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diff --git a/old/66273-0.txt b/old/66273-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2f17b5e..0000000 --- a/old/66273-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7846 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Stories and Story-telling, by Angela M. -Keyes - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Stories and Story-telling - -Author: Angela M. Keyes - -Release Date: September 11, 2021 [eBook #66273] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES AND STORY-TELLING *** - - - - - -STORIES AND STORY-TELLING - - - - - STORIES - AND - STORY-TELLING - - BY - ANGELA M. KEYES - HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH, BROOKLYN TRAINING - SCHOOL FOR TEACHERS - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK AND LONDON - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - 1916 - - COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - - Printed in the United States of America - - - - -PREFACE - - -All the stories in this book have been tested with children. Favorites -easily available in other collections have been omitted. - -The seventy-five or more very short stories, intended to help young -children to express their observations, experiences, and fancies, have -been included at the request of many teachers. - -The writer hopes that by providing the busy teacher with “tellable” -stories, she may help to win for story-telling the dignity of established -scholastic place. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - STORY-TELLING 1 - - KINDS OF STORIES TO TELL 12 - - THE PRINCIPLES OF THE ART OF TELLING STORIES 15 - - GETTING THE STORY 16 - - TELLING THE STORY 33 - - THE CHILD’S PART IN STORY-TELLING 62 - - STORIES 75 - - THE FAIRY HORSESHOE _A. M. K._ 77 - - THE MOUSE AND THE SAUSAGE _French Folk Tale_ 79 - - THE STORY OF THE LITTLE BOY AND - THE LITTLE DOG _A. M. K._ 81 - - THE STORY OF THE TWO CAKES THAT - LOVED EACH OTHER IN SILENCE _Hans Christian Andersen_ 84 - - HOW THE ROOSTER BUILT A HOUSE OF - HIS OWN _A. M. K._ 85 - - THUMBELINA _Hans Christian Andersen_ 88 - - A VISIT FROM AN ELF _A. M. K._ 101 - - HOW THE CAT GOT ALL THE GRAIN _Eastern Folk Tale_ 103 - - THE TABLE AND THE CHAIR _Edward Lear_ 104 - - THE WONDERFUL SHIP _A. M. K._ 106 - - THE CLEVER GEESE _A. M. K._ 109 - - THE HAPPY PRINCE _Oscar Wilde_ 110 - - THE DWARF ROOTS’ STORY OF THE - PUMPKIN SEED _A. M. K._ 121 - - A HORSE’S STORY _From Anna Sewell_ 126 - - A BEWITCHED DONKEY _A. M. K._ 130 - - THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN _Folk Tale_ 136 - - MOTHER HOLLE _Folk Tale_ 138 - - TOM THUMB _English Folk Tale_ 143 - - THE TWO BROTHERS _Folk Tale_ 158 - - THE WOOING _A. M. K._ 162 - - JACK-THE-GIANT-KILLER _English Folk Tale_ 165 - - THE PIXIES’ THANKS _A. M. K._ 167 - - THE CAT AND THE PARROT _Eastern Folk Tale_ 170 - - LAMPBLACK _La Ramée_ 174 - - LAZY JACK _Folk Tale_ 183 - - THE TIME THAT WILL COME AGAIN _A. M. K._ 188 - - THE OWL’S ANSWER TO TOMMY _From Mrs. Ewing’s Brownies_ 197 - - THE STORY OF COQUERICO _Spanish Folk Tale_ 204 - - THE SCARECROW _A. M. K._ 209 - - OEYVIND AND MARIT _Björnstjerne Björnson_ 214 - - BLUNDER _Louise E. Chollet_ 219 - - THE GOLDEN PEARS _Folk Tale_ 227 - - SOME VERY SHORT STORIES 237 - - - - -STORY-TELLING - - With high esteem and full of respect I greet a genuine - story-teller; with intense gratitude I grasp him by the hand. - - —FROEBEL - - - -The school is joining hands with the children for fuller recognition of -the story and story-telling. - -Note, by the way, that it is with the children. In an elder day -grown-ups, too, yielded themselves to the witchery of the story. But -printing and the book banished the wandering story-teller; with a little -progress in science came recoil from the superstitions and absurdities of -the folk tale; the increasing complexity of life bred in the superficial -thinker contempt for the unperplexed nursery fable; the intellectual -pedant found it distressingly naïve; pressure of affairs robbed the busy -man of any leisure for it. So, among peoples advancing in civilization, -the grown-ups gradually left the story more and more to the children. -And the children, wise youngsters that they are, have never allowed -themselves to outgrow it. - -Is it not delightful to note that learning is bringing the adult back -to the story? The trend of thought to-day, urging him to look to the -natural beginnings of things, is taking him back to the story. The -historian searches it for early glimpses of fact; the philosopher sees -lasting wisdom in it; the literary seer marvels at the truth and beauty -of fairy-tale symbols of life; the busy man of affairs accompanies his -children to juvenile drama and nonsense opera. The art of story-telling -itself is again finding an audience among men and women, as well as -children. Best of all, the school, directing its effort toward the -natural development of the young child, is pressing the educational -properties of the story. - -Reiteration of these properties now is timely. Psychology is throwing -clearer light on the education of the feelings and the taste; the story -should be helpful here. The thoughtful in the community are urging more -attention to the spiritualizing and humanizing subjects in the courses -of study; the story belongs in this class. Other favorable present -conditions will appear as the merits of the story are briefly set forth. - -The story and story-telling will - - (1) _Give pleasure._ - - (2) _Stir and direct the imagination._ - - (3) _Arouse and direct the feelings._ - - (4) _Cultivate the taste._ - - (5) _Help to shape thought and language mode._ - - (6) _Stimulate and direct potential literary creativity._ - - (7) _Serve as foreword for book-study of literature._ - - (8) _Give knowledge of life._ - -(1) _The story will give pleasure._ Educational thought is growing -more and more cordial toward this value. Undisturbed by any charge of -“soft pedagogy,” it finds wholesome pleasure, not merely relaxing, but -constructive, building toward physical health, mental brightness, and -moral virtue. Here is the story’s opportunity. Every one admits it is -pleasure-giving. The stern-minded among us must realize that this is its -deepest educational value. It is from the good pleasure the child gets -from the story that will ripen good taste, good will, good effort, and -all the other goods some teachers and parents regard as more substantial -merit. Besides, joy appears to be here to stay. To attempt to take it -out of the plan of things is, to say the least, short-sighted. American -civilization is looking hopefully to the school for better national -standards of pleasure. The school is under obligation to educate the -children to enjoyment of wholesome pleasure. - -(2) _The story will stir and direct the imagination._ We do not yet grant -in practice the importance of the imagination. We do not purposefully -exercise it, as we do, for example, the reason. We say glibly that -imagination is at the root of the successful man’s arrival at material -profit, of the explorer’s discovery and the practical scientist’s -invention, of the poet’s song and the philanthropist’s vision of a state -of society in which the kingdom of heaven will be nearer at hand; but we -give little or no training to the imagination. Here again is the story’s -opportunity. Through the story the interpretative story-teller may give -the imagination consistent exercise. - -(3) _The story will arouse and direct the pupil’s feelings._ The -school to-day is emphasizing the necessity of educating the heart, the -climactic third of the three great H’s,—the Head, the Hand, and the -Heart. And psychologists are telling us that to educate a child to be -kind, unselfish, filial, reverent, gentle, courageous, good-tempered, -to educate him to admire goodness, justice, valor, to be sensible of -beauty, to aspire and make effort toward excellence, is as practicable -as to train him to do or to make something. It calls for more delicate -but not different treatment; working not by dictation, but by magnetic -suggestion. The story-teller may render a great service to the individual -and to the community by helping to form right feeling-habit. - -(4) _The well-chosen story will cultivate the taste._ Psychology is -urging early direction also of the æsthetic sense. The story-teller, -through her own joyous response to beauty, has it in her power to awaken -and direct the children’s appreciation of beauty. It is she, too, who -must help to lay the foundation for that better taste in novel or play -that America eagerly desires, and that publisher and playwright say they -stand ready to satisfy as soon as the public arrives at it. - -(5) _The story will help to form the child’s thought and language habit._ -As this is the value most often acknowledged in classroom practice—though -not always by the best methods—it is not necessary to do more at this -point than restate it. Mastery in thought and language is far-reaching -usefulness, affecting individual growth and social harmony. The story, -because of its easy, more or less artless composition and graphic -diction, lends itself to starting right thought and language mode. - -(6) _Story-telling may help to stimulate and direct potential literary -creativity._ In spite of its breadth of view the school appears -insensible to the rights of children born creative. The array of geniuses -recently marshaled by a Chicago professor, that teachers pronounced -hopeless dunces and in some cases drove from their classes, should set -the school thinking. It is reaching out helpful hands to the little -unfortunate ones, the blind and the deaf and the sick; but it continues -to dismiss the divinely commissioned little sister or brother, with the -platitude that his genius will survive if it be sufficiently sturdy. -This is a specious half-truth unworthy of repetition. It is, besides, -discrimination against the individual. The school is not meeting its -obligation to _all_ the children of the community. It will not do to lay -the blame to the community’s “commercialized” standards. In spite of -apparent emphasis on the useful arts, the community would not lose from -the varied web of its civilization the bright thread of painting and -music and story. Maturing thought is convincing it that the fine arts are -finely utilitarian. Here, again, is the story’s opportunity. The simple -materials and childlike fancy in it may stimulate gradually and naturally -play of the creative imagination. - -(7) _Story-telling should be at least foreword for book-study of -literature._ The thoughtful teacher of literature to-day finds in the -classic story all the elements of her material, and sees in the child -listening to it the most promising student of literature. At the freely -sympathetic period the child becomes familiar with the inner life of -language as used to represent fundamental motive, character, and action. -This is precisely the kind of knowledge that he should bring as basis -for study of more advanced literature. The printed page will be informed -with lively meaning, to which his imagination, feeling, and æsthetic -sense can respond. It is largely the school’s neglect of oral foundation -in literature, which, by the way, should not be confined to the lowest -grades, that is at the root of feeble appreciation in book-study of -literature. - -(8) The story holds in it a greater value, as much greater as life is -than literature; _it will give knowledge of life_. The writer might have -said experience of life, because of the child’s strong tendency to be -and to do what attracts him. Students of literature, to-day, are urging -that it is not a mere “polishing” study, but the substantially useful -subject from which we may get clear and inspiring knowledge of life. They -would have literature recognized as the reflection of life, idealized, -it may be, but therefore stronger reflection. As life is the occupation -that all of us, no matter what our special vocation may be, must engage -in together, a study that throws light on it is indispensable. Here is a -great opportunity for the story. Every genuine story, sense or nonsense, -is a glimpse of life, which will early give guiding knowledge and -experience. - -The story-teller cannot, by the way, afford to ignore the evil in life. -You may have read the story of Kipling’s “kid”; how the parents in fond -but foolish love for their only son shut away from him all knowledge -that evil has come into the world, and how the son, grown to manhood, -enters army life, where he meets his first temptation and falls. The -moral of the tale is obvious. Though it is wise to keep in the wake of -their experience with evil, the story should help to provide the children -with knowledge and modes of conduct for the situations of real life. The -cunning story-teller, presenting this or that bit of life, from which -he has not made the mistake of taking out the evil already within the -child’s experience or presently to be met, touches the child into recoil -from evil and into admiration and imitation of the triumphant way of -virtue. - -The story should, however, oftener engage children’s attention with good, -rather than evil, as the central, active force in life. And the story -told to the growing boy or girl, and to the youth, should prompt him to -fine and finer endeavor. It is a fatal error to assume that teachers and -parents cannot help to raise the community’s standards, that the best -the rising generation may carry out from home and school is negative -prudence, readiness to accept questionable social practices and ideals, -that they themselves may achieve worldly success. If each generation does -not leave the world a little better for its part in it, it has lived -in vain, and its “guides, philosophers, and friends,” the parents and -teachers of it, have denied their office. The story helping toward this -kind of constructivity should lead. It is to the habit formed in its -children that society must look for higher standards of living. - -The story will widen the child’s outlook on life. On the wings of the -word the listener may fly away to the uttermost bounds of the earth. In -the story world he, if poor, may be rich; if sad, merry; if inarticulate, -he may find expression. - -Though it is not exhaustive, this is an imposing array of reasons for -admitting the story to unquestioned educational dignity. If the school -feel the need of broad, scholarly precedent, it may find it in the work -or in the recorded opinions of such seers as the Lambs, Longfellow, -Carroll, Hawthorne, Scott, Stevenson, Browning, Ruskin, Froebel, Emerson. -As yet story-telling is largely left optional with the teacher. Should -it not be made a delightful school requirement? It addresses itself, -it is true, mainly to the æsthetic taste and the feelings, it does not -guarantee consequent action. But give it place early enough, and, if it -must bring it, the other good effect will be added unto it. - -The best reason for admitting the story to scholastic dignity still -remains the best, its lasting charm for the children. - - -KINDS OF STORIES TO TELL - -We appear to be coming to the agreement that we should tell the children -many of the old, old stories and some of the new, many stories from the -world of the imagination, some from the real world; stories that will -aid them in interpreting their world, themselves, other children, some -grown-ups, nature; stories that will direct aright the imagination, the -sympathies, and the taste; playful stories and more serious, sensible and -nonsensical; short stories and longer; stories to be told over and over -again, stories to be told in passing. To meet the child’s and later the -girl’s and boy’s changing tastes and interests, and the needs of their -developing imagination and sympathies, our choice should embrace, besides -a great many others that as yet have eluded classification, fairy tales, -fables, myths, legends, romances, tales of adventure, stories of animal -life, child life, growing boy and girl life, stories of great men and -women. - -Some teachers find it hard to see any educational value in play-stories -like “The Three Bears,” nonsense stories like “Chicken-Licken,” and -drolls, or farce “funny” stories like “Lazy Jack.” They do not get the -child’s point of view. They are disturbed by the apparently idle pleasure -or extravagance of them. “Chicken-Licken” appears to be nothing but -driveling nonsense. The writer has no desire to attempt to turn it into -sense nor to press unduly the claim of this particular type of story. But -why not let it in as a nonsense tale, an opportunity for giving the mind -a frolic? This is advanced by some students of the tale as its possible -origin. It may be thought of as a reflection in literature of the naïveté -of childhood; it catches capitally its guilelessness in motive, social -intercourse, and deed. Its form also is childlike. The child ekes out -invention in the manner of the tale, by the open artifice of cumulation -and repetition. Or the story may be dignified into literary introduction -to that type of classic which records the very common human situation, -“much ado about nothing.” - -The same teachers are disturbed also by the ethical code of many of -the folk tales; they find it crude and fleshly. It deals in large and -sense-delighting rewards. But may it not be possible that the child must -be allowed time to grow to a more discriminating standard of conduct and -a finer kind of satisfaction? - -It is to be hoped, however, that even then the child will retain his -capacity for laughing at merry play and hearty comedy. Laughter is good -for the world. It is a tonic to the emotions, and regeneration to the -spirit, spurring it to fresh and better effort; it is a sign, too, of -broadening imagination and sympathy. The man that has no laughter in him -is like Shakespeare’s man that has no music in him, “fit for treasons, -stratagems, and spoils. Let no such man be trusted.” Most stories will -give the children a more reserved pleasure, happy mental and æsthetic -satisfaction; some a fine gladness and exaltation. But let us not be too -narrow to admit the wholesomely “funny” story. - -The over-strained, anæmic, goody-good story is likely to breed up a -generation of canting hypocrites. The little child is much occupied, it -is true, with the task of being good, and he is a great admirer of the -good people in the stories. There is room in children’s literature for -the rather obviously moral tale, if it be not too often presented and -if it be really charming. From this point of view, Constance D’Arcy -Mackay’s book of plays called “The House of the Heart and Other Tales” is -a suggestive contribution to children’s drama. - -For the younger children the story with plenty of action, often with -animals as characters, and with happy ending has proved best. The story -with less joyous “inevitable ending” is, however, not to be excluded; -life is not to be distorted. Besides, not all sad-ending stories are -negative in effect, leaving the child knowing only “what not to do” -rather than “what to do.” A story like Hans Andersen’s “Daisy,” for -example, induces constructive inference and effect. - - -THE PRINCIPLES OF THE ART OF TELLING STORIES - -Story-telling is one of the most spontaneous of the social arts. Yet it -is an art, governed by at least partially discerned principles. Analysis -of them will be helpful to the story-teller, but only in so far as he -grasps the fundamental principle that story telling among the speech -arts, like wood-carving among the manual arts, indeed, even to a greater -degree, must be kept what it is by nature, apparently without art, naïve -and unelaborate. - - -GETTING THE STORY - - The story-teller must wholly take into himself the life of - which he speaks, must let it live and operate in himself freely. - - —FROEBEL. - - -The story-teller must himself possess the story before attempting to give -it to another. This sounds obvious, but it is not granted in practice. -Much poor schoolroom story-telling is evidently “unprepared.” People born -with a natural turn for story-telling, and those who in their childhood -heard real story-telling, need to make less preparation than others; but -all story-tellers need to make preparation. Much of the story-telling -masquerading as such is quackery, showing neither genius nor study. -Even in the very early days when formal instruction in story-telling -was unknown, the wandering story-teller watched constantly to make his -performance tell, modifying his method in the light of its effect upon -his hearers. Later on, in the Middle Ages, the court story-teller was -professionally trained (and also handsomely remunerated and given the -place of honor at the banquet). Intellectual study of the story will not, -by the way, destroy spontaneity. It may dash it temporarily. Coleridge -tells us that his professor in poetics did not hesitate to subject to -the scrutiny of the microscope the most delicate flowers and fruits -of fancy. (English in the schools has suffered from the results, in -its teachers, of the “literary affectation,” which condemns attempt at -definite English scholarship.) Let us give all outlet possible to natural -ability, and to the inspiration of time and audience; but let us not -neglect the forethought of preparation. Shakespeare did not, Sir Henry -Irving did not, Duse does not. Some teachers fall back on reading the -story; this has its own place, but it cannot take the place of telling. -The belief that story-telling should be studied is gaining ground in a -most convincing quarter, the home. The office of motherhood is deeply -associated with things done instinctively right; but the mother herself -at mothers’ clubs and elsewhere is seeking instruction in this chief -mother art. - -To get the story, relax your imagination and sympathy and let them go out -to it. Sit down with it and read and re-read it, or listen to it, and -brood upon it until you absorb its life, until you think and feel and -move in its being. Conjure up its scene and people and happening. - -Some may find imagining difficult. Perhaps it was neglected in their -training. Let them not be discouraged; each succeeding attempt to realize -scene and person and action will make the task easier. - -You may, by the way, study the story in either of two places: a lovely -natural spot, where under the lure of century-wisdomed tree, or amid -sweet smells, or flash of birds, or beckonings of shadows, you may catch -the glamour of the old-world setting in the stories; or in a city street -swarming with children, old-faced before their time. The environment -in the second studio, far from destroying your effort to grasp the -wonder-world of the story, will make special appeal to you. Here you will -feel divine compulsion to make child life more abundant: to bring from -story land bright hosts of gay fairies and gentle children and brave -knights and real as well as fiction heroes as saving company for the -little worldlings, to make them chuckle with a child’s hearty glee at -trick of goblin or sprite, or quake with delicious tremor at the tread of -the terrible giant. You will find that the “toughest,” most crabbed city -urchin will succumb to the witchery of the fairy folk, to the charm of -beauty and the fair play of kindness and honesty. - -The child’s world reflected in the story is the right of the child in the -city tenement district, and society’s hope for him. It is, by the way, no -less the right of the rich child and no less society’s hope for him. - -After you have let the story take possession of you, take possession of -it. To take possession of the story, - - (1) _Seek its spirit and intention._ - - (2) _Grasp its elements; its setting, its action, its - characters._ - - (3) _Master its workmanship, or its composition and style._ - -_Its spirit and intention._ Students of folklore hesitate to impose on -the folk tales ethical or æsthetical motive; but they would not object to -our seeing in them, in addition to certain primitive ideas, this or that -playful fancy or more serious reflection of life; in “The Elves and the -Shoemaker,” for example, hearty testimony to the worth of honest effort, -the record raised to some degree of æsthetic merit by the charm of elfin -appreciation; in “Star Dollars,” crude sketch of childlike goodness and -faith, the picture touched into beauty by the benediction of heaven; -lovely symbol of gentle living, like “Diamonds and Toads”; sweet blossom -of immortal beauty and goodness blighted by the withering poison of -envy, yet triumphantly blooming, like “Snow White;” simple appreciation -of kindness of heart, like the “Hut in the Wood;” idyl of the beauty -and integrity of goodness, like “Beauty and the Beast;” in “The Straw, -the Coal, and the Bean,” naïve history of a merry-tragic situation; in -“The Wolf and the Seven Kids,” the happy triumph of mother wit sharpened -by love. For the children they, as well as the more modern tales, must -be kept direct, simple stories. But the student need not miss a broader -significance. He can hardly fail to appreciate the analogies to human -conduct so often implied in Hans Andersen’s tales, done, as in Dante’s -great tale, with conscious intent. He must not, however, ask the children -to probe for hidden meanings, and he must not strain at suggesting them -in his interpretation. The story is not to be turned into an abstraction; -its concreteness is the secret of its power to please and to move. - -After you have thus characterized the story to yourself, grasp its -elements: its setting, or time and place; its action; its persons, or -characters. And cultivate sensibility to their appropriateness. - -_The setting._ The lovely fairy romances, old and new, like “The Frog -Prince,” “Cinderella,” Andersen’s “Princess on the Pea,” occurred in -the all-possible “once upon a time,” or in that delectable bygone when -“wishing was having,” or in such right good kingly times as Arthur’s or -Charlemagne’s. Sometimes the place was an enchanted castle shut away -behind a hedge of thorns and trees, in the very heart of a forest, a -hedge that sprang up in a quarter of an hour, with thorns long enough to -impale unworthy suitors; sometimes it was the highroad out to the world, -upon which many a stout hero set foot to seek fortune. The merry gallant -history of “Tom Thumb,” fairy fledgeling, wizard-fostered, king’s jester -and doughty knightling, is referred to the magical days of Merlin and the -chivalrous court of Arthur. We find him, too, versatile little imp, in -his mother’s practical pudding bowl, in the red cow’s mouth, in a giant’s -stomach, inside a fish; and each place is capital setting for him. Who -says that giants are figments of the imagination? The people of Cornwall -record that it was in their land that Jack killed the giant, and they -point out a castle built on a rock standing in the sea as the stronghold -of the monster. (Let the folklorists find in this primitive belief, -if they will; let us find, also, artistic fitness.) What a delightful -plausibility the tale takes on from this minutely recorded geographical -setting, as delightful in its way as the vague long ago and dim place of -other tales! Here, in the apparently artless tale, is the artistic device -by which Defoe hoodwinked the England of his day into believing that -Robinson Crusoe was fact and not truer fiction. - -Note the appropriateness in change of scene; Andersen’s “Ugly Duckling,” -among the modern tales, affords a good study. The artistic principle -is applied more naïvely in the old story of “The Hut in the Wood” at -the transformation of the hut into a castle to be fit setting for the -sovereign power and beauty of kindness; also in “Mother Holle,” at the -emergence of the child from the dark well and darker despair into the -lovely meadow where the sun was shining, and thousands of flowers were -blooming, and wonderful little ovens and red apple-trees called out to -her, and golden shower fell on her and glorified her. In “Dummling,” at -the stage when enchantment is brought in, the scene changes completely to -a stone castle in whose courtyard are stalls containing stone horses. - -Note the narrative use made of setting. The appearance of the sea, in -“The Fisherman and his Wife,” as the fisherman carries each succeeding -wish of his wife to the flounder, does as much to tell the story as the -action itself. - -Setting, then, is part of the whole. It is not to be overdone, nor is any -part in the simple story, but its appropriateness is worth appreciation. - -_The action._ The action is of course the chief part of the story. The -motive of the action is easy to find. But again note that it is faithful -to life and that it paves the way for appreciation of the motives of -greater literature. In the simple tales, as in the novel and the drama, -the action arises from love, hate, envy, spirit of adventure, friendship, -malice, spirit of fun and play. Grasp the details of the action. In -some versions of “The Frog Prince” the falling of the princess’s golden -ball into the well is made the occasion for the appearance of the -magical frog, which, for the aid he offers, imposes the condition of -companionship and love. The princess pretends agreement. Her repugnance -to the frog becomes the complicating force. And (in some tales) her -father’s insistence that she keep her promise to the frog makes all -come out happily; the frog stands revealed a prince in disguise, and -marries the princess. In “Dummling” the despised stupid third and -youngest brother sets out to seek his elders; then come the three acts of -unkindness he prevents; then the failure of the elders at the task set -forth in the enchanted castle, and Dummling’s success, due to the aid of -the creatures to whom he had shown kindness, followed by his triumphant -marriage to the youngest and dearest of the princesses. In “The Cat and -the Mouse in Partnership,” the story opens with the doubtful compact -entered into by the mouse on the cat’s representation of friendship, -and her agreement to his proposal that they lay by a pot of fat for the -winter. The cat has the hardihood to propose the church as the safest -hiding place for the pot of fat, hypocritically saying that no one would -dare steal anything from a church. Then comes the cat’s first “gulling” -of the frank little mouse with his story of having been asked to be -godfather to his cousin’s remarkable child. “Beauty and the Beast” is -another good character study, and from an important point of view for the -little child’s story a better one, as this time virtue is unmistakably -triumphant. - -The student will gradually develop sensibility to the typical materials -of folk story: human difficulty overcome by supernatural aid; the task of -guessing a name, or the forfeit of a child, as a condition for aid, as in -“Rumpelstiltskin;” trial and triumph of the despised ugly third sister -or stupid third brother; doughty deeds that overcome bulk of body with -nimbleness of wit, as in “Jack the Giant Killer;” greed of wishing whose -indulgence precipitates loss of all, as in “The Fisherman and his Wife;” -reward of kindness to animals, as in “The Hut in the Wood.” - -_The characters._ Characterize the people in the story. In their varied -company is the story-teller’s opportunity to acquaint the child with -the chief kinds of persons to be found in literature and life; the -child himself, cherishing mother, doting grandmother, virile father -sending his sons out to find their place in the world, loving brother -and sister, gentle people, hateful people, ill-tempered people, cruel -people, jealous people, kind people, wily people, frank people, brave -people, cowards, old people, children, sad people, merry people. Besides -these, animals, pigs and bears, cows and hens and goats, inhabit the -child’s world side by side with man, helping the story to make its way -to the child’s affections. Then there is the host of witching fairy -folk: fairies, giants, elves, pixies, witches, goblins. Music as well as -language has attempted to suggest them, and with surprising agreement -in artistic convention. Language makes fairies light, airy, tripping; -goblins, grotesque; so does music. Language makes the giant huge, clumsy, -big-handed and big-footed, but stupid; Wagner gives ponderous musical -motif to the dragon, the “laidly worm,” the giant of his music dramas, -and also makes him conquerable. - -_The workmanship, composition, and style._ Much story-telling is spoiled -by disregard of the _composition_ of the narrative. By composition here -is meant what is meant in painting or sculpture, the arranging, or -grouping, of the materials, to build out the whole. - -The method of grouping in the folk story is apparent. At the beginning of -the story are the time and place, some of the principal characters, and -the motive of the action. Next follows the action, easily separable into -rise, course, resolution. In many of the stories, for example, in “The -Frog Prince,” there is after the action an explanation of enchantment; -and an assurance that all went well ever after or quaint formula like -that parodied in “They stepped on a tin, and the tin bended, so my -story’s ended,” whose purpose, similar to that of Shakespeare’s rhyming -couplet in his earlier dramas, is to give conclusive ending to the tale. -Like “Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch,” who stayed on at the theater -after the curtain had gone down on the last scene, the children, though -sensitive to artistic reserve, are not always satisfied with highly -reserved ending. - -The story-teller should cultivate sensibility to story-building; it is -the creative principle of story-telling. It is really surprising how -lacking the beginner is in consciousness of structure. He should study -structure until he can feel the tale making: the scene putting in, the -people coming in, the motive revealing itself, the action starting, and -going forward until it arrives at climax and solution, the whole winding -up with happy prophecy of the far future. - -Grasp especially the composition of the _action_. It is usually built on -one of the following plans: - -(a) The single line of sequence, as in Hans Andersen’s “Princess on the -Pea,” or “The Sleeping Beauty,” or “The Frog Prince;” - -(b) The three-parallel line—what the first did, what the second did, what -the third did,—as in “The Golden Pears” and in “Dummling;” - -(c) The balanced antithetical plan, two contrasting courses of action -placed side by side, - - what the beautiful, what the ugly, - industrious child did idle child did, - -as in “Mother Holle” or in “Diamonds and Toads.” - -(d) The cumulative plan, as in “Henny-Penny,” “The Cat and the Mouse in -the Malt House,” “The House that Jack Built,” “The Old Woman and her -Pig.” Do not miss the increase in interest and suspense. - -Note in the three-parallel structure the climactic “thirdness” and its -distinguishing characteristic; it is the youngest and the stupid third -member of the family who turns out to be the cleverest and most favored -of fortune; it is Dummling who marries the sweetest princess; it is the -woodcutter’s third daughter who proves considerate of the dumb animals, -frees the castle of enchantment, and marries the prince. - -Note, too, that the old-world story-tellers were sensitive to the -dramatic effect of the contrasts in life. The miller’s daughter, innocent -victim of her father’s ambition, sits down in despair to weep over an -impossible task, and “at this moment the door opens and in comes a -comical little dwarf” who with three magical whirrs of the spinning-wheel -turn a roomful of straw into gold. It is the very day of her fifteenth -birthday that the princess must take to explore the castle and come -upon unsuspected spinning-wheel with which to prick her finger that -the witch’s prophecy may be fulfilled, but, as is the merry good luck -of romance, it is on the last day of the hundred years that the prince -goes hunting to spy, not deer, but the towers of the identical castle -in which the Sleeping Beauty lies, inquires about it of everyone until -he meets the very man who can tell him what “my father told me,” and -rides off to awaken the princess. It is always so in literature sound at -heart, whether it be in a Shakespearean comedy, in which cottages appear -in the forest in the nick of time as night is falling and lovely ladies -and gallant knights are footsore and weary; or whether it be in simple -fairy tale abounding in porridge pots, appearing when folks are on the -brink of starvation and cooking like mad, “as if they would feed the -whole world” at the magic words, “Little pot, cook,” or in frogs popping -out of near by wells in time to say, “Your wish shall be fulfilled, -within a year you shall have a little child,” or in small ovens and red -apple-trees placed “conveniently low.” The scholarly student of narrative -or dramatic technique recognizes this as what he calls _comic relief_ to -offset the pathos of the situation; the student lacking this knowledge -accepts with satisfaction the plausibleness of timely happening. - -After this careful work read the story again for enriched appreciation of -it. Now put the book away and go about your business. - -By and by see whether you know the story. Let no mistrust born of book -dependence and neglect of the constructive imagination daunt you. Boldly -sketch in time and place, introduce the first characters, suggest the -motive of the action, start the action, carry it forward to climax and -solution, wind up the whole. Now criticise your product. Is it the thing -you meant it to be? Thackeray tells us his characters and plots got out -of his hands and finished themselves. Is it the tale as “’twas told to -you,” is it an improved version, is it a new story? One and all may be in -place. - -Some will feel that they have spoiled the story. They have bungled the -structure through unskillful placing, or omission of necessary details. -They have dulled life, dimmed beauty, obscured truth for lack of words. -Well, there is no harm done as yet. These students, studying again the -parts in which they failed, will appreciate now more thoroughly play and -interplay of character, detail and course of action, vivid word. The cat -in “The Bremen Town Musicians,” they will note, is capitally described -(in some accepted texts) as having a face that looked like “three days -of rainy weather;” Snow-White and Rose-Red were “like the rose-bushes in -their mother’s garden;” they will not miss in “The Cat and the Mouse” the -cat’s sly description of the pot of fat and the apt names he gives his -bogus godchildren. In this way the appropriate word or phrase will come -to them easily. - -The question often asked, “Am I to hold myself to the text?” is -interesting. It applies of course only to artistic texts, not to formless -source material. Some people contend that this destroys the spirit of -story-telling, making the art mechanical instead of creative. - -Story-telling is creative effort, never mere repetition of the letter. -It is creative effort, whether you make live again something produced -by another, or make live more abundantly by perfecting matter and form -produced by another, or make new life. The question cannot be answered -offhand. If it were true that the text form, the composition and diction, -in which you found the story, were the perfect reflection of its life -and that the story suffered no change in your comprehension of it, and -that it were your intention to pass it on without modification or loss -to the child, and that he could receive it without change in form, then -the answer appears to follow: you are to be faithful to the text. In -some cases the form in which the folk tale is found has suffered through -translation, in others it may be intrinsically faulty; in many texts of -“The Frog Prince,” for example, the Iron John incident is too detached -and very much out of perspective. The story-teller who can make it -better should do so, or who feels prompted to give the children another -product from old materials will use them, though the folklorists will -forbid him to palm off his product as old-world lore. Any training in -story-telling that does not give outlet and direction to such ability and -to originality neglects an important obligation to the student. It is -notable, by the way, that it is the student with the literary artist’s -instinct who is surest to “get” the style of any good original he may be -reproducing. Proper simplification of standard texts and the question of -adaptation to younger and older audiences will be considered later. - -Are we not inconsistent in our attitude toward form in language? We -profess to recognize reverently an intimate relation between the matter -and the manner in the sculptor’s, the painter’s, the musician’s art. But -we constantly deny any integrity to language as a medium of expression. -We do not, to be sure, attempt to tamper with the form the great poets -gave their message. Indeed we “get” the verse running through the simple -prose tale, although it is scarcely less artless than is the prose. But -everyone because he can speak in words appears to feel competent to tell -the prose body of the stories in “his own words.” Now, every word in the -folktale may not be so necessary to its thought as very minute details -in Shakespeare’s or even in Kipling’s or Andersen’s or Stockton’s form -are considered to his thought. But there is such a thing as folk-story -style, easy, loose sentence liberally sprinkled with _and_s and _so_s, -picture-making word, distinctive epithet, recurrent jingle, rhythmic -swing. It is surprising how insensible students are to it. Yet it is -due largely, no doubt, to the best of all causes, the belief that the -story is to be given living form by the teller. Dull rote memorizing -will not of course do this. The method of study set forth suggests how -the story-teller may easily develop sensibility to folk-story style and -easily train himself to “do,” or “catch,” it. - -Let us not be afraid of a due regard for form. Right attention to form -is not testimony to the worth of the superficial. The poet says, “The -soul is form and doth the body make.” Let us see to it that we make the -language body of our story by clear reflection of its spirit. - -The question of oral interpretation, or oral form, the more important -aspect of form, while properly a matter to be settled by the student -during the stage of preparation, is here more conveniently considered -under the next head. - - -TELLING THE STORY - -This is truly the stage of creation. No matter how familiar you made -yourself with the story in the privacy of your studio, you will now find -happening something surprising. The story will come to your own ears and -stand revealed to your imagination with the joy of discovery. The truth -is, it was made to be shared with another, and you hadn’t it at all until -you gave it away. What spontaneity rewards you! How you find yourself -rising to the occasion—your own latent capabilities, the expanding -possibilities in the story, the response of your audience! - -Let us take up the topic, _telling the story_, under the practical heads: - - (1) _Choosing or meeting story-telling time_; - - (2) _The story-teller’s part_; - - (3) _Controlling canons of the story-teller’s part_. - -(1) _Choosing or meeting story-telling time._ “To everything,” says -Ecclesiastes, “there is a season and a time for every purpose under the -heaven ... a time to weep and a time to laugh ... a time to keep silence -and a time to speak.” - -Is there an ideal time for telling a story? Assuredly; at this time the -story comes to the listener with more pleasure, or stronger appeal to -the feelings. But the “pedagogical” story-teller, parent or teacher, -must take care not to mistake suitable occasion. The error is not that -the story-teller may have, like the Ancient Mariner, a tale of sin and -virtue to tell to the soul that must hear it. To say that the story -must not be narrowed to didactic purpose is not to exclude altogether -the story that may work spiritual reformation. The trouble is that the -story-teller sometimes precipitates irritation rather than reformation -by untimeliness. The moment when the child is defiant or angry and the -teacher or parent cross is not the psychological moment for such a story. -It is at the turn in the tide of feeling that the story-teller may send -into the wavering stream the saving grace of the tale. - -There are times when the pupils are “on” for a mental frolic; these are -the times for the play or “funny” stories. Sometimes, in order to quicken -desirable response, the teacher or parent will judge it better to run -counter to the mood of the children. She will sharpen the wits of dull -children with a humorous story, or broaden the horizon of the narrowly -matter-of-fact with a tale of adventure or of supernatural occurrence. -Celebrations or memorials call out appropriate stories. The early -Hebrew father took advantage of his sons’ questions about the festivals -celebrated in their midst to tell the great Bible story. The Christian -Church sometimes narrates the lives of the saints to her children on -feast days to inspire the heroism of holy living. Things observed in -nature, and home and school circumstances, will suggest many stories. And -when all has been said about special times, it remains true that almost -any time in the wonder years of childhood is story time. - -But the teacher may say, “Story-telling time means precisely -eleven-fifteen on Tuesday morning; the individual teacher has nothing -to say about it.” The thing to do, then, is to induce the story-telling -mood at eleven-fifteen Tuesday morning. What we should urge here between -ourselves is the obligation to give place heartily at this time to the -story. No matter how ill things may have gone and how cross we ourselves -may have become, we must now let pleasurable anticipation take possession -of the classroom. - -(2) _The story-teller’s part._ The rôle of story-teller is simple yet -subtle, more easily shown than explained. The story-teller is recounter -of a happening, real or fictitious, merry or pathetic, that because of -its appeal to the imagination and sympathies has been given currency -in language. To share with another the glimpse of life it gives the -imagination, the feeling it arouses, the æsthetic satisfaction it yields, -was man’s reason for telling it. The story-teller’s part, then, is so to -employ and interpret the medium of currency as to free this force. - -_Beginning the story._ The story-teller should begin the story with -the air of having something interesting and enjoyable to tell. If the -contents of the story had not been interesting, they would never have -made a story; the story-teller may depend on this intrinsic interest. -He should have also the air of leisure; story-telling is one of the -social arts of leisure and pleasure; besides, stories record significant -occurrences, which should be given the emphasis of time. His initial -manner should give hint of the spirit of the particular story he is to -tell. The first phrase, “There were five-and-twenty tin soldiers,” sounds -the playful martial spirit of Hans Andersen’s “Brave Tin Soldier;” the -story-teller echoes it in martial bearing and in martial swing and ring -in his speech, in, of course, the playful manner of a story about a -little toy soldier. Mother-love broods through the story of “The Wolf -and the Seven Kids;” the story-teller suggests, in voice and eyes and -fostering posture, its loving pride and anxiety. Should the story-teller -begin in rather obvious make-believe-matter-of-fact style, his eyes -hinting fun, the children will chuckle in delighted anticipation of a -nonsense or a humorous story. The wholly impassive manner adopted by some -story-tellers in telling “funny” stories to adult audiences will not do -with children. The adult’s enjoyment consists largely in his ability to -remake as fun what the teller is representing as sober fact. Children, -because of their lack of knowledge and experience, need more leading. -Stories like “The Three Bears” correspond in spirit to nursery rhymes -like “This little pig went to market;” they should be kept as childlike, -mimetic, rhythmic, and playful. Southey gives the key to the spirit of -“The Three Bears” in the setting. Every detail shows how well he caught -the child-note: interest in wild animals, the bear a favorite; tendency -to dramatic mimicry; response to rhythm; pleasure in possessions, this -very complete “house of their own,” kept by bears, delights the children. -A hero story like “Jack the Giant Killer” calls for a bold spirit. -“Snow-White and Rose-Red” sounds the domestic note: cheerful fireside -group; mother reading from a “large book,” children spinning, animals -lying near. The setting here, though long, may easily be made attractive -by the story-teller’s own pleasure in every detail. - -The characters also should be introduced with hint of their personality. -“Snow-White and Rose-Red were as happy, as busy and cheerful,” says the -story-teller, showing cheerful pleasure in them, “as any two children -in the world.” “Snow-White,” softening voice and eyes, “was more quiet -and gentle; Rose-Red,” adopting a livelier manner, “liked better to run -about the fields and pick flowers and chase butterflies.” “There was -once a widow who had two daughters; one of them,” says the story-teller, -smiling in the pleasure goodness and beauty, whether physical or -spiritual, always excite in us, “was pretty and industrious; the other,” -voice and face expressing disapproval of her, “was ugly and idle.” “A -certain man had a donkey,” says the story-teller, with such suggestion -of possibilities in the donkey evident in forward posture, in face and -voice, that the listener at once suspects that, as Hans Andersen would -put it, that donkey “became worth talking about.” - -The story-teller begins then, as both prophet and sibyl, telling yet, -especially at this stage, not “giving it away.” He must let the story -reveal and the child discover; this is the joy of it. - -_Building out the story._ Having laid the foundation upon which he -is to build the happening, the story-teller should, as a rule, in -building fashion pause. He then enters upon the action, carrying it -forward, slowly or rapidly, according as its course demands, arousing -suspense and increasing the interest in the outcome. How he does -this will be suggested farther on. As the story proceeds he must of -course treat character consistently. Sensibility to the nature of the -particular character he is interpreting will enable him to voice and -conduct it appropriately. Nothing more than suggestion is in place. The -story-teller’s fairy voice may be light and tinkling like silver bells, -his witch made graphic through pointed, hag-like chin and fingers and -stooped body, his fox smooth and sly, his wolf snarling, his giant, as -said before, big-voiced and ponderous. He can hardly fail to catch the -steely high voice and proud manner Hans Andersen intended for the vain -but delightful Darning Needle. - -After, as a rule, pausing to give effect to the climax of the action, the -story-teller passes in many stories to a brief but clear explanation of -enchantment, and winds up the whole happily, leaving the child supremely -pleased. - -(3) _Controlling canons of the story-teller’s part._ Some of the chief -canons governing the story-teller are _directness_, _spontaneity_, -_graphicness_, _reserve_, _skill in the use of the voice_, _simplicity_. - -_Directness_ is the principle of immediateness, by virtue of which -_story_ and _listener_ are brought into contact. It has its roots in -the social and magnetic nature of the art. In its fullest sense it is -comprehensive of all the other canons. - -Directness concerns both the outer and the inner self of the story-teller. - -The part played by the outer self is simple. Before beginning his story -the story-teller should “go to” and “gather” his listeners. He does this -by assuming the physical position and mental attitude of communicator. -A person who has anything to tell another that he thinks will move or -please him does not stand aloof. The story-teller should not stand -aloof. He may place himself in front of his listeners, at such a point -as will enable him to command all. Before beginning he will get the -listening attention by invitation of posture and direct face to face -look, or by the magnetic force of the story now animating his whole -person. Some story-tellers then begin to address themselves to someone -near by whom they feel to be the most responsive listener, or whom they -wish to interest, then address a wider and wider circle until they are -reaching everyone. Others project the story into the ears of someone in -the middle of the group, making this the radiating point from which to -grasp all. - -The story-teller through his outer self must observe the principle of -directness in another way. In looks and actions his external self must -help to convey the spirit of the story: posture, facial expression, -gesture, voice must not contradict but declare what the lips are saying. -It is in recognition of the relation between the external self of the -story-teller and his story that some story-tellers “make up,” or put -on appropriate costume. This has its power and charm. But for the -“everydayness” of story-telling in home and school it is undesirable, -unnecessary, and impracticable. What is necessary is something less -troublesome but more important: such domination, or absorption, of -the external self by the spirit of the story as will subdue it to the -story-teller’s use. This will help to induce the right feeling response. -Feeling, as everyone knows, is “catching.” Fun will call out fun; pathos, -pathos; gladness at beauty, goodness, or truth, like joy. The whole being -of the Ancient Mariner told his story. Simple stories do not demand -emotional intensity, but the principle remains. The student will find it -helpful to sit opposite Tadema’s “Reading Homer,” to get an idea of the -recounter’s abandon. - -The principle of directness as it applies through the inner self of the -story-teller is as easy to understand. The story-teller must not allow -any intruding mental state or circumstance, any intruding “self,” to come -between the story and the listener. Such a self may be - - (1) The diffident or embarrassed self of the self-conscious - story-teller. - - (2) The vain or affected self of the insincere story-teller. - - (3) The weakening self of the patronizing story-teller. - - (4) The non-seeing self of the non-spontaneous story-teller. - - (5) The non-sensible, or non-artistic, self of the “sledge - hammer” story-teller. - - (6) The non-communicating self of the “acting” story-teller. - - (7) The misinformed self of the lifeless story-teller. - -(1) The self-conscious self is not hard to overcome. Diffidence arises -from a false modesty, due to the story-teller’s failure to realize his -obligation to the child and to the story. His part now is not to occupy -himself with mistrust of his own ability, but to bend all his energies -to interpreting the story for the listener. Embarrassment may be due -to natural shyness or to lack of ease in the art of story-telling. If -due to the first, it should also disappear as the story-teller realizes -his obligation; if to the second, time and practice will probably cure -it. It is well to throw off embarrassment vigorously at the outset and -plunge into the story; it is surprising how easy and complete will be the -victory. - -(2) Vain insincerity is a more serious intrusion. It shows itself usually -in an affected manner and a false ring in the voice. The story-teller is -not engaged in telling the story, but in exhibiting himself. The children -will at once sense such a fraud. The pity is that they should ever have -had the chance to do so; it is often the beginning of insincerity in -them. This story-teller also must strive to realize his important office. - -(3) A patronizing story-teller is as great an obstruction. His manner -is unctuous and “glawming.” It dwarfs the listener, belittling him and -undermining his frankness. Hear how the great queen did in Morris’s tale: - - “Then she held him a little season on her weary and happy breast, - And she told him of Sigmund and Volsung and the best sprung from - the best; - _She spake to the new-born baby as one who might understand_.” - -The spirit of the italicized words should be the story-teller’s guide. -Watch the child the first time he comes under the sway of the patronizing -story-teller, how he eyes the babying smile meant to be engaging, how he -holds aloof. The story-teller must trust the child and trust the story. -He chooses the story for its suitability in arousing and directing the -child’s imagination, sympathies, or æsthetic sense. Having made the -selection on this basis, his part now is to be, not officious meddler, no -matter how well meaning, but communicator. - -The patronizing story-teller is inclined to “thin out” the story. There -is a proper kind of remaking allowable in telling a story or in fitting -it to younger or older audiences. If too much is necessary, the story -is probably not in any degree suitable; it might better be left until -the children are older. There are for the meantime plenty of stories -more nearly available. Some modes of simplification of the content -allowable are: omission of details in description and omission of minor -characters and incidents, in some cases to be added later; preparatory -talk or explanation, reduced to its very lowest terms; conversation or -explanation after the telling, to be followed soon by another telling. -The form may be made easier by simplification of the complicated -sentences or unchildlike modes of speech, by very sparing use of running -explanation, by use of roundabout easier phrase to be replaced by the -directly descriptive word. - -The power and the glory for the listening child are more surely in -the message as the _seer_, yourself or another story inventor, saw -and delivered it, than in any garbled paraphrase of it, all that many -attempting story-telling can manage. Their opportunity lies in the field -of interpretation, unless they are genuinely engaged in changing the -story or in themselves telling a different story or in truly artistic -simplification. Have faith in the little child: in his sensibility to -artistic fitness, in his intelligence, in his ready sympathy. Have faith -in the story. - -Best of all modes, the story may be simplified, not by making it over -into something else, but by making it into itself through interpretation. - -(4) Some story-tellers bring an uninformed self to the story. The root of -their difficulty is failure to see and feel the child world. So important -is the principle of insight that it will be taken up at length, under the -heading _spontaneity_. - -(5) A story-teller lacking in artistic sensibility does not discern the -story as a form of art, though a naïve form. He intrudes between the -story and the child what, for lack of a better term, the writer called -a “sledge-hammer” self, or a didactic self. It resorts to pedagogical -pounding, dealing largely in stress on words and in the falling -inflection. It vainly attempts to force the story and the child into -contact through the intellect, or sometimes the bugaboo of conscience, -instead of by the open pathway made by freeing the spirit of the story. - -One example, by the way, of the tendency to force the didactic note is -the made over version of Southey’s “Three Bears,” in which the story -begins with Silver Locks (the little wee woman of the older version is -coming back) and makes much of her naughtiness, left in Southey’s story -to indirect playful condemnation. This puts her at once in the emphatic -position, robbing the three bears of their rank, and the story and the -children of the play spirit. - -(6) The story-teller who confounds dramatization (not dramatic -suggestion) with narration substitutes a detached exhibiting self for the -story-teller’s intimate, communicating self. He fails to tell the story. -This also will be considered at length under another canon. - -(7) Finally, an intruding self is the misinformed self of the lifeless -story-teller. It makes story-telling nothing but colorless word-calling. -It arises from a false psychology, resting on the assumption that the -child’s imaginative and emotional life differs in kind from the adult’s -(sound in so far as it condemns strain on the imagination and the -emotions); a false ethics, mistrusting attention to oral form, or to -beauty of speech; wrong habit in speech. Whatever its source, it prevents -the contact of child and story. - -The canon of directness, then, requires that both the outer and the -inner self lend themselves to telling the story to the listener without -obstruction. - -_Spontaneity_ is the canon of naturalness, by virtue of which the story -has genuine life. It creates the illusion that the story-teller is -spinning his tale from within out, its life having become part and parcel -of his imaginative and emotional experience. It depends upon insight. -The story-teller of childlike tales must “live with our children,” as -Froebel said; he must cultivate sensibility to the child’s world, catch -its spirit of play and happiness and activity, respect its serious moods, -note its affectionate intimacy with animals, cats and dogs and hens and -horses, respond to its humor, feel above all its emotional sincerity -and simplicity. The child carries himself unaffectedly. It is easy to -detect the story-teller who fails of insight into the child’s world. He -is either wholly insensible to its characteristics, or he grotesquely -exaggerates everything. The first method leaves the child unmoved, the -second undermines his sincerity. - -The story-teller need not, however, be afraid to give full value to story -materials: to idealize its people and happenings; to make its heroines -frankly good and beautiful, its supernatural properties adequate, -its “great huge bears” satisfyingly huge; to give its seven-leagued -giants voice possibilities that will cause half-quaking, half-chuckling -listeners to shake in their shoes in whole-hearted enjoyment; to make its -porridge pots, that cooked or stopped the minute a certain good little -girl said so, magical. Story art, like all art, idealizes its materials -the moment it selects them; the story-teller in turn holds them up to -view of the imagination. Nor need the adult story-teller be afraid of -illumining the view more fully than might a child teller, by the light -of the adult’s richer knowledge and experience. No, the story-teller is -not to impoverish nor dull the story; but he is to guard against giving -the listener the impression of unsuccessful pretense at it, and against -urging him to strained imagining and feeling. Until, alas, custom stales -him to its false ring, a child condemns the unseeing story-teller, not -recognizing him as kith nor kin. - -To satisfy the canon of spontaneity, then, the story-teller must see and -feel the tale he attempts to tell, that he may re-create its spirit. - -By _graphicness_ is meant vividness, by virtue of which the story is made -plain to the imagination and quick to the feelings. It is secured by the -various means of oral interpretation (to be considered under another -heading), helped out by facial expression, and sometimes by gesture or by -dramatic suggestion. It is governed by the imperative complementary canon -of _reserve_. _Reserve_ is the canon of artistic restraint; as applied -here, it keeps story-telling the art of communicating, not allowing it to -pass beyond the limits of dramatic suggestion into dramatization. - -It is the greater degree of artistic reserve that divides story-telling -sharply from dramatization and gives it its special magnetic charm -and enduring strength. The essence of dramatization is sensible -actualization, the essence of story-telling is imaginative suggestion. -The story tells, yet leaves to the listener exhaustless discovery. -At each re-telling the story allures the listener’s imagination to -catch added import. The listener maturing into the adult may penetrate -a specific detail in the childlike allegory and uncover a symbol of -everlasting life, eternal youth or truth or beauty, and having found it, -he can never with listening exhaust the depths of it. Is it fanciful to -conjecture whether it be some response to this imperishable integrity -that urges children to demand the same tale over and over again? -Psychology has discerned in them wiseacres learning the realities of life -through play. Why not also through story? - -Dramatic suggestion as an aid to language and subordinate to it is, -however, in place. It was indulged in freely by primitive story-tellers. -Children use it instinctively. Hint of happening, by show of action; -or glimpse of character, by posture, facial expression, suggestion in -tone, is sufficient. Such hint at once makes the situation or character -plain to the imagination. The queen in Hans Andersen’s “Princess on the -Pea,” for example, is well brought into the story by the story-teller’s -taking on a look of shrewdness, with perhaps shaking of the head, before -he tells what the queen thinks of this “real” princess who presents -herself thus bedraggled. In doing this the story-teller must preserve -the appearance and intention of narration. As soon as some students of -story-telling attempt dramatic suggestion they lose the listener and -lapse into playing rather than telling. Even when dialogue or monologue -demands a degree of impersonation the story-teller must keep in mind that -it is for the purpose of _telling_ the story to the listener. He _shows_, -or _illustrates_, looking back to insure that the listener is following, -or to make communication. After the story-teller’s pantomime of surprise -and delight at finding the shoes, in “The Elves and the Shoemaker,” for -example, he looks at his listeners to communicate his feeling to them and -invite their corresponding emotion, then makes verbal communication to -them. - -Suggestive gesture may also be used to make language graphic. (Beginners -often neglect to keep the hands free for gesture they may be impelled -to use.) For the sake of the child we must recover, if we have lost it, -the speaking face, animated body, and eloquent hand of our childhood. -As the word gains in meaning, we resort to gesture more sparingly. -Gesture should precede the word. Watch the unconscious child in his use -of gesture; he tells with the hand and body before he tells with the -word. Some beginners drop a gesture so quickly that they might as well -have done without it, others sustain it too long. Gesture is used, as -a rule, for one of two chief purposes, demonstration or appeal to the -imagination or feelings. When the story-teller is using it to show shape -or size or place, he does not need it any longer after he has done this. -If he is using it to send the imagination of his listeners out or to -appeal to their emotions, he must sustain it until it has accomplished -its effect. Sometimes a quick strong gesture makes powerful appeal to -the imagination; sometimes sustained gesture serves as aftermath, still -telling to the imagination. Gesture must not appear detached from the -story-teller, that is, put on from the outside; it should come from -within, in the story-teller’s effort to tell. It is helpful, too, to -note that gesture partakes of the imitativeness of art,—thus we speak of -_kingly_ gesture, _commanding_ gesture, _witchlike_ gesture. When dealing -with things that address themselves to the expanding imagination, gesture -should be indefinite and broadly suggestive rather than definitive. -Too prescriptive an indication of the size of the bears in “The Three -Bears,” for example, dwarfs for some generous imaginations the delightful -hugeness of the great huge bear and the irresistible littleness of the -little small wee bear. Free sweeping gesture is in place in the heroic -legend. - -Suggestive posture is another means of giving vividness. The story-teller -might learn much from the painter and the sculptor about the eloquence -of pose. The Pre-Raphaelite school of painting was no doubt guilty of -extravagance, but in pose and facial expression it caught some of the -secrets of artistic suggestion. We know how the sculptor, too, represents -listening, or surprise, or courage. The sculptor is, of course, very -much more dependent on posture than is the speaker. But posture should -help the story-teller, just as do tone and quality and rate of voice. -It will not do, for example, to settle back heavily in the seat while -telling, “Out popped the gingerbread boy and—” It must not be forgotten, -however, that pose also is under the imperative restriction of reserve; -narration is not the static art of posing. Constant or violent change in -posture, too, except in particular stories demanding it, is out of place; -story-telling is the quiet if animated and graphic art of communication. -Posture and facial expression, like gesture, should precede the word, -prophesying of it, and sometimes be sustained during pause for effect. - -Before leaving this canon, the story-teller should understand that -graphicness should sometimes be veiled under a pervading elusiveness. -Some stories should be wrapped about with the charm of impalpability; the -mystery of them is the secret of their appeal. This is the atmosphere for -the romantic fairy tale, like “The Sleeping Beauty,” and for many of the -legends and romances. - -We are now ready to sum up the canon of graphicness. We have defined it -as the dynamic principle of vividness by virtue of which the story is -made plain to the imagination. It is secured by the supreme agency of -speech, aided sometimes, in greater or less degree, by posture, gesture, -facial expression, and dramatic suggestion. It is under the imperative -restriction of the canon of reserve. - -In an art defined as story-telling _the skillful use of the voice_ is -the chief technique to be mastered, and, alas, the least regarded. It -is, however, gaining ground. Story-tellers are finding it increasingly -reasonable to believe there is close connection between what is to be -told and how it is told. While it is true that so strong is the vitality -of the _what_ that it will usually triumph in some degree over the _how_, -this is no sound argument for abandoning it to that fate. It is also -true, because of the social nature of language, that the listener will do -much, no matter how dull the how, to inform and transform the what in -the light of his own knowledge and experience. This is precisely in just -measure what he is to do. But this argument also is weak. - -Man tries to utter his meaning, to give sound to the sense of his -thought. All students of words appear to agree to this as a primary -creative principle. And in the utterance of language he employs -instinctively what some story-tellers condemn as the “show” tricks of -elocutionists: suggestive quality or pitch of voice; slow or rapid rate -of speaking; grouping, inflection, and pause. Mastery of this instinctive -use of speech in its fullness and perfection, as a means to an end, -is what is meant by mastery of oral technique. Whatever the method of -mastery, direct or indirect, surely the end should be granted. - -It has taken many people a long time to convince themselves that -the speaking voice is in need of proper exercise and training. They -have expected too much of the speaker. The living person back of the -speech, the personality, is the chief element in speech; without the -speaker to utter his meaning, speech would be nothing but empty word -mouthing. But they should give the speaker at least as much fair play -as has the singer, training in the use of the voice. The set jaw, wrong -coördination, the half-open throat, the closed glottis, or “voice box,” -the immobile lip (whose remedy, by the way, is not mouthing), the thick -tongue,—all these, causing indistinctness, nasality, throatiness, are -impediments to speech. So are throat or nasal or dental obstructions. So -is incorrect breathing. - -The nice art of enunciation and articulation is worth mastery. Phonics -appears to some people like a science of very small things. It has not -only an æsthetic value, but, if you must separate them, an intellectual -value. Masters of enunciation and articulation give not only finish -but richer meaning to language. This, again, is no doubt due to the -lively connection between sound and sense. Open mouth and throat well to -pronounce the vowels in _joy_, or _shine_, and confirm the truth of this; -note the force of vowels, consonants, or aspirate pronounced accurately -in _glisten_, _shimmering_, _hushed_, _croaked_, _scream_, _harsh_. -It will be understood of course that the requirements of character -suggestion may demand slurring, chopping off, drawling, and all sorts of -speech vices; when in place they become virtues. - -We are fond of using the expression “as natural as breathing.” How many -are breathing as nature would have them? The speaker should be past -master of breathing: be able to expand the diaphragm and fill full and -deep, to supplement this basal stock, as opening the mouth to enunciate a -vowel or to speak a phrase gives easy, unobtrusive opportunity, to expend -breath economically. - -The story-teller should “find” his particular voice. To do this he may -read or speak in his ordinary tone and note where it vibrates. This -is his natural, or at least second-nature, voice, working basis for -improvement; re-placing, purifying, strengthening, making flexible. - -He should be able to place tone, to give it this or that quality, as the -needs of interpretation may demand. He should be able to keep feeling out -of the voice, and to speak with feeling without violating the principle -of reserve. - -Understanding, feeling, and æsthetic appreciation are rooted in the -story-teller, to be sure, but they must be transmitted by the organs of -voice. He will be delighted to find that the physical action of these -organs, if easy and responsive, appears to deepen his own understanding -and feeling and to send them in greater fullness to the listener. - -One of the most important principles of oral technique is perspective, -through which the central idea is kept dominant throughout the story. -Proper application of this principle gives the whole story unity and -increasing interest and point. To give the story perspective the -story-teller employs grouping, pause, rate, pitch, and inflection. Space -permits of nothing more than this mere enumeration of these means and -of pointing out a very limited use of one or two. Beginners often err -in grouping. In the story of “The Frog Prince,” for example, they will -say “there was a king,” making this a more or less complete and leading -idea, instead of “there was a king who had beautiful daughters;” at -this point, moreover, by use of the complete falling inflection they -destroy the subordinate relation of this idea to the succeeding one, -“but the youngest was the most beautiful.” Untrained speakers and badly -trained readers overuse the falling inflection. Story-tellers will find -it helpful to practice the sustained, or “forward pointing,” voice. -It is necessary to the proper building out of units of thought. The -story-teller should “make,” for example, the word picture with the voice, -bit by bit, much as the painter does the line and color picture with the -brush, each added detail going toward the whole. - -Mastery of pause is important. In ordinary communication the -story-teller, as does everyone else, uses pause a hundred times a day, -but he is inclined at first to overlook its part in story-telling. He -should learn to pause to make clear not only the divisions of single -sentences, but of the whole story, its setting, action, resolution, -and close. He should use it also to set off for dramatic emphasis or -emotional effect significant or climactic circumstances, persons, or -details of action. Pause is one of the simplest and most effective means -of emphasis. Of course, like every other means of speech, it is sometimes -best ignored. - -This bare glance at speech technique shows us that the story-teller -should have such command over the agencies of oral transmission as will -enable him to convey the story fully to the listener. Let his point of -departure be the effort to utter his meaning. - -When telling stories to young children the story-teller may do more -or less _“leading” of the feelings and the taste_, thus educating the -child to respond to what is playful or brave or humorous or beautiful. -If the story-teller will show pleasure in obedience, fun, good-nature, -loveliness in nature or art, shape, for example, or color, or sound, -or adaptability to use, the imitative listener will respond in like -appreciation. Some beginners find it difficult to do this. Sometimes -the source of the difficulty is bad habit in reading. This affects -story-telling when the story has been prepared from the printed page. -The student comes to the story-telling class with the habit formed of -suppressing in his reading appreciation of excellence or of beauty. Two -students talking together outside of class may do the natural thing; -if describing beauty—loveliness of nature, human loveliness, goodness, -heroism—they show pleasure in it by smiling lip and softly shining eye; -“beauty,” as Wordsworth has it, “makes them glad.” But nine times out of -ten the beginner in story-telling who has prepared the story from a book -allows no appreciation of beauty to get into voice or self as he tells, -for example, “In olden times, when wishing was having, there lived a king -who had beautiful daughters, but the youngest was so lovely that even -the sun himself, who has seen so much, marveled whenever he shone in her -face.” He is not of course to magnify this phrase unduly; he must keep it -in proper perspective. - -It is astonishing how imperfectly we talk and tell. As indicated before, -words as they are uttered represent to the young listener, and, so lively -is language, in great degree to the adult also, exactly what the speaker -puts into them. If he utters _bright_ dully, he contradicts truth; if -he pronounces _loved_ coldly, he robs it of the human warmth of itself; -if he mumbles _lovely_, he dwarfs beauty. To correct wrong habit in -speaking, the student of story-telling should cultivate sensibility to -the feeling and æsthetic suggestions in language, and during the stage -of apprenticeship be content to be conscious until more spontaneous -appreciation shall relieve him of watchfulness. - -To take another example, in the story of “The Hut in the Wood,” beginners -often fairly shout “night was coming on,” “the owl hooted,” “the trees -rustled.” The thing to be communicated here through the details is -the emotional state of the girl. It is communicated by sympathetic -interpretation: lowering of voice, with suggestion in it of the sounds -heard, accompanied by shrinking in posture and dawning of fear in the -face. - -Leading is open to abuse. The more the language of the story tells on its -face when interpreted so as to set free the associations bound up in it, -the more the story-teller must trust it to carry its own effects. - -The story-teller is governed most by the supreme canon of _simplicity_. -His must be a peculiarly unelaborate, apparently artless art. In gesture -and facial expression, in dramatic suggestion, in speech, his is that -form or degree of the artistic manner that will carry to the listener -the unaffected, frank, childlike kind of life with which the child story -deals: _not intense in manner_; _not intellectual nor artificial in -gesture_; _not pedantic nor studied in speech_—but _sincere and simple_. - - -THE CHILD’S PART IN STORY-TELLING - -Let us tabulate some of the things the child naturally does as his part -in story-telling. The table will be incomplete, but it may be suggestive. -What is the child’s part in story-telling? - - (1) _It is listening._ - - (2) _It is remaining silent._ - - (3) _It is commenting._ - - (4) _It is joining in._ - - (5) _It is re-telling._ - - (6) _It is partial re-telling._ - - (7) _It is telling other stories._ - - (8) _It is inventing stories._ - - (9) _It is expressing sometimes story images in other media._ - - (10) _It is sometimes playing the stories._ - - (11) _It is growing by the power and grace of the story._ - -(1) _It is listening._ Let us not underrate the child’s quiet part as -listener harkening to the story again and again to catch wider and deeper -vision of it. - -(2) _It is remaining silent._ When it is the silence of delight, be -content; this is result enough. When it is the spiritual silence out -of whose brooding may be born reverent awe or insight into justice or -cheerful good will or virile endeavor, bring all your wisdom to bear to -decide whether you will help or hinder by leaving the child to himself, -and in case of doubt give the story the benefit of it, trusting it to -deliver its own message in due season. - -(3) _It is commenting._ On the other hand, do not be unmindful of another -opportunity. A child, like an adult, is inclined to talk some stories -over; meet him halfway. Indeed, in some cases, lead the way; stimulate an -inert class to talk over some of the more objective type of stories. It -is your opportunity to get and clarify the child’s point of view. - -(4) _It is joining in._ We learn, from the snatches of story-telling -history that have come down to us, that it was the custom of the audience -to join in at the rhythmic repetitions, as people do at the chorus -of a comic song. The children show the same tendency; encourage it. -It not only pleases them, but it is an easy and natural beginning in -reproduction. The child’s dramatic sense prompts him to come in also when -the story-teller reaches dialogue; encourage this also. - -(5) _It is re-telling._ Rightly conducted, reproduction of stories is -profitable for shaping the pupil’s thought and language mode. But is the -exercise rightly conducted? The children listen in breathless delight -as the teacher tells the story; she demands it “back,” the children -struggle, interest flags, teacher and children toil on, and joy dies out -in story and listener. This is too bad. Story-telling is a legitimate -opportunity for unalloyed pleasure; the school is not too lavish of such -times. What is the root of the trouble? It lies in one or more sources: -the practice of requiring premature reproduction of some types of story -not grasped by the children to the definite point of re-telling; the -teacher’s unreasonable or wrong standards of achievement; the pupil’s -lack of familiarity with the story, due to the teacher’s tendency to turn -reproduction into a test or task. - -The tendency of the school to require immediate verbal reproduction -of all stories is unwise utilitarianism. It is limiting the teacher’s -choice of stories undesirably. Feeling compelled to demand reproduction -of every story, the teacher confines her choice to stories the children -will take hold of easily. We can all testify that we have heard and been -moved or delighted by recitals we could not reproduce; their purpose was -to accomplish exactly what they did accomplish. The child is capable of -responding in æsthetic pleasure or spiritual uplift to stories as yet -beyond his re-telling. It is highly desirable that he be given the chance -of contact with such material and that its seed be given time to root -and flower. To urge him to immediate reproduction is to develop shallow -glibness at the sacrifice of something finer. Under the compulsion -of reproduction the teacher excludes, also, not only beautiful and -spiritualizing stories, but long stories. Long stories are not desirable -on the mere ground of length, but even this ground has its claim. The -longer stories give sustained exercise to the imagination, and they give -the story-teller ampler field to set forth character or action and to let -the story yield fuller measure of delight. Short and long and longer and -shorter are all in place. And not all need nor should be reproduced. - -How much should the teacher expect when she asks pupils to tell back any -stories they have heard only once, or at most twice? Exactly what the -pupil gives, what he grasped. Many teachers are disturbed, however, by -the meager “language training” afforded by this very brief re-telling. -Why not let the stories, by reiteration of them on the teacher’s part, -impose their thought process and language mode on the forming habit -of the child? This does not mean that reproduction must be verbatim -repetition, nor that the children’s individuality is to be suppressed. -But what a mockery, especially in some quarters, is this prevalent -idea in the schools that the child must not be familiarized with the -language of the story, but that he should be compelled to “tell it in -his own words.” Alas, “his own words”! Would not familiarity with the -story’s language bring riches to the thought-starved and language-starved -children of some unschooled parents, anxious that their children shall -enjoy advantages denied to themselves? Would it not help in foreign -sections? - -(6) _It is partial re-telling._ Let the children come into possession of -the story naturally and gradually. At each re-telling of it by yourself -look for firmer and fuller reproduction. Help to keep the children’s -interest centered in the story, not so much by commenting patronizingly, -“How well John told the story!” but rather by openly enjoying the story -John is telling. Let language come, as it should, with the effort to -express the thought. And do not interfere with composition by unnecessary -questioning. Your first method of helping the pupils’ reproduction might -be by supplying omitted parts rather than by questioning analytically -for them, as is so commonly done at present. (Questioning has of course -its place: it serves to lift into consciousness the relations existing -among the parts of the story.) Try co-operative telling: tell part -yourself, then let a child or several in succession tell the next, -helping if necessary but not anticipating, and perhaps finish the story -yourself. The children will soon be able to manage more. Simple, artistic -illustrative picture or blackboard sketches, showing in succession the -main divisions of the story, will help to give it uninterrupted sequence. -(When divisions are made either orally or pictorially, they should be -true portions of the whole.) Presently the children will find themselves -telling the whole of some stories without undue feeling of strain, and -with great pleasure to themselves and their classmates. - -Is it natural, by the way, to reproduce in the same company a story just -heard? This is the common school practice. In an adult audience this -would of course never be done except on the frank basis of practice in -so doing or for some other accepted purpose. The children enjoy dwelling -on the story. And they may practice, with the motive of telling the -story at home. The teacher need not, therefore, strain at devices to -make reproduction more natural, yet she might often take advantage of or -contrive more natural occasion for it. The natural occasion is social -intercourse and entertainment. There is space only to indicate one or -two ways of securing this attractive natural motive. Sometimes let at -least a day elapse before asking for the reproduction; you may then -let the exercise be an opportunity to enjoy the story again. Tell the -same story over and over (if it be a good one) yourself on appropriate -occasions, and encourage the children to do the same thing. Let -individuals, or groups, or classes, visit and exchange stories. - -(7) The child’s part, _telling similar stories_ and (8) _inventing_ -stories, should go without saying. Do not neglect the opportunity offered -by (8). If you reduce the class to workable groups at a time for this -exercise, it should be practicable. Do not press prematurely the creative -imagination, but do not neglect it. Give play to the natural working of -a little child’s fancy, the boy’s or girl’s, the youth’s imagination. -It is wise to follow the lead of the child here, then be at hand, not -to deprive the child of the efficiency of independence and of the -pleasure of making, but to help when necessary that his attempt may be -encouragingly successful. - -(9) _It is sometimes expressing story images in other media._ Here, -again, the adult will do well to follow the lead of the child; of course -of the most freely expressive child. The inert must be stimulated. Left -to himself the child would not commit some of the excesses in sensible -representation that adults impose upon children, though objective -representation is natural to man at the childlike stage. It is not -necessary that the child represent materially every set of language -ideas. The teacher should not, on the other hand, stop natural attempt to -represent even the more elusive kinds of ideas; there may be a budding -Watts or Chase in her class, capable of picturing the highly fanciful and -spiritual. - -Keep the exercise growing. Its aim is to give constructive outlet to -the child. The child’s conception of the story, with expression of it -and each re-hearing, is growing. The practice of keeping a child’s -first attempts at expression in drawing or modeling or cutting or his -attempts at any one stage too long about the classroom, before his -eyes, is dwarfing. There is, of course, the other side to the question. -To accept nothing as accomplishment is deadening to effort. It is -possible, however, is it not, to meet the child on childlike standard -of achievement, to acknowledge the day’s accomplishment, yet without -disheartening him, or even talking to him about the better things he will -do, to keep _our_ own faces turned toward the morrow? - -(10) _It is playing the stories._ This, if not done with every story -without discrimination, or without reference to the children’s -instinctive selective sense, if kept at least fairly spontaneous and -progressive, is a form of constructivity heartily enjoyed by the -children. It is wise here again to follow the child’s lead. Let us -understand, however, by this the lead of the majority of our most normal -children and of the most gifted individuals. Many children meager in -imagination, feeble in initiative, inadequate in execution, will need the -strong lead of other children or of the teacher, qualified child seer -from her experience with more favored children. Let her give to these -from her abundance, becoming best playfellow and guide. But let her keep -herself in the attitude of _playing with the children_. - -Let us see how playing the story might develop. As soon as the story -takes possession of the child he shows a tendency to enter into its -persons and its action; to mimic the voices, to ape the manners, to do -the doings. Give outlet to this; let the child take on and play out the -life of the story, or yourself propose playing the story. - -Do not, by the way, clutter up the child’s direct outlet with staging -and properties and stage terms. It destroys spontaneity and reality. Let -the schoolroom be the place, and, as a rule, the school furnishings any -necessary things, and the school children, in their ordinary clothes, -the people. The delight of “dressing up” may sometimes be allowed; but -a mere suggestion in costume, if it be something distinctive of the -character impersonated, is all that is necessary; a gold paper crown, for -example, will at once make a queen of any child. Why not with the little -children talk simply and naturally: “Let us play” (not act nor dramatize) -so and so. Who’ll be so and so? I’ll be so and so. Where will you have -your home? And so on. Do not at the beginning _press_ even this simple -kind of planning; let the play develop with the playing of it. Help the -children, however, gradually to gain in planning. - -Playing has a tendency to make the form static; it is a mistake to let -this happen too soon. Do not, as is the practice, stop telling the story -yourself after the children have once played it. You will find that their -intimate experience in playing it will bring a more pointed attention to -the next hearing of it, and that their next playing will be richer in -detail, or stronger in structure, or truer in characterization, or more -appropriate in dialogue. Do not, of course, keep the children on one -story either for playing or other form of reproduction until they weary -of it. - -Far from deploring, by the way, the child’s crudities in dialogue, -appreciate the opportunity to let him express himself and to develop his -language sense. Keep the language way open to him. He will catch the -force of your comment on how some character spoke, himself suggest to -another pupil what the person the pupil is impersonating should say, note -how you talk when you impersonate, or how you respond in dialogue with -him. - -Playing the stories is open to educational abuse by being turned into -insincere show work. This results, too, in exclusion of pupils who do -not excel. Keep playing the stories, at least for the little children, -the spontaneous universal thing they make it—_play_. Their own selective -sense guides them in assigning or assuming rôles. It is abused, also, -by adult patronage. The teacher laughs at the children rather than with -them, or laughs when the true child seer would be serious. The child -thoroughly enjoys playing the stories, but this does not mean that he -laughs constantly or at his own performance. Encourage him to catch the -fun or humor of a situation or of a remark; enjoy the playing openly -when it is merry, laugh and laugh heartily, but do not turn his genuine -playing into a sham. Do not, on the other hand, take him too seriously; -he does not always take himself so. In short, get the child’s point of -view here as elsewhere. - -The “last’s the best of all the game;” it is (11) _growing by the power -and grace of the story_. - -May the child nurtured on the wit and wisdom of the simple story simply -told live happy ever after! - - Thus we arrived at this place together, where the people were - in the habit of spinning up the tow. It was an enforced custom - with them that each in turn should relate some little tale, or - history, and to tell the truth, not only the noble women, but - also myself and my friend, found our entire pleasure in such - stories, and we often used to stop old beggars and give them a - trifle more for telling us them. - - —JUCUNDUS JUCUNDISSIMUS, 1680. - - - - - -STORIES - - Now the children all draw near - ’Tis the time a tale to hear. - - -THE FAIRY HORSESHOE - -At midnight a long time ago an honest hard-working blacksmith heard -someone in his shop hammering, hammering, hammering, for all the world -like another blacksmith making a shoe. But the sound was very quick and -light, more like tapping, tapping, tapping. And all the time, whoever it -was was whistling the prettiest tune you ever heard, and singing between -times: - - “I’m a cunning blacksmith, - I can make a shoe, - Heat the iron, - Bend the iron, - Hammer it true— - Il y ho, il y hoo, - Il y ho, il y hoo— - I’m a cunning blacksmith, - I can make a shoe.” - -The blacksmith listened and thought, and listened and thought, and -listened and thought. Then he sprang out of bed on tiptoe, crying softly, -“I have it! I have it! It’s one of the wee small people. I’ll catch him -if I can for good luck.” The blacksmith needed some good luck. His work -was to shoe the horse and shoe the colt and shoe the wild mare; and he -did it well. But he hadn’t enough to do, and so he was very poor. - -Well, to go back, the blacksmith sprang out of bed on tiptoe. Then -without making the least bit of noise in the world that ever was heard, -he opened the door of his bedroom and looked all about the shop. He -couldn’t see sight nor light of anybody, but he heard the hammering, and -whistling, and the singing between times: - - “I’m a cunning blacksmith, - I can make a shoe, - Heat the iron, - Bend the iron, - Hammer it true— - Il y ho, il y hoo, - Il y ho, il y hoo— - I’m a cunning blacksmith, - I can make a shoe.” - -“It’s very odd,” said he, under his breath; “where can the wee small -thing be!” All of a sudden, as he peered about more sharply, he spied -it stuck in the girth of a white mare standing in the stall nearest the -forge. The elfin smith was wearing a bit of an apron before him, and -a tid of a nightcap on his head, and hammering away at a speck of a -horseshoe. - -“He’ll bring me good luck, if I can only catch him,” said the blacksmith -so softly that his own ears could scarcely hear. And without making the -least bit of noise in the world that ever was heard, he tiptoed up behind -the wee small body, opened his hand, and—snatched him up, crying, “Ha, -ha, I have you.” With that he opened two fingers to take a look, when—out -jumped the elf, crying, “Ho, ho, see me go,” and away he did go like a -streak of lightning. - -But he left the wee bit horseshoe in the blacksmith’s hand. And it did -bring him good luck, so that ever after he had plenty to do. So many -horses and colts and wild mares came to be shod that he had to build a -larger shop with nine-and-seven stalls. - -When the blacksmith died, he left the good luck fairy horseshoe to his -sons, and they left it to their sons, and they left it to their sons; so -that if they haven’t lost it the blacksmith’s great, great, great, great, -great, great, great grandchildren have it yet. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -THE MOUSE AND THE SAUSAGE - -Once upon a time a little mouse and a little sausage, who loved each -other like sisters, decided to live together. They planned it so that -every day one would go to walk in the fields, or to buy things in the -town, and the other would stay at home to keep the house. - -One day, when the little sausage had prepared cabbage for dinner, the -little mouse, who had come back from town with a good appetite, enjoyed -it so heartily that she exclaimed: “How delicious the cabbage is to-day, -my dear!” - -“Ah!” answered the little sausage, “that is because I popped myself into -the pot while it was cooking.” - -On the next day, when it was her turn to prepare the meals, the little -mouse said to herself: “Now I will do as much for my friend as she did -for me; we shall have lentils for dinner, and I will jump into the pot -while they are boiling.” So she did, without stopping to think that a -simple sausage can do some things not to be attempted by even the wisest -mouse. - -When the sausage came home, she found the house lonely and silent. She -called again and again, “My little mouse! Mouse of my heart!” but no one -answered. Then she went to look at the lentils boiling on the stove, and, -alas! found within the pot her good little friend, who had perished for -love of her. Poor mousie had stayed too long at her cookery, and when she -tried to climb out of the pot, she had no longer the strength to do so. - -The little sausage could never be consoled! That is why to-day, when you -put one in the pan or on the gridiron, you will hear her weep and sigh, -“M-my p-poor m-mouse! Ah, m-my p-poor m-mouse!” - - —FRENCH FOLK TALE - - -THE STORY OF THE LITTLE BOY AND THE LITTLE DOG - -There was a little boy and there was a little dog. The two lived together -and loved each other, and where one went the other followed. - -Now, all of a sudden, the little boy and his nurse moved away to another -city, far, far off. This puzzled the little boy so much that for once he -forgot the little dog. When he remembered him, it was the middle of the -night. But, for all that, he got up and waked his nurse to ask her where -the little dog could be. The nurse rubbed her sleepy eyes and said, - - “Sleep now, my lamb, and wait till day, - Thy little dog is on the way.” - -Then she closed her eyes and straightway fell fast asleep, and so there -was nothing for the little boy to do but to fall asleep, too. - -At break of day the little boy was at the window watching for the little -dog. But alas! no little dog came. When the little boy asked his nurse -what could be keeping the little dog, she said, - - “Be patient, my lamb, ’tis but peep of day, - Thy little dog is on the way.” - -Well, the morning and the noon passed, and no little dog came. The little -boy grieved so that he could neither eat nor play. At last when evening -began to darken, and still no little dog came, and still the little boy -watched at the window, the nurse put on her bonnet and shawl and went out -to find the little lost dog. - -It wasn’t long before she was back with a dog that looked something like -the dear lost one, but much thinner and quieter. When the little boy said -so to his nurse, she said, - - “Yes, poor doggie! But he came a long way, - Without bite or sup, a night and a day; - Give him, my lamb, a bowl of warm milk, - And soon you’ll see him as sleek as silk.” - -The little boy ran and gave him the milk. When the little dog had lapped -up the milk, he felt so much better that he licked the little boy’s face, -and the two frisked about the room. - -But the little boy noticed that the little dog did not caper so merrily -as he used to do. Indeed, the poor creature soon became quiet and sad -again. And, although the little boy made his own legs go as fast as a -windmill, he could not coax the little dog to run a race with him. He -saw, too, that the little dog found it very hard to curl himself up on -the hearthrug for a nap. And the next day the little dog was so wretched -that he refused to eat. - -“Poor, poor doggie, what ails you, whatever ails you?” cried the little -boy. “You’ll die if you do not eat.” He lifted the dog tenderly into -his lap, when—what should he feel on the stomach but a seam! “Nurse,” -he cried, “come quickly; something is stitched so tight around the poor -dog’s body he cannot eat nor breathe.” - -The nurse ran in with the scissors in her hand. And lo! - - With a nip and a snip, and snip and a nip, - And a very loud pip! - -out came the little boy’s own little dog. - -“Now I see through it all,” cried the nurse. And what she saw was what -had really happened. - -While the little dog was on his way to the little boy, a dog-seller -snatched him up and carried him into a shop. There he tried to change him -into a French poodle by sewing him into a skin-tight black jacket with -curly trimming. But by great good luck it was down the street past this -very shop the nurse walked and spied the little dog peeping out to see -how he might escape. - -“Oh, I’ll never forget thee again,” cried the little boy. And he didn’t. -The two lived happy together ever after, and where one went the other -followed. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -THE STORY OF THE TWO CAKES WHO LOVED EACH OTHER IN SILENCE - -On the shop counter lay two gingerbread cakes. One was the shape of a man -with a hat, the other of a maiden without a bonnet. Both their faces were -on the side that was turned up, for they were to be looked at on that -side, and not on the other. On the left the man wore a bitter almond—that -was his heart. The maiden was honey-cake all over. - -As they were only samples, they stayed on the counter a long time. And, -at last, they fell in love with each other. But neither told the other, -as should have been done, if anything was to come of it. - -“He is a man and must speak first,” thought she. But she was happy, for -she knew he loved her. - -His thoughts were far more extravagant; that is the way with men. He -dreamed that he was a real street boy, and that he had four pennies of -his own, and that he bought the sweet maiden and ate her up. - -So they lay on the counter for weeks and weeks, and grew dry and hard. - -But the thoughts of the maiden became ever more gentle and maidenly. “It -is enough for me that I have lived on the same table with him,” she said, -and—crack! she broke in two. - -“If she had only known of my love,” thought he, “she would have kept -together a little longer.” - - * * * * * - -“And that is their story, and here they are, both of them,” said the -baker, for it was he who was telling the story. “They are remarkable for -their curious history, and for their silent love, which never came to -anything. There they are for you.” So saying, he gave the man, who was -yet whole, to Joanna, and the broken maiden to Knud. - -But the children were so impressed with the story that they could only -look at them, they could not eat them up just yet. - - —HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN - - -HOW THE ROOSTER BUILT A HOUSE OF HIS OWN - -One spring day a young rooster set out on his two stout legs to build -a house of his own. On he went, a long, long way, and a long, long way -farther, and a long, long way farther than that. - -Then he lifted up his voice and flapped his wings and crowed, - - “Cock-a-doodle-doo. - I want a dame, I do.” - -At this out from somewhere stepped a bonny, wee white hen and fared along -beside him. - -On went the young rooster and the bonny, wee white hen a long, long way, -and a long, long way farther, and a long, long way farther than that. - -Then the young rooster lifted up his voice, flapped his wings, and crowed, - - “Cock-a-doodle-doo, - There’s room for a friend or two.” - -At this out from somewhere stepped a bearded goat, and a brindled cow, -and a long-tailed horse, and a whiskered cat, and fared along beside him. - -On went the young rooster, and the bonny, wee white hen, and the bearded -goat, and the brindled cow, and the long-tailed horse, and the whiskered -cat, a long, long way, and a long, long way farther, and a long, long way -farther than that. - -Then the young rooster lifted up his voice, flapped his wings, and crowed, - - “Cock-a-doodle-doo, - My friends, will this place do?” - -The bearded goat climbed up to browse on a rocky hill near by, and said -it would. The brindled cow cropped the grass beside a running stream, -and said it would. The long-tailed horse took a mouthful from a clump -of wild oats, and said it would. The whiskered cat spied a field mouse -scurrying into her hole, and said it would. The bonny, wee white hen had -not spoken. The rooster looked about for her, so did the bearded goat, -and the brindled cow, and the long-tailed horse, and the whiskered cat, -but she was nowhere to be seen. - -The young rooster lifted up his voice, flapped his wings, and crowed, - - “Cock-a-doodle-doo, - Dame Hen, now where are you?” - “Cut-cut-cut-cut-cadah-cut, - Cut-cut-cut-cut-cadah-cut!” - -cried the bonny, wee white hen, running out to tell him of an egg she had -laid in the long soft hay. - -“Well done,” cried Father Rooster, looking very proud of her; “our -peeping chicks will soon be out of the shell.” - -So then they all knew the place would do, and they set about building -the house of their own. The long-tailed horse cut down a tree for wood -with his strong teeth, the bearded goat rubbed the edges smooth with his -horns, the brindled cow carried the beams on her broad back and stood -them up in place with her forelegs, the whiskered cat sprang up and down -the beams and nailed them together, the young rooster gave the orders to -everyone, and when the house was done the bonny, wee white hen swept it -clean as a new pin. - -Then they all moved in. And there they lived in this house of their own -for a year and a day, and a year and a day, and a great many more, as -happy as bees in clover. - -And the young rooster was cock of the walk. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -THUMBELINA - -(_Arranged as a continued story_) - -HOW SHE CAME TO THE WOMAN - -Once a woman wished she had a very little child, but she did not know -where to get one. So she went to an old witch and said, “I wish I had a -very little child. Can you tell me where I might get one?” - -“Oh, that I can easily,” said the old witch. “Here is a barleycorn for -you. It is not the kind that grows in everyone’s field and the chickens -eat. Put it into a flower pot, and you shall see what you shall see.” - -“Thank you,” said the woman, and she gave the witch twelve shillings, for -that was the price of the barleycorn. - -Well, the woman planted the barleycorn. And immediately there grew up a -great handsome flower. It was like a tulip, but the petals were tightly -closed as if it were still a bud. - -“What a beautiful flower,” cried the woman, and she kissed its yellow and -red leaves. “Pop,” the flower opened. It was a real tulip, but in the -middle, there upon the green velvet stamens sat a tiny maiden, lovely -as a fairy, and only half a thumb’s height. So her mother called her -Thumbelina. - - * * * * * - -And that is how she got her. - - -THUMBELINA - -HOW SHE IS CARRIED OFF BY THE TOAD - -One night as Thumbelina lay sleeping in her pretty walnut-shell cradle, -there came creeping through the open window an old Toad. He hopped -straight down the table where Thumbelina lay. - -“Ah, she would make a lovely wife for my son,” said he. So he picked up -the cradle with Thumbelina in it, and hopped through the window and down -the garden to the brook. Here he lived with his son. - -“What do you say to her for your bride, my son?” said he. - -“Croak! croak! brek-kek-kek!” was all the son could say. - -“Hush! Don’t speak so loudly, or she will awake,” whispered the old Toad. -“She might run away from us, for she is as light as swan’s down. We will -put her out in the brook on one of the broad lily leaves; that will be -just like an island to her, and she won’t be able to get away. Then we’ll -go and get the best room in the marsh in order, where you are to live and -keep house together.” - -So they swam out with her, and when they came to a broad lily leaf lifted -her out of the cradle very gently without waking her, and swam back with -it, because they intended to place it in the bridal room. - -Well, when Thumbelina woke and saw where she was she began to cry -bitterly, for there was water on every side of the great leaf and she -could not get to land at all. The little fishes swimming below stuck -their heads out of the water to see what was the matter. And when they -saw Thumbelina they thought her so pretty that they drew in their heads -and put them together under the water, and nibbled away at the stem -until the leaf was free. Then away sailed Thumbelina, far off from -the ridiculous toad and his son who could only say, “Croak, croak, -brek-kek-kek.” - - -THUMBELINA - -HOW SHE GOT TO LAND - -Thumbelina sailed by many cities, and the little birds who sat in the -bushes saw her, and said, “What a lovely little girl!” A white butterfly -fluttered round her and at last alighted on the leaf with her. Thumbelina -was glad of his company; she took her girdle and tied one end of it -around the butterfly and the other to the leaf. On she went, faster than -ever now. - -Soon there came a big May-bug flying toward her. When he saw her he -thought her so pretty he clasped his claws round her waist, and flew with -her up into a tree. - -Mercy! how frightened poor little Thumbelina was! But the May-bug did her -no harm. He seated himself with her upon the biggest green leaf of the -tree, gave her the sweet part of the flowers to eat, and told her she was -lovely, although she did not look a bit like a May-bug. - -When the other May-bugs who lived in the tree heard of it, they all came -to pay a visit. They looked at Thumbelina, and one said, “Why, she hasn’t -more than two legs; how very odd that is!” - -“And she hasn’t any feelers!” cried another. - -“How squeezed she is at the waist—fie! How ugly she is!” said all the -lady May-bugs. - -So at last the May-bug who had carried her off thought so, too, although -she was really very pretty; and he flew down with her from the tree and -set her on a daisy and left her there. - -But, anyway, she was on land again; that was something. - - -THUMBELINA - -HOW SHE GOES TO LIVE WITH THE FIELD-MOUSE - -The whole summer through Thumbelina lived quite alone in the great wood. -She wove herself a bed out of blades of grass, and hung it up under a -shamrock to be sheltered from the rain. She scooped the honey out of the -flowers for food, and she drank the dew that stood every morning on the -leaves. So summer and autumn passed. - -Now came the winter, the long cold winter. All the sweet birds who used -to sing to her flew away. The trees and flowers lost their leaves. The -great shamrock she lived under shriveled up, and left her shivering. -She tried to wrap herself in a dry leaf, but that tore in the middle. -Soon it began to snow. Every snowflake that fell on her was like a whole -shovelful thrown on us, for we are tall and she was only an inch high. -Poor little Thumbelina! she was nearly frozen! - -She wandered out of the wood into a withered cornfield. The corn had gone -long ago; nothing but dry stubble stood up out of the frozen ground. But -it was like a great forest for Thumbelina to be lost in. How she trembled -with the cold! - -After some time she came to a field-mouse’s home. It was in a little hole -under the corn stubble, warm and cosy. There was a kitchen in it and a -pantry filled with corn. Little Thumbelina stood at the door just like a -poor beggar girl and begged for a little bit of barleycorn. “I haven’t -eaten a crumb in two days,” she cried pitifully. - -“You poor little creature,” said the kind field-mouse, “come into my warm -kitchen and eat as much as you wish.” And when Thumbelina came in, the -field-mouse liked her so well that she said, “If you wish you may stay -with me all winter, but you must keep my room clean and neat, and tell me -little stories, for I am very fond of them.” - -So Thumbelina did, and had a very good time of it. - - -THUMBELINA - -HOW SHE MEETS THE MOLE - -One day when Thumbelina had tidied the house and made it look as neat as -a new pin, she sat down to chat with the field-mouse. - -“My dear,” said the field-mouse, “we shall soon have a visit from my -neighbor, the mole. He comes to see me once a week. Do you know, he would -make you a good husband. He is rich. He lives in a much larger house than -mine, and wears beautiful black velvet fur. When he comes you must tell -him the prettiest stories you know.” - -And, sure enough, the mole came to see them, dressed in his black velvet -fur. Thumbelina did not care for him at all. He talked about nothing but -himself. He told how rich he was and how large his rooms were, twenty -times larger than the field-mouse’s, and he said he didn’t like the sun -and flowers, just because he had never seen them. - -“How can you talk so!” cried Thumbelina, indignantly. - -“Sing us one of your sweet songs, Thumbelina, my dear,” said the -field-mouse. - -So Thumbelina had to sing. She sang, “Ladybug, fly away.” She sang it so -sweetly that the mole fell in love with her. But he did not tell her so -yet. As for her, she was glad when his visit was over. - - -THUMBELINA - -HOW SHE TAKES CARE OF THE SWALLOW - -Well, the mole had dug a long passage through the earth from his house to -the field-mouse’s, and he told Thumbelina and the field-mouse they might -walk in the passage whenever they chose. - -“Don’t be afraid of the dead bird lying there,” said he; “come with me -and I’ll show you where it is.” He led the way with a bit of rotted wood -in his mouth to light up the long dark passage. When he came to the -place, he thrust his broad nose through the ceiling to make a hole so -that the daylight might shine down. And there in the middle of the floor -lay a dead swallow, with his beautiful wings pressed close against his -sides and his feet and head drawn in under the feathers. The poor thing -looked as if he had died of cold. - -Thumbelina was very sorry for him, but the mole gave the bird a push -with his crooked legs and said, “Now he can’t pipe any more. I’m glad I -was not born a bird, and that none of my children can ever be birds. A -bird can do nothing but say ‘tweet tweet’ in summer and starve in winter.” - -“Yes, indeed,” cried the field-mouse, “you may well say you are better -off to be a mole. You are clever, you can build and make underground -passages where you may keep snug and warm in the winter. Of what use is -all this ‘tweet tweet’ to a bird when the frost comes?” - -But Thumbelina did not agree with them at all. When they turned their -backs on the bird she bent down, gently moved the feathers aside, and -kissed him on the closed eyes. - -“Perhaps,” she thought, “it was this very bird that sang so sweetly to me -in the wood. He did far more for me than the mole does. How much pleasure -he gave me, the dear, beautiful bird!” - -The mole now closed up the hole and escorted the ladies home. - -But that night Thumbelina could not sleep for thinking of the dead bird. -So she got out of her bed and wove a soft blanket of hay. She carried -this out into the dark passage and spread it over the poor bird. As she -did so she laid her hand on the bird’s heart. It was beating! He was not -dead at all! only numb with cold. - -When he grew warm through and through he opened his eyes and looked at -Thumbelina. At first she trembled, she was so frightened, for the bird -was very large to her, who was only an inch in height. But she was too -kind to run away from him. - -“Thank you, pretty child,” said the sick swallow in a weak voice. “Now -that I am warm I shall get strong again and be able to fly on my way.” - -“Oh, stay where you are,” said Thumbelina, “it is so cold outside. It -snows and freezes. Stay in your warm bed and I will nurse you.” - -She brought the swallow water in the petal of a flower. When he had drunk -he told her all about himself. He had set out for the south, the warm -countries, with the other swallows; but as he flew he caught one of his -wings in a thorn bush and tore it. After this he could not fly so fast as -the others, so the winter overtook him and he could not stand the cold. -It benumbed him so that he fell to the ground. He could remember nothing -more after this, until he opened his eyes and found Thumbelina at his -side. - -The whole winter Thumbelina nursed the swallow. And when the spring came -and the sun was warm, she opened the hole in the ceiling and let the -sunshine pour in on him. - -“I am strong enough now to fly out into the sunshine,” said the swallow. -“Sit on my back and let us fly far into the green wood.” - -But Thumbelina would not do this; she knew that the old field-mouse -would be lonely without her. - -“No, I cannot,” said she. - -“Farewell then, you pretty, good child,” said the swallow, and he flew -off into the sunshine. Thumbelina looked after him, and the tears came -into her eyes, she was so sorry to part with him. - -“Tweet-tweet,” he sang, as she lost sight of him in the green wood. - - -THUMBELINA - -HOW SHE IS HELPED BY THE SWALLOW - -“My dear,” said the field-mouse one day after the mole had paid her a -visit, “the mole has asked me to give you to him for his wife. You are -very fortunate, a poor child like you. You must be ready to marry him as -soon as possible. Set to work at once on your wedding-dress.” - -So Thumbelina had to turn the spindle to make herself not only a -wedding-dress but plenty of wool and linen, for the field-mouse said -she would not have her go to the mole empty-handed, as if she were a -beggar-girl. And the mole himself hired four spiders to weave her a -beautiful cobweb veil. And every evening he paid her a visit, and said -they must be married as soon as the summer was over. - -Poor Thumbelina did not know what to do. She did not wish to marry the -mole, and live under the ground, where the sun never shone. The first -thing every morning and the last every evening, she crept outdoors, and -when the wind blew the corn leaves apart, she looked up at the sky and -wished the swallow would come to her. But he did not. - -When autumn came, Thumbelina had everything ready. - -“Only four weeks more for the wedding,” cried the mole. - -But when he had gone home Thumbelina wept and said she could not marry -the ugly mole, who talked about nothing but himself. - -“Nonsense!” said the field-mouse, “don’t be obstinate, or I’ll bite you -with my sharp teeth. The Queen herself has not such black velvet fur. And -his kitchen and cellar are full. Be thankful for your good fortune.” - -Well, the wedding day arrived. The mole, dressed in his best black -velvet, came to fetch Thumbelina to his house. - -“Farewell, thou bright sun!” she cried, running out of the house a little -way. “Farewell,” she cried, twining her arms around a little red flower -still blooming there; “say farewell to the little swallow for me, if you -see him again.” - -“Tweet-tweet! tweet-tweet!” suddenly sounded over her head. She looked -up; it was the little swallow, just flying by. He stopped when he saw -Thumbelina, he was so glad. And Thumbelina told him how she was to marry -the mole, and live deep under the earth, where the sun never shone. She -could not help weeping as she told of it. - -“Come with me,” said the swallow, “I am on my way far off to the warm -countries. Sit on my back, and we will fly from the ugly mole and his -dark room. Only fly with me, you dear little Thumbelina, who were so good -to me when I lay frozen in the dark passage.” - -“Yes,” cried Thumbelina, “I will go with you.” And she seated herself on -the bird’s back, and bound her girdle to one of his strongest feathers. -Then the swallow flew up into the air and away over forest and sea and -great high mountains, where the snow always lies, and on, on, on to the -beautiful warm countries. - - -THUMBELINA - -WHAT BECAME OF HER AT LAST - -In the warm countries the sun shone so bright that in the ditches and -on the hedges grew big juicy blue and green grapes, lemons and oranges -hung in the woods, and the loveliest children ran about the roads chasing -gorgeous butterflies. The swallow flew on until he came to a great palace -with dazzling white marble pillars. - -“My house is at the top of one of those pillars,” said he, “but it is not -good enough for you. It is not yet so well furnished as I should like it -to be if you were to live in it. Pick out one of the splendid flowers you -see down there, and I will set you down in it.” - -“That will be a beautiful home,” cried Thumbelina, and clapped her hands. -She chose a great white flower. The swallow flew down with her and set -her on one of the broad leaves. What was Thumbelina’s surprise? There in -the flower sat a little man, shining white, with a tiny gold crown on his -head, and bright wings on his shoulders; and he wasn’t a bit bigger than -Thumbelina herself. - -“How handsome he is!” whispered she to the swallow. - -“That is the king of all the flowers,” whispered the swallow back to her. - -The little king was afraid of the big swallow, but he liked Thumbelina -the minute he saw her. She was the prettiest maiden he had ever laid eyes -on. Instantly he took off his golden crown and put it on her head, asked -her name, and begged her to be his wife and queen of all the flowers. - -Now of course such a husband was much better than the toad’s son -who could say nothing from morning till night but “Croak, croak, -brek-kek-brek;” and the field-mouse’s neighbor, the mole, who could do -nothing from morning till night but talk of himself. So Thumbelina said -“Yes,” with a right good will, to the charming Prince. - -And out of every flower came a lady or lord, lovely to behold, and each -brought Thumbelina a wedding present. But the best gift was a pair of -beautiful wings that had once belonged to a great white fly. When these -had been fastened on her by one of the lovely ladies, Thumbelina could -fly from flower to flower, and visit everyone in her kingdom. - -It was a joyful wedding. The little swallow sat above them in the -nest,—he was to sing the marriage-song. And although his heart was sad to -lose Thumbelina, he sang it sweetly. - -So that is the end, and Thumbelina lived happy ever after. - - —HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN - - -A VISIT FROM AN ELF - -One evening, as a farmer was crossing a field to his home, what should -he see sitting on a stone in the middle of it but a tiny creature! The -little thing looked something like a very, very, very small, teeny, -weeny, tiny little child. And it was blue and shivering with cold. The -farmer saw that it must be an elf. - -He knew it would bring him good luck to be kind to it. Besides, he -pitied it from his heart. So he took it home and placed it on a stool by -the hearth, and fed it with sweet milk. Soon the bantling was warm and -lively. He capered and sprang about the kitchen merrier than a cricket, -and twice as light-footed. - -Well, he didn’t go the next day nor the next nor the next. He stayed for -many days. A curious thing about him was that he never spoke. But that -did not matter, for he kept the farmer and the farmer’s wife laughing at -his tricks. - -He and they had many a play together. Sometimes, when the farmer’s wife -was not looking, he would creep into the keyhole. Then the farmer would -call out, “Find him, wife.” - -At this the farmer’s wife would search all about the kitchen, under the -chairs, in the closet, behind the wood box, even in the clock case. But -she could not find him. Then she would cry out, “Where are you, Tinykins?” - -The farmer would chuckle and hee-haw, and slap his knee, and wink, and -say, - - “He’s neither in, - And he’s neither out; - He’s where something goes in - When the light goes out.” - -Quick as the crow flies before the farmer’s empty gun the farmer’s wife -would guess, “You’re in the keyhole, Tinykins, you rogue, come out.” - -And out he would pop in high glee. - -The way he went was as strange as the way he came. I’ll tell you about it - -One evening as the little fellow was frisking about the farm kitchen, a -shrill voice from the farmyard called three times, “Tolman Grig! Tolman -Grig! Tolman Grig!” - -“Ho! ho! ho! My daddy is come,” cried the elf, springing up and speaking -for the first time. - -With that, off he flew through the keyhole. - -That was the last the farmer or his wife ever saw of him. But forever -after they were happy and prosperous. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -HOW THE CAT GOT ALL THE GRAIN - -Once upon a time a Cat and a Parrot owned a field together. One day the -Cat said to the Parrot, “Come, friend, ’tis time to till the field.” - -Said the Parrot, “I can’t come now, because I am whetting my bill on the -branch of a mango-tree.” - -So the Cat went alone and plowed the field. When it was plowed the Cat -went again to the Parrot and said, “Come, friend, let us sow the corn.” - -Said the Parrot, “I can’t come now, because I am whetting my bill on the -branch of a mango-tree.” - -So the Cat went alone and sowed the corn. The corn took root, and -sprouted, and put forth the blade, and the ear, and the ripe corn in the -ear. Then the Cat went again to the Parrot and said, “Come, friend, let -us go and gather in the harvest.” - -Said the Parrot, “I can’t come now, because I am whetting my bill on the -branch of a mango-tree.” - -So the Cat went alone and gathered in the harvest. She put it away in -barns and made ready for the threshing. Then she went again to the Parrot -and said, “Come, friend, let us winnow the grain from the chaff.” - -Said the Parrot, “I can’t come now, because I am whetting my bill on the -branch of a mango-tree.” - -So the Cat went alone and winnowed the grain from the chaff. Then she -went again to the Parrot and said, “Come, friend, the grain is all -winnowed and sifted. Come and let us divide it between us.” - -“I will,” shrieked the Parrot so loudly that he lost his balance, fell -from the branch of the mango-tree, and cracked open his poll. That put an -end to him. So the Cat had all the grain for herself. - - —EASTERN FOLK TALE - - -THE TABLE AND THE CHAIR - - Said the Table to the Chair, - “You can hardly be aware - How I suffer from the heat - And from chilblains on my feet. - If we took a little walk, - We might have a little talk; - Pray let us take the air,” - Said the Table to the Chair. - - Said the Chair unto the Table, - “Now you _know_ we are not able; - How foolishly you talk, - When you know we _cannot_ walk!” - Said the Table, with a sigh, - “It can do no harm to try, - I’ve as many legs as you, - Why can’t we walk on two?” - - So they both went slowly down - And walked about the town - With a cheerful bumpy sound - As they toddled round and round; - And all the people cried, - As they hastened to their side, - “See! the Table and the Chair - Have come out to take the air!” - - But in going down an alley - To a castle in a valley, - They completely lost their way - And wandered all the day; - Till, to see them safely back, - They paid a Ducky-quack, - And a Beetle and a Mouse - Who took them to their house. - - Then they whispered to each other, - “O delightful little brother, - What a lovely walk we’ve taken! - Let us dine on beans and bacon.” - So the Ducky and the leetle - Browny-Mousy and the Beetle - Dined and danced upon their heads - Till they toddled to their beds. - - —EDWARD LEAR - - -THE WONDERFUL SHIP - -“Once upon a time,” said the stork, “and a very good time it was, there -was a ship, a wonderful ship that could sail on land, dry land.” - -“Oh!” said the chicks. - - “I know what I tell,” - Cried the stork, - “I know it well, very well, - I saw it with my own eyes.” - -“This wonderful ship went on legs,” said the stork. “Long legs.” - -“Oh!” said the chicks and the ducklings. - - “I know what I tell, - I know what I tell,” - Shouted the stork, - “I know it well, very well, - I saw it with my own eyes.” - -“It had a head, and a neck that came down and went up like a hook,” said -the stork, “a big hook.” - -“Oh!” said the chicks and the ducklings and the little turkeys. - - “I know what I tell, - I know what I tell,” - Shrieked the stork, - “I know it well, very well, - I saw it with my own eyes.” - -“It had a hump on its back,” said the stork, “a hump or two.” - -“Oh!” said the chicks and the ducklings and the little turkeys and the -goslings. - - “I know what I tell, - I know what I tell,” - Cried the stork, - “I know it well, very well, - I saw it with my own eyes.” - -“It was—alive!” said the stork, opening his eyes and his mouth up so high -that he could hardly get them down again. - -“Ah, it wasn’t a real ship at all,” whispered the chicks to the -ducklings, and they whispered it to the little turkeys, and they -whispered it to the goslings. - -“It was a camel,” said the stork. - -“What’s that?” asked the chicks, the ducklings, the little turkeys, and -the goslings. And they crowded around him. - -“He’s called the ship of the desert,” said the stork. And he drew back to -see what they thought of it. - -“Why?” asked the chicks, the ducklings, the little turkeys, and the -goslings. - -“Ask your teacher,” said he, flying off to his nest in the chimney top; - - “I must attend to my babies. - Go to school; - If you don’t, - You’ll turn out geese and gabies.” - -At this minute, by great good luck, they heard Nan say to Ned, her -brother, “Let’s play school. I’ll be the teacher.” So they went to school. - -And by great good luck Ned’s lesson was about camels. “I’m not at all -surprised,” whispered the smallest chick to the biggest gosling; “I found -a four-leaf clover in the grass this morning. I knew then we should have -good luck.” - -They listened with all their might to the lesson, and when they found it -too hard they stopped listening to talk it over. This was pretty often. -So when they went home they knew as much about camels as the stork does, -and maybe as much as you know. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -THE CLEVER GEESE - -A long, long time ago when there were more foxes’ dens than cats’ -cradles, there lived a very sly fox. Every evening this sly fox sneaked -up through the tall grass and weeds and around the tree-trunks, pounced -upon a plump young goose, and carried it off to his den. - -First, he had one hidden away, then two, then three, then four, then -five, then six, and by and by as many more. - -Well, when he had a round dozen, he called them before him in a circle, -fixed them with his bold sharp eyes, and said, “My dumplings, prepare to -die. At moonlight, to-night, I dine on young goose.” - -“You’ll surely give us time to say good-by,” cried the poor simpletons, -who suddenly turned clever to save their necks. “We have become the -dearest of friends.” - -“With all my heart,” said the fox, with a bow. “Take as much time as you -like, my dainties, for the sweet parting.” And off he went. - -One silly goose began to giggle at their cleverness before he was out of -earshot. But her sisters ran at her and pecked her into silence. They -laughed with their eyes only, and so long as the fox kept walking away -and not looking back that was perfectly safe. - -Well, at moonlight, sure enough, the fox came home to dine. And at once -the geese began to say good-by. - -“Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-” said one. And when he stopped for breath, -“Ga-ga-ga-ga-” said another. And, when he stopped, another took it up. -And after that, another and another. - -So, for all I know, they are at it still. The fox has not yet dined, -and the geese are alive and gabbling, though, as the story says at the -beginning, it all happened a very long time ago, before any of us were -born. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -THE HAPPY PRINCE - -(_Especially suitable in winter season_) - -High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy -Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he -had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt. - -“Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?” asked a mother of her little -boy who was crying for the moon. “The Happy Prince never dreams of crying -for anything.” - -“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,” muttered a -disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue. - -“He looks just like an angel,” said the Orphan Children, as they came out -of the cathedral. - -“How do you know?” said the Mathematical Master, “you have never seen -one.” - -“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the children; and the -Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not -approve of dreaming. - -One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had -gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind with the -beautiful Reed. He had seen her early in the spring as he was flying down -the river after a big yellow moth, and had stopped to talk to her. - -“Shall I love you?” said he. “Shall I love you?” And the Reed made him -a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his -wings, and making silver ripples. This lasted through the summer. - -Then, when the autumn came, the other swallows all flew away. After they -had gone he felt lonely. - -“I am off to the Pyramids,” said he to the Reed. “Good-by!” and he flew -after them. - -All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. “Where -shall I put up?” he said; “I hope the town has made preparations.” - -Then he saw the statue on the tall column. - -“I will put up there,” he cried; “it is a high place with plenty of -fresh air.” So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince. - -“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to himself as he looked round -and prepared to go to sleep; but as he was putting his head under his -wing a large drop of water fell on him. “What a curious thing!” he cried; -“there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and -bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is -really dreadful.” - -Then another drop fell. - -“What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?” he said; “I -must look for a good chimney-pot,” and he made up his mind to fly away. - -But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up -and saw—Ah! what did he see? - -The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were -running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the -moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity. - -“Who are you?” he said. - -“I am the Happy Prince.” - -“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow. “You have quite drenched -me.” - -“When I was alive and had a heart to feel,” answered the statue, “I lived -in a palace. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, -and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden -ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it. My -courtiers called me the Happy Prince. So I lived and died. And now that I -am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness -and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead, yet I -cannot choose but weep.” - -“What! is he not solid gold?” said the Swallow to himself. He was too -polite to make any personal remarks out loud. - -“Far away,” continued the statue, “far away in a little street there is -a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a -woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, -red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is -embroidering flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the queen’s -maids-of-honor to wear at the next court-ball. In a bed in the corner of -the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for -oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is -crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not take her the ruby -out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot -move.” - -“I am waited for in Egypt,” said the Swallow. “My friends are flying up -and down the Nile.” - -“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay -with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and -the mother so sad.” - -“I don’t think I like boys,” answered the Swallow. “Last summer, when I -was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, -who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; -we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family -famous for its swiftness; but still it was a mark of disrespect.” - -But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. “It -is very cold here,” he said; “but I will stay with you for one night and -be your messenger.” - -“Thank you, little Swallow,” said the Prince. - -So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and -flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town. - -He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were -sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard a beautiful girl say, “I -hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball. I have ordered -flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.” - -At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing -feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so -tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the -woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s -forehead with his wings. “How cool I feel,” said the boy, “I must be -getting better;” and he sank into a delicious slumber. - -Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince. “It is strange,” he -remarked, “but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.” - -“That is because you have done a good action,” said the Prince. And the -little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always -made him sleepy. - -When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. “What a -remarkable phenomenon,” said the Bird Professor as he was passing over -the bridge. “A swallow in winter!” And he wrote a long letter about it to -the local newspaper. - -“To-night I go to Egypt,” said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits. -He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the -church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each -other, “What a distinguished stranger!” so he enjoyed himself very much. - -When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. “Have you any -commissions for Egypt?” he cried; “I am just starting.” - -“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay -with me one night longer?” - -“I am waited for in Egypt,” answered the Swallow. “To-morrow my friends -will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among -the bulrushes. At noon the lions come down to the water’s edge to drink. -They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar -of the cataract.” - -“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “far away across the -city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered -with papers. He is trying to finish a play, but he is too cold to write -any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.” - -“I will wait with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, who really had -a good heart. “Shall I take him another ruby?” - -“Alas!” said the Prince; “my eyes are all that I have left. But they are -made of rare sapphires, brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck -out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweler, and -buy food and firewood, and finish his play.” - -“Dear Prince,” said the Swallow, “I cannot do that;” and he began to weep. - -“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command -you.” - -So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the -student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in -the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man -had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the -bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire. - -“Now I can finish my play,” he cried, and he looked quite happy. - -The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbor. He sat on the mast of a -large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold -with ropes. “Heave a-hoy!” they shouted as each chest came up. “I am -going to Egypt,” cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon -rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. - -“I am come to bid you good-by,” he cried. - -“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay -with me one night longer?” - -“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and the chill snow will soon -be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the -crocodiles lie in the mud. My companions are building a nest. Dear -Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I -will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given -away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be -as blue as the great sea.” - -“In the square below,” said the Happy Prince, “there stands a little -match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all -spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not take home some money, -and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is -bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not -beat her.” - -“I will stay with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, “but I cannot -pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.” - -“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command -you.” - -So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He -swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her -hand. “What a lovely bit of glass!” cried the little girl; and she ran -home, laughing. - -Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. “You are blind now,” he said, -“so I will stay with you always.” - -“No, little Swallow,” said the poor Prince, “you must go away to Egypt.” - -“I will stay with you always,” said the Swallow, and he slept at the -Prince’s feet. - -All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories -of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who -stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their -beaks; and of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in -the desert, and knows everything. - -“Dear little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you tell me of marvelous things, -but fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.” - -So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry -in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. -He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children -looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a -bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep -themselves warm. “How hungry we are!” they said. “You must not lie here,” -shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain. - -Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen. - -“I am covered with fine gold,” said the Prince, “you must take it off, -leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor.” - -Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy -Prince looked quite dull and gray. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he -took to the poor. “We have bread now!” they cried. And the children’s -faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. - -Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked -as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long -icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses. - -The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave -the Prince; he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the -baker’s door, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings. - -But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to -fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more. “Good-by, dear Prince!” he -murmured. “Will you let me kiss your hand?” - -“I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,” said the -Prince, “you have stayed too long here; but kiss me on the lips, for I -love you.” - -“It is not to Egypt that I am going,” said the Swallow. “I am going to -Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?” - -And he kissed the happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his -feet. - -At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something -had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped in two. It -certainly was a hard frost. - -Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in -company with the Town Councilors. As they passed the column he looked up -at the statue. “Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!” he said. - -“How shabby indeed!” cried the Town Councilors, who always agreed with -the Mayor, and they went up to look at it. - -“The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone,” said the -Mayor; “in fact, he is little better than a beggar!” - -So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince and sent it to be -melted in a furnace. - -“What a strange thing!” said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. -“This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it -away.” So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also -lying. - -“Bring me the two precious things in the city,” said God to one of His -Angels; and the Angel took Him the leaden heart and the dead bird. - -“You have chosen rightly,” said God; “in my garden of Paradise this -little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy -Prince shall praise me.” - - —OSCAR WILDE - - -THE DWARF ROOTS’ STORY OF THE PUMPKIN SEED - -Did you ever hear the story of the Pumpkin Seed that made a feast of his -insides, and found his outsides changed most surprisingly, and went down -a pig’s throat and was happy? Ever since it happened the Dwarf Roots, -who live below the ground, tell it to the pumpkin seeds. They say they -heard it from the wind one day when the farmer’s spade laid the ground -open and let the wind in. And the wind says he heard the farm children’s -grandmother tell it. And she says she heard it from her grandmother. So -you see it is an old story, and time you heard it. Then - - Throw the nuts in - And let us straight begin. - -Before the Dwarf Roots tell the story they stroke their beards that have -grown fast into the ground, like hairy threads, and cry out, “Once upon -a, twice upon a, thrice upon a time;” and all the little pumpkin seeds -lying low in the ground know a story is coming and swell with joy. After -that the Dwarf Roots tell the story as ’twas told to me. So - - Throw the nuts in - And turn the first about. - And let’s not stop again - Until the tale is out. - -Here’s the tale. - -Early in the spring, when things with legs all walk abroad and garden -folks are born, a little Pumpkin Seed stuck his head above ground. He -arrived with his cap on, as pumpkin seeds do, but as soon as possible he -shook it off, and looked about him to find out what to do next. And who -should he see come trotting down the garden path toward him but a little -sniffing, squealing pig, poking his snout into everything and gobbling it -up! - -Now, how he came to know it the little Pumpkin Seed never could tell, but -all of a sudden he sang out: - - “I’m for your betters, - Not you, piggy wig, - When juicy I’ve grown - And round and big; - Then I’ll change into something - Which winks and blinks - And with boys and girls - Plays high jinks; - But when I’m out, - Snip, snap, snout, - You may have me, - It’s your turn to shout.” - -The little pig was so astonished that he stood straight up on his hind -legs and curled his tail in a tight knot, for all the world as if he were -a performing pig in a circus. When he was firm on his legs again, he was -just going to open his mouth, when he saw the farmer coming down the -path, so he ran squealing from the garden. Some Dwarf Roots who tell the -story say he was going to gobble up the little Pumpkin, and others say he -was going to answer in pig’s rhyme: - - “When it’s time to shout, - With my sniffy snout - I’ll smell you out.” - -However that may be, the next time he came trotting that way he poked his -snout into a wire netting the farmer had put around the kitchen garden to -keep him out, so that was the last the little Pumpkin Seed saw of him for -many a long day. - -But the Pumpkin Seed knew now what he should do. He stood up straight in -the sunlight and soft rain, and grew and grew and covered himself with -blossoms, and then let them all drop off except one. And out of that he -made a little pumpy pumpkin, and by harvest time he had that so fat and -round and yellow and juicy that the Dwarf Roots’ mouths water when they -tell of it. - -The farmer gathered the Pumpkin in a great basket, and his wife scooped -out the splendid insides of it and made of them deep rich pies for the -Thanksgiving feast that the farmer’s family eat together in thankfulness -to God for health and plenty. Everyone comes to the feast: grandfather -and grandmother and uncles and aunts and all the children, first cousins -and second cousins and third cousins and fourth cousins and fifth -cousins, down to the littlest babies that can do nothing, when they’re -not feeding and sleeping, but gurgle and crow at their fingers and toes. -To be sure, when the grown-ups bite into the deep rich pumpkin pie they -can do nothing either but gurgle and smack their lips. - -So it was that the inside of the Pumpkin did its part and made a feast -and came to glory. - -But what of the outside? You shall hear. It happened that very night. - -The outside fell into the hands of a boy who could work surprising -changes in things. He worked one in the outside of the Pumpkin. Some -Dwarf Roots say he turned it into a Jack-o’-lantern, and some say -into a goblin. Anyway, there it was that night, stuck in the farmer’s -hitching-post and changed most surprisingly. It had a head that glowed -like fire in the darkness, and big round eyes that winked and blinked -every time the wind blew, and a mouth that grinned from ear to ear when -the big boys and girls made the little ones run past it. The little ones -would steal up softly, and just when they were near the fiery head the -big ones would cry out, “Look out, little uns, the goblin’ll get cher”; -and the little ones would dash past, laughing and shrieking. - -So it was that the outside of the Pumpkin did its part and played high -jinks with the children. Great fun it was; and it kept up until the -farmer called out, “Time for bed, boys and girls.” - -Just as he said this the wind put the fire out of the Pumpkin’s head and -blew him off the hitching post. And the next thing he knew he was going -down a pig’s throat, the very piggy wig he met so long ago. - - Snip, snap, snout, - This tale’s out: - The pig has him now, - And it’s his turn to shout. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -A HORSE’S STORY - -Here is a story told by Black Beauty, as pretty a little horse as ever -wore a white star on his forehead. - - * * * * * - -One day late in the autumn my master had a long journey to go on -business. I was put to the dog-cart, and John, the coachman, drove. There -had been a great deal of rain, and now the wind was very high and blew -the dry leaves across the road in a shower. We went along merrily till -we came to the toll-bar and the low wooden bridge. The river banks were -rather high, and the bridge, instead of rising, went across just level, -so that in the middle, if the river was full, the water would be nearly -up to the woodwork and planks. But as there were good, substantial rails -on each side, people did not mind it. - -The man at the gate said the river was rising fast, and he feared it -would be a bad night. Many of the meadows were under water, and in one -low part of the road the water was halfway up to my knees. The bottom was -good, however, and master drove gently, so it was no matter. - -When we got to the town I had, of course, a good feed, but as the -master’s business engaged him a long time, we did not start for home till -rather late in the afternoon. The wind was then much higher, and I heard -the master say to John we had never been out in such a storm. And so I -thought, as we went along the skirts of a wood, where the great branches -were swaying about like twigs, and the rushing sound was terrible. - -“I wish we were well out of this wood,” said my master. - -“Yes, sir,” said John, “it would be rather awkward if one of these -branches came down on us.” - -The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there was a groan, and a -crack, and a splitting sound. And crashing down amongst the older trees -came an oak, torn up by the roots. It fell across the road just before -us. I will never say I was not frightened, for I was. I stopped still, -and I believe I trembled. Of course I did not turn round or run away; I -was not brought up to that. John jumped out and in a moment was at my -head. - -“That came very near,” said my master. “What’s to be done now?” - -“Well, sir, we can’t drive over that tree, nor yet get round it. There’s -nothing for us but to go back to the four cross-ways, and that will be a -good six miles before we get round to the wooden bridge again. It will -make us late, but the horse is fresh.” - -So back we went and round by the cross roads. By the time we got to -the bridge it was very nearly dark. We could just see that the water -was over the middle of it. As this sometimes happened when there were -floods, master did not stop. We were going along at a good pace, but the -moment my feet touched the first part of the bridge, I felt sure there -was something wrong. I dared not go forward, and I made a dead stop. “Go -on, Beauty,” said my master, and he gave me a touch with the whip, but -I dared not stir. He gave me a sharp cut. I jumped, but I dared not go -forward. - -“There’s something wrong, sir,” said John, and he sprang out of the -dog-cart, and came to my head and looked all about. He tried to lead me -forward. “Come on, Beauty; what’s the matter?” Of course, I could not -tell him, but I knew very well that the bridge was not safe. - -Just then the man at the toll-gate on the other side ran out of the -house, tossing a torch about violently. - -“Hoy, hoy, hoy! halloo! stop!” he cried. - -“What’s the matter?” shouted my master. - -“The bridge is broken in the middle, and part of it is carried away; if -you come on you’ll be into the river.” - -“Thank God!” said my master. “You Beauty!” said John, and took the bridle -and gently turned me round to the right-hand road by the river side. The -sun had set some time. The wind seemed to have lulled off after that -furious blast which tore up the tree. It grew darker and darker, stiller -and stiller. I trotted quietly along, the wheels hardly making a sound on -the soft road. For a good while neither master nor John spoke, and then -master began in a serious voice. I could not understand much of what they -said, but I found they thought that if I had gone on as the master wanted -me, horse, chaise, master, and man would have fallen into the river. -Master said, God had given men reason, by which they could find out -things for themselves; but he had given animals instinct, which did not -depend on reason, and which was much more prompt and perfect in its way, -and by which they had often saved the lives of men. - -At last we came to the park gates, and found the gardener looking out for -us. He said that mistress had been much alarmed ever since dark, fearing -some accident had happened, and that she had sent James off on Justice, -the roan cob, towards the wooden bridge to make inquiry after us. - -We saw a light at the hall door and at the upper windows, and as we came -up, mistress ran out, saying to master, “Are you really safe, my dear? -Oh! I have been so anxious, fancying all sorts of things. Have you had no -accident?” - -“No, but if your Black Beauty had not been wiser than we were, we should -all have been carried down the river at the wooden bridge.” I heard no -more, as they went into the house, and John took me to the stable. Oh, -what a good supper he gave me that night, a good bran mash and some -crushed beans with my oats, and such a thick bed of straw! and I was glad -of it, for I was tired. - - —ANNA SEWELL - - -A BEWITCHED DONKEY - -There was once a little donkey who lived with a little old woman and -her tabby cat and her rooster and his hens and their chicks in a little -cottage out in the country. Every morning, after cropping the dewy grass, -the little donkey used to poke his head in at the cottage window, as much -as to say, “It’s time we were off,” and the little old woman used to say, -“I’ll be with you in two shakes of Tabby’s tail.” Presently out she would -bring two baskets of fresh-laid eggs from the hens and hang them across -the donkey’s back, and off to market they’d go. Tabby would stop washing -her face to wave her paw at them, and the little old woman would wave -her hand back, and the little donkey would turn and wave his head. They -were as happy and loving as any people that ever lived together, and the -donkey was the man of the family. - -But one morning something got into the donkey. He seemed to be bewitched. -You shall hear. - -When he had cropped the dewy grass as usual, he poked his head in at -the cottage window, as much as to say, “It’s time we were off,” and the -little old woman said, “I’ll be with you in two shakes of Tabby’s tail.” -But the minute she came to the door with the two baskets of fresh-laid -eggs from the hens, up went the little donkey’s heels, and away he ran -with such a kick and a run and a run and a kick that the little old woman -couldn’t keep up with him were she never so quick. All at once she was -so surprised at him that she stood stock still. Immediately stock still -stood the little donkey and laughed at her till his fat little sides -shook, “Hee haw, hee haw, hee haw.” This was too much for the little old -woman. “Can it be that my own little donkey is laughing at his little old -woman?” she said. And one basket of eggs dropped smash on the ground and -she began to cry. - -At this out came Tabby, and up came running all the hens and their little -chicks and the lordly rooster, and they all rubbed against the little old -woman’s skirts, and Tabby miowed, “Our little old woman, do not cry,” and -the hens cackled it, and the little chicks peeped it, and the rooster -crowed it. And then they all said it together, each in his own way. - -“But the man of the family has run away from us and he laughs at it,” -said the little old woman; “whatever shall we do!” - -“Let us give him another chance,” said the big white hen with the kind -face. “Begin all over again and see what happens.” - -So the rooster led the way back to the yard, and the hens followed him -and the little chicks followed them. At the same time Tabby led the way -back to the cottage and the little old woman followed her. When the -little old woman was inside she began packing the one basket of eggs into -the two baskets. Well, sure enough, the little donkey did his part, too. -He ran back and began cropping the dewy grass, and then he poked his head -in at the cottage window as much as to say, “It’s time we were off,” and -the little old woman in high glee called out, “I’ll be with you in two -shakes of Tabby’s tail.” - -But the minute she came to the door with the two baskets of fresh-laid -eggs from the hens, up went the little donkey’s heels, and away he ran -with such a kick and a run and a run and a kick that the little old woman -couldn’t keep up with him were she never so quick. And as before, all at -once she was so surprised at him that she stood stock still. Immediately -stock still stood the little donkey and laughed at her till his fat -little sides shook, “Hee haw, hee haw, hee haw.” And, as before, this was -too much for the little old woman. “Can it be that my own little donkey -is laughing at his little old woman?” she said. And one basket of eggs -dropped smash on the ground and she began to cry. - -At this out came Tabby, and up came running all the hens and their little -chicks and the lordly rooster, and they all rubbed against the little old -woman’s skirts, and Tabby miowed, “Our little old woman, do not cry,” and -the hens cackled it, and the little chicks peeped it, and the rooster -crowed it. And then they all said it together, each in his own way. - -So it was of no use. - -But at last the little old woman thought of a plan, such an easy thing, -too, and sure to be what a little old woman would think of sooner or -later to keep the man of the family. Instead of staying in the cottage, -when they went back to try it over a third time, she went out by a back -door and crept around the side of the house. When the donkey poked his -head in at the window she ran out, caught him by the heels, shoved him -in, jumped in after him, and held him. The lordly rooster and the hen -and the little chicks were watching, and they ran in and shut both doors -fast. And then they all waited and listened, and presently the donkey -began to explain himself. - -The moonlight the night before was so strong, he said, that it woke him -up. As he opened his eyes he heard little voices, as sweet as silver -bells, singing, - - “O lovely moon, queen of the night, - Beautiful moon, glorious and bright, - Hail, all hail!” - -He looked out of his shed into the moonlight, and there on the green he -saw the most exquisite fairies, with wings shining with all the colors of -the rainbow, hand in hand with big-eyed tiny elves with bumpy heads and -little legs. They were all dancing in a ring and looking up at the moon. -And the moon was gazing down at them. - -Now he knew very well that the fairy folk do not like to be spied on; he -had often heard the little old woman tell it to her gossip, Tabby, the -cat. And she had warned him to stay in his stall and not go prying on -the night folk. And he said he was truly sorry now that he did it, but -at the time he thought it would be fun. So he stole up around a stack of -hay near where they were dancing in honor of the moon, and all at once he -gave such a bray that the fairies fell to the ground in little swoons, -and the elves jumped so high into the air that for a whole second he lost -sight of them. - -But the moonlight showed _them_ where he was. Quick as a wink they -whipped little horns out of their belts and blew together three times. Up -came hobbling from the shadows an old witch. She saw the donkey at once, -and pointing her long finger at his heels cried, - - “Kick him, heels, - Until he feels - Ashamed to spy - At fairy reels, - He-he-he! - He must kick - And run away, - And fill the air - With donkey bray, - Until he eats - A wisp of hay - Given by bat - Or by cat.” - -Well, Tabby was off to a stable before one shake of her own tail, and -presently back she came with the wisp of hay. The little old woman gave -it to the little donkey and held her breath to see what would happen, and -so did Tabby and the lordly rooster and the hens and the little chicks. -No sooner had the donkey swallowed it than he left off kicking and trying -to run away! - -So now, of course, everything came right. The lordly rooster led his -wives and children back to the henyard, and the little old woman and the -little donkey set off to market with the eggs that had not been smashed. -Tabby stopped washing her face to wave her paw at them, and the little -old woman waved her hand back, and the little donkey turned and waved his -head. - -And ever after they were as loving and happy as any people that ever -lived together, and the donkey was the man of the family. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN - -(_Tell with stick-figure blackboard illustrations._) - -In a village there lived an old woman who one day gathered some beans -from her garden to cook. She had a good fire on the hearth, but, to make -it burn more quickly, she threw on a handful of straw. As she threw the -beans into the pot to boil, one of them fell on the floor unseen by the -old woman, not far from a wisp of straw. Suddenly a glowing coal bounced -out of the fire, and fell close to them. They both started away, and -exclaimed, “Dear friend, don’t come near me till you are cooler. Whatever -brings you out here?” - -“Oh,” replied the coal, “the heat luckily made me so strong that I was -able to bounce from the fire. Had I not done so, my death would have been -certain, and I should have been burnt to ashes by this time.” - -“I, too, have escaped with a whole skin,” said the bean; “for had the old -woman put me into the pot with my comrades, I should have been boiled to -broth.” - -“I might have shared the same fate,” said the straw, “for all my brothers -were pushed into fire and smoke by the old woman. She seized sixty of us -at once, and brought us in here to take away our lives, but luckily I -slipped through her fingers.” - -“Well, now what shall we do with ourselves?” said the coal. - -“I think,” answered the bean, “as we have been so fortunate as to escape -death together, we may as well be companions, and travel away together to -some more friendly country.” - -This pleased the two others; so they started on their journey together. -After traveling a little distance, they came to a stream, over which -there was no bridge of any sort. - -Then the straw thought of a plan, and said, “I will lay myself across the -stream, so that you may step over me, as if I were a bridge.” - -So the straw stretched himself from one shore to the other, and the coal, -who was rather hot-headed, tripped out quite boldly on the newly built -bridge. But when he reached the middle of the stream, and heard the water -rushing under him, he was so frightened that he stood still, and dared -not move a step farther. The straw began to burn, broke in two, and fell -into the brook. The coal slid after him, hissed as he reached the water, -and gave up the ghost. - -The bean, who had cautiously remained behind on the shore, could not keep -in when she saw what had happened, and laughed so heartily that she burst -her sides. It would have been all over with her, too; but, as good luck -would have it, a tailor, out on his travels, came to rest by the brook, -and noticed the bean. He was a kind-hearted man, so he took a needle and -thread out of his pocket, and, taking up the bean, sewed her together. -She thanked him prettily, but unfortunately he had only black thread to -sew with, and so since that time all beans have a black seam down their -sides. - - —FOLK TALE - - -MOTHER HOLLE - -There was once a widow who had two daughters. One of them was pretty and -industrious, but the other was ugly and idle. Now the mother was much -fonder of the ugly and idle one, because this was her own daughter. She -made the other do all the work, and be the Cinderella of the house. Every -day the poor girl had to sit by a well, in the highway, and spin and spin -till her fingers bled. - -One day as she worked the shuttle got marked with her blood, so she -dipped it into the well, to wash the mark off. But it dropped out of her -hand and fell to the bottom. She began to weep, and ran to her mother -and told her of the mishap. But the mother scolded her sharply, and was -so cruel as to say, “As you have let the shuttle fall in, you must fetch -it out again.” - -The girl went back to the well, and did not know what to do. In the -sorrow of her heart she jumped into the well, and lost her senses from -fright. - -When she awoke and came to herself again, she was in a beautiful meadow -where the sun was shining and many thousands of flowers were growing. -Along this meadow she went, and came to a baker’s oven full of bread, and -the bread cried out, - - “Oh, take me out! - Take me out! - Or I shall burn; - I have baked a long time!” - -So she went up to it, and took out all the loaves, one after another, -with the bread-shovel. After that she went on till she came to a tree -covered with apples, which called out to her, - - “Oh, shake me! - Shake me! - We apples are all ripe!” - -So she shook the tree till the apples fell like rain, and went on shaking -till they were all down, and when she had gathered them into a heap, she -went on her way. - -At last she came to a little house out of which peeped an old woman. The -old woman had such large teeth that the girl was frightened, and was -about to run away. - -But the old woman said, “What are you afraid of, dear child? Stay with -me; if you will do all the work in the house properly, you shall be the -better for it. Only you must take care to make my bed well, and to shake -it thoroughly till the feathers fly—for then there is snow on the earth. -I am Mother Holle.” - -The old woman spoke so kindly to her, the girl took courage and agreed -to enter her service. She did everything so well that she pleased her -mistress, and always shook her bed so vigorously that the feathers flew -about like snowflakes. She had a pleasant life with the old woman, never -an angry word, and boiled or roast meat every day. - -But after she had stayed some time with Mother Holle, she became sad. At -first she did not know what was the matter with her, but at last she felt -it was homesickness. Although she was many thousand times better off here -than at home, still she had a longing to be there. So one day she said -to the old woman, “I wish I were home, no matter how well off I am down -here, I cannot stay any longer; I must go up again to my own people.” -Mother Holle said, “I am glad that you long for your home, and as you -have served me so truly, I myself will take you up again.” She took her -by the hand, and led her to a large door. The door opened, and just as -the maiden was standing beneath the door-way, a heavy shower of golden -rain fell, and all the gold remained on her, so that she was covered with -it. - -“You shall have that because you are so industrious,” said Mother Holle; -and at the same time she gave her back the shuttle which the girl had let -fall into the well. Then the door closed, and the maiden found herself up -above the earth, not far from her mother’s house. - -As she went into the yard, the cock standing by the well-side cried, - - “Cock-a-doodle-doo! - Your golden girl’s come back to you!” - -So she went in to her mother. And because she arrived covered with gold, -her mother and sister were glad to have her back. - -The girl told all that had happened to her. As soon as the mother heard -how she had come by so much gold, she was very anxious that the same good -luck should come to the ugly and lazy daughter. So she made _her_ seat -herself by the well and spin. But the idle girl did not work. To stain -the spindle with blood, she stuck her hand into a thorn bush and pricked -her finger. Then she threw the shuttle into the well, and jumped in after -it. - -She came, like the other, to the beautiful meadow and walked along the -very same path. When she came to the oven, the bread again cried, - - “Oh, take me out! - Take me out! - Or I shall burn; - I have baked a long time!” - -But the lazy thing answered, “As if I had any wish to make myself dirty?” -and on she went. Soon she came to the apple-tree, which cried, - - “Oh, shake me! - Shake me! - We apples are all ripe!” - -But she answered, “I like that! One of you might fall on my head,” and so -went on. - -When she came to Mother Holle’s house, she was not afraid, for she had -already heard of her big teeth, and she hired herself to her immediately. - -The first day she forced herself to work diligently, and obeyed Mother -Holle when she told her to do anything, for she was thinking of all the -gold she would give her. But on the second day she began to be lazy, and -on the third day still more so, and then she would not get up in the -morning at all. - -Neither did she make Mother Holle’s bed as she ought, and did not shake -it so as to make the feathers fly up. Mother Holle was soon tired of -this, and gave her notice to leave. The lazy girl was willing enough -to go, and thought that now the golden rain would come. Mother Holle -led her, too, to the great door; but while she was standing beneath it, -instead of the gold a big kettle of black pitch was emptied over her. -“That is the reward of your service,” said Mother Holle, and shut the -door. - -So the lazy girl went home; but she was quite covered with pitch, and the -cock by the well-side, as soon as he saw her, cried out, - - “Cock-a-doodle-doo! - Your pitchy girl’s come back to you!” - -And the pitch stuck fast to her, and could not be got off as long as she -lived. - - —FOLK TALE - - -TOM THUMB - -(_Arranged as a continued story_) - -HOW HE CAME TO HIS MOTHER AND FATHER - -Long, long ago, when good King Arthur ruled in Britain, there lived a -magician named Merlin. He could change himself into anything he chose, -and one day when he had changed himself into a beggar he stopped at a -plowman’s cottage to ask for food. - -“Come in, poor fellow,” cried the plowman, “there’s always a bite for -another.” And the plowman’s wife set on the table a bowl of milk and a -platter heaped with sweet brown bread. Merlin was greatly pleased with -the good people’s kindness to him. - -Now, by and by he noticed that although everything in the cottage was -neat and comfortable, something was troubling these kind people. So he -asked them what it was. - -“Ah,” cried the poor woman, with tears in her eyes, “we have no little -son. If I only had a little son, I should be the happiest woman in the -world, even if he were no bigger than my husband’s thumb.” - -Well, Merlin said nothing, and when he had rested he went on his way. - -But he did not forget the kind people’s sorrow. As soon as he could, -he paid a visit to the queen of the fairies, and told her about it and -begged her to grant the woman’s wish. Sure enough, after a time the -plowman’s wife had a little son, and lo and behold! he was not a bit -bigger than her husband’s thumb. While his mother was admiring him, the -queen of the fairies came in at the window. She kissed the child and -called him Tom Thumb. She sent for some of the fairies to dress him, and -she herself told what he should wear. - -So the fairies came and dressed the little man according to the queen’s -directions: - - “An oak leaf hat he had for a crown; - His shirt of web by spiders spun; - With jacket wove of thistle down; - His trousers were of feathers done. - His stockings, of apple-rind, they tie - With eyelash from his mother’s eye; - His shoes were made of mouse’s skin, - Tann’d with the downy hair within.” - -So it was that Tom Thumb, the fairy mannikin, came into the world; and, -wonderful to tell, he never grew any bigger than his father’s thumb. - - -TOM THUMB - -HOW HE GROWS UP FULL OF TRICKS - -But as he got older he grew to be full of tricks. - -He used to play cherry-stones with the boys. When he had lost all his own -stones, he would creep slyly into his playmates’ bags, quickly fill his -pockets with their stones, creep out unseen, and join again in the game. - -One day as he did this the boy who owned the bag caught him at it. “Ah, -ha! my little Tommy,” he cried, “at last I have caught you stealing my -cherry-stones. I’ll teach you to stop that.” And he quickly drew the -string, shutting Tom into the bag, and gave the bag such a shake that the -poor little fellow’s legs and thighs and body were sadly bruised. Tom -roared with pain and promised never to do that again. - -So he was cured of that trick. - - -TOM THUMB - -HOW HE HAS A NARROW ESCAPE FROM A BATTER PUDDING - -A short time afterwards Tom’s mother was making a batter pudding for -supper, and inquisitive little Tom must of course see how it was made. So -he climbed up to the edge of the bowl; but unfortunately his foot slipped -and in he plumped, head and ears, into the batter. His mother, poor -woman, never caught sight nor light of him, so she stirred him into the -batter and put it into the pot to boil. - -Now, the batter had filled Tom’s mouth and kept him from crying out -to his mother. But when he felt the water getting hot, he kicked and -struggled so much in the pot that his mother thought the pudding must be -bewitched. She pulled it out of the pot and threw it outdoors. A poor -tinker crying, “Pots to mend, kettles to mend,” was passing in the nick -of time, so, thinking it would make him a good dinner, he stuffed it into -his pack and walked off with it. By this time Tom’s mouth was clear of -the batter, so he yelled lustily to be let out. The terrified tinker -flung down his pack and ran away. The pudding broke to pieces, and Tom -crept out, covered with batter, but glad to be alive and to make his way -home as fast as he could. - -When Tom’s mother saw the state of her darling she was ready to weep. -She put him into a teacup of warm water and washed off the mess. Then, -forgetting the loss of her pudding, she kissed him and tucked him into -bed. - - -TOM THUMB - -HOW HE GETS INTO THE RED COW’S STOMACH - -Well, soon after the batter pudding mischief, Tom’s mother went to milk -her cow in the meadow, and she took Tom along with her. As the wind was -strong she was afraid he might be blown away, so she took out of her -pocket a piece of fine thread and tied him to a thistle. Then she set -about milking the cow. - -It wasn’t long before the cow caught sight of Tom’s oak leaf hat, and -thrusting out her tongue she took in poor Tom and the thistle at a -mouthful. Tom was terrified. But while the cow was chewing the thistle -he had time to collect his wits, although he was afraid every minute her -monstrous teeth would crush him in pieces. So he roared out as loudly as -he could, “Mother, mother!” - -“Where are you, Tommy, my darling? where are you?” cried his mother, -dropping her milking. - -“Here, mother,” he shouted, “here, in the red cow’s mouth.” - -At this his poor mother began to cry and wring her hands, looking -helplessly at the cow. But what was her joy! The cow, surprised at the -odd noise in her throat, opened her mouth and let Tom drop out. Quick as -a flash his mother caught him up before he could fall to the ground, and -she ran home with him. - - -TOM THUMB - -HOW HE COMES TO BELONG TO THE KING - -One day when Tom went into the fields to drive the cattle with a whip of -barley straw his father had given him, he slipped and rolled into one of -the furrows. A raven flying overhead picked him up and flew with him to -the top of a giant’s castle near the sea, and there left him. - -Tom did not know what to do. But this was not the worst of it. He heard -a heavy tread, tramp! tramp! and out strode Grumbo, the giant who owned -the castle. He saw Tom, picked him up and gulped him down in a twinkling, -as if he were a pill. But in a minute he was sorry. For Tom began to kick -and jump about so that the giant could not stand him in his stomach, but -rushed to the castle wall and vomited him into the sea. - -Well, the instant Tom struck the water a great fish swallowed him. Soon -a fisherman caught this very fish, took it to market, and there sold it -for King Arthur’s own table. And when the king’s cook cut the fish open, -out stepped Tom, alive and well, and stood on his head for joy to find -himself safe and free again. The astonished cook ran with him to the -king, and Tom so delighted the king and queen and all the knights of the -Round Table with his tricks that the king called him his dwarf, to make -fun for him and the court. - -In time the king grew so fond of Tom that he took him everywhere with -him, and even let him creep into his pocket for shelter if it should rain -when they were out together. - -So now Tom Thumb was King Arthur’s dwarf and lived at court. - - -TOM THUMB - -HOW HE CARRIES MONEY TO HIS PARENTS - -One day King Arthur asked Tom about his parents, whether they were as -small as Tom, and whether they were rich or poor. Tom told the king his -father and mother were as tall as any of the people at court but they -were poor. At this the king took Tom into the treasury and told him to -take home to his parents as much money as he could carry. - -Tom capered for joy. He ran off to get a purse, and into this he stuffed -a silver threepenny piece. He had some trouble hoisting the bag of money -on his back, but at last he succeeded, and set out on his journey. - -It was a short distance, but tiny Tom had to rest more than a hundred -times by the way, so that it took him two days and two nights to reach -his father’s house. His mother ran out to meet him, and carried him into -the house more dead than alive. - -She and the father were overjoyed to see him, the more so as he had -brought such a great sum of money; but they were grieved that he was so -worn out. His mother placed him tenderly in a walnut shell, and feasted -him three whole days on a hazel nut. To her sorrow this made him sick, -for he should not have eaten a whole nut in less than a month. - -In time, Tom was able to run about and to think of returning to court. -But as there had been a heavy fall of rain his mother said the roads were -too wet for him to walk. So when the wind was blowing in the direction of -the king’s castle she made a little umbrella of paper, tied Tom to it, -gave him a puff into the air with her mouth, and away he went back to -King Arthur. - - -TOM THUMB - -HOW HE BECOMES ILL AND WHO NURSES HIM - -Well, Tom was never tired making fun for the king and queen and all the -court. The courtiers laughed till their sides ached at his antics, and -the king said to the queen, “Did you ever see the like?” And she said, -“No, never!” - -But he did so much, he at last made himself ill. The whole court was -filled with sorrow, for everyone feared the little fellow would die. The -king came constantly to his bedside to ask how he was, and brought his -cleverest physicians to cure him. But they could not. - -In the midst of their anxiety the queen of the fairies ordered her -chariot drawn by winged butterflies, and set out for the palace. She -lifted Tom tenderly out of his bed and carried him with her to fairyland. -Here she herself nursed him back to health and let him play with the -fairies until he was as strong and merry as ever. - -Then she ordered a breeze to rise. And on this she placed Tom and sent -him back to the king. - - -TOM THUMB - -HOW TOM ESCAPES HANGING - -Now, just as Tom came flying back to King Arthur’s court, the cook -happened to be passing with the king’s great bowl of frumenty, a dish -the king was very fond of. Unfortunately the little fellow fell plump -into the middle of it, splashing the hot frumenty in the cook’s face. The -cook, in a rage at Tom for frightening and scalding him, ran to tell the -king that Tom had jumped into his Majesty’s favorite dish out of idle -mischief. - -The king’s anger was terrible. He ordered Tom to be seized and tried. No -one dared plead for him, so the king commanded that his head be cut off. -A crowd followed the headsman to see it done. The headsman lifted his -ax. Poor little Tom fell a-trembling and looked about for some means of -escape. In the crowd he saw a miller with his mouth open, like the booby -he was. At a bound Tom leaped into the miller’s mouth. He sprang in so -nimbly that no one, not even the miller himself, saw where he went. So, -as the headsman could not find Tom to take off Tom’s head, he, like a -sensible man, shouldered his ax and went home; and the miller went back -to his mill. - -When Tom heard the miller at work in the mill, he knew he was far away -from the court and entirely safe, so he immediately set about getting -out. He began to roll and tumble about in such an alarming way that -the miller took to bed and sent for a doctor. When the doctor arrived, -Tom began to dance and sing, and the doctor, as much frightened as the -miller, sent in hot haste for five more doctors and twenty learned men. - -While the six doctors and the twenty learned men were putting their wise -heads together, the miller happened to yawn. Seizing the chance, Tom took -another jump, but out of the miller’s mouth this time, and alighted safe -on his feet in the middle of a table near the bed. Well, when the miller -saw the little bit of a creature that had tormented him, it was his turn -to fall into a rage at Tom. He laid hands on him, opened the window, and -threw him into the river. - -And a second time Tom was swallowed by a fish! A large salmon swimming -along snapped him up. A fisherman caught the salmon and sold it in the -market for a great lord’s table. But when the lord saw it he thought it -such a fine fish that he made a present of it to King Arthur. So when the -cook cut open the fish he found poor Tom and ran to the king with him -to make sure that he should not escape again. But the king was busy and -ordered Tom to be kept locked up until he should send for him. - -The cook was determined that Tom should not get away, so he put him -into a mouse trap closely wired. When Tom had spent a week in the trap -peeping through the wires, the king sent for him. But to the cook’s -disappointment and Tom’s great delight, his anger had gone. He forgave -Tom for falling into the frumenty, and made him again his dwarf, to make -fun for him and the court. - - -TOM THUMB - -HOW HE IS KNIGHTED BY THE KING - -To reward Tom for his services to the court, the king made him a knight. -He told Tom to kneel down. Then he struck him with his sword and said, -“With this sword I dub thee knight. Arise, Sir Thomas Thumb.” - -As Tom’s clothes had suffered in the batter pudding, the frumenty, and -the insides of the giant, the miller, and the fishes, the king ordered -that the new knight should be given a handsome suit of clothes and a -horse and sword. How proud Tom was and how splendid he looked! You shall -hear about his dress and his horse and sword: - - Of butterfly’s wings his shirt was made, - His boots of chicken’s hide; - And by a nimble fairy blade, - Well learned in the tailoring trade, - His clothing was supplied.— - A needle dangled by his side; - A dapper mouse he used to ride, - Thus strutted Tom in lordly pride. - -It was great fun to see Tom mounted on the mouse, as he rode out -a-hunting with the king and the other knights. They were all ready to die -with laughter as they looked at him and his prancing charger. - -But they were glad to call him a brother knight, he was so brave. - -One day as they were riding past a farmhouse a large cat lurking about a -door made a spring at Tom and the mouse, seized them, and ran up a tree -with them. Here she began to devour the mouse. Tom boldly drew his sword -and stuck it into the cat so fiercely that she was at last forced to -drop them. As they fell, one of the knights held out his hat and caught -them. He carried Tom home and laid him on a bed of down in a little ivory -cabinet until he should get over the attack. - -Tom was soon himself again, and dearer than ever to the king and court. - - -TOM THUMB - -HOW HE GOES AWAY AND COMES BACK AGAIN - -Soon after, the queen of the fairies came to pay Tom a visit, and when -she left she took Tom back with her to fairyland. There he stayed -several years. - -While he was gone King Arthur and the queen and all the knights who -knew Tom died, so when he came back he found a new king reigning, King -Thunstone. All the courtiers flocked about the mannikin, and asked him -who he was, and whence he came, and where he lived. Tom answered, - - “My name is Tom Thumb, - From the fairies I’ve come. - When King Arthur shone, - This court was my home. - In me he delighted, - By him I was knighted; - Have you never heard of Sir Thomas Thumb?” - -The king was so charmed with this speech that he at once made Tom court -dwarf. He ordered his builders to build Tom a gold palace a span high, -with a door an inch wide, and he ordered his coachmen to give Tom a coach -drawn by six small mice. And so that he might sit upon the king’s table -close to his elbow, he ordered his cabinet makers to make Tom a little -ivory chair. - -So there was Tom back at court again and king’s favorite. - - -TOM THUMB - -WHAT BECAME OF HIM AT LAST - -But Tom did not live much longer. A large spider one day attacked him. -Tom drew his sword and fought well, but at last the spider’s poisonous -breath overcame him. - - “He fell dead on the ground where he stood, - And the spider suck’d up every drop of his blood.” - -Well, of course he had to die some time. - -King Thunstone and his whole court were so sorry that they went into -mourning for him, and over his grave they raised a white marble monument. -And the king’s engraver wrote this on it: - - “Here lyes Tom Thumb, King Arthur’s knight, - Who died by a cruel spider’s bite. - He was well known in Arthur’s court, - Where he afforded gallant sport; - He rode at tilt and tournament, - And on a mouse a-hunting went. - Alive he filled the court with mirth; - His death to sorrow soon gave birth. - Wipe, wipe your eyes, and shake your head - And cry,—‘Alas! Tom Thumb is dead!’” - - —ENGLISH FOLK TALE - - -THE TWO BROTHERS - -Once upon a time there were two brothers. Each had ten loaves of bread -and nothing else. So they said, “Let us go and seek our fortune.” And -they went. - -When they had gone a little way they were hungry. One brother said to -the other, “Come, let us eat thy bread first, then we shall eat mine.” -So they did and went on their way. When they had gone farther they were -hungry again. The first brother said again to the other, “Come, let us -eat thy bread, then we shall eat mine.” They did and went on their way. -And when they had gone farther they finished the ten loaves. Then the -first brother, who had yet kept _his_ loaves, said to the other, “Now -thou mayst go thy way, and I shall go mine. Thou hast no loaves left, and -I will not let thee eat my bread.” And the heartless fellow turned his -back and left his brother to go on alone without a morsel of food. - -Well, the brother went on and on and on, more and more feebly, for want -of food, till he came to a mill in a dark forest. He said to the miller, -“I can go no farther; pray let me stay here to-night.” - -Now the miller was a truer brother to him than his own had been, and he -answered, “Brother, I would not turn thee away if it were safe. But -wild beasts come into this wood at night, perhaps into this very mill. I -myself do not wait to see.” - -“I feel no fear,” said the poor boy; “the beasts will not harm me.” So -while the miller went off home he crept into the hopper of the mill. - -At midnight from some place or other a big bear, a wolf, and a jackal -came into the mill, and went leaping and bounding about as if they were -having a dance. When they had done the bear said, “Come, let us each tell -something he has seen or heard. I’ll begin. - -“I know a hill where there is a great heap of money. It glitters when the -sun shines. If anyone should go there on a sunny day, he would find his -fortune.” - -“I know a town,” said the wolf, “where there is no water. Every mouthful -has to be brought from a great distance. Now, in the center of that very -town, hidden under a stone, where no one can see it, is beautiful pure -water. Whoever finds the stone will make a fortune.” - -“What I can tell is best of all,” said the jackal. “I know of a king who -has only one daughter, and she lies weak and pale now three long years. -If only someone would bathe her in beech leaves she would grow strong and -rosy. Whoever cures her will make his fortune.” - -At the last word day began to dawn. The bear, the wolf, and the jackal -left the mill and disappeared into the wood. - -The boy had heard it all. Full of thanks he came out of the hopper. -“Perhaps,” said he to himself, “I may be the one to find the money, take -away the stone, and cure the king’s daughter. If so, my fortune is sure.” - -He set forward with a stout heart just as the sun rose. Soon its beams -fell on a hill to the right and something glittered in its rays. And here -he found the great heap of money, a fortune in itself. Farther on he came -to the town where the people had no water. In the center of it there was -the stone. He rolled it away, and behold! streams of clear water gushed -forth. The people ran to get pitchers and filled them to overflowing. And -they gave him a great sum of gold and silver. After this he set out for -the kingdom of which the jackal had spoken. When he arrived he asked the -king, “What wilt thou give me if I cure thy daughter?” - -“If thou canst do this,” said the king, “thy fortune is made, for I will -give thee my daughter as thy wife.” - -The youth gathered the beech leaves, the princess bathed in them, and was -cured. In great joy the king married the maiden to the youth. So now his -fortune was made. - -The news of this reached the ears of the selfish brother. He came to his -brother and asked how it had all happened. When he heard he said, “I -also will go and stay at that mill a night or two.” His brother warned -him of the danger. But he would not listen. He reached the mill, crept -into the hopper, and waited. - -As before, at midnight, from some place or other, the bear, the wolf, and -the jackal came into the mill, and went leaping and bounding about as if -they were having a dance. And when they had done the bear said, “Come, -let us each tell something he has seen or heard. I’ll begin. - -“Next day after I told you my story the money was all taken away.” - -The wolf said, “And the stone was rolled away and the water found.” - -“And the king’s daughter was cured,” added the jackal. - -“Then perhaps someone was listening when we talked here,” growled the -bear. - -“Perhaps someone is here now,” howled the wolf and the jackal. - -“Let us go and look,” shrieked the three. - -They looked up and down and round about and in all the corners. At last -they poked their noses into the hopper. And that was the end of the -greedy brother. - -But he who had married the king’s daughter lived happy ever after and -when the king died ruled well and wisely. - - —FOLK TALE. - - -THE WOOING - -One morning bright and early a young cock from the next farm stepped into -the barnyard where lived a certain young chick. - -“Good day, Father Rooster,” said he. - -“Many thanks, young sir,” said Father Rooster. - -“I’ve come a-wooing. May I have your fair daughter Peep for my bride?” - -“Ask Mother Hen, Brother Bantam, Sister Cluck, and fair Peep herself; and -then we’ll see,” said Father Rooster. - -“Where is Mother Hen?” - -“She is sitting in the hay hatching her eggs.” - - So away went young cock - With a fly and a leap, - So anxious was he - To marry fair Peep. - -“Good day, Mother Hen,” said he. - -“Many thanks, young sir,” said Mother Hen. - -“I’ve come a-wooing. May I have your fair daughter Peep for my bride?” - -“Ask Father Rooster, Brother Bantam, Sister Cluck, and fair Peep herself; -then we’ll see,” said Mother Hen. - -“Where is Brother Bantam?” - -“He’s on the gate-post learning to crow.” - - So away went young cock - With a fly and a leap, - So anxious was he - To marry fair Peep. - -“Good day, Brother Bantam,” said he. - -“Many thanks,” said the other. - -“I’ve come a-wooing. May I have your fair sister Peep for my bride?” - -“Ask Father Rooster, Mother Hen, Sister Cluck, and fair Peep herself; -then we’ll see,” said Brother Bantam. - -“Where is Sister Cluck?” - -“She’s with fair Peep.” - -“And where is fair Peep?” - -“She’s with Sister Cluck.” - - Well, away went young cock - With a fly and a leap, - So anxious was he - To marry fair Peep. - -And when he came to two very close together, he said to one, “Good day, -Sister Cluck.” - -And one answered, “Many thanks, young sir.” - -“I’ve come a-wooing. May I have your fair sister Peep for my bride?” - -“Ask Father Rooster, Mother Hen, Brother Bantam, and fair Peep herself; -then we’ll see,” said Sister Cluck. - -“Fair Peep, wilt thou be my bride?” said he. And all the family came up -to hear her answer and it wasn’t _no_, so it must have been _yes_. - -“What hast thou to keep house on?” said Mother Hen to her daughter. - -And Brother Bantam answered for her, “A sweet voice;” and Sister Cluck -added, “A sweet temper.” - - “With these to begin,” - Said Mother Hen, - “There’ll be no din.” - -“What is thy trade, young Master Cock?” asked Father Rooster; “art thou a -tailor?” - -“Something else for _my_ talents.” - -“A blacksmith?” - -“It suits me not.” - -“Perhaps thou art a watchmaker.” - -“No, but I’m a time-keeper; I tell people when it is time to rise and go -about their work. Is it not a useful trade?” - -“That it is. - - “Gladly we give thee fair Peep, - To love and to keep - Safe in thy heart, - Till death do thee part.” - - “Then come, thou, sweet wife, - My love and my life, - Step out by my side, - My bonny wee bride.” - - As they took their way home - They stepped on a tin, - And the tin it bended, - So my story’s ended. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -JACK-THE-GIANT-KILLER - -When good King Arthur ruled the land, there lived near Land’s End in -England, in a place called Cornwall, a farmer who had an only son named -Jack. Jack was wide awake and ready of wit, so that nobody and nothing -could worst him. - -In those days the Mount of Cornwall was kept by a huge giant named -Cormoran. He was so fierce and frightful to look at that he was the -terror of all the neighboring towns and villages. He lived in a cave in -the side of the mount, and whenever he wanted food he waded over to the -mainland and took whatever came in his way. At his coming everybody ran -away, and then of course he seized the cattle, making nothing of carrying -off half-a-dozen oxen on his back at a time, and as for sheep and hogs he -tied them around his waist as if they were tallow dips. He had done this -for many years, and all Cornwall was in despair. - -One day Jack happened to be in the town-hall when the magistrates were -sitting in council to think what was best to do. - -“What reward,” he asked, “will be given to the man who kills Cormoran?” - -“He may take the treasure the giant has stored in his cave,” they said. - -Quoth Jack, “Let me have a try at it.” - -So he got a horn and shovel and pickaxe. And in the dark of a winter’s -evening he went over to the mount and fell to work. Before morning he -had dug a pit twenty-two feet deep and nearly as broad, and covered it -with sticks and straw. Then he strewed a little earth over it so that it -looked like plain ground. He then placed himself on the farther side of -the pit, and just at the break of day put his horn to his mouth and blew, -Tan-tiv-y, Tan-tiv-y! - -The noise roused the giant. He rushed out of his cave, crying, “You -villain, have you come here to disturb my rest? You shall pay dearly -for this. I will take you whole and broil you for breakfast.” He had -no sooner said this than he tumbled into the pit and made the very -foundations of the mount shake. - -“Oh, Giant,” quoth Jack, “where are you? Has the earth swallowed you up? -What do you think now of broiling me for breakfast? Will no other food do -than sweet Jack?” Then he gave a most mighty knock with his pickaxe on -the very crown of the giant’s big head, and killed him on the spot. - -Jack then filled up the pit with earth, and went to the cave and took the -treasure. When the magistrates heard of Jack’s success, they made a law -and wrote it on their books that henceforth he should be called - - Jack-the-Giant-Killer, - -and they presented him with a sword and belt, and on the belt they wrote -these words, - - “Here’s the right valiant Cornish man - Who slew the giant Cormoran.” - - —ENGLISH FOLK TALE - - -THE PIXIES’ THANKS - -Once upon a time, and a long time ago, and a long, long time before -that, a little old woman had a garden. And in this garden she planted -a beautiful bed of tulips. The slim green stalks of them stood in the -earth, tall and straight. And every other row of lovely cups they held -was red and every other was yellow. At twilight the little old woman -patted down the last of them, and went in to boil the kettle for her tea. - -Now, as soon as she was gone there came peeping and tripping from the -field near by a crowd of pixies. They ran between the rows, and skipped -from one flower to the next, and put their slender fingers down into the -cups, and clapped their fairy palms together and cried, “How lovely!” But -the little old woman drinking her tea before the fire didn’t hear a word. - -Well, night came, and the pixies’ teeny weeny bits of elfin babies grew -sleepy. They must have bawled, though of course big ears like yours and -mine couldn’t have heard them, for all of a sudden all the little pixies -scampered home, crying, - - “Coming, - My teeny one, - Coming, - My weeny one, - Watch glowworm - Bright, - My speck of delight!” - -And then the cleverest little pixie mother among them thought of -something. “Let’s lay them in those lovely cradles,” said she; “they’ll -be as safe as a bug in a rose while we are greeting the queen.” She at -once picked up her baby and ran back with it to the garden. And so did -the others with theirs. They laid the tiny babies in the tulip cups and -sang them to rest. The tulips rocked to and fro in the wind and made -music for the lullaby. The little old woman washing her teacup caught a -note of the music and singing, and stopped her clatter to listen, it was -so sweet. - -As soon as the elfin babies were fast asleep, the pixies tripped lightly -off on the very tiptop tips of their toes. The silver Moon was rising, -and they were just in time to form a ring on the green and dance in her -honor. They circled nine times and then looked up at her, and she beamed -down on them and they bowed low. Then she passed on through the heavens -to make way for the day. - -It was now the dawn of morning. The pixies ran back to the tulip cradles -in the little old woman’s garden, crying, - - “Weeny - Sleepy head, - Leave - Dewy bed, - Time - To get up - From - Soft tulip - Cup.” - -The little old woman awoke in the nick of time to hear them kissing and -caressing the elfin babies as they carried them home. In a bound she was -out of bed and at the window, but they had vanished. - -For all that she knew they had been there. She could tell it by the -tulips. The slim green stalks of them stood in the earth, as they had -when she planted them, tall and straight. And every other row of lovely -cups they held was red and every other was yellow. Yet there was a -wonderful change. It wasn’t only the shining drops of dew on them. No, it -was something more wonderful—it was fairy fragrance. Every tulip smelled -as sweet as a rose. This was the pixies’ thanks to the little old woman. - -News of these rare tulips went far and wide, and people came from here, -there, and everywhere to buy them. So for the rest of her days the little -old woman had plenty of money for many a cup of tea, and a pinch of snuff -into the bargain. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -THE CAT AND THE PARROT - -Once there was a cat and once there was a parrot. They agreed to invite -each other to dinner, turn and turn about. The cat should ask the parrot -to-day, and the parrot should ask the cat to-morrow. - -Well, it was the cat’s turn first. The cat went to market and bought -nothing but a pennyworth of rice. The parrot could make no dinner on -this meager fare. And what is more, the cat was so ill-mannered that he -actually made the parrot cook the food himself. Of course the parrot was -too well-bred to complain. - -Next day came the parrot’s turn. He went to market and bought a leg of -meat and a whole fish, head and tail and all, and about thirty pounds -of flour, and a tub of butter, and great bunches of luscious grapes. -And before his guest came he cooked the food. He made heaps and heaps -of brown, crisp spice cakes, thick with currants, oh, enough to fill a -washerwoman’s basket. - -Well, the cat came, and the parrot set the whole meal before him, keeping -only two cakes for himself. The cat ate the meat till he licked the -plate, and he picked the fish till the bones were clean, and he sucked -the grapes till the skins were dry, and then he began on the cakes; and -he ate the whole basketful. Then he looked up at the parrot and said, -“Have you any more?” - -“Take my two cakes,” said the parrot. And the cat took them. Then he -looked up at the parrot and said, “Have you any more?” - -This was too much for the parrot. Bristling his feathers, he said -sharply, “There’s nothing left but me.” And the cat looked him over, -licked his chops, and—gullup, gulloo—down went the parrot, bones, beak, -and feathers. - -Now an old woman had seen it all, and she was so shocked she picked up a -stone, and cried, “You unnatural cat, how could you eat your friend the -parrot? Scat! away with you, before I hit you with this stone.” - -“Old woman,” said the cat, “I’ve eaten a basketful of cakes, I’ve eaten -my friend the parrot, and shall I blush to eat an old hag like you? No, -surely not.” And—gullup, gulloo—down went the old woman with the stone in -her hand. - -Then the cat walked along the road till he met a man beating a donkey to -make him go. “Cat,” cried the man, “get out of the way, or my donkey may -kick you.” - -“Man,” said the cat, “I’ve eaten a basketful of cakes, I’ve eaten my -friend the parrot, I’ve eaten an old woman, and shall I blush to eat a -miserable donkey driver? No, surely not.” And—gullup, gulloo—down went -the man and his donkey. - -After this the cat walked on again till he met a wedding procession. At -the head came the king with his newly made bride, and behind him marched -a company of soldiers, and behind them tramped ever and ever so many -elephants, two and two, and two and two, and two and two, and a great -many more. - -“Cat,” said the happy king, kindly, “turn out of the road a little, or my -elephants may trample you to death.” - -“King,” said the cat, “you don’t know me. I’ve eaten a basketful of -cakes, I’ve eaten my friend the parrot, I’ve eaten a miserable man and -his donkey, and shall I blush to eat a beggarly king? No, surely not.” -And—gullup, gulloo—down went the king, down went the queen, down went the -soldiers, bayonets and all, down went the elephants, two and two and two -and two. - -After this the cat walked on more slowly, for he was somewhat heavy. On -the way two landcrabs went scuttling across the road. “Run away, run -away, Pussycat,” they squeaked, “or we might nip you.” - -“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the cat, shaking his fat sides. “Ho, ho, ho!” he -roared, showing his teeth; “you don’t know me. I’ve eaten a basketful -of cakes, I’ve eaten my friend the parrot, I’ve eaten a miserable man -and his donkey, I’ve eaten a king and his bride, I’ve eaten a company of -soldiers, I’ve eaten a herd of elephants, two and two, and shall I blush -to eat two silly little landcrabs? Nay, not so.” And he pounced upon the -landcrabs, gullup, gulloo, gulloo, gullup, in two swallows they were -inside the cat. - -But—when their eyes were used to the darkness, the landcrabs made out -the king sitting with his head in his hands, very unhappy. Across his -knee lay the newly made bride in a dead faint. Near them the company -of soldiers were trying to form fours. Behind these the elephants were -trumpeting, the donkey was braying, the parrot was whetting his beak -on his own claws, and the old woman was scolding the cat roundly. In a -corner they made out a great pile of cakes. - -The landcrabs said, “His sides are soft: let’s get out.” Nip, nip, they -went, nip, nip, nip. And out they scuttled. Then out walked the king -with his bride on his arm, out marched the soldiers, out tramped the -elephants, two and two, out went the man and his donkey without any -beating, out hobbled the old woman, and out flew the parrot. - -And the cat had to spend a night and a day sewing up his sides. - - —EASTERN FOLK TALE - - -LAMPBLACK - -A poor black paint lay very unhappy in its tube. It had tumbled out of -an artist’s color-box and had lain unnoticed for a year. “I am only -Lampblack,” he said to himself. “The master never looks at me: he says I -am heavy, dull, lusterless, useless. I wish I could cake and dry up and -die, as poor Flakewhite did.” - -But Lampblack could not die; he could only lie in his tin tube and pine, -like a silly, sorrowful thing as he was, in company with some broken -bits of charcoal and a rusty palette-knife. The master never touched -him; month after month passed by, and he was never thought of; the other -paints had all their turn of fair fortune, and went out into the world to -great halls and mighty palaces, transfigured and rejoicing in a thousand -beautiful shapes and services. But Lampblack was always passed over as -dull and coarse. Indeed he knew himself to be so, poor fellow, and this -made it all the worse. “You are only a deposit!” said the other colors to -him; and he felt that it was disgraceful to be a deposit, though he was -not quite sure what it meant. - -“If only I were happy like the others!” thought poor, sooty Lampblack, -sorrowful in his corner. “There is Bistre, now, he is not so very much -better-looking than I am, and yet they can do nothing without him, -whether it is a girl’s face or a wimple in a river!” - -The others were all so happy in this beautiful bright studio, where the -open casements were hung with green myrtle, and where the silence was -filled with the singing of nightingales. Cobalt, with a touch or two, -became the loveliness of summer skies at morning; the Lakes and Carmines -bloomed in a thousand exquisite flowers and fancies; the Chromes and -Ochres (mere dull earths) were allowed to spread themselves in sheets -of gold that took the shine of the sun into the darkest places; Umber, -a somber and gloomy thing, could lurk in a child’s curls and laugh in a -child’s smiles; whilst all the families of the Vermilions, the Blues, the -Greens, lived in a perpetual glory of sunset or sunrise, of ocean waves -or autumn woods, of kingly pageant or of martial pomp. - -It was very hard. Poor Lampblack felt as if his very heart would break, -above all when he thought of pretty little Rose Madder, whom he loved -dearly, and who never would even look at him, she was so proud, because -she was always placed in nothing less than rosy clouds, or the hearts of -roses, or something as fair and spiritual. - -“I am only a wretched deposit!” sighed Lampblack, and the rusty -palette-knife grumbled back, “My own life has been ruined in cleaning -dirty brushes!” - -“But at least you were of use once; but I never am,—never!” said -Lampblack. And indeed he had been there so long that the spiders had spun -their silver fleeces all about him, and he was growing as gray as an old -bottle does in a dark cellar. - -At that moment the door of the studio opened, and there came a flood of -light, and the step of a man was heard; the hearts of all the colors -jumped for joy. It was their magician, who out of mere common clays and -ground ores could raise them at a touch into splendors immortal. - -Only the heart of poor dusty Lampblack did not beat a throb the more, -because he was always left alone and never was thought worthy of even a -glance. But he could not believe his senses when the master crossed the -floor to the dark corner where he lay under the spiders’ webs. Lampblack -felt sick and faint with rapture. Had his turn come at last? - -The master took him up. “You will do for this work,” he said; and -Lampblack was borne trembling to an easel. The colors, for once -neglected, crowded together to watch, looking in their bright tin tubes -like rows of little soldiers in armor. - -“It is dull Old Deposit,” they murmured to one another, and felt -contemptuous, but curious, as scornful people often will be. - -“I am going to be glorious and great,” thought Lampblack, and his heart -swelled high; for nevermore would they be able to hurl the name of -Deposit at him, a name which hurt all the more because he did not know -what it meant. - -“You will do for this work,” said the master, and let Lampblack out of -his metal prison-house into the light and touched him with the brush that -was the wand of magic. - -“What am I going to be?” wondered Lampblack, as he felt himself taken on -to a large piece of deal board, so large that he felt he must be going to -make at the least the outline of an athlete or the shadows of a tempest. - -He could not tell what he was becoming; but he was happy enough and grand -enough only to be used. He began to dream a thousand things of all the -scenes he would be in, and all the hues that he would wear, and all the -praise that he would hear when he went out into that wonderful world -where his master was so much admired. - -But he was harshly roused from his secret dreams; all the colors were -laughing and tittering round him till the little tin helmets they wore -shook with their merriment. - -“Old Deposit is going to be a sign-post,” they cried to one another so -merrily that the spiders, who are not companionable creatures, came to -the doors of their dens to chuckle too. A sign-post! Lampblack, stretched -out in joy upon the board, roused himself and gazed at the change. He had -been made into seven letters, thus: - - BANDITA. - -This word in the Italian country, where the English painter’s studio -was, means, Do not trespass, Do not shoot, Do not show yourself here: -anything, indeed, that is uncivil to all comers. In these seven letters, -outspread upon the board, was Lampblack disgraced! - -Farewell, hopes and dreams! He had been employed to paint a sign-board, a -thing stoned by the boys, blown on by the winds, gnawed by the rats, and -drenched with the winter’s rains. Better the dust and the cobwebs of his -old corner than such shame as this! - -But there was no help for it. He was dried with a drench of turpentine, -hastily clothed in a coat of copal, and, ere he yet was fully aware of -all his misery, was being borne away upon the great board out of doors -and handed to the gardener. It was the master himself who did this to -him. As the door closed on him, he heard all the colors laughing, and the -laugh of little Rose Madder was highest of all as she cried to Naples -Yellow, who was a dandy and made court to her, “Poor old ugly Deposit! -He will grumble to the owls and the bats now!” - -The door shut him out forever from all the joyous company and the palace -of beauty, and the rough hands of the gardener grasped him and carried -him to the edge of the garden, where the wall overlooked the public road, -and there fastened him up on high with a band of iron round the trunk of -a tree. - -That night it rained heavily, the north wind blew, and there was thunder. -Lampblack, out in the storm without his tin house to shelter him, felt -that of all creatures wretched on the face of the earth there was not one -so miserable as he. A sign-board! Nothing but a sign-board! - -A color, created for art and artists, could not feel more grievously -disgraced. Oh, how he longed for his tin tube and the quiet nook with the -charcoal and the palette-knife! He had been unhappy there indeed, but he -had had some sort of hope to comfort him,—some chance still remaining -that one day he might be allowed to be at least the shadow of some -immortal work. Now—nevermore could he be anything but what he was; change -there could be none till weather and time should have done their work on -him, and he be rotting on the wet earth, a shattered and worm-eaten wreck. - -Day broke,—a gloomy, misty morning. - -From where he was disgraced upon the tree-trunk he could no longer even -see his beloved home, the studio; he could see only a dusky, intricate -tangle of branches all about him, and below the wall of flint, with the -Banksia that grew on it, and the hard muddy highway, drenched with the -storm of the night. - -A man passed in a miller’s cart, and stood up and scowled at him, because -the people had liked to come and shoot and trap the birds of the master’s -wooded gardens, and they knew that they must not do it now. A slug -crawled over him, and a snail also. A woodpecker hammered at him with -its strong beak. A boy went by under the wall, and threw stones at him, -and called him names. The rain poured down again heavily. He thought of -the happy painting-room, where it had seemed always summer and always -sunshine, and where now in the forenoon all the colors were marshaling in -the pageantry of the Arts, as he had seen them do hundreds of times from -his lonely corner. All the misery of the past looked happiness now. - -“If I were only dead, like Flakewhite,” he thought; but the stones only -bruised, they did not kill him; and the iron band only hurt, it did not -stifle him. For whatever suffers very much, has much strength to continue -to exist. His loyal heart almost hated the master who had brought him to -such a fate as this. - -The day grew apace, and noon went by, and with it the rain passed. The -sun shone out once more, and Lampblack, even imprisoned and wretched as -he was, could not but see how beautiful the wet leaves looked, and the -gossamers all hung with rain-drops, and the blue sky that shone through -the boughs; for he had not lived with an artist all his days to be blind, -even in pain, to the loveliness of nature. Some little brown birds -tripped out too with the sun—very simple and plain in their dress, but -Lampblack knew they were the loves of the poets, for he had heard the -master call them so many times in summer nights. The little brown birds -came tripping and pecking about on the grass underneath his tree-trunk, -and then flew on the top of the wall, which was covered with Banksia and -many other creepers. The brown birds sang a little song, for though they -sing most in the moonlight they do sing by day too, and sometimes all day -long. And what they sang was this: - - “Oh, how happy we are, how happy! - No nets dare now be spread for us, - No cruel boys dare climb, - And no cruel shooters fire. - We are safe, quite safe, - And the sweet summer has begun!” - -Lampblack listened, and even in his misery was soothed by the tender -liquid sounds that these little throats poured out among the bloom of -the Banksia flowers. And when one of the brown birds came and sat on a -branch by him, swaying itself and drinking the rain-drops off a leaf, he -ventured to ask, as well as he could for the iron that strangled him, why -they were so safe, and what made them so happy. - -The bird looked at him in surprise. - -“Do you not know?” he said. “It is you!” - -“I!” echoed Lampblack, and could say no more, for he feared that the bird -was mocking him, a poor, silly, rusty black paint, only spread out to rot -in fair weather and foul. What good could he do to any creature? - -“You,” repeated the nightingale. “Did you not see that man under the -wall? He had a gun; we should have been dead but for you. We will come -and sing to you all night long, as you like it; and when we go to bed -at dawn, I will tell my cousins, the thrushes and merles, to take our -places, so that you shall hear somebody singing near you all day long.” - -Lampblack was silent. His heart was too full to speak. Was it possible -that he was of use, after all. - -“Can it be true?” he said, timidly. - -“Quite true,” said the nightingale. - -“Then the master knew best,” thought Lampblack. - -The colors in the studio had all the glories of the world, but he was of -use in it, after all; he could save these little lives. He was poor and -despised, bruised by stones and drenched by storms; yet was he content, -for he had not been made quite in vain. - -The sunset poured its red and golden splendors through the darkness -of the boughs, and the birds sang all together, shouting for joy and -praising God. - - —LA RAMÉE - - -LAZY JACK - -Once upon a time there was a boy whose name was Jack. His mother was very -poor, but she was hard-working and tried to get her living by spinning. -Jack was so lazy he never did anything to help her. So, at last, she said -that he should not eat his porridge unless he earned it. - -At this out shuffled Jack and hired himself to a farmer and got for his -day’s labor a shining new penny. Home he went with it, but on the way let -it slip out of his fingers into a brook, unknown to himself. - -When his mother saw him smiling and holding his fist closed, she said, -“Well, Jack, did you earn your porridge to-day?” - -“That I did, mother,” said Jack, “and here’s the penny.” With that he -opened his empty hand. - -“A penny,” cried his mother, in high delight, “give it here, my darling -boy.” But when she saw the empty hand she changed her tune. “You stupid -lout,” said she, “you’ve lost the good money. That’s no way to bring -home a penny. The safest thing to do with a penny is to put it into your -pocket and come straight home.” - -“Say no more about it, sweet mother,” whimpered Jack, “that’s what I’ll -do the next time.” So his mother gave him his supper. - -The next day Jack went out again, and this time hired himself to a -cowherd and got for his day’s labor a jug of new milk. Jack took the -jug, squeezed it into the largest pocket of his coat, and set off home, -spilling the milk at every step, so that by the time he got home there -wasn’t a drop left. - -When his mother saw his pocket bulging out, she asked, “What have you -there, Jack, my son?” - -“A jug of new milk, mother,” answered Jack, tugging it out of his pocket. - -“A jug of new milk,” cried his mother, “and you’ve spilled it! Have you -no sense, you ninny-hammer? That’s no way to bring home a jug of milk. -The safest way to carry a jug of milk is to put it on your head and hold -it with both hands and come straight home.” - -“Say no more about it, sweet mother,” whimpered Jack, beginning to -blubber; “that’s what I’ll do the next time.” So his mother gave him his -supper that time, too. - -Well, the next day Jack hired himself to a farmer, and got for his day’s -labor a fine fresh cream cheese. Jack took that cheese, placed it on his -head, held it down firmly with both hands, and set out home. Now, Jack’s -head was warm and the cheese was soft. So it wasn’t long before it began -to get softer. By the time he reached home part of it had oozed down -over his face and more of it had matted into his hair; he was a sight to -behold. - -When his mother saw him, she threw up her arms and cried, “Dearie me, -dearie me, whatever has happened to my own bonny son?” - -“Why, nothing, mother,” said Jack, “and see the fine cheese I’ve brought -you home.” With that he took down from his head a bit of grease in each -hand. - -“You’ve spoiled a cheese, a fine cream cheese,” screamed his mother. -“Have you no sense at all, at all, in your empty head, you numbskull? -That’s no way to bring home a cheese. The safest thing to do with a -cheese is to take it in both hands, hold it out before you, and come -straight home.” - -“Say no more about it, sweet mother,” said Jack, beginning to snuffle, -“that’s what I’ll do the next time.” - -So he didn’t go supperless to bed that night either. - -It was a baker Jack hired himself to the next day, and at the close of it -the baker gave him a cat. “Your mother will find her a good mouser,” said -he. And Jack said, “Thank you, kindly, sir,” and took the cat. He held -her with both hands out before him and started straight for home. On the -way a mouse scurried across his path and the cat leaped from his hands; -but Jack still held them out, ready for her when she should come back, -and kept on toward home. - -When he reached home his mother looked at his hands and said, “What have -you in your hands, Jack?” - -“I had a cat, mother,” said he, “a good mouser, but she made after a -mouse and hasn’t come back yet.” - -“Get out of my sight,” cried his mother, “before I lose my patience and -do something I might be sorry for. Haven’t you an atom of sense about you -at all, at all, at all? Wouldn’t a child know that’s no way to bring home -a live cat? The safest thing to do with a cat is to tie a string around -her neck, put her on the ground, and draw her home after you.” - -“Say no more about it, sweet mother,” cried Jack, bawling outright; -“that’s what I’ll do the very next time.” So his mother wouldn’t see him -starve that night. - -Well, the very next day Jack hired out to a butcher, and got for his -day’s labor a splendid shoulder of mutton for Sunday’s dinner, for this -was Saturday. Jack took the mutton, tied a string around it, put it on -the ground, and dragged it home after him in the mud and dirt. So by the -time he got home the meat was completely ruined. - -When his mother saw it she was so upset that she threw her apron over her -head and rocked herself to and fro and wept aloud. “If you had the least -grain of sense in you, you useless omadhaun,” she wailed, “you’d have -brought the sweet meat home on your shoulder.” - -Jack put his arms around his mother and kissed her and promised to do -that the next time. So she gave him his supper, but they had to make -their Sunday dinner of cabbage. - -Monday morning, bright and early, Jack went out once more and hired -himself to a cattle-drover and for his day’s labor got a donkey. Although -Jack was a husky fellow, he found it hard to hoist the donkey on his -shoulder, but mindful of his mother’s grief he got it up and set out home -slowly with the prize. - -Now it chanced that on the way home he had to pass the house of a -beautiful girl who unfortunately was deaf and dumb. The doctors said she -would never speak until someone should make her laugh. Many had tried but -without success. In despair her father, who was very rich, had promised -that very day whoever could make her laugh should marry her. - -The girl happened to be looking out of the window when Jack came along -with the donkey on his shoulders, its legs sticking up in the air. He -looked so funny she burst into a merry fit of laughter, and at once was -able to hear and speak. - -So her father, overjoyed, gave her to Jack with a sackful of money and -more to come. - -“My love, your fortune is made,” cried his mother, when she heard the -good news. And she went to live with Jack and his bride, and they all had -plenty and were happy ever after. - - Ting-a-ling-a-ling, - Let the wedding bells ring. - - —FOLK TALE - - -THE TIME THAT WILL COME AGAIN - -One warm bright day in autumn, when the whole world was changing to brown -and red and gold, a little squealing pig was sent by his mother to bring -home some beechnuts to Piggikin, the baby. - -“They’re dropping now, tender and sweet, in the wood,” said Mother Sow. -“Off with you and get some.” So - - With a run and a squeal - Away went the pig, - With an odd little reel. - -Now, on the way he passed a boy and a girl sitting by the roadside, with -their backs to him. And the boy was saying to the girl, - - “A long time ago when pigs had wings - And pups grew in the tree-tops, - In that good time donkeys brayed in rhyme - And fiddles danced the barn hops”— - -“That’s very strange,” said the pig; “can it be true? I’ll ask the old -witch owl about it. I’d like a pair of wings; I’d fly high, I can tell -you.” So - - With a run and a squeal - Away went the pig, - With an odd little reel; - -and he left the path to the wood to make for a barn half a mile off, -where the old witch owl lived. - -On the way he met a pup whose father had told him to guard the kennel -while he himself went in search of a bone. The pup was rolling on the -ground in the sunshine. - -“O roly-poly pup,” called out the pig, “what do you think I heard this -morning?” - -“What?” said the roly-poly pup, running away from the kennel. - - “A long time ago when pigs had wings - And pups grew in the tree-tops, - In that good time - Donkeys brayed in rhyme - And fiddles danced the barn hops.” - -“That’s very strange,” said the pup; “can it be true? We’ll ask the old -witch owl about it. I’d like to grow in a tree-top. I’d see farther than -my nose, I can tell you.” So - - With a run and a squeal - Away went the pig with an odd little reel - And the roly-poly pup followed after. - -Well, on the way they met a donkey kicking his heels to get rid of the -pack on his back. And they called out to him, “O kicking, kicking donkey, -what do you think we heard this very morning?” - -“What?” said the kicking, kicking donkey, as he kicked the pack from his -back. - - “A long time ago when pigs had wings - And pups grew in the tree-tops, - In that good time donkeys brayed in rhyme - And fiddles danced the barn hops.” - -“That’s very strange,” said the donkey; “can it be true? We’ll ask the -old witch owl about it. I’d like to bray in rhyme. I’d bring down the -house, I can tell you.” So - - With a run and a squeal - Away went the pig with an odd little reel, - And the roly-poly pup and the kicking, kicking donkey followed after. - -Halfway to the barn they met a fiddle lying near a bench. He was in -such a bad temper that he had broken the string that makes the sweetest -music. But the others were too full of their news to notice his ill -humor. - -“O fiddle diddle,” they cried, “what do you think we heard this very -morning?” - -“What?” snapped the fiddle, and he broke another string. - - “A long time ago when pigs had wings - And pups grew in the tree-tops, - In that good time donkeys brayed in rhyme, - And fiddles danced the barn hops.” - -“What nonsense!” growled the fiddle, in such an ugly tone that even the -donkey rose on his hind legs to cover his big ears with his forefeet. - -“We’re going to ask the old witch owl about it,” said the pup. “Come -along and hear what she says.” - -“Rr-r-r-r-zing, you silly thing,” snarled the fiddle, so fiercely that -without waiting for more, - - With a run and a squeal - Away went the pig with an odd little reel, - And the roly-poly pup and the kicking, kicking donkey, - And the ill-tempered fiddle followed after. - -He sneaked along, though, behind the others, and tripped often in his -broken strings, and this made his temper worse. - -Well, the day was darkening into twilight when they reached the barn. -But they were so anxious to hear the old witch owl’s opinion that they -didn’t notice this. The old witch owl stood in a little round opening in -the front of the barn, high up near the pointed top where the weathercock -turns. She was looking out into the gathering darkness, planning her -voyage into the night. - -“There she is,” squealed the pig in a whisper, getting behind the pup. - -“Her ears are bigger than mine,” said the donkey, getting behind the pig. - -But the fiddle pushed to the front and growled, “Rr-r-r-r-zing, you -silly thing, I’m not afraid of an old witch owl. I’ll ask the ridiculous -question.” - -“Do, sweet fiddle,” whispered the little squealing pig and the roly-poly -pup and the kicking, kicking donkey, “how kind of you to have come.” - -“Rr-r-r-r-zing, you silly thing, and you, and you; I came to please -myself.” - -“Madame Witch Owl,” he growled, spoiling the music of the verse, “is it -true that - - “A long time ago pigs had wings - And pups grew in the tree-tops, - In that good time donkeys brayed in rhyme, - And fiddles danced the barn hops?” - -The old witch looked down at him. And her eyes glowed so much like two -round wheels of fire that the fiddle in secret fright burst another -string. But for all that he stared back at her. “Hoot-hoot-hoot,” she -cried, “wait till I’ve heard your betters. Let the pig stand forth and -the pup and the donkey.” - -Out came the little squealing pig, but not very far, so that the -roly-poly pup might catch him by the tail in case of need; and out came -the roly-poly pup, but not very far, so that the little squealing pig -might catch him by the tail in case of need; and out came the kicking, -kicking donkey, but not very far, so that he might get behind the pup and -the pig in case of need. - -“Pig, pig,” said the old witch owl, “how did you hear this?” - -And the little pig began in a squealing little voice to tell her how -Mother Sow had sent him to the wood to get some beechnuts for Piggikin, -the baby, and how he had heard the boy tell it to the girl, and how he -had set off to ask her about it. - -“And Piggikin is still hungry for the beechnuts, is he?” asked the old -witch owl, looking beyond the little pig into the darkness. - -“Yes,” said the little pig, in a very little voice. - -“And Mother Sow is getting anxious as the night grows darker.” - -“The night,” cried the little squealing pig and the roly-poly pup and -the kicking, kicking donkey, drawing nearer together. And they looked -fearfully over their shoulders as the shadows of the apple-tree near the -barn moved nearer to them. - -When the old witch owl brought back her eyes from the darkness, she -looked at the roly-poly pup, and he went on to tell, in a very loud voice -to give himself courage, how his father had left him to guard the kennel, -but how when he heard the news he, too, set off to ask her about it. - -“And the kennel is still unguarded, is it?” asked the old witch owl, -looking beyond the roly-poly pup into the darkness. - -“Yes,” said the roly-poly pup, in a very small voice. - -“And Father Dog is getting anxious as the night grows darker.” - -“The night,” cried the roly-poly pup and the kicking, kicking donkey -and the little squealing pig, drawing nearer together. And they looked -fearfully over their shoulders as the shadows of the apple-tree near the -barn moved nearer to them. - -When the old witch owl brought her eyes back from the darkness she looked -at the kicking, kicking donkey, and he straightway began to roar how his -master had given him a pack to carry, but how, when he heard the news, he -had kicked it off and set out to ask her about it. - -When he finished he joined forepaws with the pig and the pup and danced -around the fiddle; the pig singing, - - “O for a pair of wings to fly high,” - -and the pup singing, - - “O to grow in a tree-top and see farther than my nose,” - -and the donkey singing, - - “O to bray in rhyme and bring down the house.” - -And then they all sang together, - - “O for the time when pigs had wings - And pups grew in the tree-tops, - In that good time donkeys brayed in rhyme, - And fiddles danced the barn hops.” - -The fiddle never even noticed them; he still stared at the old witch owl, -though he did not dare to say anything. - -“You kicked off the pack, did you?” asked the old witch owl, turning the -full blaze of her eyes on the donkey. - -“Yes,” he gasped, running behind the pup and the pig, and the pig tried -to catch the pup by the tail, and the pup tried to catch the pig by the -tail. - -“Do you think,” she cried in a frightful voice, and her feathers stood -out straight around her, “that runaways and idlers will ever fly high or -see farther than their noses or bring music into the world? They bring -nothing but sorrow, sorrow to those that love them.” And suddenly the old -witch owl looked out into the night and called, - -“Hoo-oo-oo-oo. Is it you-oo-oo? Is it you-oo-oo?” - -Immediately out of the night walked the mother of the squealing pig and -the father of the roly-poly pup and the master of the kicking, kicking -donkey. And into the sky came the moon. And into the moonlight trooped -crowds of boys and girls from the land of dreams, led by the boy and girl -the little pig had passed in the morning, more and more of them, till -they surrounded the barn and covered the shadows cast by the apple-tree. - -The little squealing pig ran to his mother and the roly-poly pup ran to -his father and the kicking, kicking donkey ran to his master; and there -was great rejoicing. The donkey begged his master for a beating, saying -he richly deserved it, and so did the pup and the pig. But the grown-ups -said, “They’ll do better next time.” - -When the dream children heard this they streamed out into the moonlight -back to their dreams, singing, - - “The time will come again when pigs will have wings - And pups will grow in the tree-tops, - In that good time donkeys will bray in rhyme, - And fiddles will dance the barn hops.” - -And lo and behold! when the fiddle heard them he felt his ill-humor -slipping away. And as the old witch owl looked at them his strings -mended themselves. - -Dancing down the path and out into the moonlight after the children he -sounded his sweetest notes in time to their singing; and the little pig -and his mother and the roly-poly pup and his father and the donkey and -his master followed and took up the children’s song. To the very end of -it the fiddle danced and played his merriest. At the turn of the road he -looked back at the old witch owl and she was looking at him. - - “The little pig’s news is good,” he cried, - “I’m off to spread it far and wide.” - -And as she sailed off into the night he was sure she nodded at him. - -And Piggikin got the nuts after all, though they were a day late. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -THE OWL’S ANSWER TO TOMMY - -One evening Tommy’s grandmother had been telling him and his little -brother Johnny a story about a brownie who used to do all the work in a -neighbor’s house before the family got up in the morning. But the maids -caught sight of him one night, and they felt so sorry to see his ragged -coat that the next night they laid near his bowl of bread and milk a new -suit and a new linen shirt. Brownie put the things on and danced around -the room, singing, - - “What have we here? Hemten hamten! - Here will I nevermore tread nor stampen.” - -And away he danced through the door and never came back again. Tommy -wanted to know why, but his grandmother couldn’t tell him. “The Old Owl -knows,” she said, “I don’t. Ask her.” - -Now Tommy was a lazy boy. He thought that if only he could find a brownie -that would do his work he would save himself a great deal of trouble. So -that night, while little Johnnie lay sound asleep beside him, in the loft -of the kitchen, as rosy and rosier than an apple, he lay broad awake, -thinking of his grandmother’s story. “There’s an owl living in the old -shed by the lake,” he thought. “It may be the Old Owl herself, and she -knows, Granny says. When father’s gone to bed and the moon rises, I’ll go -and ask her.” - -By and by the moon rose like gold and went up into the heavens like -silver, flooding the fields with a pale ghostly light. Tom crept softly -down the ladder and stole out. It was a glorious night, though everything -but the wind and Tommy seemed asleep. The stones, the walls, the gleaming -lanes, were so intensely still, the church tower in the valley seemed -awake and watching, but silent; the houses in the village round it had -all their eyes shut; and it seemed to Tommy as if the very fields had -drawn white sheets over them, and lay sleeping also. - -“Hoot! hoot!” said a voice from the fir wood behind him. Somebody else -was awake, then. “It’s the Old Owl,” said Tommy; and there she came -swinging heavily across the moor with a flapping stately flight, and -sailed into the shed by the lake. The old lady moved faster than she -appeared to do, and though Tommy ran hard she was in the shed some time -before him. When he got in, no bird was to be seen, but he heard a sound -from above, and there sat the Old Owl, blinking at him—Tommy—with yellow -eyes. - -“Come up, come up!” said she hoarsely. She could speak then! Beyond all -doubt it was _the_ Old Owl, and none other. - -“Come up here! come up here!” said the Old Owl. - -Tommy had often climbed up for fun to the beam that ran across the shed -where the Old Owl sat. He climbed up now, and sat face to face with her, -and thought her eyes looked as if they were made of flame. - -“Now, what do you want?” said the Owl. - -“Please,” said Tommy, “can you tell me where to find the brownies, and -how to get one to come and live with us?” - -“Oohoo!” said the Owl, “that’s it, is it? I know of two brownies.” - -“Hurrah!” said Tommy. “Where do they live?” - -“In your house,” said the Owl. - -Tommy was aghast. - -“In our house!” he exclaimed. “Whereabouts? Let me rummage them out. Why -do they do nothing?” - -“One of them is too young,” said the Owl. - -“But why doesn’t the other work?” asked Tommy. - -“He is idle, he is idle,” said the Owl, and she gave herself such a shake -as she said it that the fluff went flying through the shed, and Tommy -nearly tumbled off the beam in fright. - -“Then we don’t want him,” said he. “What is the use of having brownies -if they do nothing to help us? But perhaps if you would tell me where to -find them,” said Tommy, “I could tell them what to do.” - -“Could you?” said the Owl. “Oohoo! oohoo!” and Tommy couldn’t tell -whether she were hooting or laughing. - -“Of course I could,” he said. “They might be up and sweep the house, and -light the fire, and spread the tables, and that sort of thing, before -Father came down. The Brownie did all that in Granny’s mother’s young -days. And they might tidy the room, and fetch the turf, and pick up my -chips, and sort Granny’s scraps. Oh! there’s plenty to do.” - -“So there is,” said the Owl. “Oohoo! Well, I can tell you where to find -one of the brownies; and if you can find him, he will tell you where -his brother is. But all this depends upon whether you feel equal to -undertaking it, and whether you will follow my directions.” - -“I am quite ready to go,” said Tommy, “and I will do as you tell me. I -feel sure I could persuade them to come; if they only knew how every one -would love them if they made themselves useful!” - -“Oohoo! oohoo!” said the Owl. “Now listen. You must go to the north side -of the lake when the moon is shining—(“I know brownies like water,” -muttered Tommy)—and turn yourself round three times, saying this charm: - - ‘Twist me, and turn me, and show me the Elf— - I looked in the water, and saw—’ - -When you have got so far look into the water, and think of a word that -will rhyme with Elf, and at the same moment you will see the brownie.” - -“Is the brownie a merman,” said Tommy, “that he lives under water?” - -“That depends on whether he has a fish’s tail,” said the Owl, “and that -you can see for yourself.” - -“Well, the moon is shining, so I shall go,” said Tommy. “Gooby-by, and -thank you, Ma’am;” and he jumped down and went, saying to himself, “I -believe he is a merman, all the same, or else how could he live in the -lake?” - -The moon shone very brightly on the center of the lake. Tommy knew the -place well, for there was an Echo there, with whom he had often talked. -Round the edges grew rushes and water plants, and turning himself three -times, as the Old Owl had told him, he repeated the charm: - - “Twist me and turn me and show me the Elf— - I looked in the water and saw—” - -Now for it! He looked in, and saw—his own face. - -“Why, there’s no one there but myself!” said Tommy. “And what can the -word be? I must have done it wrong. It cannot be myself.” - -“Myself!” said the Echo. - -Tommy was almost surprised to find the Echo awake at this time of night. - -“Much you know about it!” said he. “Belf! Celf! Delf! Felf! Helf! Jelf! -There can’t be a word to fit it. And then to look for a brownie and see -nothing but myself!” - -“Myself,” said the Echo. - -“Will you be quiet?” said Tommy. “If you would tell me the word there -would be some meaning in your interference; but to roar ‘Myself!’ at me, -which neither rhymes nor runs—it does rhyme, though, as it happens,” he -added; “how very odd! it runs too— - - ‘Twist me and turn me and show me the Elf— - I looked in the water and saw myself,’— - -which I certainly did. What can it mean? The Old Owl knows, as Granny -would say; so I shall go back and ask her.” - -And back he went. There sat the Old Owl as before. - -“Oohoo!” said she, as Tommy climbed up. “What did you see in the lake?” - -“I saw nothing but myself,” said Tommy, indignantly. - -“And what did you expect to see?” asked the Owl. - -“I expected to see a brownie,” said Tommy; “you told me.” - -“And what are brownies like, pray?” inquired the Owl. - -“The one Granny knew was a useful little fellow, something like a man,” -said Tommy. - -“Ah!” said the Owl, “but you know at present this one is an idle little -fellow, something like a little man. Oohoo! oohoo! Good night, or rather, -good morning, for it is long past midnight.” And the old lady began to -shake her feathers for a start. “Stay,” said she, “I think I had better -take you home.” - -“I know the way, thank you,” said Tommy. - -“Do as I say,” said the Owl. “Lean your full weight against me and shut -your eyes.” - -Tommy laid his head against the Owl’s feathers. Down he sank and sank. He -jumped up with a start to save himself, opened his eyes, and found that -he was sitting in the loft with Johnnie sleeping by his side. - -“Get up, Johnnie, I’ve a story to tell you,” he cried. And he told -Johnnie all about it. - -And after that Tommy and Johnnie were the most useful little brownies in -that whole country. - - —From MRS. EWING’S BROWNIES - - -THE STORY OF COQUERICO - -Hear the story of this one. - -He was a queer-looking little creature. He came out in the brood of a -handsome black Spanish hen. All his brothers and sisters were as pretty -as you would see in a day’s walk, but he was very odd-looking. He had -only one good eye, one good wing, and one good leg to carry him about, -hippety-hop, hippety-hop. When his mother saw he was crippled, she at -once loved him best, and gave him the splendid name of Coquerico. But -hear about him. - -Maybe you think a one-eyed, one-armed, one-legged chick like Coquerico -would be good and gentle. Why, if one of his brothers ran against him -without meaning to, Coquerico flew at the poor fellow and called him -names. And he was so conceited that he thought himself better than his -brothers and sisters, and that he knew more than his mother. - -So one day he hippety-hopped up to his mother and said, “My lady mother, -I am too good for this family; I should be in the king’s court. I’m off -to Madrid, where the king lives.” - -“What are you thinking of, my poor little one?” cried his mother. “Who -has put such nonsense into your head? Where would my little crippled -one find a home like this—mulberry trees to shade him, a white-washed -henroost, a high dunghill, worms and corn in plenty, brothers and sisters -that are fond of him, and a mother who loves him dearly. Stay where you -are, my child; believe me I know what is best for you.” - -“Do you think so?” said Coquerico, saucily. “I don’t. I wish to go out -into the world, where everyone may hear of me, I am so clever. I’m off to -Madrid to see the king.” - -“But, my son, have you never looked in the brook?” asked his mother. -“Don’t you know that you have only one eye, one wing, and one leg? To -make your way in the world you need the sharp eyes of a fox, the swift -wings of a hawk, and the many soft legs of a spider. Once outside, you -are lost.” - -“My good mother,” said Coquerico, just as saucily, “I am well able to -take care of myself. I am better than my family and must find people who -can see how clever I am. So I’m off to Madrid to see the king.” - -“Well, my son,” said the anxious mother-hen, “listen to your mother’s -last words. Keep away from people known as cooks and scullions; you will -know them by their paper caps, tucked up sleeves, and great sharp knives.” - -So away went Coquerico, making believe not to see the tear in his -mother’s eye. Without caring for those he left, he hippety-hopped -out the gate and stopped only long enough to crow three times, -“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” Then over the fields he went hippety-hop, -hippety-hop. - -By and by he came to a small brook almost choked by a couple of dead -leaves. “My friend,” it called out to him, “will you free me that I may -flow on? One stroke of your beak is enough.” - -“Do I look like a brook-sweeper?” answered Coquerico. “Help yourself; I’m -off to Madrid to see the king.” And on he went, hippety-hop, hippety-hop. - -A little farther on Coquerico saw the wind lying breathless on the -ground. “Dear friend, help me,” it cried; “here on earth we should help -one another. If you will fan me a little with your wing I shall have -strength to rise to my place among the clouds, where I am needed for the -next whirlwind.” - -“Do I look like a wind-bellows,” answered Coquerico; “help yourself. I am -off to Madrid to see the king.” And on he went, hippety-hop, hippety-hop. - -A little farther on he came to a newly mown field, where the farmers had -piled up the weeds to burn them. As he stopped his hippety-hop to search -among a smoking heap for a kernel of corn, he saw a little flame, barely -flickering, it was so nearly out. - -“My dear friend,” cried the flame, faintly, “will you bring me a few dry -straws to rekindle me that I may burn brightly?” - -“Do I look like a servant?” cried Coquerico, haughtily; “I’ll teach you -to call out to a fowl that has business with the king.” And he leaped on -the heap of dried weeds and trampled it down till it smothered the flame! -Then he flapped his one wing and crowed three times, “Cock-a-doodle-doo,” -as if he had done something to be proud of. - -And so strutting and crowing, though he had to go hippety-hop, he arrived -at Madrid and the king’s palace. Grand and beautiful as it was, he did -not stop to look at it, but made for the hen yard, stopping every second -step to crow, “Cock-a-doodle,” to tell the king and all the world he was -coming. - -In the hen yard there was of course no king, but a boy with a paper cap -on his head and sleeves tucked up and a great sharp knife in his hand. -“A scullion, I suppose,” said Coquerico to himself, “but he will not -stop me; I have business with the king.” - -“Well, you’re an odd one,” cried the boy, coming over to look at the -new-comer. “Cook wants a rare bird for the king’s dinner, you’re just in -time.” And he seized Coquerico and carried him into the kitchen. - -Here the cook popped him into a pot of water and left him, and with the -boy went out of the kitchen to attend to something else. - -The water began to get warm and then hot. “Oh, Madame Water,” cried -Coquerico, becoming all at once as meek as a dove, “good and gentle -water, best and purest in the world, do not scald me, I beg of you.” - -“Did you show any pity, selfish wretch?” answered the Water, boiling with -indignation. Coquerico leaped out of the pot, knocking off the cover, -only to land on the fire. - -“Oh, Fire, Fire, do not burn me,” he cried, dancing around on his back; -“oh, beautiful and brilliant flame, brother of the sun, and cousin of the -shining diamond, do not roast me.” - -“Did you have any pity, you selfish wretch?” cried the Fire, blazing so -fiercely with anger that the chick in frightful pain leaped out of a -window near by. - -But as he landed on the flagging the Wind caught him and whirled him up. -“Oh, Wind,” shrieked Coquerico, faintly, “oh, kindly Wind, oh, cooling -breeze, you make me so dizzy my head reels. Pray let me down that I may -rest.” - -“Let you rest,” roared the Wind, “wait and I’ll teach you, you selfish -wretch.” - -And with one blast it sent him up so high that as he fell down he stuck -on a steeple. - -There, if you look, you may see him to this very day, forced at last to -help others in this world, a weathervane. - - —SPANISH FOLK TALE - - -THE SCARECROW - -Once upon a time there was an old black crow, as old as the hills. And -once there was a scarecrow, brand new to his business. The scarecrow was -made of a corn stalk wearing the farmer’s cast-off hat and coat. - -The very first day he took up his post in the cornfield, the old black -crow, flying over, laughed at his disguise. - - “Caw, caw, caw,” she cried, - “I know you, poor old stalk, - Bloodless is your body, - You neither run nor walk.” - -The scarecrow kept his temper and said nothing, and this looks as if he -were clever. For the old crow had to take herself off without knowing -what he was thinking of. - -Now the scarecrow _was_ clever. He made friends with Magic Darkness and -Moving Wind. He had made up his mind to frighten thieving crows away, no -matter how old and knowing they might be. And that very evening when the -old black crow, as old as the hills, came flying toward the cornfield, -with her five black children after her, he whispered, “Now, Magic -Darkness and Moving Wind, help me.” - -And they did. Magic Darkness came down and hid his headlessness, and -Moving Wind bent his body and pushed his arms together so that he looked -exactly as if he were the farmer stooping to load a gun. - -When the old black crow saw this, she whispered, “Turn back, children, -and don’t speak for your lives;” and although she was as old as the -hills, she turned tail as fast as she could, with her five black children -after her. When she reached her nest built of sticks in the fork of an -apple-tree a quarter of a mile away, she breathed more freely. - -“Oh, my children,” she panted, “it was no cornstalk scarecrow at all; it -was the farmer himself, alive and loading his gun for us.” - -But when she awoke in the morning light, she felt rather puzzled. “I’ve -seen a good many scarecrows in my time,” she said; “I should know a man -from a shadow. I’ll go and have a look at him in broad daylight.” - -So as soon as breakfast was over and the crow children had gone to school -to hear how featherless children make crow’s nests with their fingers, -she spread her wings for the cornfield where she had seen the brand new -scarecrow. There he stood as plain a humbug as ever deceived the eyes of -a blind crow. - -“I’m not old enough to be blind yet,” she said; “you’re a dried-up -cornstalk if ever there was one. You’ll not frighten me this evening and -send me and my children scurrying home.” And she sang mockingly, - - “Caw, caw, caw, - I know you, poor old stalk, - Bloodless is your body, - You neither run nor walk.” - -But the clever scarecrow kept his temper and answered never a word. So -again the old crow had to take herself off no wiser about his thoughts. - -Well, toward evening along came flying again the old black crow, as old -as the hills, with her five black children after her. And again the -scarecrow whispered, “Now, Magic Darkness and Moving Wind, help me.” And -they did. Magic Darkness came down and hid his headlessness, and Moving -Wind bent his body and pushed his arms together, then straightened him -suddenly, like this, halfway, and held his arms out in front, one hand -beyond the other, so, as if he were searching for the trigger of a gun. - -When the old crow saw him she cried, “Turn back, children, at once,” -turning herself so suddenly that she bumped into the beak of the first -little crow behind her. It was not until she reached her nest built of -sticks in the fork of the apple-tree a quarter of a mile away, and had -rested a minute, that she breathed freely. - -“Oh, my children,” she said, “without doubt it was no scarecrow; it was -the farmer, alive, and placing his finger on the trigger of his gun to -shoot us.” - -But again when she awoke in the morning light she felt puzzled. “It’s -very strange,” she said. “I’ve seen a good many scarecrows in my time. -I should know a man from a shadow. I’ll have another look at him in the -broad daylight.” - -So, as soon as breakfast was over and the crow children had gone to -school to hear how featherless grown-ups get crow’s feet on their faces, -she spread her wings for the cornfield. There stood the scarecrow as -plain a humbug as ever deceived the eyes of a blind crow. - -“Well,” she said, “unless blindness is catching and the bats gave it to -me, you’re a dried-up corn stalk if ever there was one. If an old crow -that was living before you were even thought of knows anything, you’ll -not frighten me this evening!” And she sang mockingly, - - “Caw, caw, caw, - I know you, poor old stalk, - Bloodless is your body, - You neither run nor walk.” - -But the clever scarecrow kept his temper, and answered never a word. So -again the old crow had to take herself off no wiser about his thoughts. - -Well, all good things go in threes, as every child who knows more than a -crow can tell you. So the third evening along came flying the old black -crow, as old as the hills, with her five black children after her. And -the third time he whispered, “Now, Magic Darkness and Moving Wind, help -me.” And the third time they did. Magic Darkness came down and hid his -headlessness, and Moving Wind bent him sharply down, lifted him halfway -with his arms held out, one hand beyond the other, like this; then -suddenly straightened him up with arms pointing up at the crows. - -“Don’t shoot, dear farmer,” shrieked the old crow. She hadn’t time to -turn tail. “My children and I will let your corn alone until you have -harvested it.” - -Immediately Moving Wind dropped the scarecrow’s armless sleeves and -brought his hat back to its position on the top of the stalk. And away -flew the old crow, as old as the hills, with her five black children -after her. When she reached her nest built of sticks in the fork of the -apple-tree a quarter of a mile away, and she had rested two minutes, she -said, “My children, keep away from that field until I tell you the corn -has been gathered in.” - -When the corn was harvested, the old black crow and her five black -children went gleaning to pick up the kernels that had dropped, and fat -eating they had. And the scarecrow let them enjoy their meal in peace; -his duty was done. - - —ANGELA M. KEYES - - -OEYVIND AND MARIT - -There was once a boy named Oeyvind who lived in a hut at the foot of a -steep rocky hill. On the roof of the hut walked a little goat. It was -Oeyvind’s own. Oeyvind kept it there so that it should not go astray, and -he carried up leaves and grass to it. - -But one fine day the goat leaped down, and away it went up the hill until -it came where it never had been before. When Oeyvind ran out of the hut -after dinner, he missed his little goat and at once thought of the fox. -He looked all about, calling, “Killy-killy-killy-goat!” - -“Bay-ay-ay,” said the goat, from the top of the hill, as it cocked its -head on one side and looked down. And at the side of the goat kneeled a -little girl. - -“Is it yours, this goat?” she asked. - -Oeyvind stared at her, with eyes and mouth wide open, and asked, “Who are -you?” - -“I am Marit, mother’s little one, father’s fiddle, grandfather’s elf, -four years old in the autumn, two days after the frost nights.” - -“Are you, though?” he said, as soon as he could get his breath. - -“Is it yours, this goat?” she asked. - -“Yes,” he said. - -“I should like it. You will not give it to me?” - -“No, that I won’t.” - -Marit lay down, kicking her legs and looking up at him, and then she -said, “Not if I give you a butter cake for him?” - -Oeyvind had eaten butter cake only once in his life, when his grandfather -came to visit; anything like it he had never eaten before nor since. “Let -me see the butter cake first,” said he. - -It didn’t take Marit long to pull out a large cake. “Here it is,” she -said, and threw it down to him. - -“Ow, it went to pieces,” said the boy. He gathered up every crumb, and he -couldn’t help tasting a very small one. That was so good he had to eat -another. Before he knew it he had eaten up the whole cake. - -“Now the goat is mine,” said the girl, and she laughed and clapped her -hands. The boy stopped with the last bit in his mouth. - -“Wait a little while?” he begged, for he loved his little goat. - -The small girl got up quickly. “No, the goat is mine,” she said, and -she threw her arms around its neck. She loosened one of her garters and -fastened it round the goat’s neck and began pulling the goat after her. -The goat would not follow: it stretched its neck down to see Oeyvind. -“Bay-ay-ay,” it said. But the girl took hold of its fleece with one hand -and pulled the string with the other, and said, sweetly, “Come, little -goat, you shall go into my room and eat out of my apron.” And then she -sang, - - “Come, boy’s goat, - Come, mother’s calf, - Come, mewing cat - In snow-white shoes; - Come, yellow ducks, - Come out of your hiding-place; - Come little chickens, - Who can hardly go; - Come, my doves - With soft feathers; - See, the grass is wet, - But the sun does you good: - And early, early, is it in summer, - But call for the autumn, and it will come.” - -And away she went with the goat, calling on all living things she loved -to follow her. - -The boy stood still as a stone. He had taken care of the goat since the -winter before, and he had never thought he would lose it. But now it was -gone in a moment and he would never see it again. He lay down and wept. - -His mother came along and saw him crying. “What are you crying about?” -she asked. - -“Oh, the goat, the goat!” - -“Yes, where is the goat?” asked the mother, looking up at the roof. - -“It will never come back,” said the boy. - -“Why, how could that happen!” - -He could not tell her at once. - -“Has the fox taken it?” - -“No, oh, no.” - -“Are your wits gone,” said his mother; “what has become of the goat?” - -“Oh-h-h—I sold it for—for—a cake!” - -As soon as he had said it he knew what it was to sell the goat for a cake. - -“What can the little goat think of you, to sell him for a cake?” said his -mother. - -The boy was so sorry that he said to himself he would never again do -anything wrong. He would never cut the thread on the spinning-wheel, he -would never let the goats out of the fold, he would never go down to the -sea alone. He fell asleep where he lay, and he dreamed that the little -goat had gone to heaven and that he sat alone on the roof and could not -go to it. - -Suddenly there came something wet close up to his ear. He started up. -“Bay-ay-ay!” it said. It was the little goat come back. - -“What, have you come back?” he cried. He jumped up, took it by the -forelegs, and danced with it as if it were a brother. He tickled it and -pulled its beard, and set off with it to the hut to tell his mother the -good news. - -Just then he heard someone behind him; it was the little girl. - -“Oh, so it was you brought it back?” said he. - -“Grandfather would not let me keep it,” said she; “he is waiting near for -me.” - -A sharp voice called out, “Now!” It was her grandfather’s, and she -remembered what she was to do. She put one of her muddy hands into -Oeyvind’s and said, “I beg your pardon for taking the little goat.” Then -she could keep in no longer; she threw her arms around the goat’s neck -and wept aloud. - -“You may have the goat,” said Oeyvind. - -“Make haste,” cried grandfather. So Marit had to go, and Oeyvind had his -little goat again. - - —BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON - - -BLUNDER - -Blunder was going to the Wishing-Gate, to wish for a pair of Shetland -Ponies, and a little coach, like Tom Thumb’s. And of course you may have -your wish, if you once get there. But the thing is, to find it; for it -is not, as you imagine, a great gate, with a tall marble pillar on each -side, and a sign over the top, like this, WISHING-GATE,—but just an old -stile, made of three sticks. Put up two fingers, cross them on the top -with another finger, and you have it exactly,—the way it looks, I mean,—a -worm-eaten stile, in a meadow; and as there are plenty of old stiles in -meadows, how are you to know which is the one? - -Blunder’s fairy godmother knew, but then she could not tell him, for that -was not according to fairy rules and regulations. She could only direct -him to follow the road, and ask the way of the first owl he met; and over -and over she charged him, for Blunder was a very careless little boy, and -seldom found anything, “Be sure you don’t miss him,—be sure you don’t -pass him by.” And so far Blunder had come on very well, for the road was -straight; but at the turn it forked. Should he go through the wood or -turn to the right? There was an owl nodding in a tall oak-tree, the first -owl Blunder had seen; but he was a little afraid to wake him up, for -Blunder’s fairy godmother had told him that this was a great philosopher, -who sat up all night to study the habits of frogs and mice, and knew -everything but what went on in the daylight, under his nose; and he could -think of nothing better to say to this great philosopher than, “Good Mr. -Owl, will you please show me the way to the Wishing-Gate?” - -“Eh! what’s that?” cried the owl, starting out of his nap. “Have you -brought me a frog?” - -“No,” said Blunder, “I did not know that you would like one. Can you tell -me the way to Wishing-Gate?” - -“Wishing-Gate! Wishing-Gate!” hooted the owl, very angry. “Winks and -naps! how dare you disturb me for such a thing as that? Do you take me -for a mile-stone? Follow your nose, sir, follow your nose!”—and, ruffling -up his feathers, the owl was asleep again in a moment. - -But how could Blunder follow his nose? His nose would turn to the right, -or take him through the woods, whichever way his legs went, and “what was -the use of asking the owl,” thought Blunder, “if this was all?” While he -hesitated, a chipmunk came scurrying down the path, and, seeing Blunder, -stopped short with a little squeak. - -“Good Mrs. Chipmunk,” said Blunder, “can you tell me the way to the -Wishing-Gate?” - -“I can’t, indeed,” answered the chipmunk, politely. “What with getting -in nuts, and the care of a young family, I have so little time to -visit anything! But if you will follow the brook, you will find an old -water-sprite under a slanting stone, over which the water pours all day -with a noise like wabble! wabble! who, I have no doubt, can tell you all -about it.” - -So Blunder went on up the brook, and, seeing nothing of the water-sprite, -or the slanting-stone, was just saying to himself, “I am sure I don’t -know where he is,—I can’t find it,” when he spied a frog sitting on a wet -stone. - -“Mr. Frog,” asked Blunder, “can you tell me the way to the Wishing-Gate?” - -“I cannot,” said the frog. “I am very sorry, but the fact is, I am an -artist. Young as I am, my voice is already remarked at our concerts, and -I devote myself so entirely to my profession of music that I have no time -for general information. But in a pine-tree beyond, you will find an old -crow, who, I am quite sure, can show you the way, as he is a traveler, -and a bird of an inquiring turn of mind.” - -“I don’t know where the pine is,—I am sure I can never find him,” -answered Blunder, discontentedly; but still he went on up the brook, -till, hot and tired, and out of patience at seeing neither crow nor -pine, he sat down under a great tree to rest. There he heard tiny voices -squabbling. And looking about him, Blunder spied a bee, quarreling with -a morning-glory elf, who was shutting up the morning-glory in his face. - -“Elf, do you know which is the way to the Wishing-Gate?” asked Blunder. - -“No,” said the elf, “I don’t know anything about geography. I was always -too delicate to study. But if you will keep on in this path, you will -find a Dream-man, coming down from fairyland, with his bags of dreams on -his shoulder; and if anybody can tell you about the Wishing-Gate, he can.” - -“But how can I find him?” asked Blunder, more and more impatient. - -“I don’t know, I am sure,” answered the elf, “unless you look for him.” - -So there was no help for it but to go on; and presently Blunder passed -the Dream-man, asleep under a witch-hazel, with his bags of good and bad -dreams laid over him to keep him from fluttering away. But Blunder had -a habit of not using his eyes, for at home, when told to find anything, -he always said, “I don’t know where it is,” or, “I can’t find it,” and -then his mother or sister went straight and found it for him. So he -passed the Dream-man without seeing him, and went on till he stumbled on -Jack-o’-Lantern. - -“Can you show me the way to the Wishing-Gate?” said Blunder. - -“Certainly, with pleasure,” answered Jack, and, catching up his lantern, -set out at once. - -Blunder followed close, but, in watching the lantern, he forgot to look -to his feet, and fell into a hole filled with black mud. - -“I say! the Wishing-Gate is not down there,” called out Jack, whisking -off among the tree-tops. - -“But I can’t come up there,” whimpered Blunder. - -“That is not my fault, then,” answered Jack, merrily, dancing out of -sight. - -Oh, a very angry little boy was Blunder, when he clambered out of the -hole. “I don’t know where it is,” he said, crying; “I can’t find it, and -I’ll go straight home.” - -Just then he stepped on an old, moss-grown, rotten stump; and it -happening, unluckily, that this rotten stump was a wood-goblin’s chimney, -Blunder fell through, headlong, in among the pots and pans in which the -goblin’s cook was cooking the goblin’s supper. The old goblin, who was -asleep upstairs, started up in a fright at the tremendous clash and -clatter, and, finding that his house was tumbling about his ears, as he -thought at first, stumped down to the kitchen to see what was the matter. -The cook heard him coming, and looked about her in a fright to hide -Blunder. - -“Quick!” cried she. “If my master catches you, he will have you in a pie. -In the next room stands a pair of shoes. Jump into them, and they will -take you up the chimney.” - -Off flew Blunder, burst open the door, and tore frantically about the -room, in one corner of which stood the shoes; but of course he could not -see them, because he was not in the habit of using his eyes. “I can’t -find them! Oh, I can’t find them!” sobbed poor little Blunder, running -back to the cook. - -“Run into the closet,” said the cook. - -Blunder made a dash at the window, but—“I don’t know where it is,” he -called out. - -Clump! clump! That was the goblin, halfway down the stairs. - -“Mercy me!” exclaimed cook. “He is coming. The boy will be eaten in spite -of me. Jump into the meal-chest.” - -“I don’t see it,” squeaked Blunder, rushing towards the fireplace. “Where -is it?” - -Clump! clump! That was the goblin at the foot of the stairs, and coming -towards the kitchen door. - -“There is an invisible cloak hanging on that peg. Get into that,” cried -cook, quite beside herself. - -But Blunder could no more see the cloak than he could see the shoes, the -closet, and the meal-chest; and no doubt the goblin, whose hand was on -the latch, would have found him prancing around the kitchen, and crying -out, “I can’t find it,” but, fortunately for himself, Blunder caught his -foot in the invisible cloak, and tumbled down, pulling the cloak over -him. There he lay, hardly daring to breathe. - -“What was all that noise about?” asked the goblin gruffly, coming into -the kitchen. - -But as he could see nothing amiss, he went grumbling upstairs again, -while the shoes took Blunder up chimney, and landed him in a meadow, -safe enough, but so miserable! He was cross, he was disappointed, he was -hungry. It was dark, he did not know the way home, and, seeing an old -stile, he climbed up, and sat down on the top of it, for he was too tired -to stir. Just then came along the South Wind, with his pockets crammed -full of showers, and, as he happened to be going Blunder’s way, he took -Blunder home. The boy was glad enough of this, only he would have liked -it better if the Wind had not laughed all the way. For what would you -think, if you were walking along a road with a fat old gentleman, who -went chuckling to himself, and slapping his knees, and poking himself, -till he was purple in the face, when he would burst out in a great windy -roar of laughter every other minute? - -“What are you laughing at?” asked Blunder, at last. - -“At two things that I saw in my travels,” answered the Wind; “a hen, that -died of starvation, sitting on an empty peck-measure in front of a bushel -of grain; and a little boy who sat on the top of the Wishing-Gate, and -came home because he could not find it.” - -“What? what’s that?” cried Blunder; but just then he found himself at -home. There sat his godmother by the fire, her mouse-skin cloak hung -up on a peg, and toeing off a spider’s silk stocking an eighth of an -inch long; and though everybody cried, “What luck?” and, “Where is the -Wishing-Gate?” she sat mum. - -“I don’t know where it is,” answered Blunder. “I couldn’t find it;” and -thereon told the story of his troubles. - -“Poor boy!” said his mother, kissing him, while his sister ran to bring -him some bread and milk. - -“Yes, that is all very fine,” cried his godmother, pulling out her -needles, and rolling up her ball of silk; “but now hear my story. There -was once a little boy who must needs go to the Wishing-Gate, and his -godmother showed him the road as far as the turn, and told him to ask -the first owl he met what to do then; but this little boy seldom used -his eyes, so he passed the first owl, and waked up the wrong owl; so he -passed the water-sprite, and found only a frog; so he sat down under -the pine-tree, and never saw the crow; so he passed the Dream-man, and -ran after Jack-o’-Lantern; so he tumbled into the goblin’s chimney, and -couldn’t find the shoes and the closet and the chest and the cloak; and -so he sat on the top of the Wishing-Gate till the South Wind brought him -home, and never knew it. Ugh! Bah!” And away went the fairy godmother -up the chimney in such deep disgust that she did not even stop for her -mouse-skin cloak. - - —LOUISE E. CHOLLET - - -THE GOLDEN PEARS - -There was once a poor peasant of Bürs who had nothing in the world but -three sons, and a pear-tree that grew in front of his cottage. But the -pears were very fine, and the Kaiser was fond of the fruit, so he said to -his sons, one day, that he would send the Kaiser a basket as a present. -“Perhaps,” said he, “if the fruit please him he may help me and mine.” - -He plaited a krattle, or basket, and lined it with fresh leaves. Then he -gathered the finest pears from the tree, large ones as yellow as gold, -and laid them on the green leaves. - -“Take these to the Kaiser,” said he to his eldest son, “and see that thou -dost not let anyone rob thee of them by the way.” - -“Leave that to me, father,” said the boy, “I know how to take care of -my own. It isn’t much anyone will get out of me by asking. I’ll have my -answer, I can tell you.” So he closed up the mouth of the basket with -fresh leaves and set out to take the pears to the Kaiser. - -It was autumn and the sun struck hot all through the midday hours; so -when the boy came at last to a wayside fountain he stopped to drink and -to rest in its coolness. A little doubled-up old woman was washing some -rags at the fountain and singing a ditty all out of tune. “A witch, I’ll -be bound,” said the boy to himself, “she’ll be trying to get my pears, by -hook or by crook, but I’ll be up to her.” - -“A fair day, my lad,” said the little old wife; “that’s a weighty burden -you have to carry. What may it be with which you are so heavily laden?” - -“A load of sweepings from the road, to see whether I may turn a penny by -it,” answered the boy, shortly, to stop any further questioning. - -“Road-sweepings,” repeated the hag, as if she did not believe it. “Belike -you don’t mean that?” - -“But I _do_ mean it,” retorted the boy. - -“Oh, very well. You will find out when you get to your journey’s end.” -And she went on washing and singing her ditty that was all out of tune. - -“She means something,” said the boy to himself, “that’s clear. But at all -events my basket is safe. I haven’t even let her look at the fruit with -her evil eye, so there’s no harm done.” But he felt uneasy, and as he -could not rest, he got up and went on his way. - -Soon he reached the palace, and on telling his errand was admitted. - -“You have brought me some pears, have you, my boy?” said the Kaiser, well -pleased; and his mouth began to water for the luscious fruit. - -“Yes, your Majesty, some of the finest golden pears in your Majesty’s -whole empire,” said the boy. - -The Kaiser was delighted to hear this and he himself removed the -covering of leaves. But what was his anger to find under it nothing but -ill-smelling sweepings from the road! The attendants, who stood by, were -equally indignant at the insult offered to the emperor, and barely waited -for his order to hustle the boy off to prison. - -“It is all due to that old hag by the fountain,” said he to himself; “I -thought she meant mischief to me.” This was what he said the first day -and the second, but the quiet and solitude of the prison led him to think -more closely and to remember the answer he had made to the old wife’s -question. - -“I have often heard my father say,” he thought, “how strong truth makes -the tongue. Alas, that I did not use it as a weapon to take care of my -own.” - -Meantime the father said to his two sons, “You see how well your elder -brother has fared. He kept his eyes wide awake and carried the krattle of -golden fruit in safety to the Kaiser, who was no doubt so well pleased -with it that he has kept the boy near his person and made him a rich -man.” - -“I am as clever as he,” said the second brother; “give me a krattle of -the pears and let me take them to the Kaiser, and become a rich man too, -only I won’t keep it all for myself. I will send for you to share it with -me.” - -“Well said, my son,” answered the father; “I have worked hard for you all -my life, and it is but meet that in my old age you should share your good -fortune with me.” And as the season for pears had just come around again, -he plaited another krattle and lined it with fresh green leaves and laid -in it a goodly heap of the golden fruit. - -The second son took the basket and went his way, even in better spirits -than his elder brother, for he had the supposed success of the first to -give wings to his feet. The autumn sun was as hot through the midday as -it had been the year before, so that when he had traveled three days and -arrived at the wayside fountain, he too stopped to drink and rest in its -coolness. The doubled-up old woman was washing her rags at the fountain -and singing her ditty all out of tune. She stopped her croaking as -before, to ask him the same question as she had asked his brother. - -“It’s pigs’ wash,” said he; “I am taking it to see whether I may turn a -penny by it.” - -“Pigs’ wash,” repeated she, as if she did not believe it. “Belike you -don’t mean that?” - -“But I do mean it,” retorted he, rudely. - -And at this she made the same remark she had made his brother. - -Sure enough, when the Kaiser removed the leaves, instead of golden pears -there was a mess of pigs’ wash. The attendants hurried the second boy off -to the cell next his brother, and pitched him in with even less ceremony. - -Meantime the year was passing away and bringing no tidings to the father -of the good fortune promised him by his son. “The ingratitude of children -is like a sharp sting,” said he, in the bitterness of his grief and -disappointment. He would often say to his third son, who was considered -too stupid to be good for much, “What a pity it is that you are so -dull-headed! If I only dared trust you I might send you to see what has -befallen your brothers.” - -The lad was used to hear himself called a good-for-nothing, so he did not -think for a long time that he might even attempt the task. But as the -days went by and his father’s distress grew more sore, his loving heart -was moved, and one day he summoned courage to ask whether he might not -try to find his brothers. - -“Do you really think you can keep yourself out of harm’s way?” exclaimed -the father, glad to find the boy anxious to undertake the venture. - -“I will do whatever you tell me,” said the lad, eagerly. - -“Well, you sha’n’t go empty-handed, at all events,” said the father. And -as the pears were just ripe again he laid the choicest of the year’s -stock in a krattle and sent him on his way. - -The boy walked along, looking neither to right nor left, but with his -heart beating, lest he should come across the “Harm” out of whose way he -had promised to keep himself. All went well, however, except that the -sun shone down on him fiercely, so that when he too reached the wayside -fountain he was glad to stop to drink and rest in the coolness. - -The old wife was washing her rags in the water, and as she patted the -linen, singing a ditty all out of tune. “Here comes a third of those -surly dogs, I declare,” she said to herself, as she saw him arrive with -another load of the magnificent pears. “I suppose he’ll try to make game -of me too as if I didn’t know the sweet smell of ripe golden pears from -road-sweepings or pigs’ wash! a likely thing! But I’m ready for him.” - -“Good morning, little mother!” said the boy in his direct way, doffing -his cap as he had been taught, although she was old and ugly. - -“He’s sweeter behaved than the other louts, for all he doesn’t look so -bright-faced,” said the hag to herself; and she stopped her song out of -tune to return his greeting. - -“May I sit down here a bit, please, good mother?” asked the boy, for he -was so simple that he thought the fountain must belong to her. - -“That you may, and take a draught of the cool water, too,” she answered, -wondrously softened by his civil manners. - -“And what may it be with which you are so laden, my pretty boy?” she -asked. “It should be a precious burden to be worth carrying so far as you -appear to have come. What have you in your krattle?” - -“Precious indeed they are, I believe you,” said the boy, “at least so you -would think from the store my father sets by them. They are truly golden -pears, and he says there are no finer grown in the whole kingdom. I am -taking them to the Kaiser, who is fond of the fruit.” - -“Only ripe pears and yet so heavy,” returned the old wife; “one would say -it is something heavier than pears. But you’ll see when you come to your -journey’s end.” - -The boy assured her they were nothing but pears; and as one of his -father’s commands had been not to lose time by the way, he bade the old -dame a courteous farewell and continued on his way. - -When the servants saw another peasant boy from Bürs come to the palace -with the story that he had pears for the king, they said, “No, no! we’ve -had enough of that! You may turn around and go back.” But the poor boy -was so disappointed that he could not carry out his task that he sank -down on the step and sobbed bitterly, and there he remained sobbing till -the Kaiser came out. - -The Kaiser’s little daughter was with her father. When she saw the boy -sobbing, she asked what ailed him, and learned it was another boy from -Bürs come to insult the Kaiser with a basket of refuse. And the servants -asked her whether they should not take the boy off to prison straightway. -The Kaiser left the question to his daughter. - -“But I _have_ pears,” sobbed the boy; “and my father says there are no -finer in the empire.” - -“Yes, yes,” jeered the servants, “we know that by heart;” and they -attempted to drag him away. - -“But won’t you look at my pears first, fair princess? The pears that I -have brought all this way for the Kaiser? My father will be so sorry.” - -The princess was struck with the earnestness with which he spoke, and -decided to see the basket herself. The moment she said so the boy walked -straight up to her with his krattle, so strong in the truth that he felt -no fear of the whole troop of lackeys. - -The princess removed the leaves and—there indeed were golden pears, not -merely yellow with ripeness, but really gold, each, large as it was, a -shining pear of solid gold! - -“These _are_ pears fit for a king,” she said, and presented them to her -father. The Kaiser was greatly pleased. He ordered the gold fruit to -be placed in his cabinet of treasures, and to the boy, as a reward, he -promised whatever he should ask. - -“All I wish is to find my two brothers, who hold some high office in your -Majesty’s court,” said the boy. - -“If those who came with pears before are your brothers, as I suspect, -they hold office in prison,” said the Kaiser, and commanded that they -be brought. As soon as the two were led in, the third ran to them and -embraced them. Then the Kaiser bade each tell his story. - -“Strong indeed does truth make the tongue to keep its own,” said the -Kaiser, using almost the same words the boys had often heard their father -speak. And they were truly sorry they had not kept his counsel. - -The Kaiser sent for the father and gave him and his sons charge of the -king’s gardens. The father brought with him the pear-tree that, by the -power of the truth told of it, had made golden fortune for them. And he -and his sons had plenty ever after and were well content. - - —FOLK TALE - - - - -SOME VERY SHORT STORIES - - For all little children who fain would tell - What in their tender hearts doth dwell - - -THE PUPPY’S BARK - -Our puppy is so little that he can hardly stand up. But he wants the -kitten to think him a big dog. So the other day he steadied himself on -his legs and tried to give a loud bark. “Bow wow,” he said. And down he -tumbled. - - -WHAT HAPPENED TO THE WHITE KITTEN - -Once when a white kitten spied the tip of her tail, she tried to catch -it. Round and round she went so fast that she turned into a white ball. -But, of course, the tail went as fast as she did, so she couldn’t catch -up with it. Soon she grew so dizzy that she had to stop. There she was -back again, a sensible white kitten. - - -A CONCEITED GRASSHOPPER - -The other day a very young grasshopper and an old rooster were out in the -field together. - -“I can jump higher than anyone in this field,” cried the grasshopper. The -rooster said nothing, but opened his mouth as if he meant to yawn. - -“Here I go,” cried the grasshopper, and she jumped so high that she -landed in the rooster’s mouth. The rooster gobbled her up. - -And that was the end of her and her boasting. - - -THE MOUSE’S ESCAPE - -A little gray mouse lived in a hole in our kitchen closet. One day she -smelled some cheese. “M-m,” she said, “how delicious!” She peeped out to -see whether Tom, our cat, was in the kitchen. He wasn’t. Out she stole, -sniffed about, and found the cheese. Just as she began to nibble it, -along came Tom. The little mouse darted back into her safe hole. - - -WHAT THE WHITE HEN DID FOR THE WORLD - -One morning the white hen went into the barn. The rooster saw her go, but -he didn’t stop her. After a few minutes out she came, clucking to the -whole world, “Cut-cut-cut-cut-cadah-cut! Cut-cut-cut-cut-cadah-cut!” And -the whole world as well as the rooster knew she had laid an egg. - - -THE GOLDEN GOOSE - -Once a man owned a wonderful goose. Every morning when he said, “Lay,” -it laid a golden egg. By and by the man grew so greedy that he wanted -all the golden eggs at once. So he cut open the goose. There wasn’t one -egg in it. And, of course, the goose couldn’t lay any more eggs now. The -foolish man had killed the goose that laid the golden eggs. - - —ÆSOP - - -THE MOON AND HER MOTHER - -(_This story may be accompanied by blackboard sketches of the phases of -the moon._) - -One day the moon asked her mother for a cloak that would fit her well. - -“How can I make a cloak that will fit you?” answered the mother. “You are -always changing your size. One day you are a new moon. Another day you -are a full moon. And another day you are neither.” - -So the little moon has to go without a cloak. - - —OLD FABLE - - -MOTHER CAREY’S CHICKENS - -One day in winter the snowflakes came down as soft and light and white as -feathers. The little children looking out at the window sang, - - “Old Mother Carey’s chickens, - Old Mother Carey’s chickens; - They are up in the sky, - Ever so high; - Old Mother Carey’s chickens.” - -Down fell the snowflakes, thick and fast, and more and more and more, -till they made a snowstorm. - -When they were all down the children brought out their sleds, and away -they went coasting on Mother Carey’s chickens’ feathers. - - -THE STORY OF THE WEE, WEE BONE - -Once a wee, wee girl came across a wee, wee dog scratching a wee, wee -hole to bury a wee, wee bone. When the wee, wee dog had buried the wee, -wee bone, he trotted off on his wee, wee legs. And when he had gone a -wee, wee way, the wee, wee girl dug her wee, wee fingers into the wee, -wee hole, and took away the wee, wee bone. - -But the wee, wee dog smelled her out with his wee, wee nose and said, -“Give me back my wee, wee bone; you can’t eat it and I can.” The wee, wee -girl wouldn’t. - -Then the wee, wee dog sat up on his wee, wee hind legs and cried a wee, -wee tear. This made the wee, wee girl sorry. So she gave the wee, wee dog -his wee, wee bone. - -The wee, wee dog dried the wee, wee tear with his wee, wee paw, and ate -up the wee, wee bone. - -And that’s the end of this wee, wee story. - - -THE MISSING LAMB - -One evening a shepherd was turning away from the fold when one of the -sheep bleated mournfully. - -“Is thy lamb missing, poor mother?” asked the shepherd. - -Just then he heard a loud bark, and there half a field away was Carlo, -his dog, guiding home a frightened lamb. The little creature had strayed -away from her mother to find the very sweetest bits of sheep sorrel. - -“Bow wow, master,” called Carlo, “don’t close up yet.” - -“Ba-a-a, ba-a-a-a,” cried the little lamb, “dear mother, where are you?” - -The mother heard her and bounded into the air with joy. “Ba-a-a, come to -me, my lamb,” she called, “come to me, my lambkin, my wee lambkin, my wee -wee little lamb.” - -The little lamb leaped to her mother’s side and was safe in the fold. - -The shepherd patted Carlo on the head and called him “Good dog” and said, -“Come with me, my dog, and I’ll give thee a bone thick with meat.” - - -THE ANT AND THE DOVE - -Once an ant went to the bank of a river to quench her thirst. As she -stooped to the water she fell in and was nearly drowned. A dove perched -on a tree overhanging the river saw her and quickly dropped down a leaf -to her. The ant climbed up on the leaf and it floated to the bank. She -went ashore, safe and sound. - -Not long after this, a bird catcher stepped softly up to the tree to set -a snare to catch the dove. The ant saw him and quickly stung him in the -foot. The bird catcher’s cry at the pain startled the dove. Away she -flew, safe and sound. - - —ÆSOP - - -THE BOY AND THE NUTS - -A boy put his hand into a jar to take some nuts. He grasped so many that -there was no room for his hand to come out. In a great fright he burst -into tears. - -“Be satisfied with half as many,” said a man who was watching him, “and -your hand will come out easily.” - -The greedy boy dropped half, and at once out came his hand. - - —ÆSOP - - -DID SHE CATCH HIM? - -One day a little girl said to her wisest aunt, “I wish I could catch that -sparrow.” - -“The next time he comes,” said her wisest aunt, “shake some salt on his -tail. But be sure not to let him see nor hear you.” - -The little girl went into the house and brought out some salt. Pretty -soon the sparrow alighted near her. She tiptoed up behind him with the -salt ready in her hand. Nearer and nearer she stole. - -Just as she stooped to shake the salt on his tail, the sparrow cocked his -head at her and flew away. - - -THE BEARS AT PLAY - -A small brown bear and a small black bear walked up to each other and -rubbed noses. - -“Will you play with me if I play with you?” whispered the brown one to -the other. And the other whispered, “I will.” - -The two trotted out to the center of the cage. The brown one turned a -somersault and the black one turned a bigger somersault. After this they -both turned somersaults together. - -When the play was over, they rubbed noses again and each went back to his -own cave in the rocks. - - -HOW THE GROCER PLAYED A TRICK ON KIT - -Kit was the grocer’s horse. One day as the grocer came up to her she -whinnied and rubbed her nose against his pocket. - -“Ha, ha, ha, I’ve caught you this time; it isn’t in my pocket,” said the -grocer; “here it is.” He held out to her a ripe red apple he had been -hiding behind his back. - -Kit didn’t wait to laugh at the joke; she ate the apple in one big bite. - - -THE SHORT TALE OF THE RABBITS WHO WENT OUT TO SEE THE WORLD - -Two white rabbits lived in a hutch in our back yard. One sunny morning -said One to the Other, “Let us go out to see the world.” - -So they did. They went up the alley way to the front garden. Here the -grass was growing fresh and green. - -“Ah,” said the Other to One, “the world was made for us. It is nothing -but a big cabbage leaf. Taste it.” - -Just as they put their noses down to nibble a bit of it, a dog poked -_his_ nose through the railing and said, “Bow wow.” - -“Oh my, the world belongs to him,” they cried; “he may have it.” - -And back they scurried to their safe hutch. - -There they stayed, eating cabbage leaves and letting the world alone. - - -THE DISPUTE BETWEEN THE POT AND THE KETTLE - -The pot said the kettle was black. And the kettle said the pot was black. -And the pot said the kettle was black. And the kettle said the pot was -black. And they kept it up. - -In the middle of the dispute in came two servants. One seized the pot and -the other seized the kettle, and they scrubbed them both within an inch -of their lives. So I suppose the servants thought both were black. What -do you think? - - -HOW THE TURTLE GOT HIS DINNER - -It was the small black turtle’s dinner time. He drew in his head and -watched. A bluebottle buzzed by, singing. Snap! out came the turtle’s -head. The bluebottle’s song was over, the turtle was eating him for -dinner. - -“A bluebottle is a delicious morsel,” said the turtle aloud to anyone who -might happen to be passing. - -He dined that day on foolish bluebottles who didn’t know he had a head. - - -THE CATERPILLAR CAUGHT IN THE RAIN - -The other day a caterpillar was out walking on a leaf, when it began to -rain. He had no umbrella, but that did not bother him. He crawled under -the leaf, and waited for the shower to be over. - -When the rain-drops stopped pattering over his head, he stuck out his -head to see whether the sky had cleared. It had. A beautiful rainbow was -just fading out of the sky. - -Up the caterpillar climbed, dry and comfortable, and went on with his -walk. - - -THE SONG THE COCKLE-SHELL SINGS - -One day Anna Lucy held a cockle-shell to her ear. She listened and then -began to smile. - -“Do you hear anything?” asked her little brother Frank. - -“Yes,” answered Anna Lucy, “you may hear it too.” She held the shell to -Frank’s ear. Frank listened, then he began to smile. “What is it?” he -whispered. - -“It is the song of the sea,” said Anna Lucy; “the shell sings it in her -heart.” - - -THE WATER-SNAIL’S RIDE - -A little water-snail with his house on his back floated on the top of -the water. Suddenly he must have thought of something downstairs that he -needed, for he drew himself into his house. Down it went to the bottom -of the water. The water-snail stuck out his horns and head, and ate up -a tiny bit of seaweed. So I suppose that is what he needed. In he drew -himself again, and up went his house just as if it were an elevator. - -“You must find that house very convenient,” said I to him. But he said -nothing to me; he only floated on the top of the water. - - -IT TAKES TIME TO GROW - -A toadstool sprang up in a night. But it fell to earth next day when the -first passer-by touched it. An acorn took a hundred years to grow into an -oak. But the oak is still standing, strong and tall. - - -THE FRIGHT THEY HAD - -One day as a snail with his house on his back crawled up a vine he met a -ladybug. The two stopped to chat about their children. All of a sudden a -little girl, who was passing, cried out, - - “Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home, - Your house is on fire, - Your children all burned.” - -Home flew Ladybug, pale with fright. - -“How thankful I am,” said the snail, “that I carry my house on my back!” -But on second thought he too turned pale with fright. “Perhaps my darling -children will crawl near poor Ladybug’s house to see the fire, and be -burned to death.” He turned about and crawled home as fast as his snail’s -pace would let him, and that wasn’t very fast. - -But it was all a joke; it happened on April Fool’s Day. The snail’s -children were quite safe and so were Ladybug’s. - -“Ha, ha, ha, Mr. Snail, you’re an April Fool,” cried the little girl, -skipping past again. - -But I don’t know whether they understood her. What do you think? - - -HIMSELF - -“Who are you?” said Tom, to a small black shadow beside him. - -“Why, I’m you,” said the shadow; “don’t you know me?” - -“What, a little fellow like you!” cried Tom; “you’re very much mistaken.” -And away he strode. - -“No, a big fellow like you,” said the shadow, as he shot out in front of -Tom. - - -WHY THE CANARY SANG IN HIS CAGE - -A canary swung in his golden cage and sang joyously. The window was open, -so a lark heard him as she rose into the air. She alighted on the window -sill in wonder. - -“How can you sing shut up in a cage!” she exclaimed. “Come out into the -free air and up into the sky with me.” - -The canary stopped his song to listen to the lark. “Why do you stop -singing, little canary?” asked a sick boy, in a feeble voice. He was in -a bed near the canary’s cage. The lark could not see him, but she heard -him. “Your song,” said the boy, “makes me forget my pain.” - -The canary burst into a sweeter song. “Now I know,” said the lark, “he -sings because it makes the sick boy happy.” And she flew upward, wiser -than before. - - -WHO THE BIRD WAS - -One hot day in July a bird perched at the very top of a tall hemlock. The -blazing sun shone on his scarlet body and made it glow like fire. - -“What a foolish bird to be out in the scorching sun,” cried Mother Robin -to her husband. “He’ll be sunstruck.” She and Father Robin stood shading -their eyes under the cool maple leaves to look up at him. “Who can he be?” - -“I think, my dear,” said Father Robin, “that I had better go up and tell -him to come down.” - -“Oh,” cried Mother Robin, “what would the birdlings and I do if anything -should happen to you!” and she caught him by the tail just as he was -flying off. - -As Father Robin opened his mouth to answer, the scarlet bird spread -shining black wings and flew into the sunshine, singing, - - “I love the sun, the light, the flame, - Scarlet tanager is my name.” - -“Never fear for him,” said Mother Robin, “the sun and he are good -friends.” - - -HOW THE OLD TROUT SERVED TOM - -Once a water-baby named Tom swam close to some little trout. He began -tormenting them and trying to catch them. They slipped through his -fingers and jumped dean out of the water in their fright. - -As Tom chased them he swam near a dark pool under an alder root. Out -floushed a huge old brown trout ten times as big as he. She ran straight -at Tom and knocked nearly all the breath out of his body. - -So it was Tom’s turn to be frightened. After that you may be sure he let -the little trout alone. - - —From KINGSLEY - - -A CLEVER COW - -A quick-witted old cow learned how to shake apples down from the trees. -While rubbing herself against the tree she noticed that an apple -sometimes fell. She rubbed a little harder, and more apples fell. Soon -the farmer had to keep an eye on her to save his apples. - - —From BURROUGHS - - -THE SNOWMAN - -When the sun got up one morning in winter he found a snowman staring at -him rudely. - -“Don’t stare at me. If you do you’ll melt,” said the sun. - -“Indeed!” said the snowman. “A cat may look at a king. I’ll look at you -if I like.” And he stared harder than ever. - -Pretty soon he felt the top of his head softening. “I feel very queer,” -said he to himself. But he didn’t stop staring. “Ugh!” he shivered, -“water is running down my back. My nose is going. My toes are going. I’m -going.” - -And he went. - - -THE RACE - -The kitten lay curled up in a ball fast asleep. The pup was broad awake. - -He stole up to kitty, lifted his paw, and gave her a tap on the nose. -Then he scampered off. Up started kitty, and round and round the kitchen -went the pup with kitty after him. - -It made the kitchen clock so dizzy to watch them that she put up her long -hand to steady her head.—“One,” rang the bell inside of her. - -“Time’s up,” cried the pup. And he and kitty sat down on the mat side by -side and the pup put out his tongue and laughed at the fun. - - -BRAVE DAN - -Everybody was out. So of course Dan, the pup, was master of the house. He -trotted proudly through the halls and poked his nose into every room, for -burglars. - -In his master’s room he heard something say, “Tick, tick, tick, tick.” -Dan pricked up his ears. Somebody was in the house. Who could it be? A -glove lay on the floor near the mantel. Dan walked over and began to -sniff at it. - -“One,” struck the clock on the mantelpiece. Dan scampered off as fast as -his legs could carry him. - - -THE WIND’S FROLIC - -“Down you go,” cried the wind to the leaves one morning in autumn. And -down he blew them in crowds from the trees, brown ones, red ones, and -yellow ones. Then he drove them scurrying before him up the street. At -last he swirled them together in heaps, and left off to rest. - -So there we too shall let them lie. - - -THE DEAD CANARY - -The little yellow canary that used to sing so sweetly grew sick and died. -The children wept to see it. - -“Let us bury him under the apple-tree,” said Alice; “every spring it will -cover his grave with white blossoms.” - -So Robert dug a small grave under the apple-tree, and Alice laid the -canary gently in it. They covered him with the soft earth. - -Every spring the apple-tree sent down his white blossoms on the grave. - - -THE SWAN’S MEAL - -One morning as a shining white swan sailed about on the lake he saw a boy -on the bank, eating some bread. He swam over to the boy and thrust out -his long white neck toward the bread. - -“The beautiful swan wants my bread,” cried the boy. He was delighted. - -He broke it and threw it bit by bit on a lily pad. The swan ate it, to -the last crumb. Then he bent his head as if to thank the boy, and sailed -away. - - -THE BOY AND THE FROGS - -Some boys at play near a pond began to pelt the frogs with stones, just -for the fun of seeing them go under water. They killed several of them. - -At last one of the frogs lifted his head high out of the water, and cried -out, “Pray stop, boys; what is fun for you is death to us.” - -“That is true,” said one of the boys; “let us leave the poor creatures in -peace.” And they did. - - —From ÆSOP - - -SWEET PORRIDGE - -There was a poor but good little girl who lived alone with her mother. -One day they no longer had anything to eat. The child went out into the -forest, and there an old woman gave her a wonderful little pot. When you -said to it, “Cook, little pot, cook,” it would cook good sweet porridge. -And when you said, “Stop, little pot, stop,” it would stop cooking. The -girl took the pot home to her mother, and they were no longer hungry, -but ate sweet porridge whenever they chose. - -Once when the girl had gone out her mother said, “Cook, little pot, -cook.” The mother ate till she was satisfied. But when she wanted the pot -to stop she found she did not know the word. So it went on cooking and -the porridge rose over the edge. STILL it cooked on until the kitchen and -the whole house were full, and then the next house, and then the whole -street, as if it meant to feed the whole world. No one could stop it. - -At last when only one house remained the child came home from the -opposite direction and just said, “Stop, little pot, stop,” and it -stopped. - -But whoever wished to come back to the town that night had to eat his way -back. - - —FOLK STORY - - -FINDING A HOME - -Early in spring a couple of bluebirds set out to look for a home. - -“What do you think of this vacant dove-cote for our nest, sweet wife?” -asked he. “The view from the top of the gable is beautiful.” - -“I am afraid of all these windows,” said she, peeping in at each. “The -wind might prove too strong for our little ones when they come.” - -“Parents must think of that,” said he. And on they flew. - -Under the eaves of a barn they found an empty swallow’s nest. “The very -thing for us,” they both cried, and alighted to look at it. At this -minute who should arrive from the south but the swallow who owned it? He -saw at once what they were at and flew straight into it, crying, - - “Kwi-kwi-kwivet, - My house is not to let.” - -“How delightful to own a home of your own,” said the she-bluebird. - -“Isn’t it?” agreed the he-bluebird. - -“Is that a wren’s house over there?” asked she, flying over. But when she -attempted to poke her nose inside, out rushed two little wrens at her and -scolded her away. - -“My love,” said he, “how you are trembling. Let us build a house of our -own.” - -And that’s what they did. In a stump in an open field they found exactly -the hole they wanted and there they made their nest. - -It wasn’t long before their little ones came and found it the snuggest in -the world. - - -DID JIP DINE ON CHICKEN? - -One day a dog named Jip went for a walk. He came to a yard where there -was a hen with her brood of chicks. Said Jip to himself, “A downy little -yellow chick would make a sweet dinner for a dog. I think I’ll have it.” -He turned in at the gate. But Mother Hen had something to say about it. -“Cluck, cluck,” she cried to her chicks, and spread out her wings to -hide them. Then she lowered her head, stuck out her sharp beak, and made -straight for Jip. He turned tail and fled home as fast as his legs would -carry him. - - -THE DOG IN THE MANGER - -Once when some oxen went to their manger to eat hay they found a small -dog in it. The dog growled and snapped at the oxen and would not let -them come near the hay. The stableman saw it all. “Get out of there, you -selfish cur!” he cried to the dog. “You cannot eat the hay yourself and -you will not let those who can.” He seized a whip and the dog was glad to -run yelping away. - - —From ÆSOP - - -THE TWO APPLES - -A real apple and a clay apple lay side by side. The real apple was -jealous of the clay apple. A little girl had smoothed and pressed and -patted the cheek of the clay apple, but she had only looked at him. Soon -along came the little girl with her hat and coat on. She picked up the -real apple. “Come, ripe red apple,” said she; “we’ll go visiting. I know -a little lame boy who will like a bite of you. My clay apple would never -do for that.” - -As she looked at him, the real apple felt himself turning a deeper red, -he was so ashamed that he had been jealous. - - -THE DOG AND THE SHADOW - -A dog was crossing a stream of water, with a piece of meat in his mouth. -As he looked down, he thought he saw another dog with a larger piece of -meat. Said the greedy fellow to himself, “I’ll have that too.” He dropped -his own meat and sprang into the water after the shadow. The real meat -fell into the water and floated away. - - —ÆSOP - - -THE QUARREL - -One morning Tom’s right foot said to Tom’s left foot, “Let me go first.” - -“No,” said Tom’s left foot, “you let me go first.” - -“No,” said Tom’s right foot, “you let me go first.” - -And they began all over again. - -Suddenly Tom’s left ear remarked to Tom’s right ear, “Perhaps, the silly -things will set out together.” - -“The very thing to do,” cried both feet, and they started off. This left -Tom without a leg to stand on. So he fell down and bruised them both. - -They were black and blue for three whole days. - - -WHAT HAPPENED TO THE WAX DOLL - -The wax doll went to visit the rag doll and sat in a sunny window, where -the people passing might admire her. - -“How handsome you are,” said the rag doll. “I wish I had large blue eyes -and red and white cheeks. That white silk dress is very becoming.” - -The wax doll only stared and smiled. - -“Towser, the dog, leads me a life of it,” went on the rag doll. She felt -she must make conversation for her guest. “Why,” said she, “the other -day he tore me almost to pieces, when—” She stopped suddenly. Something -dreadful was happening to the wax doll. Her face was running down on her -white silk dress. - -Just then in came the little girl who owned the dolls. “Dear, dear me,” -said she, “the wax doll has melted,” and she threw her into a corner. - -“After all,” said the rag doll to herself, thoughtfully, “I am not -beautiful, and Towser troubles me, but I have much to be thankful for.” - - -THE ROUTING OF TOM - -One morning Tom met the geese on their way to the pond, and for once -the gander was not leading them. Tom made sure of this. Gander had once -chased him half a mile for teasing the geese. - -“I’ll be master instead of the gander,” said he to the geese. “Shoo! back -you go.” He spread out his arms to drive them back. When they turned to -go, he ran around in front of them. “Shoo! forward you go,” said he. Once -more the geese set off hopefully for the pond. “Shoo! back you go,” cried -Tom. So he kept the poor geese running back and forth distracted. - -At last one small goose plucked up her courage. “Hiss-s-s-s-s,” she -cried, stretching out her long neck toward Tom. Instantly out went twenty -necks and twenty geese made for Tom, crying, “Hiss-ss-ss-ss.” Tom took to -his heels. - - -MRS. VIXEN AND HER CUBS AT PLAY - -Under a rock lay a great brown, sharp-nosed creature, with a white tip to -her brush, and round her four or five little cubs, the funniest fellows -you ever saw. It was Mrs. Vixen, a mother fox, and her children. - -The mother lay on her back, rolling about, and stretching out her legs -and head and tail in the bright sunshine. The cubs jumped over her, and -ran around her, and nibbled her paws, and lugged her about by the tail, -and she enjoyed it mightily. - -But one selfish little fellow put an end to all the fun. He stole away -from the rest to a dead crow close by, and dragged it off to hide it, -though it was nearly as big as himself. His brothers caught him at it and -set off after him in full cry. Before they knew it they were seen by a -man. They left the dead crow and ran back to tell their mother. - -Up jumped Mrs. Vixen. She caught the smallest one up in her mouth, and -the rest toddled after her. Soon she had them safe at home in a dark -opening in the rocks. But the fun was over for that day. - - —From KINGSLEY - - -THE FOOLISH HOOP - -“Why do you strike me and hold me in?” cried the hoop to the stick. - -“Shall I let you go?” asked the stick. - -“Do,” said the hoop; “I do not need your guidance.” - -“Very well,” said the stick. And she let him go. Down the street rolled -the hoop. Fast and faster he went. He could not stop himself. A turn in -the flags headed him straight toward the street. Out he plunged under the -wheels of a passing wagon, and was crushed to pieces. - - -HOW THE CLOCK CAME INTO THE STORY - -Once a little round-faced clock lived on the desk of a man who wrote -stories. The clock had a chance to hear most of the stories. For when the -man finished a story he usually called a beautiful lady into the room and -read it to her. The beautiful lady laughed at the fun in the story and -the little clock’s face shone. But perhaps that is what a clean little -clock’s face always does. - -One day the man read from the story, “The prince and the princess were -married just as the clock struck”—“One!” rang the little clock. Its heart -almost stopped beating; it had not meant to interrupt the story. - -The beautiful lady cried, “Why, the clock knows the story.” But she -laughed as she said it. - -What do you think about it? - - -BABY GOES ON A VOYAGE - -The other day baby went on a voyage on the good ship _Hands and Knees_. -She crept out into the hall so softly that mother did not hear her go. - -Out there was the cuckoo clock that said “R-r-r-r-.” Baby stopped and -looked up at it. A door in the clock opened, and out came a little bird -who cried, “Cuck-oo, cuck-oo, cuck-oo.” In he went again and the door -shut. - -Baby gurgled with glee. “I tee oo,” she cried. She sat down to wait for -the little bird to come out and play again. - -But mother found her, and carried her back on the good ship _Mother’s -Arms_. - - -THE RUNAWAYS - -One day four little white pigs and three little white geese met together -near Rover’s kennel. But they were so full of themselves that they did -not notice where they were. - -“We stole out while Mother Sow was dozing after dinner,” screamed the -little pigs. They laughed so much they rolled on the ground. - -“We stole out while Mother Goose was gabbling with a neighbor,” giggled -the little geese. And they hugged their sides to think how clever they -were. - -“What’s this! what’s this!” growled Rover, coming to the door of his -kennel. - -The pigs squealed with fright and the geese clacked in terror. All took -to their heels, back to their mothers. - - -THE NAIL - -A merchant had done good business at the fair; he had sold his wares, -and filled his bag with gold and silver. Then he set out at once on his -journey home, for he wished to be in his own house before night. He -packed his bag with the money on his horse, and rode away. - -At noon he rested in a town; when he wanted to go on, the stable-boy -brought out his horse, and said,— - -“A nail is wanting, sir, in the shoe of its left hind foot.” - -“Let it be wanting,” answered the merchant; “the shoe will stay on for -the six miles I have still to go. I am in a hurry.” In the afternoon, -when he once more got down and had his horse fed, the stable-boy went -into the room to him, and said,— - -“Sir, a shoe is wanting from your horse’s left hind foot. Shall I take -him to the blacksmith?” - -“Let it still be wanting,” said the man; “the horse can very well hold -out for a couple of miles more. I am in a hurry.” - -He rode forth, but before long the horse began to limp. It had not limped -long before it began to stumble, and it had not stumbled long before it -fell down and broke its leg. The merchant had to leave the horse where it -was, and unstrap the bag, take it on his back, and go home on foot. And -he did not get there until quite late at night. - -“That unlucky nail,” said he to himself, “has made all this trouble.” - -Make haste slowly. - - —OLD TALE - - -THE SOAP BUBBLES - -Anna Mary invited Dan, her dog, into the yard to see her make soap -bubbles. She blew out a beautiful one shining with all the colors of the -rainbow. - -Dan watched it as it floated on the air. “What can the lovely thing be?” -thought he to himself. It passed close to him. He put out his paw to -touch it. The delicate bubble was gone. There was nothing but a wet spot -on Dan’s inquisitive nose. - -“Goosy Dan,” said Anna Mary, scolding him, “lovely moons floating in the -air are not to be touched by clumsy paws.” - -She blew the next one high above Dan’s head. - - -THE PEACOCK’S TAIL - -The peacock pretended not to see anyone. He strutted about picking up -corn. But he must have glanced out of the corner of his eye every time -he stooped for another kernel. For when a crowd had gathered he left off -eating and faced about in front of the people. - -He swelled out his chest till he could not see his ugly feet. Out he -spread slowly his shining blue and green tail with its hundreds of eyes. -It came up around his head like a gorgeous frame. - -All the little boys and girls in the crowd held their breath until it -came out in a great “Ah!” The peacock let them look a whole minute. Then -he lowered his tail and strutted away. - - -HOW THE ROOSTER WAS DECEIVED - -The rooster with the reddest comb perched himself up on the gate-post to -crow. As he stretched his neck he caught sight of another rooster higher -up on the barn. - -“I’ll have no one in this barnyard higher than I,” said he; “I am master -here.” And he flew up at the rooster. But his wings were so short that -he barely reached the edge of the roof. Had he fallen he would have been -disgraced before all the fowls in the barnyard. He was so furious at the -thought that he rushed up the sloping roof and pecked at the rooster -savagely. The rooster never budged. - -“Ha, ha, silly cockscomb!” screamed Poll, the parrot, shaking with -laughter. “It serves you right. Did you hurt your beak? He isn’t a live -rooster at all. He’s only a weathervane.” - - -THE SHOES THAT WALKED MOST - -The cobbler sat at his bench. The shoes stood in a row before him. - -“Which shall I mend first?” thought he to himself. “I know,” he said -aloud; “I’ll begin with whichever pair has walked most.” - -At this out toddled baby’s shoes. - -The cobbler laughed at them. “Why,” said he, “baby has been in the world -only two years at most. You can’t have walked far yet.” - -“Well,” said the shoe for the right foot, “baby’s mother says we never -stop going until she takes us off at night. We notice that grown people -sit down a great deal.” - -“Well, well,” said the cobbler, “have your way.” So he waxed his thread -and sewed a patch on each small sole. - - -WHAT O’CLOCK? - -Mary and Anna Jane were playing in the fields. Suddenly Mary stopped and -said, “I wonder what time it is. Mother said we should go home at four -o’clock.” - -A dandelion spoke up politely. “My head will tell you what o’clock it -is,” said he. “Blow it off, and, as you blow, count.” - -“You are very kind, sir,” said Anna Jane. Mary was too much astonished to -speak. - -Anna Jane blew once. “One o’clock,” said she. - -“Go on,” cried the dandelion. “My head is at your service.” - -Anna Jane went on blowing and counting. “Two o’clock, three o’clock, four -o’clock.” The whole head was off. - -“Thank you, dandelion,” said Anna Jane, although she was not sure whether -the dandelion could hear without his head. “It’s time for us to be going -home.” - -So Anna Jane and Mary went home at the right time. - - -THE WONDERFUL CHANGE - -It was time for the caterpillar to shut himself in and prepare for a new -life. So he chose a low branch and began spinning his cocoon about him. -He made it firm and strong, so that no one should break through it and -disturb him. It wrapped him about like a shroud. The caterpillar lay down -in it and waited. - -Days passed and a new day came. The caterpillar burst from the cocoon, -changed most gloriously; no longer a crawling worm, but a splendid -butterfly with wings. At first he tried his wings timidly. Soon he spread -them wide and flew up into the sunshine. - -Grown people as well as little children wondered at the change, and felt -joy in it. - - -HOW NAN AND THE MOON WENT FOR A WALK - -One evening as Nan started out for a walk the white moon in the sky went -before her. - -“Why, the moon is coming, too,” said Nan, and she stood still, she was -so surprised. The white moon stood still too. Nan walked on faster. The -white moon went faster before her. At the corner Nan turned to go home. -Now the white moon was behind, but it followed her even to the door. Nan -looked up at it before going in, and the white moon looked down at Nan. - -That night before she jumped into bed Nan looked out of the window. There -in the starry sky was the moon gazing down at her. - -“Were you waiting for me all this time, moon?” asked Nan. “I can’t come -out until to-morrow night. We’ll have another walk then.” - -And they did. - - -WHAT CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS DID - -A great many years ago in far-off Italy lived Christopher Columbus. -He did a wonderful thing. He and some companions and sailors set out -in three small ships to cross the great wide ocean. The huge waves -tossed the ships about and came up over their bows. The sailors were so -terrified they begged Columbus to turn back. But he was too brave to -do that. He kept on till he came to a new country. It was America, our -country. Then he and all with him knelt on the shore and gave thanks to -God. - - -WHAT THE MOON SAW - -“Yesterday,” said the Moon to me, “I looked down into a small yard. There -sat a clucking hen with eleven chicks, and a pretty little girl was -running and jumping around them. The poor hen didn’t know what to make -of it. She screamed and spread out her wings over her brood. The noise -brought the girl’s father out. He scolded his daughter and sent her into -the house. I glided on and thought no more about it. - -“But this evening, only a few minutes ago, I looked down into the same -yard. The hen and her chicks had gone to roost. Everything was quiet. -Out came the little girl, crept to the hen-house, pushed back the bolt, -and slipped in. The hen and chicks cried out at once and came fluttering -down from their perches. I saw it all, for I looked through a hole in -the hen-house wall. I was angry with the obstinate child. And so was her -father. He came out and seized her by the arm. - -“‘What are you about?’ he asked. - -“The little girl wept and sobbed. ‘I wanted to kiss the hen and beg her -pardon for frightening her yesterday, but she does not understand.” - -“‘I do now,’ said her father. And he kissed her on the forehead and on -the mouth and on the eyes. ‘You are my own sweet little daughter. The hen -will understand best if you let her alone.’” - - —HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN - - -THE ELF WHO STAYED OUT TOO LATE - -In a beautiful rose there dwelt a little elf. With a fairy microscope you -could see his wings reaching from his shoulders to his feet. Without it -you couldn’t see him at all. - -One day when he went out into the sunshine to play he had such fun that -he forgot all about getting home in time. He flew from flower to flower. -He danced on the wings of the passing butterfly. Best of all, he measured -how many steps it would take to cross all the roads made of veins on the -geranium leaf. - -It was this that delayed him so long. Before he knew it the sun was down, -dewdrops sprinkled the leaf, and the night began to darken. The poor -little elf was very much frightened. He began to shiver, too, with the -cold. Indeed, he grew so numb that he could hardly spread his wings to -fly back to the rosebush. But he managed it. - -The beautiful rose was just closing her petals for the night. In he dived -under the warm leaves. - - -THE BOLD WEED - -The weed smelled rank to heaven. But she looked out at everyone as bold -as brass. - -“Hold up your heads,” she cried to the violets. “Push yourselves forward -where people may see you.” - -But the violets held down their heads modestly. - -Along came Lucy looking for some flowers. “Ugh! what a rank smell that -weed has!” she cried. She plucked it up by the root and threw it on a -heap of rubbish. But she gathered a great bunch of the dewy violets for -her grandmother’s birthday. - - -ODDS AND ENDS - -There was once on a time a maiden who was pretty but very lazy and -wasteful. When a little knot came in the flax she was spinning, she -at once pulled out a whole heap of it and threw it away. Her servant -gathered up the bits of flax that had been thrown away, cleaned them, -spun them, and wove them into a piece of fine linen. Out of this she made -herself a beautiful dress. - -Well, the maiden was to be married. On the eve of the wedding the -servant was dancing about in the pretty dress she had made. The bride -said to the bridegroom, “How that girl jumps about dressed in my odds -and ends!” The bridegroom asked the bride what she meant. Then she told -him that the servant was wearing a dress made of the flax she had thrown -away. When the bridegroom heard that, he knew how lazy and wasteful she -was. - -“The other girl is the wife for me,” said he. And he married the other -girl in the very dress she had made out of the odds and ends. - - —FOLK TALE - - -ABRAHAM LINCOLN’S KINDNESS - -One day as Abraham Lincoln rode along on his horse he saw a pig -struggling to keep herself from sinking into a deep place filled with -mud. The poor thing was squealing in terror, because the mud was sucking -her in. - -At first Lincoln rode by without stopping. But his kind heart could not -forget the pig. He turned back, got down from his horse, and drew the pig -out of the mud. - - -THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPER - -There was once a foolish little grasshopper that spent all her time -playing. Through the long summer and autumn she did nothing but sing -from morning till night. So when winter came and the snow covered the -ground, she hadn’t a morsel of food stored away in her house. - -Soon she was so faint with hunger that she begged her neighbor, the ant, -to give her something to eat. “I am starving,” she said; “give me a grain -of wheat.” - -“Why did you not save some grain at harvest time?” asked the ant. “There -was plenty to be had. What were you doing?” - -“I was singing,” answered the grasshopper. “I had no time for work.” - -“Hoity toity!” cried the ant; “if you sang all summer you must dance -hungry to bed in winter.” - - —ÆSOP - - -THE DONKEY AND THE MULE - -A donkey and a mule set out with their master on a long journey. Each -animal carried a load. - -As he climbed the steep path up a mountain the donkey felt his load -heavier than he could bear. He begged the mule to help him. “Help me, -brother,” he cried, “or I shall drop.” But the mule pretended not to -hear. After struggling along a little farther the poor donkey fell dead. - -The master now placed the donkey’s load on the mule, giving him two loads -to carry. And on top of both he piled the donkey. - -“It serves me right,” said the mule to himself; “had I helped the donkey -I should not now be carrying his burden.” - - —ÆSOP - - -WHY THE MAGPIE’S NEST IS BADLY MADE - -Once on a time, when the world was very young, the magpie was the only -bird that did not know how to build a nest. She told her trouble to the -other birds and they all met to teach her. - -“Place that stick there,” said the blackbird. He flew over and did it for -her himself. - -“Oh,” said the magpie, “I knew that before.” - -“Place this stick here,” said the thrush, placing it for her. - -“Oh,” said the magpie, “I knew that before.” - -The wren and the robin, the goldfinch and the chaffinch, the lark and the -swallow, and many other birds went on showing her how to build the nest. -As each bit was added, she said, “Oh, I knew that before.” - -At last, when the nest was only half finished, the birds lost patience -with the conceited empty-head. - -“Well, Mistress Mag,” cried they, flying away, “as you know all about it, -you may e’en finish the nest yourself.” - -That is the reason the magpie’s nest is so badly made. - - —FOLK TALE - - -HOW BUTTERFLIES CAME - -One day the flowers flew off their stalks high into the air. They waved -their leaves for wings. Because they behaved themselves so well the -fairies let them fly again and again, and they no longer had to sit still -on their stalks and remain home from morning till night. So by and by -their leaves became wings. The flowers had changed into butterflies, red, -yellow, and white. - - —From HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN - - -THE MONKEY DANCES - -The organ-grinder called out to the monkey seated on his shoulder, “Dance -for the children, Jacko, and I will play.” - -Jacko swung himself lightly to the sidewalk, pulled off his velvet cap, -and bowed low. Then he put the cap on again, pressing it down firmly on -his head, and held out his little red skirt with his paws. “Begin,” cried -his master. And Jacko began to step and turn and slide in time to the -music. - -The children clapped their hands. Faster and faster went the music and -faster and faster went Jacko. At last he spun round and round until he -looked like a red top. The music stopped suddenly. Jacko stood motionless -on the very tip of his toes. After this he pulled off his cap and bowed -low. - -“Bravo, Jacko,” cried the children, and each threw a penny into his cap -for food for himself and his master. - - -AN APRIL FOOL STORY - -One day all the rabbits were close together near a back fence, sitting -up on their haunches. The rabbit in the middle was telling the others a -story. It was about a rabbit. - -“So,” said he, going on with the story, “whenever the little rabbit was -hungry all he had to say was - - ‘Garden fairy, sweet, - Some lettuce I’d eat,’ - -And straightway a whole head of lettuce would grow up before him.” - -“Oh, my,” cried all the rabbits together, “how I wish that would happen -to me!” And story-teller and all turned a somersault at the very thought -of it. After this they sat up again to hear the rest of the story. - -But their pink eyes almost burst out of their heads and their ears stood -straight up toward the sky. There in front of each was a large leaf of -lettuce. - -“Why, the story’s coming true,” cried the story-teller, and he tasted -the lettuce. “Yes,” said he, “this is real lettuce.” - -The others were sure of it. They were eating theirs as fast as they could. - -Now the dog, who kept the yard, hadn’t turned a somersault, so he knew -about it. He saw Fred, hiding behind the fence, throw down the lettuce -leaves. - -“Ha, ha,” he barked, “the silly things don’t know that to-day is April -Fool’s Day. Of course,” said he, thoughtfully, “they have eaten juicy -lettuce leaves. That’s not foolish. Fred and I have eaten nothing.” - -“That story had a happy ending,” said the rabbits, as they scampered off -to play. - - * * * * * - -Which do you think was April-fooled? - - -THE FOOLISH PUPPIES - -The biggest puppy said one day to the little puppies, “Let us jump up on -the table and enjoy ourselves. There are plenty of bread-crumbs on it. -Our mistress has gone out to pay some visits.” - -The little dogs said, “No, no, no, we will not go. If our mistress should -hear of it she would beat us.” - -“She will know nothing about it,” said the other; “come on, the crumbs -are fresh and sweet.” - -“Nay, nay, we must let them alone. We must not go,” said the little pups -again. - -But the big one gave them no peace until at last they went, and got up on -the table, and ate up the bread-crumbs with all their might. - -While they were at it a shadow of someone passing the window fell on the -table. The big pup knew what it meant. He jumped down and made off. But -the little pups were caught. Their mistress seized a stick and whipped -them out of the room. - -Outside the little pups said to the big pup, “Dost, dost, dost, dost thou -see?” - -But the mean cur gave them no satisfaction. “Didn’t, didn’t, didn’t you -expect it?” said he. - -So they had to grin and bear it, and make up their minds to be wiser the -next time. - - -A GOLDEN STORY - -There was once a buttercup shining in the green grass. “You’re a little -golden sun that turns everything into gold,” said a child who saw it; -“perhaps you can tell a golden story.” - -And would you believe it? The buttercup began without waiting a single -moment: “A certain old grandmother sits out of doors every afternoon in -her chair. The hands resting in her lap are wrinkled and so is her face, -and her hair is as white as the driven snow. All of a sudden two small -smooth hands steal round from the back of her chair and cover her eyes. -And grandmother immediately says, ‘It’s my sweet grandchild; I’m sure of -it, because she never fails to visit me,’ and she reaches up to touch a -golden head.” - -“Why, the story’s about me,” cried the little girl; “grandmother’s guess -is never wrong.” - -But the buttercup went on without pretending to hear. “Then the child -runs around in front of the chair and kisses her old grandmother. There -is gold in that kiss, I am certain,” said the buttercup, “because it -leaves a mark of itself on grandmother’s face; it smoothes out the -wrinkles and it makes her eyes shine with joy. - -“That’s my golden story,” said the buttercup; “every child may go home -and play it.” - -And the little child was happy that what she did had been put into a -golden story. - - —HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN - - -HOW THE CLOCKS PLAYED SCHOOL - -Three little clocks sat in a row on the mantelpiece. The servant had put -them there to wash their faces, but they made believe they had come to -school. The tall grandfather clock from the hall was the teacher. The -servant had wheeled him in to sweep behind him, but he too made believe -he had come to school. - -“Be sure,”said Grandfather Clock to his scholars, “that you tell the -right time. Everyone in the house looks to you for the time to get up, -the time to eat, the time to work, the time to play, and the time to -sleep. Is there any little clock here who cannot tell time? All you have -to do is to move your hands around your face. When it is time to strike -the hour, be sure your large hand is at twelve, and your small hand at -the hour. It is very easy.” - -“Is it, indeed!” said the smallest clock; “how about it when people -forget to wind us up?” - -“Yes, yes,” cried the other two little clocks, “how about that?” - -“Silence,” cried Grandfather Clock, sternly; “that is a saucy way for -little clocks to talk.” - -At this moment the servant began to wheel Grandfather Clock back into the -hall. - -“School is out,” he said. - -So that was the end of it. - - -HOW MOTHER TABBY PLAYED WITH HER KITTENS - -Once three small black kittens begged their mother to play with them. -Mother Tabby said nothing, but gave her tail a sly wag to one side. The -kittens started back and looked at it. Mother Tabby whisked it over to -the other side. - -“It is alive,” thought the kittens. They arched their backs, and the -smallest kitten put out his paw to make it move again. Whack! went Mother -Tabby’s tail on his nose. The little kitten scampered off. - -But he was back again in a minute, and the fun kept up until Mother Tabby -walked off as if to say, “It is time for little kittens to be in bed.” - - -THE JOKE - -Last Hallowe’en a saucy red apple played a joke. When little Tom ducked -for him he bobbed backward and forward so dizzily that little Tom lost -his balance and toppled into the tub. The saucy red apple laughed as -loudly as any apple can laugh. - -But what was that he heard Tom’s big brother saying? The big brother had -pulled Tom out of the water before you could say “Jack Robinson,” and Tom -was dripping wet and bawling with fright. What did the saucy red apple -hear? It was Tom’s big brother saying, “Here, Tom, is a little red apple -for you.” And he handed the saucy red apple to Tom. - -The saucy red apple stopped laughing suddenly, for he found himself -between little Tom’s sharp teeth. - - * * * * * - -So Tom had the best of the joke after all, hadn’t he? - - -THE SISTERS - -“You dirty black thing,” cried the diamond to the coal, “do not come near -me.” - -“I will not indeed,” said the coal; “you are too beautiful for the likes -of me. I might dim your brilliance.” - -When she heard this answer, the proud diamond was ashamed of herself. -“Press close to me,” she said, “you are my own sister. I am only more -highly polished.” - - -THE LION AND THE SHEPHERD - -Once a lion roaming through the forest trod on a thorn and it stuck in -his foot. In great pain he limped out to a shepherd and looked up at him -beseechingly. The shepherd gently drew out the thorn. The lion fawned -upon him and licked his hand to thank him. - -Not long after the shepherd was blamed for a wrong he had not done. The -king said he must die. “Throw him to the lions and let him be torn to -pieces,” commanded the king. - -The king’s officers seized the poor shepherd and threw him into the -arena, before the lion’s cage. Out stalked a lion. It was the very one -the shepherd had helped. And lo! instead of tearing the shepherd to -pieces the noble beast fawned upon him and licked his hand. - -The king was amazed. He ordered the shepherd to tell him what it all -meant. When he heard he let the shepherd go back to his sheep and the -lion back to the free forest. - - -WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BALLOON - -One night a gorgeous balloon when his candle was lighted found himself -beside a dull brown acorn. - -“What a stupid dolt you are to stay here where you cannot be seen!” he -cried, as someone sent him up into the air. - -Higher and higher he mounted above the roofs of the houses. “Perhaps he -will reach the stars,” said the acorn, gazing up after him. - -Just then the balloon turned giddy with pride. He reeled, caught fire, -and his brief splendor was over. - -Years after, in the spot where the acorn had lain that night, a great oak -stood up toward heaven and spread his branches wide over the earth. - - -THE END - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES AND STORY-TELLING *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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