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diff --git a/old/kids110.txt b/old/kids110.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3939d2a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/kids110.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8939 @@ +****The Project Gutenberg Etext of Stories To Tell Children*** +#1 in our series by Sara Cone Bryant + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Scanned by Charles Keller for Tina with +OmniPage Professional OCR software +donated by Caere Corporation, 1-800-535-7226. +Contact Mike Lough <Mikel@caere.com> + + + + + +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-Lil 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 mid- +night! 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 The Project Gutenberg Etext of Stories To Tell Children + diff --git a/old/kids110.zip b/old/kids110.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f1388b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/kids110.zip |