks +carrying a Tortoise!" they shouted; and every one ran to look. The +Tortoise wanted to say, "What business is it of yours?" But she +didn't. Then she heard the people shout, "Isn't it strange! Look at +it! Look!" + +The Tortoise forgot everything except that she wanted to say, "Hush, +you foolish people!" She opened her mouth,-- and fell to the ground. +And that was the end of the Tortoise. + +It is a very good thing to be able to hold one's tongue! + + + +ROBERT OF SICILY[1] + +[1] Adapted from Longfellow's poem. + + +An old legend says that there was once a king named Robert of Sicily, +who was brother to the great Pope of Rome and to the Emperor of +Allemaine. He was a very selfish king, and very proud; he cared more +for his pleasures than for the needs of his people, and his heart was +so filled with his own greatness that he had no thought for God. + +One day, this proud king was sitting in his place at church, at vesper +service; his courtiers were about him, in their bright garments, and he +himself was dressed in his royal robes. The choir was chanting the +Latin service, and as the beautiful voices swelled louder, the king +noticed one particular verse which seemed to be repeated again and +again. He turned to a learned clerk at his side and asked what those +words meant, for he knew no Latin. + +"They mean, 'He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and hath +exalted them of low degree,'" answered the clerk. + +"It is well the words are in Latin, then," said the king angrily, "for +they are a lie. There is no power on earth or in heaven which can put +me down from my seat!" And he sneered at the beautiful singing, as he +leaned back in his place. + +Presently the king fell asleep, while the service went on. He slept +deeply and long. When he awoke the church was dark and still, and he +was all alone. He, the king, had been left alone in the church, to +awake in the dark! He was furious with rage and surprise, and, +stumbling through the dim aisles, he reached the great doors and beat +at them, madly, shouting for his servants. + +The old sexton heard some one shouting and pounding in the church, and +thought it was some drunken vagabond who had stolen in during the +service. He came to the door with his keys and called out, "Who is +there?" + +"Open! open! It is I, the king!" came a hoarse, angry voice from +within. + +"It is a crazy man," thought the sexton; and he was frightened. He +opened the doors carefully and stood back, peering into the darkness. +Out past him rushed the figure of a man in tattered, scanty clothes, +with unkempt hair and white, wild face. The sexton did not know that +he had ever seen him before, but he looked long after him, wondering at +his wildness and his haste. + +In his fluttering rags, without hat or cloak, not knowing what strange +thing had happened to him, King Robert rushed to his palace gates, +pushed aside the startled servants, and hurried, blind with rage, up +the wide stair and through the great corridors, toward the room where +he could hear the sound of his courtiers' voices. Men and women +servants tried to stop the ragged man, who had somehow got into the +palace, but Robert did not even see them as he fled along. Straight to +the open doors of the big banquet hall he made his way, and into the +midst of the grand feast there. + +The great hall was filled with lights and flowers; the tables were set +with everything that is delicate and rich to eat; the courtiers, in +their gay clothes, were laughing and talking; and at the head of the +feast, on the king's own throne, sat a king. His face, his figure, his +voice were exactly like Robert of Sicily; no human being could have +told the difference; no one dreamed that he was not the king. He was +dressed in the king's royal robes, he wore the royal crown, and on his +hand was the king's own ring. Robert of Sicily, half naked, ragged, +without a sign of his kingship on him, stood before the throne and +stared with fury at this figure of himself. + +The king on the throne looked at him. "Who art thou, and what dost thou +here?" he asked. And though his voice was just like Robert's own, it +had something in it sweet and deep, like the sound of bells. + +"I am the king!" cried Robert of Sicily. "I am the king, and you are an +impostor!" + +The courtiers started from their seats, and drew their swords. They +would have killed the crazy man who insulted their king; but he raised +his hand and stopped them, and with his eyes looking into Robert's eyes +he said, "Not the king; you shall be the king's jester! You shall wear +the cap and bells, and make laughter for my court. You shall be the +servant of the servants, and your companion shall be the jester's ape." + +With shouts of laughter, the courtiers drove Robert of Sicily from the +banquet hall; the waiting-men, with laughter, too, pushed him into the +soldiers' hall; and there the pages brought the jester's wretched ape, +and put a fool's cap and bells on Robert's head. It was like a +terrible dream; he could not believe it true, he could not understand +what had happened to him. And when he woke next morning, he believed it +was a dream, and that he was king again. But as he turned his head, he +felt the coarse straw under his cheek instead of the soft pillow, and +he saw that he was in the stable, with the shivering ape by his side. +Robert of Sicily was a jester, and no one knew him for the king. + +Three long years passed. Sicily was happy and all things went well +under the king, who was not Robert. Robert was still the jester, and +his heart was harder and bitterer with every year. Many times, during +the three years, the king, who had his face and voice, had called him +to himself, when none else could hear, and had asked him the one +question, "Who art thou?" And each time that he asked it his eyes +looked into Robert's eyes, to find his heart. But each time Robert +threw back his head and answered, proudly, "I am the king!" And the +king's eyes grew sad and stern. + +At the end of three years, the Pope bade the Emperor of Allemaine and +the King of Sicily, his brothers, to a great meeting in his city of +Rome. The King of Sicily went, with all his soldiers and courtiers and +servants,--a great procession of horsemen and footmen. Never had been +a gayer sight than the grand train, men in bright armor, riders in +wonderful cloaks of velvet and silk, servants, carrying marvelous +presents to the Pope. And at the very end rode Robert, the jester. +His horse was a poor old thing, many-colored, and the ape rode with +him. Every one in the villages through which they passed ran after the +jester, and pointed and laughed. + +The Pope received his brothers and their trains in the square before +Saint Peter's. With music and flags and flowers he made the King of +Sicily welcome, and greeted him as his brother. In the midst of it, +the jester broke through the crowd and threw himself before the Pope. +"Look at me!" he cried; "I am your brother, Robert of Sicily! This man +is an impostor, who has stolen my throne. I am Robert, the king!" + +The Pope looked at the poor jester with pity, but the Emperor of +Allemaine turned to the King of Sicily, and said, "Is it not rather +dangerous, brother, to keep a madman as jester?" And again Robert was +pushed back among the serving-men. + +It was Holy Week, and the king and the emperor, with all their trains, +went every day to the great services in the cathedral. Something +wonderful and holy seemed to make all these services more beautiful +than ever before. All the people of Rome felt it: it was as if the +presence of an angel were there. Men thought of God, and felt his +blessing on them. But no one knew who it was that brought the +beautiful feeling. And when Easter Day came, never had there been so +lovely, so holy a day: in the great churches, filled with flowers, and +sweet with incense, the kneeling people listened to the choirs singing, +and it was like the voices of angels; their prayers were more earnest +than ever before, their praise more glad; there was something heavenly +in Rome. + +Robert of Sicily went to the services with the rest, and sat in the +humblest place with the servants. Over and over again he heard the +sweet voices of the choirs chant the Latin words he had heard long ago: +"He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted them of +low degree." And at last, as he listened, his heart was softened. He, +too, felt the strange blessed presence of a heavenly power. He thought +of God, and of his own wickedness; he remembered how happy he had been, +and how little good he had done; he realized, that his power had not +been from himself, at all. On Easter night, as he crept to his bed of +straw, he wept, not because he was so wretched, but because he had not +been a better king when power was his. + +At last all the festivities were over, and the King of Sicily went home +to his own land again, with his people. Robert the jester came home +too. + +On the day of their home-coming, there was a special service in the +royal church, and even after the service was over for the people, the +monks held prayers of thanksgiving and praise. The sound of their +singing came softly in at the palace windows. In the great banquet +room, the king sat, wearing his royal robes and his crown, while many +subjects came to greet him. At last, he sent them all away, saying he +wanted to be alone; but he commanded the jester to stay. And when they +were alone together the king looked into Robert's eyes, as he had done +before, and said, softly, "Who art thou?" + +Robert of Sicily bowed his head. "Thou knowest best," he said, "I only +know that I have sinned." + +As he spoke, he heard the voices of the monks singing, "He hath put +down the mighty from their seat,"--and his head sank lower. But +suddenly the music seemed to change; a wonderful light shone all about. +As Robert raised his eyes, he saw the face of the king smiling at him +with a radiance like nothing on earth, and as he sank to his knees +before the glory of that smile, a voice sounded with the music, like a +melody throbbing on a single string:-- + +"I am an angel, and thou art the king!" + +Then Robert of Sicily was alone. His royal robes were upon him once +more; he wore his crown and his royal ring. He was king. And when the +courtiers came back they found their king kneeling by his throne, +absorbed in silent prayer. + + + +THE JEALOUS COURTIERS[1] + +[1] Adapted from the facts given in the German of H. A. Guerber's +Marchen und Erzahlungen (D. C. Heath & Co.). + + +I wonder if you have ever heard the anecdote about the artist of +Dusseldorf and the jealous courtiers. This is it. It seems there was +once a very famous artist who lived in the little town of Dusseldorf. +He did such fine work that the Elector, Prince Johann Wilhelm, ordered +a portrait statue of himself, on horseback, to be done in bronze. The +artist was overjoyed at the commission, and worked early and late at +the statue. + +At last the work was done, and the artist had the great statue set up +in the public square of Dusseldorf, ready for the opening view. The +Elector came on the appointed day, and with him came his favorite +courtiers from the castle. Then the statue was unveiled. It was very +beautiful,-- so beautiful that the prince exclaimed in surprise. He +could not look enough, and presently he turned to the artist and shook +hands with him, like an old friend. "Herr Grupello," he said, "you are +a great artist, and this statue will make your fame even greater than +it is; the portrait of me is perfect!" + +When the courtiers heard this, and saw the friendly hand-grasp, their +jealousy of the artist was beyond bounds. Their one thought was, how +could they safely do something to humiliate him. They dared not pick +flaws in the portrait statue, for the prince had declared it perfect. +But at last one of them said, with an air of great frankness, "Indeed, +Herr Grupello, the portrait of his Royal Highness is perfect; but +permit me to say that the statue of the horse is not quite so +successful: the head is too large; it is out of proportion." + +"No," said another, "the horse is really not so successful; the turn of +the neck, there, is awkward." + +"If you would change the right hind-foot, Herr Grupello," said a third, +"it would be an improvement." + +Still another found fault with the horse's tail. + +The artist listened, quietly. When they had all finished, he turned to +the prince and said, "Your courtiers, Prince, find a good many flaws in +the statue of the horse; will you permit me to keep it a few days more, +to do what I can with it?" + +The Elector assented, and the artist ordered a temporary screen built +around the statue, so that his assistants could work undisturbed. For +several days the sound of hammering came steadily from behind the +enclosure. The courtiers, who took care to pass that way, often, were +delighted. Each one said to himself, "I must have been right, really; +the artist himself sees that something was wrong; now I shall have +credit for saving the prince's portrait by my artistic taste!" + +Once more the artist summoned the prince and his courtiers, and once +more the statue was unveiled. Again the Elector exclaimed at its +beauty, and then he turned to his courtiers, one after another, to see +what they had to say. + +"Perfect!" said the first. "Now that the horse's head is in +proportion, there is not a flaw." + +"The change in the neck was just what was needed," said the second; "it +is very graceful now." + +"The rear right foot is as it should be, now," said a third, "and it +adds so much to the beauty of the whole!" + +The fourth said that he considered the tail greatly improved. + +"My courtiers are much pleased now," said the prince to Herr Grupello; +"they think the statue much improved by the changes you have made." + +Herr Grupello smiled a little. "I am glad they are pleased," he said, +"but the fact is, I have changed nothing!" + +"What do you mean?" said the prince in surprise. "Have we not heard +the sound of hammering every day? What were you hammering at then?" + +"I was hammering at the reputation of your courtiers, who found fault +simply because they were jealous," said the artist. "And I rather think +that their reputation is pretty well hammered to pieces!" + +It was, indeed. The Elector laughed heartily, but the courtiers slunk +away, one after another, without a word. + + + +PRINCE CHERRY[1] + +[1] A shortened version of the familiar tale. + + +There was once an old king, so wise and kind and true that the most +powerful good fairy of his land visited him and asked him to name the +dearest wish of his heart, that she might grant it. + +"Surely you know it," said the good king; "it is for my only son, +Prince Cherry; do for him whatever you would have done for me." + +"Gladly," said the great fairy; "choose what I shall give him. I can +make him the richest, the most beautiful, or the most powerful prince +in the world; choose." + +"None of those things are what I want," said the king. "I want only +that he shall be good. Of what use will it be to him to be beautiful, +rich, or powerful, if he grows into a bad man? Make him the best +prince in the world, I beg you!" + +"Alas, I cannot make him good," said the fairy; "he must do that for +himself. I can give him good advice, reprove him when he does wrong, +and punish him if he will not punish himself; I can and will be his +best friend, but I cannot make him good unless he wills it." + +The king was sad to hear this, but he rejoiced in the friendship of the +fairy for his son. And when he died, soon after, he was happy to know +that he left Prince Cherry in her hands. + +Prince Cherry grieved for his father and often lay awake at night, +thinking of him. One night, when he was all alone in his room, a soft +and lovely light suddenly shone before him, and a beautiful vision +stood at his side. It was the good fairy. She was clad in robes of +dazzling white, and on her shining hair she wore a wreath of white +roses. + +"I am the Fairy Candide," she said to the prince. "I promised your +father that I would be your best friend, and as long as you live I +shall watch over your happiness. I have brought you a gift; it is not +wonderful to look at, but it has a wonderful power for your welfare; +wear it, and let it help you." + +As she spoke, she placed a small gold ring on the prince's little +finger. "This ring," she said, "will help you to be good; when you do +evil, it will prick you, to remind you. If you do not heed its +warnings a worse thing will happen to you, for I shall become your +enemy." Then she vanished. + +Prince Cherry wore his ring, and said nothing to any one of the fairy's +gift. It did not prick him for a long time, because he was good and +merry and happy. But Prince Cherry had been rather spoiled by his +nurse when he was a child; she had always said to him that when he +should become king he could do exactly as he pleased. Now, after a +while, he began to find out that this was not true, and it made him +angry. + +The first time that he noticed that even a king could not always have +his own way was on a day when he went hunting. It happened that he got +no game. This put him in such a bad temper that he grumbled and +scolded all the way home. The little gold ring began to feel tight and +uncomfortable. When he reached the palace his pet dog ran to meet him. + +"Go away!" said the prince, crossly. + +But the little dog was so used to being petted that he only jumped up +on his master, and tried to kiss his hand. The prince turned and +kicked the little creature. At the instant, he felt a sharp prick in +his little finger, like a pin prick. + +"What nonsense!" said the prince to himself. "Am I not king of the +whole land? May I not kick my own dog, if I choose? What evil is +there in that?" + +A silver voice spoke in his ear: "The king of the land has a right to +do good, but not evil; you have been guilty of bad temper and of +cruelty to-day; see that you do better to-morrow." + +The prince turned sharply, but no one was to be seen; yet he recognized +the voice as that of Fairy Candide. + +He followed her advice for a little, but presently he forgot, and the +ring pricked him so sharply that his finger had a drop of blood on it. +This happened again and again, for the prince grew more self-willed and +headstrong every day; he had some bad friends, too, who urged him on, +in the hope that he would ruin himself and give them a chance to seize +the throne. He treated his people carelessly and his servants cruelly, +and everything he wanted he felt that he must have. + +The ring annoyed him terribly; it was embarrassing for a king to have a +drop of blood on his finger all the time! At last he took the ring off +and put it out of sight. Then he thought he should be perfectly happy, +having his own way; but instead, he grew more unhappy as he grew less +good. Whenever he was crossed, or could not have his own way +instantly, he flew into a passion. + +Finally, he wanted something that he really could not have. This time +it was a most beautiful young girl, named Zelia; the prince saw her, +and loved her so much that he wanted at once to make her his queen. To +his great astonishment, she refused. + +"Am I not pleasing to you?" asked the prince in surprise. + +"You are very handsome, very charming, Prince," said Zelia; "but you +are not like the good king, your father; I fear you would make me very +miserable if I were your queen." + +In a great rage, Prince Cherry ordered the young girl put in prison; +and the key of her dungeon he kept. He told one of his friends, a +wicked man who flattered him for his own purposes, about the thing, and +asked his advice. + +"Are you not king?" said the bad friend, "May you not do as you will? +Keep the girl in a dungeon till she does as you command, and if she +will not, sell her as a slave." + +"But would it not be a disgrace for me to harm an innocent creature?" +said the prince. + +"It would be a disgrace to you to have it said that one of your +subjects dared disobey you!" said the courtier. + +He had cleverly touched the Prince's worst trait, his pride. Prince +Cherry went at once to Zelia's dungeon, prepared to do this cruel thing. + +Zelia was gone. No one had the key save the prince himself; yet she +was gone. The only person who could have dared to help her, thought the +prince, was his old tutor, Suliman, the only man left who ever rebuked +him for anything. In fury, he ordered Suliman to be put in fetters and +brought before him. + +As his servants left him, to carry out the wicked order, there was a +clash, as of thunder, in the room, and then a blinding light. Fairy +Candide stood before him. Her beautiful face was stern, and her silver +voice rang like a trumpet, as she said, "Wicked and selfish prince, you +have become baser than the beasts you hunt; you are furious as a lion, +revengeful as a serpent, greedy as a wolf, and brutal as a bull; take, +therefore, the shape of those beasts whom you resemble!" + +With horror, the prince felt himself being transformed into a monster. +He tried to rush upon the fairy and kill her, but she had vanished with +her words. As he stood, her voice came from the air, saying, sadly, +"Learn to conquer your pride by being in submission to your own +subjects." At the same moment, Prince Cherry felt himself being +transported to a distant forest, where he was set down by a clear +stream. In the water he saw his own terrible image; he had the head of +a lion, with bull's horns, the feet of a wolf, and a tail like a +serpent. And as he gazed in horror, the fairy's voice whispered, "Your +soul has become more ugly than your shape is; you yourself have +deformed it." + +The poor beast rushed away from the sound of her words, but in a moment +he stumbled into a trap, set by bear-catchers. When the trappers found +him they were delighted to have caught a curiosity, and they +immediately dragged him to the palace courtyard. There he heard the +whole court buzzing with gossip. Prince Cherry had been struck by +lightning and killed, was the news, and the five favorite courtiers had +struggled to make themselves rulers, but the people had refused them, +and offered the crown to Suliman, the good old tutor. + +Even as he heard this, the prince saw Suliman on the steps of the +palace, speaking to the people. "I will take the crown to keep in +trust," he said. "Perhaps the prince is not dead." + +"He was a bad king; we do not want him back," said the people. + +"I know his heart," said Suliman, "it is not all bad; it is tainted, +but not corrupt; perhaps he will repent and come back to us a good +king." + +When the beast heard this, it touched him so much that he stopped +tearing at his chains, and became gentle. He let his keepers lead him +away to the royal menagerie without hurting them. + +Life was very terrible to the prince, now, but he began to see that he +had brought all his sorrow on himself, and he tried to bear it +patiently. The worst to bear was the cruelty of the keeper. At last, +one night, this keeper was in great danger; a tiger got loose, and +attacked him. "Good enough! Let him die!" thought Prince Cherry. But +when he saw how helpless the keeper was, he repented, and sprang to +help. He killed the tiger and saved the keeper's life. + +As he crouched at the keeper's feet, a voice said, "Good actions never +go unrewarded!" And the terrible monster was changed into a pretty +little white dog. + +The keeper carried the beautiful little dog to the court and told the +story, and from then on, Cherry was carefully treated, and had the best +of everything. But in order to keep the little dog from growing, the +queen ordered that he should be fed very little, and that was pretty +hard for the poor prince. He was often half starved, although so much +petted. + +One day he had carried his crust of bread to a retired spot in the +palace woods, where he loved to be, when he saw a poor old woman +hunting for roots, and seeming almost starved. + +"Poor thing," he thought, "she is even hungrier than I;" and he ran up +and dropped the crust at her feet. + +The woman ate it, and seemed greatly refreshed. + +Cherry was glad of that, and he was running happily back to his kennel +when he heard cries of distress, and suddenly he saw some rough men +dragging along a young girl, who was weeping and crying for help. What +was his horror to see that the young girl was Zelia! Oh, how he wished +he were the monster once more, so that he could kill the men and rescue +her! But he could do nothing except bark, and bite at the heels of the +wicked men. That could not stop them; they drove him off, with blows, +and carried Zelia into a palace in the wood. + +Poor Cherry crouched by the steps, and watched. His heart was full of +pity and rage. But suddenly he thought, "I was as bad as these men; I +myself put Zelia in prison, and would have treated her worse still, if +I had not been prevented." The thought made him so sorry and ashamed +that he repented bitterly the evil he had done. + +Presently a window opened, and Cherry saw Zelia lean out and throw down +a piece of meat. He seized it and was just going to devour it, when +the old woman to whom he had given his crust snatched it away and took +him in her arms. "No, you shall not eat it, you poor little thing," +she said, "for every bit of food in that house is poisoned." + +At the same moment, a voice said, "Good actions never go unrewarded!" +And instantly Prince Cherry was transformed into a little white dove. + +With great joy, he flew to the open palace window to seek out his +Zelia, to try to help her. But though he hunted in every room, no +Zelia was to be found. He had to fly away, without seeing her. He +wanted more than anything else to find her, and stay near her, so he +flew out into the world, to seek her. + +He sought her in many lands, until one day, in a far eastern country, +he found her sitting in a tent, by the side of an old, white-haired +hermit. Cherry was wild with delight. He flew to her shoulder, +caressed her hair with his beak, and cooed in her ear. + +"You dear, lovely little thing!" said Zelia. "Will you stay with me? +If you will, I will love you always." + +"Ah, Zelia, see what you have done!" laughed the hermit. At that +instant, the white dove vanished, and Prince Cherry stood there, as +handsome and charming as ever, and with a look of kindness and modesty +in his eyes which had never been there before. At the same time, the +hermit stood up, his flowing hair changed to shining gold, and his face +became a lovely woman's face; it was the Fairy Candide. "Zelia has +broken your spell," she said to the Prince, "as I meant she should, +when you were worthy of her love." + +Zelia and Prince Cherry fell at the fairy's feet. But with a beautiful +smile she bade them come to their kingdom. In a trice, they were +transported to the Prince's palace, where King Suliman greeted them +with tears of joy. He gave back the throne, with all his heart, and +King Cherry ruled again, with Zelia for his queen. + +He wore the little gold ring all the rest of his life, but never once +did it have to prick him hard enough to make his finger bleed. + + + +THE GOLD IN THE ORCHARD[1] + +[1] An Italian folk tale. + + +There was once a farmer who had a fine olive orchard. He was very +industrious, and the farm always prospered under his care. But he knew +that his three sons despised the farm work, and were eager to make +wealth fast, through adventure. + +When the farmer was old, and felt that his time had come to die, he +called the three sons to him and said, "My sons, there is a pot of gold +hidden in the olive orchard. Dig for it, if you wish it." + +The sons tried to get him to tell them in what part of the orchard the +gold was hidden; but he would tell them nothing more. + +After the farmer was dead, the sons went to work to find the pot of +gold; since they did not know where the hiding-place was, they agreed +to begin in a line, at one end of the orchard, and to dig until one of +them should find the money. + +They dug until they had turned up the soil from one end of the orchard +to the other, round the tree-roots and between them. But no pot of +gold was to be found. It seemed as if some one must have stolen it, or +as if the farmer had been wandering in his wits. The three sons were +bitterly disappointed to have all their work for nothing. + +The next olive season, the olive trees in the orchard bore more fruit +than they had ever given; the fine cultivating they had had from the +digging brought so much fruit, and of so fine a quality, that when it +was sold it gave the sons a whole pot of gold! + +And when they saw how much money had come from the orchard, they +suddenly understood what the wise father had meant when he said, "There +is gold hidden in the orchard; dig for it." + + + +MARGARET OF NEW ORLEANS + +If you ever go to the beautiful city of New Orleans, somebody will be +sure to take you down into the old business part of the city, where +there are banks and shops and hotels, and show you a statue which +stands in a little square there. It is the statue of a woman, sitting +in a low chair, with her arms around a child, who leans against her. +The woman is not at all pretty: she wears thick, common shoes, a plain +dress, with a little shawl, and a sun-bonnet; she is stout and short, +and her face is a square-chinned Irish face; but her eyes look at you +like your mother's. + +Now there is something very surprising about this statue: it was the +first one that was ever made in this country in honor of a woman. Even +in old Europe there are not many monuments to women, and most of the +few are to great queens or princesses, very beautiful and very richly +dressed. You see, this statue in New Orleans is not quite like anything +else. + +It is the statue of a woman named Margaret. Her whole name was +Margaret Haughery, but no one in New Orleans remembers her by it, any +more than you think of your dearest sister by her full name; she is +just Margaret. This is her story, and it tells why people made a +monument for her. + +When Margaret was a tiny baby, her father and mother died, and she was +adopted by two young people as poor and as kind as her own parents. +She lived with them until she grew up. Then she married, and had a +little baby of her own. But very soon her husband died, and then the +baby died, too, and Margaret was all alone in the world. She was poor, +but she was strong, and knew how to work. + +All day, from morning until evening, she ironed clothes in a laundry. +And every day, as she worked by the window, she saw the little +motherless children from the orphan asylum, near by, working and +playing about. After a while, there came a great sickness upon the +city, and so many mothers and fathers died that there were more orphans +than the asylum could possibly take care of. They needed a good +friend, now. You would hardly think, would you, that a poor woman who +worked in a laundry could be much of a friend to them? But Margaret +was. She went straight to the kind Sisters who had the asylum and told +them she was going to give them part of her wages and was going to work +for them, besides. Pretty soon she had worked so hard that she had +some money saved from her wages. With this, she bought two cows and a +little delivery cart. Then she carried her milk to her customers in +the little cart every morning; and as she went, she begged the +left-over food from the hotels and rich houses, and brought it back in +the cart to the hungry children in the asylum. In the very hardest +times that was often all the food the children had. + +A part of the money Margaret earned went every week to the asylum, and +after a few years that was made very much larger and better. And +Margaret was so careful and so good at business that, in spite of her +giving, she bought more cows and earned more money. With this, she +built a home for orphan babies; she called it her baby house. + +After a time, Margaret had a chance to get a bakery, and then she +became a bread-woman instead of a milk-woman. She carried the bread +just as she had carried the milk, in her cart. And still she kept +giving money to the asylum. Then the great war came, our Civil War. +In all the trouble and sickness and fear of that time, Margaret drove +her cart of bread; and somehow she had always enough to give the +starving soldiers, and for her babies, besides what she sold. And +despite all this, she earned enough so that when the war was over she +built a big steam factory for her bread. By this time everybody in the +city knew her. The children all over the city loved her; the business +men were proud of her; the poor people all came to her for advice. She +used to sit at the open door of her office, in a calico gown and a +little shawl, and give a good word to everybody, rich or poor. + +Then, by and by, one day, Margaret died. And when it was time to read +her will, the people found that, with all her giving, she had still +saved a great deal of money, and that she had left every cent of it to +the different orphan asylums of the city,--each one of them was given +something. Whether they were for white children or black, for Jews, +Catholics, or Protestants, made no difference; for Margaret always +said, "They are all orphans alike." And just think, dears, that +splendid, wise will was signed with a cross instead of a name, for +Margaret had never learned to read or write! + +When the people of New Orleans knew that Margaret was dead, they said, +"She was a mother to the motherless; she was a friend to those who had +no friends; she had wisdom greater than schools can teach; we will not +let her memory go from us." So they made a statue of her, just as she +used to look, sitting in her own office door, or driving in her own +little cart. And there it stands to-day, in memory of the great love +and the great power of plain Margaret Haughery, of New Orleans. + + + +THE DAGDA'S HARP[1] + +[1] The facts from which this story was constructed are found in the +legend as given in Ireland's Story, Johnston and Spencer (Houghton, +Mifflin, & Co.). + + +You know, dears, in the old countries there are many fine stories about +things which happened so very long ago that nobody knows exactly how +much of them is true. Ireland is like that. It is so old that even as +long ago as four thousand years it had people who dug in the mines, and +knew how to weave cloth and to make beautiful ornaments out of gold, +and who could fight and make laws; but we do not know just where they +came from, nor exactly how they lived. These people left us some +splendid stories about their kings, their fights, and their beautiful +women; but it all happened such a long time ago that the stories are +mixtures of things that really happened and what people said about +them, and we don't know just which is which. The stories are called +LEGENDS. One of the prettiest legends is the story I am going to tell +you about the Dagda's harp. + +It is said that there were two quite different kinds of people in +Ireland: one set of people with long dark hair and dark eyes, called +Fomorians--they carried long slender spears made of golden bronze when +they fought--and another race of people who were golden-haired and +blue-eyed, and who carried short, blunt, heavy spears of dull metal. + +The golden-haired people had a great chieftain who was also a kind of +high priest, who was called the Dagda. And this Dagda had a wonderful +magic harp. The harp was beautiful to look upon, mighty in size, made +of rare wood, and ornamented with gold and jewels; and it had wonderful +music in its strings, which only the Dagda could call out. When the +men were going out to battle, the Dagda would set up his magic harp and +sweep his hand across the strings, and a war song would ring out which +would make every warrior buckle on his armor, brace his knees, and +shout, "Forth to the fight!" Then, when the men came back from the +battle, weary and wounded, the Dagda would take his harp and strike a +few chords, and as the magic music stole out upon the air, every man +forgot his weariness and the smart of his wounds, and thought of the +honor he had won, and of the comrade who had died beside him, and of +the safety of his wife and children. Then the song would swell out +louder, and every warrior would remember only the glory he had helped +win for the king; and each man would rise at the great tables his cup +in his hand, and shout "Long live the King!" + +There came a time when the Fomorians and the golden-haired men were at +war; and in the midst of a great battle, while the Dagda's hall was not +so well guarded as usual, some of the chieftains of the Fomorians stole +the great harp from the wall, where it hung, and fled away with it. +Their wives and children and some few of their soldiers went with them, +and they fled fast and far through the night, until they were a long +way from the battlefield. Then they thought they were safe, and they +turned aside into a vacant castle, by the road, and sat down to a +banquet, hanging the stolen harp on the wall. + +The Dagda, with two or three of his warriors, had followed hard on +their track. And while they were in the midst of their banqueting, the +door was suddenly burst open, and the Dagda stood there, with his men. +Some of the Fomorians sprang to their feet, but before any of them +could grasp a weapon, the Dagda called out to his harp on the wall, +"Come to me, O my harp!" + +The great harp recognized its master's voice, and leaped from the wall. +Whirling through the hall, sweeping aside and killing the men who got +in its way, it sprang to its master's hand. And the Dagda took his +harp and swept his hand across the strings in three great, solemn +chords. The harp answered with the magic Music of Tears. As the +wailing harmony smote upon the air, the women of the Fomorians bowed +their heads and wept bitterly, the strong men turned their faces aside, +and the little children sobbed. + +Again the Dagda touched the strings, and this time the magic Music of +Mirth leaped from the harp. And when they heard that Music of Mirth, +the young warriors of the Fomorians began to laugh; they laughed till +the cups fell from their grasp, and the spears dropped from their +hands, while the wine flowed from the broken bowls; they laughed until +their limbs were helpless with excess of glee. + +Once more the Dagda touched his harp, but very, very softly. And now a +music stole forth as soft as dreams, and as sweet as joy: it was the +magic Music of Sleep. When they heard that, gently, gently, the +Fomorian women bowed their heads in slumber; the little children crept +to their mothers' laps; the old men nodded; and the young warriors +drooped in their seats and closed their eyes: one after another all the +Fomorians sank into sleep. + +When they were all deep in slumber, the Dagda took his magic harp, and +he and his golden-haired warriors stole softly away, and came in safety +to their own homes again. + + + +THE TAILOR AND THE THREE BEASTS[1] + +[1] From Beside the Fire, Douglas Hyde (David Nutt, London). + + +There was once a tailor in Galway, and he started out on a journey to +go to the king's court at Dublin. + +He had not gone far till he met a white horse, and he saluted him. + +"God save you," said the tailor. + +"God save you," said the horse. "Where are you going?" + +"I am going to Dublin," said the tailor, "to build a court for the king +and to get a lady for a wife, if I am able to do it." For, it seems +the king had promised his daughter and a great lot of money to any one +who should be able to build up his court. The trouble was, that three +giants lived in the wood near the court, and every night they came out +of the wood and threw down all that was built by day. So nobody could +get the court built. + +"Would you make me a hole," said the old white garraun, "where I could +go a-hiding whenever the people are for bringing me to the mill or the +kiln, so that they won't see me; for they have me perished doing work +for them." + +"I'll do that, indeed," said the tailor, "and welcome." + +He brought his spade and shovel, and he made a hole, and he said to the +old white horse to go down into it till he would see if it would fit +him. The white horse went down into the hole, but when he tried to +come up again, he was not able. + +"Make a place for me now," said the white horse, "by which I'll come up +out of the hole here, whenever I'll be hungry." + +"I will not," said the tailor; "remain where you are until I come back, +and I'll lift you up." + +The tailor went forward next day, and the fox met him. + +"God save you," said the fox. + +"God save you," said the tailor. + +"Where are you going," said the fox. + +"I'm going to Dublin, to try will I be able to make a court for the +king." + +"Would you make a place for me where I'd go hiding?" said the fox. +"The rest of the foxes do be beating me, and they don't allow me to eat +anything with them." + +"I'll do that for you," said the tailor. + +He took his axe and his saw, and he made a thing like a crate, and he +told the fox to get into it till he would see whether it would fit him. +The fox went into it, and when the tailor got him down, he shut him in. +When the fox was satisfied at last that he had a nice place of it +within, he asked the tailor to let him out, and the tailor answered +that he would not. + +"Wait there until I come back again," says he. + +The tailor went forward the next day, and he had not walked very far +until he met a modder-alla; and the lion greeted him. + +"God save you," said the lion. + +"God save you," said the tailor. + +"Where are you going?" said the lion. + +"I'm going to Dublin till I make a court for the king if I'm able to +make it," said the tailor. + +"If you were to make a plough for me," said the lion, "I and the other +lions could be ploughing and harrowing until we'd have a bit to eat in +the harvest." + +"I'll do that for you," said the tailor. + +He brought his axe and his saw, and he made a plough. When the plough +was made he put a hole in the beam of it, and he said to the lion to go +in under the plough till he'd see was he any good of a ploughman. He +placed the lion's tail in the hole he had made for it, and then clapped +in a peg, and the lion was not able to draw out his tail again. + +"Loose me out now," said the lion, "and we'll fix ourselves and go +ploughing." + +The tailor said he would not loose him out until he came back himself. +He left him there then, and he came to Dublin. + +When he came to Dublin, he got workmen and began to build the court. +At the end of the day he had the workmen put a great stone on top of +the work. When the great stone was raised up, the tailor put some sort +of contrivance under it, that he might be able to throw it down as soon +as the giant would come as far as it. The workpeople went home then, +and the tailor went in hiding behind the big stone. + +When the darkness of the night was come, he saw the three giants +arriving, and they began throwing down the court until they came as far +as the place where the tailor was in hiding up above, and a man of them +struck a blow of his sledge on the place where he was. The tailor +threw down the stone, and it fell on him and killed him. They went home +then and left all of the court that was remaining without throwing it +down, since a man of themselves was dead. + +The tradespeople came again the next day, and they were working until +night, and as they were going home the tailor told them to put up the +big stone on the top of the work, as it had been the night before. +They did that for him, went home, and the tailor went in hiding the +same as he did the evening before. + +When the people had all gone to rest, the two giants came, and they +were throwing down all that was before them, and as soon as they began, +they put two shouts out of them. The tailor was going on manoeuvring +until he threw down the great stone, and it fell upon the skull of the +giant that was under him, and it killed him. There was only the one +giant left in it then, and he never came again until the court was +finished. + +Then when the work was over, the tailor went to the king and told him +to give him his wife and his money, as he had the court finished; and +the king said he would not give him any wife until he would kill the +other giant, for he said that it was not by his strength he killed the +two giants before that, and that he would give him nothing now until he +killed the other one for him. Then the tailor said that he would kill +the other giant for him, and welcome; that there was no delay at all +about that. + +The tailor went then till he came to the place where the other giant +was, and asked did he want a servant-boy. The giant said he did want +one, if he could get one who would do everything that he would do +himself. + +"Anything that you will do, I will do it," said the tailor. + +They went to their dinner then, and when they had it eaten, the giant +asked the tailor "would it come with him to swallow as much broth as +himself, up out of its boiling." The tailor said, "It will come with +me to do that, but that you must give me an hour before we begin on +it." The tailor went out then, and he got a sheep-skin, and he sewed +it up till he made a bag of it, and he slipped it down under his coat. +He came in then and said to the giant to drink a gallon of the broth +himself first. The giant drank that up out of its boiling. "I'll do +that," said the tailor. He was going on until he had it all poured +into the skin, and the giant thought he had it drunk. The giant drank +another gallon then, and the tailor let another gallon down into the +skin, but the giant thought he was drinking it. + +"I'll do a thing now that it won't come with you to do," said the +tailor. + +"You will not," said the giant. "What is it you would do?" + +"Make a hole and let out the broth again," said the tailor. + +"Do it yourself first," said the giant. + +The tailor gave a prod of the knife, and he let the broth out of the +skin. + +"Do that you," said he. + +"I will," said the giant, giving such a prod of the knife into his own +stomach that he killed himself. That is the way the tailor killed the +third giant. + +He went to the king then, and desired him to send him out his wife and +his money, for that he would throw down the court again unless he +should get the wife. They were afraid then that he would throw down +the court, and they sent the wife to him. + +When the tailor was a day gone, himself and his wife, they repented and +followed him to take his wife off him again. The people who were after +him were following him till they came to the place where the lion was, +and the lion said to them: "The tailor and his wife were here +yesterday. I saw them going by, and if ye loose me now, I am swifter +than ye, and I will follow them till I overtake them." When they heard +that, they loosed out the lion. + +The lion and the people of Dublin went on, and they were pursuing him, +until they came to the place where the fox was, and the fox greeted +them, and said: "The tailor and his wife were here this morning, and +if ye will loose me out, I am swifter than ye, and I will follow them, +and overtake them." They loosed out the fox then. + +The lion and the fox and the army of Dublin went on then, trying would +they catch the tailor, and they were going till they came to the place +where the old white garraun was, and the old white garraun said to them +that the tailor and his wife were there in the morning, and "Loose me +out," said he; "I am swifter than ye, and I'll overtake them." They +loosed out the old white garraun then, and the old white garraun, the +fox, the lion, and the army of Dublin pursued the tailor and his wife +together, and it was not long till they came up with him, and saw +himself and the wife out before them. + +When the tailor saw them coming, he got out of the coach with his wife, +and he sat down on the ground. + +When the old white garraun saw the tailor sitting down on the ground, +he said, "That's the position he had when he made the hole for me, that +I couldn't come up out of, when I went down into it. I'll go no nearer +to him." + +"No!" said the fox, "but that's the way he was when he was making the +thing for me, and I'll go no nearer to him." + +"No!" says the lion, "but that's the very way he had, when he was +making the plough that I was caught in. I'll go no nearer to him." + +They all went from him then and returned. The tailor and his wife came +home to Galway. + + + +THE CASTLE OF FORTUNE[1] + +[1] Adapted from the German of Der Faule und der Fleissige by Robert +Reinick. + + +One lovely summer morning, just as the sun rose, two travelers started +on a journey. They were both strong young men, but one was a lazy +fellow and the other was a worker. + +As the first sunbeams came over the hills, they shone on a great castle +standing on the heights, as far away as the eye could see. It was a +wonderful and beautiful castle, all glistening towers that gleamed like +marble, and glancing windows that shone like crystal. The two young +men looked at it eagerly, and longed to go nearer. + +Suddenly, out of the distance, something like a great butterfly, of +white and gold, swept toward them. And when it came nearer, they saw +that it was a most beautiful lady, robed in floating garments as fine +as cobwebs and wearing on her head a crown so bright that no one could +tell whether it was of diamonds or of dew. She stood, light as air, on +a great, shining, golden ball, which rolled along with her, swifter +than the wind. As she passed the travelers, she turned her face to +them and smiled. + +"Follow me!" she said. + +The lazy man sat down in the grass with a discontented sigh. "She has +an easy time of it!" he said. + +But the industrious man ran after the lovely lady and caught the hem of +her floating robe in his grasp. "Who are you, and whither are you +going?" he asked. + +"I am the Fairy of Fortune," the beautiful lady said, "and that is my +castle. You may reach it to-day, if you will; there is time, if you +waste none. If you reach it before the last stroke of midnight, I will +receive you there, and will be your friend. But if you come one second +after midnight, it will be too late." + +When she had said this, her robe slipped from the traveler's hand and +she was gone. + +The industrious man hurried back to his friend, and told him what the +fairy had said. + +"The idea!" said the lazy man, and he laughed; "of course, if a body +had a horse there would be some chance, but WALK all that way? No, +thank you!" + +"Then good-by," said his friend, "I am off." And he set out, down the +road toward the shining castle, with a good steady stride, his eyes +straight ahead. + +The lazy man lay down in the soft grass, and looked rather wistfully at +the faraway towers. "If I only had a good horse!" he sighed. + +Just at that moment he felt something warm nosing about at his +shoulder, and heard a little whinny. He turned round, and there stood +a little horse! It was a dainty creature, gentle-looking, and finely +built, and it was saddled and bridled. + +"Hola!" said the lazy man. "Luck often comes when one isn't looking +for it!" And in an instant he had leaped on the horse, and headed him +for the castle of fortune. The little horse started at a fine pace, +and in a very few minutes they overtook the other traveler, plodding +along on foot. + +"How do you like shank's mare?" laughed the lazy man, as he passed his +friend. + +The industrious man only nodded, and kept on with his steady stride, +eyes straight ahead. + +The horse kept his good pace, and by noon the towers of the castle +stood out against the sky, much nearer and more beautiful. Exactly at +noon, the horse turned aside from the road, into a shady grove on a +hill, and stopped. + +"Wise beast," said his rider; "'haste makes waste,' and all things are +better in moderation. I'll follow your example, and eat and rest a +bit." He dismounted and sat down in the cool moss, with his back +against a tree. He had a lunch in his traveler's pouch, and he ate it +comfortably. Then he felt drowsy from the heat and the early ride, so +he pulled his hat over his eyes, and settled himself for a nap. "It +will go all the better for a little rest," he said. + +That WAS a sleep! He slept like the seven sleepers, and he dreamed the +most beautiful things you could imagine. At last, he dreamed that he +had entered the castle of fortune and was being received with great +festivities. Everything he wanted was brought to him, and music played +while fireworks were set off in his honor. The music was so loud that +he awoke. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and behold, the fireworks were +the very last rays of the setting sun, and the music was the voice of +the other traveler, passing the grove on foot! + +"Time to be off," said the lazy man, and looked about him for the +pretty horse. No horse was to be found. The only living thing near was +an old, bony, gray donkey. The man called, and whistled, and looked, +but no little horse appeared. After a long while he gave it up, and, +since there was nothing better to do, he mounted the old gray donkey +and set out again. + +The donkey was slow, and he was hard to ride, but he was better than +nothing; and gradually the lazy man saw the towers of the castle draw +nearer. + +Now it began to grow dark; in the castle windows the lights began to +show. Then came trouble! Slower, and slower, went the gray donkey; +slower, and slower, till, in the very middle of a pitch-black wood, he +stopped and stood still. Not a step would he budge for all the coaxing +and scolding and beating his rider could give. At last the rider +kicked him, as well as beat him, and at that the donkey felt that he +had had enough. Up went his hind heels, and down went his head, and +over it went the lazy man on to the stony ground. + +There he lay groaning for many minutes, for it was not a soft place, I +can assure you. How he wished he were in a soft, warm bed, with his +aching bones comfortable in blankets! The very thought of it made him +remember the castle of fortune, for he knew there must be fine beds +there. To get to those beds he was even willing to bestir his bruised +limbs, so he sat up and felt about him for the donkey. + +No donkey was to be found. + +The lazy man crept round and round the spot where he had fallen, +scratched his hands on the stumps, tore his face in the briers, and +bumped his knees on the stones. But no donkey was there. He would have +lain down to sleep again, but he could hear now the howls of hungry +wolves in the woods; that did not sound pleasant. Finally, his hand +struck against something that felt like a saddle. He grasped it, +thankfully, and started to mount his donkey. + +The beast he took hold of seemed very small, and, as he mounted, he +felt that its sides were moist and slimy. It gave him a shudder, and +he hesitated; but at that moment he heard a distant clock strike. It +was striking eleven! There was still time to reach the castle of +fortune, but no more than enough; so he mounted his new steed and rode +on once more. The animal was easier to sit on than the donkey, and the +saddle seemed remarkably high behind; it was good to lean against. But +even the donkey was not so slow as this; the new steed was slower than +he. After a while, however, he pushed his way out of the woods into +the open, and there stood the castle, only a little way ahead! All its +windows were ablaze with lights. A ray from them fell on the lazy +man's beast, and he saw what he was riding: it was a gigantic snail! a +snail as large as a calf! + +A cold shudder ran over the lazy man's body, and he would have got off +his horrid animal then and there, but just then the clock struck once +more. It was the first of the long, slow strokes that mark midnight! +The man grew frantic when he heard it. He drove his heels into the +snail's sides, to make him hurry. Instantly, the snail drew in his +head, curled up in his shell, and left the lazy man sitting in a heap +on the ground! + +The clock struck twice. If the man had run for it, he could still have +reached the castle, but, instead, he sat still and shouted for a horse. + +"A beast, a beast!" he wailed, "any kind of a beast that will take me +to the castle!" + +The clock struck three times. And as it struck the third note, +something came rustling and rattling out of the darkness, something +that sounded like a horse with harness. The lazy man jumped on its +back, a very queer, low back. As he mounted, he saw the doors of the +castle open, and saw his friend standing on the threshold, waving his +cap and beckoning to him. + +The clock struck four times, and the new steed began to stir; as it +struck five, he moved a pace forward; as it struck six, he stopped; as +it struck seven, he turned himself about; as it struck eight, he began +to move backward, away from the castle! + +The lazy man shouted, and beat him, but the beast went slowly backward. +And the clock struck nine. The man tried to slide off, then, but from +all sides of his strange animal great arms came reaching up and held +him fast. And in the next ray of moonlight that broke the dark clouds, +he saw that he was mounted on a monster crab! + +One by one, the lights went out, in the castle windows. The clock +struck ten. Backward went the crab. Eleven! Still the crab went +backward. The clock struck twelve! Then the great doors shut with a +clang, and the castle of fortune was closed forever to the lazy man. + +What became of him and his crab no one knows to this day, and no one +cares. But the industrious man was received by the Fairy of Fortune, +and made happy in the castle as long as he wanted to stay. And ever +afterward she was his friend, helping him not only to happiness for +himself, but also showing him how to help others, wherever he went. + + + +DAVID AND GOLIATH[1] + +[1] From the text of the King James version of the Old Testament, with +introduction and slight interpolations, changes of order, and omissions. + + +A long time ago, there was a boy named David, who lived in a country +far east of this. He was good to look upon, for he had fair hair and a +ruddy skin; and he was very strong and brave and modest. He was +shepherd-boy for his father, and all day--often all night--he was out +in the fields, far from home, watching over the sheep. He had to guard +them from wild animals, and lead them to the right pastures, and care +for them. + +By and by, war broke out between the people of David's country and a +people that lived near at hand; these men were called Philistines, and +the people of David's country were named Israel. All the strong men of +Israel went up to the battle, to fight for their king. David's three +older brothers went, but he was only a boy, so he was left behind to +care for the sheep. + +After the brothers had been gone some time, David's father longed very +much to hear from them, and to know if they were safe; so he sent for +David, from the fields, and said to him, "Take now for thy brothers an +ephah of this parched corn, and these ten loaves, and run to the camp, +where thy brothers are; and carry these ten cheeses to the captain of +their thousand, and see how thy brothers fare, and bring me word +again." (An ephah is about three pecks.) + +David rose early in the morning, and left the sheep with a keeper, and +took the corn and the loaves and the cheeses, as his father had +commanded him, and went to the camp of Israel. + +The camp was on a mountain; Israel stood on a mountain on the one side, +and the Philistines stood on a mountain on the other side; and there +was a valley between them. David came to the place where the +Israelites were, just as the host was going forth to the fight, +shouting for the battle. So he left his gifts in the hands of the +keeper of the baggage, and ran into the army, amongst the soldiers, to +find his brothers. When he found them, he saluted them and began to +talk with them. + +But while he was asking them the questions his father had commanded, +there arose a great shouting and tumult among the Israelites, and men +came running back from the front line of battle; everything became +confusion. David looked to see what the trouble was, and he saw a +strange sight: on the hillside of the Philistines, a warrior was +striding forward, calling out something in a taunting voice; he was a +gigantic man, the largest David had ever seen, and he was all dressed +in armor, that shone in the sun: he had a helmet of brass upon his +head, and he was armed with a coat of mail, and he had greaves of brass +upon his legs, and a target of brass between his shoulders; his spear +was so tremendous that the staff of it was like a weaver's beam, and +his shield so great that a man went before him, to carry it. + +"Who is that?" asked David. + +"It is Goliath, of Gath, champion of the Philistines," said the +soldiers about. "Every day, for forty days, he has come forth, so, and +challenged us to send a man against him, in single combat; and since no +one dares to go out against him alone, the armies cannot fight." (That +was one of the laws of warfare in those times.) + +"What!" said David, "does none dare go out against him?" + +As he spoke, the giant stood still, on the hillside opposite the +Israelitish host, and shouted his challenge, scornfully. He said, "Why +are ye come out to set your battle in array? Am I not a Philistine, +and ye servants of Saul? Choose you a man for you, and let him come +down to me. If he be able to fight with me, and to kill me, then will +we be your servants; but if I prevail against him, and kill him, then +shall ye be our servants, and serve us. I defy the armies of Israel +this day; give me a man, that we may fight together!" + +When King Saul heard these words, he was dismayed, and all the men of +Israel, when they saw the man, fled from him and were sore afraid. +David heard them talking among themselves, whispering and murmuring. +They were saying, "Have ye seen this man that is come up? Surely if +any one killeth him that man will the king make rich; perhaps he will +give him his daughter in marriage, and make his family free in Israel!" + +David heard this, and he asked the men if it were so. It was surely +so, they said. + +"But," said David, "who is this Philistine, that he should defy the +armies of the living God?" And he was stirred with anger. + +Very soon, some of the officers told the king about the youth who was +asking so many questions, and who said that a mere Philistine should +not be let defy the armies of the living God. Immediately Saul sent +for him. When David came before Saul, he said to the king, "Let no +man's heart fail because of him; thy servant will go and fight with +this Philistine." + +But Saul looked at David, and said, "Thou art not able to go against +this Philistine, to fight with him, for thou art but a youth, and he +has been a man of war from his youth." + +Then David said to Saul, "Once I was keeping my father's sheep, and +there came a lion and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock; and I +went out after the lion, and struck him, and delivered the lamb out of +his mouth, and when he arose against me, I caught him by the beard, and +struck him, and slew him! Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear; +and this Philistine shall be as one of them, for he hath defied the +armies of the living God. The Lord, who delivered me out of the paw of +the lion and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the +hand of this Philistine." + +"Go," said Saul, "and the Lord be with thee!" + +And he armed David with his own armor,--he put a helmet of brass upon +his head, and armed him with a coat of mail. But when David girded his +sword upon his armor, and tried to walk, he said to Saul, "I cannot go +with these, for I am not used to them." And he put them off. + +Then he took his staff in his hand and went and chose five smooth +stones out of the brook, and put them in a shepherd's bag which he had; +and his sling was in his hand; and he went out and drew near to the +Philistine. + +And the Philistine came on and drew near to David; and the man that +bore his shield went before him. And when the Philistine looked about +and saw David, he disdained him, for David was but a boy, and ruddy, +and of a fair countenance. And he said to David, "Am I a dog, that +thou comest to me with a cudgel?" And with curses he cried out again, +"Come to me, and I will give thy flesh unto the fowls of the air, and +to the beasts of the field." + +But David looked at him, and answered, "Thou comest to me with a sword, +and with a spear, and with a shield; but I come to thee in the name of +the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast +defied. This day will the Lord deliver thee into my hand; and I will +smite thee, and take thy head from thee, and I will give the carcasses +of the host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and +to the wild beasts of the earth, that all the earth may know that there +is a God in Israel! And all this assembly shall know that the Lord +saveth not with sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord's, and he +will give you into our hands." + +And then, when the Philistine arose, and came, and drew nigh to meet +David, David hasted, and ran toward the army to meet the Philistine. +And when he was a little way from him, he put his hand in his bag, and +took thence a stone, and put it in his sling, and slung it, and smote +the Philistine in the forehead, so that the stone sank into his +forehead; and he fell on his face to the earth. + +And David ran, and stood upon the Philistine, and took his sword, and +drew it out of its sheath, and slew him with it. + +Then, when the Philistines saw that their champion was dead, they fled. +But the army of Israel pursued them, and victory was with the men of +Israel. + +And after the battle, David was taken to the king's tent, and made a +captain over many men; and he went no more to his father's house, to +herd the sheep, but became a man, in the king's service. + + + +THE SHEPHERD'S SONG + +David had many fierce battles to fight for King Saul against the +enemies of Israel, and he won them all. Then, later, he had to fight +against the king's own soldiers, to save himself, for King Saul grew +wickedly jealous of David's fame as a soldier, and tried to kill him. +Twice, when David had a chance to kill the king, he let him go safe; +but even then, Saul kept on trying to take his life, and David was kept +away from his home and land as if he were an enemy. + +But when King Saul died, the people chose David for their king, because +there was no one so brave, so wise, or so faithful to God. King David +lived a long time, and made his people famous for victory and +happiness; he had many troubles and many wars, but he always trusted +that God would help him, and he never deserted his own people in any +hard place. + +After a battle, or when it was a holiday, or when he was very thankful +for something, King David used to make songs, and sing them before the +people. Some of these songs were so beautiful that they have never +been forgotten. After all these hundreds and hundreds of years, we +sing them still; we call them Psalms. + +Often, after David had made a song, his chief musician would sing with +him, as the people gathered to worship God. Sometimes the singers were +divided into two great choruses, and went to the service in two +processions; then one chorus would sing a verse of David's song, and +the other procession would answer with the next, and then both would +sing together; it was very beautiful to hear. Even now, we sometimes +do that with the songs of David in our churches. + +One of the Psalms that everybody loves is a song that David made when +he remembered the days before he came to Saul's camp. He remembered +the days and nights he used to spend in the fields with the sheep, when +he was just a shepherd boy; and he thought to himself that God had +taken care of him just as carefully as he used to care for the little +lambs. It is a beautiful song; I wish we knew the music that David +made for it, but we only know his words. I will tell it to you now, +and then you may learn it, to say for yourselves. + +The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. + +He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the +still waters. + +He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for +his name's sake. + +Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will +fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort +me. + +Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou +anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. + +Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and +I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. + + + +THE HIDDEN SERVANTS[1] + +[1] Adapted, with quotations, from the poem in The Hidden Servants, by +Francesca Alexander (Little, Brown & Co.). + + +This is a legend about a hermit who lived long ago. He lived high up +on the mountain-side in a tiny cave; his food was roots and acorns, a +bit of bread given by a peasant, or a cheese brought by a woman who +wanted his prayers; his work was praying, and thinking about God. For +forty years he lived so, preaching to the people, praying for them, +comforting them in trouble, and, most of all, worshiping in his heart. +There was just one thing he cared about: it was to make his soul so +pure and perfect that it could be one of the stones in God's great +Temple of Heaven. + +One day, after the forty years, he had a great longing to know how far +along he had got with his work,--how it looked to the Heavenly Father. +And he prayed that he might be shown a man-- + + "Whose soul in the heavenly grace had grown + To the selfsame measure as his own; + Whose treasure on the celestial shore + Could neither be less than his nor more." + + +As he looked up from his prayer, a white-robed angel stood in the path +before him. The hermit bowed before the messenger with great gladness, +for he knew that his wish was answered. "Go to the nearest town," the +angel said, "and there, in the public square, you will find a +mountebank (a clown) making the people laugh for money. He is the man +you seek, his soul has grown to the selfsame stature as your own; his +treasure on the celestial shore is neither less than yours nor more." + +When the angel had faded from sight, the hermit bowed his head again, +but this time with great sorrow and fear. Had his forty years of +prayer been a terrible mistake, and was his soul indeed like a clown, +fooling in the market-place? He knew not what to think. Almost he +hoped he should not find the man, and could believe that he had dreamed +the angel vision. But when he came, after a long, toilful walk, to the +village, and the square, alas! there was the clown, doing his silly +tricks for the crowd. + +The hermit stood and looked at him with terror and sadness, for he felt +that he was looking at his own soul. The face he saw was thin and +tired, and though it kept a smile or a grin for the people, it seemed +very sad to the hermit. Soon the man felt the hermit's eyes; he could +not go on with his tricks. And when he had stopped and the crowd had +left, the hermit went and drew the man aside to a place where they +could rest; for he wanted more than anything else on earth to know what +the man's soul was like, because what it was, his was. + +So, after a little, he asked the clown, very gently, what his life was, +what it had been. And the clown answered, very sadly, that it was just +as it looked,--a life of foolish tricks, for that was the only way of +earning his bread that he knew. + +"But have you never been anything different?" asked the hermit, +painfully. + +The clown's head sank in his hands. "Yes, holy father," he said, "I +have been something else. I was a thief! I once belonged to the +wickedest band of mountain robbers that ever tormented the land, and I +was as wicked as the worst." + +Alas! The hermit felt that his heart was breaking. Was this how he +looked to the Heavenly Father,--like a thief, a cruel mountain robber? +He could hardly speak, and the tears streamed from his old eyes, but he +gathered strength to ask one more question. "I beg you," he said, "if +you have ever done a single good deed in your life, remember it now, +and tell it to me;" for he thought that even one good deed would save +him from utter despair. + +"Yes, one," the clown said, "but it was so small, it is not worth +telling; my life has been worthless." + +"Tell me that one!" pleaded the hermit. + +"Once," said the man, "our band broke into a convent garden and stole +away one of the nuns, to sell as a slave or to keep for a ransom. We +dragged her with us over the rough, long way to our mountain camp, and +set a guard over her for the night. The poor thing prayed to us so +piteously to let her go! And as she begged, she looked from one hard +face to another with trusting, imploring eyes, as if she could not +believe men could be really bad. Father, when her eyes met mine +something pierced my heart! Pity and shame leaped up, for the first +time, within me. But I made my face as hard and cruel as the rest, and +she turned away, hopeless. + +"When all was dark and still, I stole like a cat to where she lay +bound. I put my hand on her wrist and whispered, 'Trust me, and I will +take you safely home.' I cut her bonds with my knife, and she looked at +me to show that she trusted. Father, by terrible ways that I knew, +hidden from the others, I took her safe to the convent gate. She +knocked; they opened; and she slipped inside. And, as she left me, she +turned and said, 'God will remember.' + +"That was all. I could not go back to the old bad life, and I had +never learned an honest way to earn my bread. So I became a clown, and +must be a clown until I die." + +"No! no! my son," cried the hermit, and now his tears were tears of +joy. "God has remembered; your soul is in his sight even as mine, who +have prayed and preached for forty years. Your treasure waits for you +on the heavenly shore just as mine does." + +"As YOURS? Father, you mock me!" said the clown. + +But when the hermit told him the story of his prayer and the angel's +answer, the poor clown was transfigured with joy, for he knew that his +sins were forgiven. And when the hermit went home to his mountain, the +clown went with him. He, too, became a hermit, and spent his time in +praise and prayer. + +Together they lived, and worked, and helped the poor. And when, after +two years, the man who had been a clown died, the hermit felt that he +had lost a brother holier than himself. + +For ten years more the hermit lived in his mountain hut, thinking +always of God, fasting and praying, and doing no least thing that was +wrong. Then, one day, the wish once more came, to know how his work +was growing, and once more he prayed that he might see a being-- + + "Whose soul in the heavenly grace had grown + To the selfsame measure as his own; + Whose treasure on the celestial shore + Could neither be less than his nor more." + + +Once more his prayer was answered. The angel came to him, and told him +to go to a certain village on the other side of the mountain, and to a +small farm in it, where two women lived. In them he should find two +souls like his own, in God's sight. + +When the hermit came to the door of the little farm, the two women who +lived there were overjoyed to see him, for every one loved and honored +his name. They put a chair for him on the cool porch, and brought food +and drink. But the hermit was too eager to wait. He longed greatly to +know what the souls of the two women were like, and from their looks he +could see only that they were gentle and honest. One was old, and the +other of middle age. + +Presently he asked them about their lives. They told him the little +there was to tell: they had worked hard always, in the fields with +their husbands, or in the house; they had many children; they had seen +hard times,--sickness, sorrow; but they had never despaired. + +"But what of your good deeds," the hermit asked,--"what have you done +for God?" + +"Very little," they said, sadly, for they were too poor to give much. +To be sure, twice every year, when they killed a sheep for food, they +gave half to their poorer neighbors. + +"That is very good, very faithful," the hermit said. "And is there any +other good deed you have done?" + +"Nothing," said the older woman, "unless, unless--it might be called a +good deed--" She looked at the younger woman, who smiled back at her. + +"What?" said the hermit. + +Still the woman hesitated; but at last she said, timidly, "It is not +much to tell, father, only this, that it is twenty years since my +sister-in-law and I came to live together in the house; we have brought +up our families here; and in all the twenty years there has never been +a cross word between us, or a look that was less than kind." + +The hermit bent his head before the two women, and gave thanks in his +heart. "If my soul is as these," he said, "I am blessed indeed." + +And suddenly a great light came into the hermit's mind, and he saw how +many ways there are of serving God. Some serve him in churches and in +hermit's cells, by praise and prayer; some poor souls who have been +very wicked turn from their wickedness with sorrow, and serve him with +repentance; some live faithfully and gently in humble homes, working, +bringing up children, keeping kind and cheerful; some bear pain +patiently, for his sake. Endless, endless ways there are, that only the +Heavenly Father sees. + +And so, as the hermit climbed the mountain again, he thought,-- + + "As he saw the star-like glow + Of light, in the cottage windows far, + How many God's hidden servants are!" + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Stories to Tell to Children, by Sara Cone Bryant + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES TO TELL TO CHILDREN *** + +***** This file should be named 473.txt or 473.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/473/ + +Produced by Charles Keller. HTML version by Al Haines. + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |