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Title: Boys and Girls Bookshelf; a Practical Plan of Character Building, Volume I (of 17) - Fun and Thought for Little Folk
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Boys and Girls Bookshelf; a Practical Plan of Character Building, Volume I (of 17) - Fun and Thought for Little Folk" ***

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      Text enclosed by equal signs is underlined (=underlined=).

      Text enclosed by pound (number) signs is in bold face

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     _A Practical Plan of Character Building_


 I     Fun and Thought for Little Folk
 II    Folk-Lore, Fables, and Fairy Tales
 III   Famous Tales and Nature Stories
 IV    Things to Make and Things to Do
 V     True Stories from Every Land
 VI    Famous Songs and Picture Stories
 VII   Nature and Outdoor Life, Part I
 VIII  Nature and Outdoor Life, Part II
 IX    Earth, Sea, and Sky
 X     Games and Handicraft
 XI    Wonders of Invention
 XII   Marvels of Industry
 XIII  Every Land and its Story
 XIV   Famous Men and Women
 XV    Bookland--Story and Verse, Part I
 XVI   Bookland--Story and Verse, Part II
 XVII  Graded and Classified Index

                   _New York_

  [Illustration:             MAROONED

                 BOYS AND GIRLS

     _A Practical Plan of Character Building_

              Little Folks' Section

        Prepared Under the Supervision of

                    Volume I

                   _New York_

              Copyright, 1920, By

           Copyright, 1912, 1915, By

        _Manufactured in the U. S. A._


  Author of "The Boy Problem"

 _Technical Editor:_
  Technical Editor of The New International Encyclopedia

 _Literature Editor:_
  Editor of "Little Classics"

 _Music Editor:_
  Secretary of The National Academy of Music

 _Associate Editor:_
  Editorial Director of the Edison Industries

  Editor of "The Children's Own Library"


  Editor of "Harper's Practical Books for Boys"

  Curator of the Oriental Museum, University of Chicago

  Traveler and Writer

  Author of "Central America"

  Teacher of Domestic Science

  Electrical Engineer and Author

  C. S. BRAININ, Ph.D.,
  Professor of Astronomy, Columbia University

  Retold Tales and Fact Articles

  Editor of the "Father and Son Library"

  Author of Fact Articles

  Author of "First Book of Photography"

  Associate-Editor of "The Young Folks'
  Treasury," "The Mother's Book," etc.

  Author of "Understanding South America"

  Curator, New York Zoological Park

  Author and former Managing Editor of _Country Life in America_

  Publicity Department of the Westinghouse Electric and Manufacturing Co.

  Musical Critic and Author of "The Book of Musical Knowledge"

  Executive Secretary of the Woodcraft League

  Lieutenant, United States National Army

  Fiction Reviewer of _The New York Times_

  Fact Articles

  Authors of "Industrial Art" textbooks

  Teacher of Sewing, Cornell University

  Lecturer and Author

  Author of "Russian Rambles"

  Author and Critic

  Biographer and Travel Writer

  Fact Articles

  Teacher of Manual Training, Ridgewood, N.J., Schools

  Analytical Chemist

  Former President of the Kansas State Board of Health

  Author of "Manual Training Toys"

  Curator of Fish at the American Museum of Natural History

  Executive Secretary of the National Association of Audubon Societies

  Farm Editor of _Country Life_

  Writer of Illustrated Letters to Children

  Head of the Science Bureau, Washington, D. C.

  Children's Librarian of the Carnegie Library, Pittsburgh

  Author and Lecturer

  Author, Editor, and Lecturer

  Teacher of English in the Finch School


  Mechanical Engineer and Author

  Leader of the Norwegian Polar Expedition which reached the South Pole

  Danish Poet and Fabulist

  Writer of Stories and Books for Children and Young Folks

  Author of "The Crimson Sweater" and other books for boys

  Author of "The Wizard of Oz," "Queen Zixie of Ix"
  and other children's books

  Scientist and Inventor

  Scottish Scholar and Man-of-letters

  English Novelist

  Editor and Poet

  Author of "Historic Boys" and "Historic Girls"

  Author of "The American Girl"

  Draughtsman and Author

  Author of "Old Mother West Wind"




  Author of "A Guide to Pictures"


  Author and Editor

  Author of "Young Folks' History of Russia," etc.


  M. S. EMERY,
  Author of "How to Enjoy Pictures"


  State Biologist of Oregon

  State Ornithologist of Massachusetts


  Headmaster of the Roger Ascham School

  Author of "Santa Claus on a Lark," "Social Salvation," etc.

  Author of "Uncle Remus Stories"

  President of the National Kindergarten College


  Author of "Big Game Fish of the United States"

  Poet and Novelist

  Author of "The Men Who Found America"

  Poet and Novelist

  Historian, Essayist, and Novelist

  Author of "Boys' Book of Explorations,"
  "Electricity for Young People," etc.

  Clergyman and Author

  Author of "Wagner's Music Dramas Analyzed"

  Critic, Humorist, and Author

  Poet and Critic

  Author of "The Golden Spears"

  Author of "Mother Stories"


  Author of "Animal Snapshots and How Made"

  Director of the American Museum of Natural History

  Author of "Tales of Common Things"

  Lecturer and Author of "Around the World With the Flag"



  Author of "The Van Dwellers," "Mark Twain" and other works

  Systematic Forester

  Author of "Finger Plays"

  Author of the "Hildegarde" Books and "The Golden Windows"


  Art Critic and Writer

  Novelist and Poet


  Author of "The Spell of the Yukon"

  Artist, Author, and Lecturer

  Poet and Dramatist


  Arctic Explorer

  Poet, Essayist, and Novelist


  Author of "East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon,"
  and other Norwegian Folk Tales

  Author of "Three Young Continentals"

  Author of "A Nonsense Anthology" and the "Marjorie" Books

  Poet and Author

  Major-General, United States Army

  Aviator and Inventor

_Examples of whose work appear in the_ BOYS AND GIRLS BOOKSHELF

  W. T. BENDA           GEORGE W. JOY        CARL RUNGIUS
  R. I. BRASHER         H. MOORE             HUGH SPENCER


Books are as essentially a part of the home where boys and girls are
growing into manhood and womanhood as any other part of the furnishings.
Parents have no more right to starve a child's mind than they have his
body. If a child is to take his place among the men and women of his
time he needs to know the past out of which the present grew, and he
needs to know what is going on in the world in which he lives. He needs
tools for his brain as much as for his hands. All these things are
found, and found only, in books.

The child is helpless to provide himself with these necessaries for
life. The majority of parents are eager that their children shall start
early and right on that road which leads to honorable success. But it is
impossible for any parent, by no matter how liberal an expenditure, to
collect books that shall adequately cover all a child's needs and
interests. This is the task of experts.


Recent studies of childhood have emphasized the conviction that a child
develops his talents even more in his playtime than in his school; his
spontaneous activities build up his fourfold--physical, mental, social,
and moral--nature. Probably no collection of books has been more
strongly affected by this modern discovery than the BOYS AND GIRLS
BOOKSHELF. The whole effort has been to utilize the child's
play-interests so that they shall express themselves in joyous ways that
lead into the world of invention and industry, of imagination and
achievement, of science and art and music, of character and worth-while

Children's collections have had various literary styles. The
encyclopedia is comprehensive, but stately and often dull; it will
answer the question of the child, but it does not lead the child toward
more knowledge. The scrapbook is interesting, but it has no plan or
order. The "inspirational" book is full of fine sentiments, but without
facts or much information.


The BOOKSHELF is so built that it creates a desire for knowledge, and
then satisfies that desire. At the same time the BOOKSHELF does not
pretend to tell all that is known on any one subject. The Editors have
selected the subjects concerning which no one should be ignorant, and
have seen to it that the information is given in an attractive form with
plenty of illustrative material, and that when the reader is finished
he will have a working knowledge of the subject. To awaken minds and to
make them alert and receptive has been the aim in making the BOOKSHELF.


The BOOKSHELF begins with the dawn of intelligence in the child, and
goes with him through the morning of childhood, and into the noonday of
youth. It contains a complete stock of finger-plays, action-plays,
lullabies, and other entertaining and educational material enjoyable to
babies and little children; it reaches into and through the high-school
age. In fact, the BOOKSHELF, with its valuable scientific and
natural-history material, its information about inventions and
industries, and its literary treasures, is an asset to the library even
of an adult.

The BOOKSHELF is classified. In some libraries material upon an
unrelated variety of subjects may be found within the covers of a single
volume. This feature has been tried and found wanting. It means that
when the reader is on the trail of a given subject he never knows where
to look for it, and he is likely to have to hunt through several volumes
before he learns what he wants to know. The argument for an unclassified
library is that the child who is reading a story may happen at the end
of that story upon an article containing valuable information, and thus
be lured on to read it. Children are not so easily beguiled. The mental
distinction of being, as it were, forced to spring from one theme to
another certainly counterbalances any supposed advantage in the
scrapbook arrangement. "A place for everything, and everything in its
place," is as true an adage and as necessary to remember and to practise
to-day as it ever was.

In addition to classifying the contents of the BOOKSHELF, the Editors
have graded the material. Any collection that is purchased for a home
and leaves out the needs of the children of any given age is
disappointing to that home. There is also a Graded Index, which is an
enlargement upon the general plan.

On the very day of its birth a baby enters the child's garden of life.
In this beautiful place there are weeds as well as flowers, and father
and mother must guide the little adventurer so that only the good
flowers are developed, while the weeds are held in check and the
poisonous plants torn up and destroyed. Earnest parents feel this
responsibility very keenly. In "Fun and Thought for Little Folk" there
is a well-selected collection of jingles, stories, and play exercises
for babies up to about three or four years of age. It covers the
earliest informal education of a child, from finger-play days to the
alphabet period. It helps parents who wish to enjoy their little
children and who do not wish such enjoyment to be a mere matter of
chance. Trained kindergartners with the modern viewpoint had much to do
with this collection. Not only does it delight the little folk, but it
is also the first material for child-training.

Educators are making much nowadays of fairy stories and wonder-tales.
The imaginative man, they say, is the effective man, because he has the
mental vision which sees farther than the physical eye; and they urge
that all children should be the possessors of these nursery tales that
have made children happy for so many centuries. "Folk-lore, Fables, and
Fairy Tales" is the result of careful comparative study of all the
leading anthologies, with added research into sources that have not
otherwise been thoroughly explored.

The folk-lore of many races and times has been sifted, and wherever
necessary it has been retold so as to be suitable to modern tastes and
needs of modern children. Whatever was gruesome or morally undesirable
has been omitted, but the flavor and the language of the past have been
retained. Here are "Cinderella," "Tom Thumb," and all the other
favorites of our childhood days, together with the stories that are told
to the children in the four corners of the world. While these will be
read to our boys and girls before they are able to read for themselves,
they will turn back again and again to this department as they grow
older. There is perpetual youth in the tales evolved by a race in its

From the fairy-tale and the folk-lore period, when beasts and trees and
all that is about them speak to them in words they can understand,
children develop into a stage where they want stories, or, as we say
when we are older, fiction. Both they and we mean tales that while
untrue yet would be possible of happening. At this age, also, children
desire to learn the habits of the animals they see on the farm, in the
zoo, and in the circus. The importance of giving children an early
acquaintance with good literature is unquestioned, but even the most
earnest parent has difficulty in making the selection, finding the
source in available form, and keeping out what is unworthy.

"Famous Tales and Nature Stories" has been made with care. Many of the
world's famous stories are collected here, and wherever possible they
are in the original language. The nature stories, about flowers and
trees, birds and insects, are not formal, but are planned to give the
child direct contact with nature and to assist the good habit of direct
and interested observation.

This division also includes a Primer and a First Reader, made according
to modern principles. Enough reading material is furnished in graded
form to enable the home teacher to help her little pupil master the
elements of reading, or the child will use it himself to supplement the
work of the teacher in school, if the mother is too busy with her other
tasks to permit her the enjoyment of teaching her child to read.

All modern kindergarten teaching to-day centers about the development of
the child's own impulses and interests. Of these the two most noticeable
are the tendency to play and the tendency to construct. Even if a mother
had no higher motive than to keep her little child out of mischief she
would welcome a treasury of devices that will always be at hand to
answer the question, "Mother, what shall I do now?" But most mothers
appreciate the value and importance of well directed play and work. In
"Things to Make and Things to Do" are given the directions for
elementary cooking, sewing, woodworking and other handicraft. Successful
teachers who are close to young children, and who kept home conditions
in mind in all their writing, prepared these sections. Educationally
they are sound, but, better than that, they are simple and explicit, and
within the reach of the resources of each home. Here, too, are the
suggestions for the directed and undirected play of the wee tots. The
material in this department, while complete in itself, will prepare the
way for and supplement all teaching in schools of these important
subjects. It is of the first importance that boys and girls recognize
the true nature of work and play. This department will help them in the
right direction.

As a child grows older he craves true stories. "Mother, did it really
happen?" "Father, was that make-believe or real?" These questions are
but the sign of mental and spiritual growing pains. If the child is
wisely aided, that poise which is so envied by the self-conscious person
will be his. The chief factor in poise is knowledge.

To be at home in many lands and times is the mark of a really educated
man or woman. Not all of us can actually travel, not all of us can have
the privilege of the acquaintance of the world's great men and women,
but it is within the reach of every one to-day to discover, through
picture and description, the world's most far-away lands, and in the
pages of books to have an intimate and inspiring acquaintance with the
heroes of the nations. If we wish our children to be fine types of men
and women, we must form their tastes in these large directions before
they are overwhelmed by what is so ephemeral and worthless in literature
and drama of the day.

"True Stories from Every Land" is prepared to catch the attention and to
hold the interest of young children. Foreign lands are studied not by
their boundaries and political affairs, but through the home life, the
customs, the sports, and the work of their children, their men, and
their women. The approach to history is made by biographies of some of
the most interesting heroes, and especially by accounts of the
adventurous pioneer days of America. The illustrations in this
department are multitudinous, graphic, up-to-date, and many of them
unusual. These stories will assist in home and school studies, because
they illustrate the history, customs, manners, and peoples of different
countries. They will help little children to learn how to read, and
incidentally teach them much that will help them to appreciate the
privilege and responsibility of being good Americans.

A good book of songs, familiar, tuneful, suitable to all occasions, and
graded to suit the differing tastes of separate members of the family,
is always welcome. The collection of "Famous Songs," edited by Winton
James Baltzell, is skillfully assembled from the best song-books
available, and it also contains many pieces of unusual charm not so
generally known. The songs for little children, for instance, are based
upon a list approved by our leading kindergartners. A novel feature is
that not only are the songs within range of children's voices, but many
of them have been arranged for instrumental use, and some for

In "Picture Stories" we have a delightful series of reproductions of
masterpieces of painting and sculpture of the world's great art eras.
Old masters and modern are well represented. The descriptions were
written for children, remembering their interest in the story-element in
pictures, and including inspiring details of the artists' lives. In the
other volumes are many more reproductions of masterpieces.

There are two volumes entitled "Nature and Outdoor Life"; the first one,
"Trees, Flowers, Amphibians, and Reptiles," begins with talks about
earth, air, and sky, the clouds and weather, the seasons, the ways of
bees and bugs and birds, illustrated with portraits of real children
busy in observing the things of nature. Then follow sections on Familiar
Flowers, Plant Life, Common Trees, and Reptiles and Amphibians, each
written by an expert on the subject, and all profusely illustrated with
photographs and drawings, many of the illustrations being in color. All
this material is written in an easy and familiar style and in a manner
to stimulate the right kind of curiosity. Children are encouraged to ask
questions, and are unconsciously led to observe and read for themselves.
Both this volume and its companion, "Birds, Animals, and Insects," help
boys and girls to find out many secrets of nature. In the second nature
series we begin with pets and domestic animals, and then study the wild
animals and birds of America. Next we learn of the ways of the birds and
animals in other lands, which we meet in the zoölogical gardens of our
own country. The volume closes with descriptions of the invertebrates.

The natural sciences are cared for in "Earth, Sea, and Sky." Each
division is more fascinating than the last, as it unfolds the world to
us. We all want to know, and ought to know, more about the sphere upon
which we live, its place in the universe, how it came to be peopled, and
what are some of the laws that govern its magnificent forces and
changes. This department is as interesting to old as to young, though it
will find a warm place in the hearts of the youths who are just getting
interested in physics, physiography, chemistry, and electricity.

An earlier volume covered the play and hand-work of little children. Our
young people are now ready for games more skillful and coöperative, and
handicraft more elaborate and involving a finer finish. "Games and
Handicraft" supplies this need. If we are going to have a more
interesting home life, if we are going to keep our boys and girls off
the streets and away (sometimes) from the movies, if we are going to
supplement the textbook work of the schools by the education of the
hands, we need adequate handbooks to guide us. Sometimes such books are
too vague to be practical. Here are working-drawings that are detailed
and exact. That these projects can be executed is evidenced by the
photographs of the finished work.

"Where can I get up-to-date, interesting and trustworthy descriptions of
modern inventions for my young folks?" How many times this question is
asked of book-store clerks by fathers! How often is a satisfactory
answer given? Often such books are not up to date; usually they are too
technical to be interesting; if they are interesting they are often
untrustworthy; and none of them covers more than a portion of the
ground. "Wonders of Invention" represents an earnest endeavor to meet
this wide need within the covers of a single volume. The Editors were
fortunate in obtaining for this department the coöperation of steamship
companies, great electrical concerns, concrete firms, inventors and
others "who know." The illustrations were selected individually, and add
to the value and interest of the text.


As a child develops toward maturity his talents begin to focus and his
interests to direct themselves toward some special life occupation. The
matter of Vocational Guidance is the most vital thing in education
to-day, but wisdom in this field is far to seek. Changes in the
industrial world are so rapid that books giving mere statistics of
salaries and requirements are soon out of date, and they have no appeal
to the young. Motive, rather than immediate gain, is what affects young
people; and the Editors of The BOOKSHELF have felt that the one wise way
to approach this great question is to describe the important activities
of the world and some of the men who have been occupied in them, that
young readers may be able to make an intelligent choice, and at the same
time discover their own special talents. This section of The BOOKSHELF
is known as "Marvels of Industry." Aside from its value as a vocational
guide, this volume will add much to the enjoyment of the family circle
because of the facts that are gleaned from a perusal of its pages.

In "True Stories from Every Land" the little folks made the acquaintance
of the world's children. It is now time for the older young folk to
travel. In "Every Land and Its Story" we take a journey around the
world, beginning in North America, covering the rest of the New World,
and then going to Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia, and the islands of
the sea. The greatest emphasis is laid upon the lands that we love the
most. In the United States the eight great natural divisions are
described, then the Indians, the National Parks, Alaska, and Porto
Rico. The greatest cities are visited in turn, the characteristics of
each being picturesquely described. Canada is visited in the same way.
In each case the country is described by a competent, interesting
traveler, in many instances by one who has lived there a long time, and
in some cases by a famous writer. Carefully chosen photographs
illustrate this department.

Carlyle was right, at least as far as young people are concerned, when
he insisted that history is only biography. The character-making
influence of great lives has never been denied, and ought never to be
neglected. "Famous Men and Women" begins with the men who made the
United States and Canada. It tells about some of the living Men Who
Count to-day. A simple graphic history of the greatest event in history,
the World War of 1914-1918, is given. Then comes a glorious pageant of
Scientists and Inventors, Writers and Rulers, National Heroes, and
Servants of the Common Good. This material will not only form an
excellent supplemental reading book, but a valued treasury for everyday

Crowning the collection, and of surpassing importance, is
"Bookland--Story and Verse." This is an introduction to the best
literature in poetry and prose for young people from twelve to twenty;
in fact, for young people from twelve to eighty. The prose stories are
presented in the language of the masters themselves. There is no
diluting of their fine literary style. Careful abridgments have been
made by well-known literary critics, but the essence of these
masterpieces has been retained. This is important: our young people
should know the great, not only about them. The poems are usually given

In making the General Index and the Graded Index the Editors have
remembered that these are for use, not to fill space. The General Index
is practical and will help the user to find just what he is looking for,
and to find it quickly. The Graded Index is intended primarily for the
use of the parent. It sorts out and selects the best material for each
age. First is given a brief, clear account of the tastes and needs of
Infancy, Early Childhood, Middle Childhood, Late Childhood, and
Adolescence. Then all the material in The BOOKSHELF is assorted under
its score of important subjects, and put in the grade where it belongs.
By this plan the child may be directed to what he wants and needs now,
and each year he will grow more and more into the riches of his


Many questions are listed in the Indexes. This is a very instructive
feature, for it often sets the mind alert in some new direction and
starts fresh lines of interest and research. These questions may be made
the means of making many a family evening one of pleasure and profit, as
one member asks the questions and the others take turns in answering


The BOOKSHELF is American in viewpoint, but worldwide in outlook. While
it has been produced within the United States, it is larger than the
United States or even than North America. Unusual space is given to
Canadian affairs and interests, and the rest of the world has not been
neglected. Throughout the entire set, and in the CHILD WELFARE MANUAL,
available to parents in connection with The BOOKSHELF, there is an
emphasis on character, uprightness, honor, service, which is distinctly
aimed to build up that type of manhood and womanhood for which the good
American is famed at home and abroad.


The Publishers and the Editors wish to thank each and every one of the
individuals who have coöperated with them to make The BOOKSHELF what it
is. The courtesy, the heartiness with which assistance has been given,
the belief of these friends in the success of the ideals of The
BOOKSHELF, have made the task of compiling, editing, and manufacturing a

Special acknowledgment must be given at this time to the photographers,
Brown Brothers, Underwood & Underwood, and the Publishers Photo Service,
for the use of many copyrighted pictures from their files. In a number
of instances, when they did not have a particular picture desired, it
was made by one of them specially for The BOOKSHELF.

The Editors, in preparing the manuscript for these volumes, have
endeavored in all cases where material has been used which has
previously appeared in print to give credit to author, publisher, and
book, and to any other to whom such acknowledgment was due. If they have
failed to do so in any particular case, it has been an oversight, for
which the Publishers are not responsible, as their instructions on this
point were definite, and for which the Editors express their regrets.
Future editions will offer an opportunity for the correction, which will
be gladly made.


Most mothers and fathers realize that long before children are old
enough to read there is a rich treasury of rhythm and song and story
that may be given them. To make this treasury available is the purpose
of this volume.

Finger-plays and action-plays, in which Froebel found so rich a meaning,
do much to help the baby to know and control his fingers and hands, to
enable him to discover the other parts of his body, to awaken his
intelligence and to bring him into affectionate companionship with his
father and mother. Here we have gathered not only the traditional ones,
which the mother and father may remember from their own early childhood;
but also many that will be fresh and new.

Mother Goose long ago established her throne as Queen of the Nursery.
There is something about her short ditties, always full of rhythm,
sometimes of sense, and frequently of the most elemental humor, that
appeals to the baby mind as nothing else does. A proof of the worth of
her songs and stories would be found if any of us should try to write
better. We have brought together many familiar ones and some unfamiliar
(for Mother Goose lived in many times and many lands), and have
illustrated them with some new and charming drawings and color-plates.

Children as young as three are ready for the simplest sort of stories,
but it is so hard for us grown-ups to become children again that many of
us have found difficulty in suiting our language and thought to their
eager but unfurnished minds. These bedtime stories and little tales of
babies and animals and girls and boys are therefore a real godsend.

Soon comes the time when the little folk are ready to learn about the
letters and the numbers and the days of the week. Rhymes to help this
first memorizing will be welcome.

Most of the stories in this book are illustrated by pictures, some are
told entirely by them. The choice of these illustrations was made from
our best modern knowledge about little children. It is now recognized
that they like simple incidents, about themselves or the familiar things
around them, drawn in clear outline or with strong color. There are
certain artists, too, who seem to have retained their own childlikeness
better than others, and such were called upon to illustrate this

       *       *       *       *       *


 GENERAL INTRODUCTION                              vii
 INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME ONE                         xv


    By J. K. Barry
 MONDAY                                              4
    By Edith Goodyear
 FINGER PLAY                                         5
    By Edith Goodyear
 COUNTING THE FINGERS                                6
 AN OLD NORSE FINGER PLAY                            6
 BABY'S TOES                                         6
 BABY'S TOES                                         7
    By Edith A. Bentley
 THIS IS THE WAY MY FINGERS STAND                    8
 THUMBKIN, POINTER                                   8
 NAMING THE FINGERS                                  8
    By Laura E. Richards
 ROBERT BARNS                                        8
 "SHALL I, OH! SHALL I?"                             8
 JACK, BE NIMBLE                                     9
 TWO LITTLE HANDS                                    9
 PAT A CAKE                                          9
 CLAP YOUR HANDS                                     9
 THE BIRD'S NEST                                    10
    A Froebel Finger Play
 TWO LITTLE BLACKBIRDS                              10
 MASTER SMITH                                       10
 LITTLE ROBIN REDBREAST                             10
 GREETING                                           10
 A PLAY FOR THE ARMS                                10
 THE LITTLE WINDOW                                  10
    A Froebel Finger Play
 SING A SONG OF SIXPENCE                            11
 THE PIGEON HOUSE                                   11
    A Froebel Finger Play
 SAID THIS LITTLE FAIRY                             12
 A BURROWING GAME                                   12
 PAT A CAKE                                         12
    A Froebel Finger Play
 A KNEE GAME                                        12
 A FOOT PLAY                                        12
 PUTTING THE FINGERS TO SLEEP                       13
 TEN LITTLE SQUIRRELS                               14
 MY LITTLE GARDEN                                   15
 THE FAMILY                                         16
    By Emilie Poulsson
 JOHNNY SHALL HAVE A NEW BONNET                     18


 TO MARKET RIDE THE GENTLEMEN                       19
 HERE GOES MY LORD                                  19
 A FARMER WENT TROTTING                             20
 UP TO THE CEILING                                  20
 THE MESSENGER                                      20
 CATCH HIM, CROW                                    20
 RIDE A COCK-HORSE                                  21
 THIS IS THE WAY                                    21
 RIDE AWAY, RIDE AWAY                               21
 TO MARKET, TO MARKET                               21
 TROT, TROT, THE BABY GOES                          21
    By Mary F. Butts
 RIDE A COCK-HORSE                                  22
 HERE WE GO                                         22


 WHO ARE THESE?                                     24
 I SAW A SHIP A-SAILING                             25
 GOOSEY, GOOSEY, GANDER                             25
 THE WIND                                           25
 ONCE I SAW A LITTLE BIRD                           25
 RING-A-RING-A-ROSES                                25
 CROSS PATCH                                        26
 HAPPY LET US BE                                    26
 THE OLD WOMAN IN THE BASKET                        26
 THE FOX AND THE OLD GRAY GOOSE                     28
 JACK AND JILL                                      29
 WILLY BOY                                          29
 BONNY LASS                                         29
 OH, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?                           30
 BOBBY SHAFTOE                                      30
 DING-DONG-BELL                                     30
 LONDON BRIDGE                                      31
 GREEN GRAVEL                                       32
 OLD MOTHER HUBBARD                                 32
 LITTLE BO-PEEP                                     34
 COME OUT TO PLAY                                   35
 LITTLE ROBIN REDBREAST                             35
 LITTLE BOY BLUE                                    36
 MY MAID MARY                                       36
 HARK! HARK!                                        37
 BOW-WOW-WOW                                        37
 BLOW, WIND, BLOW                                   37
 BYE, BABY BUNTING                                  37
 THREE LITTLE KITTENS                               38
 TOM WAS A PIPER'S SON                              39
 DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY                                   40
 BILLY BOY                                          40
 THREE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM                           41
 LITTLE TOMMY TUCKER                                41
 PUSSY AND THE MICE                                 41
 WHEN I WAS A LITTLE BOY                            41
 CHINESE MOTHER-GOOSE RHYMES                        42
    By Prof. Isaac Taylor Headland

    By Anna Marion Smith

 PUSSY CAT, PUSSY CAT                               45
 LITTLE BOY BLUE                                    45
 PAT-A-CAKE                                         46
 DICKORY DOCK                                       46
 HOW MANY MILES TO BABYLON?                         47
 HARK! HARK!                                        47
 THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN                             48
 HUMPTY DUMPTY                                      51
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS                                54
 ONE MISTY, MOISTY MORNING                          54
 OLD KING COLE                                      55
 PUSSY SITS BESIDE THE FIRE                         56
 THE NORTH WIND DOTH BLOW                           56
 I HAD A LITTLE HUSBAND                             57
 THERE WAS A MAN IN OUR TOWN                        57
 SEE SAW, SACARADOWN                                57
 SING A SONG O' SIXPENCE                            58
 I LOVE LITTLE PUSSY                                58
 THE HORNER BROTHERS                                59
    By Elizabeth Raymond Woodward
 A LITTLE OLD MAN                                   60
 JINGLES                                            60
 SAILING                                            61
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 AN UP-TO-DATE PUSSY-CAT                            62
    By Adeline Knapp
 MISERY IN COMPANY                                  63
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 COURT NEWS                                         64
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 A MESSAGE TO MOTHER GOOSE                          65
    By Ellen Manly


 SWEET AND LOW                                      72
    By Alfred, Lord Tennyson
 THE SLEEPY-TIME STORY                              73
    By Gertrude Smith
 THE GO SLEEP STORY                                 75
    By Eudora S. Bumstead
 THE GENTLE DARK                                    78
    By W. Grahame Robertson
 THE FERRY FOR SHADOWTOWN                           78
 HUSH-A-BYE, BABY                                   78
    By William Wordsworth
 LATE                                               79
    By Josephine Preston Peabody
 A BLESSING FOR THE BLESSED                         80
    By Laurence Alma-Tadema
 MY DOLLY                                           80
 THE CHILD AND THE WORLD                            80
 EVENING SONG                                       80
    By C. Frances Alexander
 ROCK-A-BYE, BABY                                   80
 THE SANDMAN                                        81
    By Margaret Vandergrift
 THE FAIRY FOLK                                     81
    By Robert Bird
 QUEEN MAB                                          82
    By Thomas Hood
 LULLABY                                            82
    By Gertrude Thompson Miller
 KENTUCKY BABE                                      82
 MY POSSESSIONS                                     83
 THE WAKE-UP STORY                                  83
    By Eudora S. Bumstead


 ABOUT SIX LITTLE CHICKENS                          86
    By S. L. Elliott
 "TRADE-LAST"                                       88
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 PHILIP'S HORSE                                     89
 THE KITTEN THAT FORGOT HOW TO MEW                  90
    By Stella George Stern
 WHAT COULD THE FARMER DO?                          93
    By George William Ogden
 FLEDGLINGS                                         97
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 "TIME TO GET UP!"                                  98
    By Ellen Foster
 MAGGIE'S VERY OWN SECRET                          100
    By Sara Josephine Albright
    By L. Waldo Lockling
 BABY'S PARADISE                                   105
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 DISOBEDIENCE                                      106
 FOR A LITTLE GIRL OF THREE                        108
    By Uncle Ned
 A FUNNY FAMILY                                    109
 LITTLE BY LITTLE                                  110


 THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT                         111
 GIANT THUNDER BONES                               112
    By Stella Doughty
 THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT                         116
    By Carolyn Wells
 THE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG                         119
 THE LAMBIKIN                                      121
 THE CAT AND THE MOUSE                             123
 HENNY-PENNY                                       124
 THREE GOATS IN THE RYEFIELD                       127
    Adapted by Cecilia Farwell
 TEENY TINY                                        129
 SONG OF THE PEAR TREE                             130
 COCK-ALU AND HEN-ALIE                             131
    By Mary Howitt
 THERE IS THE KEY OF THE KINGDOM                   136


 NO DOGS ALLOWED AT LARGE                          137
    By Culmer Barnes
    By Dewitt Clinton Falls
    By Culmer Barnes
 THE LITTLE KITTENS' SURPRISE                      140
    By Culmer Barnes
 TED'S FOOLISH WISH                                141
    By Charles Fitch Lester
 NONSENSE RHYME                                    142
 TIMOTHY TRUNDLE                                   143
    By Frederick Moxon
 A DREAM OF GLORY                                  148
    By Charles Fitch Lester
 PICTURES                                          149
    By Culmer Barnes
    By Culmer Barnes
    By Culmer Barnes
 ROLY POLY ON VACATION                             152
    By Culmer Barnes
 MOTHER GOOSE'S LAST TROLLEY RIDE                  153
    By Culmer Barnes
 IVAN AND THE WOLF                                 154
    By Culmer Barnes
 HOMEWARD BOUND                                    154
    By Culmer Barnes
 THEIR LITTLE JAR                                  156
    By Bell
 LITTLE ESKI AND THE POLAR BEAR                    158
    By Culmer Barnes


 THE FROG'S FIASCO                                 160
    By D. K. Stevens
 THE MUSICAL TRUST                                 164
    By D. K. Stevens
 THE CAUTIOUS CAT                                  168
    By D. K. Stevens
 THREE LITTLE BEARS                                171
    By M. C. McNeill
 THE SNOWMAN                                       172
    By W. W. Ellsworth


 TINY HARE AND THE WIND BALL                       173
    By A. L. Sykes
 HOW TINY HARE MET CAT                             176
    By A. L. Sykes
 THE WEE HARE AND THE RED FIRE                     179
    By A. L. Sykes
 THE GOOD KING                                     182
    By Margaret and Clarence Weed
 EARLY AND LATE                                    184
    By W. S. Reed
    By Jasmine Stone Van Dresser
 JUGGERJOOK                                        188
    By L. Frank Baum
 WHAT YOU BURYING, A BONE                          194
 THE LITTLE GRAY KITTEN                            194
    By Mary Lawrence Turnbull
 PUSSY'S WHEELS                                    197
    By Annie W. McCullough
 THE SMALL GRAY MOUSE                              198
    By Nathan Haskell Dole
 THE RABBIT, THE TURTLE, AND THE OWL               200
 HOMES                                             201
    By Annie W. McCullough
    By I. W. Taben
 THE FINE GOOD SHOW                                204
    By Jessie Wright Whitcomb
 GAY AND SPY                                       208
 THE BALLAD OF A RUNAWAY DONKEY                    212
    By Emilie Poulsson
 THE THREE BEARS                                   220
 THE LITTLE BEAR'S STORY                           221
    By C. F. Holder
 THE HARE AND THE HEDGEHOG                         224
    By The Brothers Grimm
 THE WEE ROBIN'S CHRISTMAS SONG                    226
    A Scotch Story, attributed to Robert Burns
    Adapted by Jennie Ellis Burdick
 THE FOX                                           228
 THREE COMPANIONS                                  229
    By Dinah Maria Mulock-Craik
 "'FRAID CAT!"                                     230
    By Frank Munro
 THE SPIDER AND THE FLY                            231
    By Mary Howitt


 A LITTLE GENTLEMAN                                233
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 TIME FOR EVERYTHING                               233
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 UMBRELLAS AND RUBBERS                             234
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 WHISPERING IN SCHOOL                              234
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 RECESS                                            235
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 AFTER SCHOOL                                      235
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 MONDAY'S LESSONS                                  235
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 AT DINNER                                         236
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 VALOR                                             237
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 A DOMESTIC TRAGEDY                                238
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 THE CAPITALIST                                    239
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 IN MERRY ENGLAND                                  240
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 THE GOOSE GIRL                                    241
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 THE PHILOSOPHER                                   242
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 THIRSTY FLOWERS                                   243
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 SHARING WITH OTHERS                               243
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 POCKETS                                           244
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 WAITING FOR DINNER                                244
    By Alden Arthur Knipe
 THE CRITIC                                        245
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 DIPLOMACY                                         246
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 IF I WERE QUEEN                                   247
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 THOUGHTS IN CHURCH                                248
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins


 THIS IS THE WAY                                   249
 DAYS OF BIRTH                                     250
 THE WASHING                                       250
 SOLOMON GRUNDY                                    250
 BABY'S PLAY DAYS                                  250
 WHICH DO YOU CHOOSE?                              251
 SEVEN LITTLE MICE                                 251
    By Stella George Stern
 VISITING                                          252
 LITTLE TOMMY'S MONDAY MORNING                     252
    By Tudor Jenks
 ST. SATURDAY                                      254
    By Henry Johnstone


 1, 2, 3, 4, 5                                     255
 OVER IN THE MEADOW                                255
    By Olive A. Wadsworth
 COUNTING APPLE-SEEDS                              256
 TWINS                                             257
    By Lucy Fitch Perkins
 THE RHYME OF TEN LITTLE RABBITS                   258
    By Kate N. Mytinger
 IN JULY                                           260
    By A. S. Webber
    By Mrs. John T. Van Sant
 WINKELMAN VON WINKEL                              262
    By Clara Odell Lyon
 TEN LITTLE COOKIES                                263
 OUR BABY                                          263
 LONG TIME AGO                                     264
    By Elizabeth Prentiss
 BUCKLE MY SHOE                                    264


 A PAIR OF GLOVES                                  265
    By H. G. Duryée
    By Alice E. Allen
 EDITH'S TEA PARTY                                 269
    By Lois Walters
 REBECCA                                           271
    By Eleanor Piatt
 DOROTHEA'S SCHOOL GIFTS                           272
    By Eunice Ward
 THE LOST MONEY                                    276
    By Bolton Hall
 A DUTCH TREAT                                     277
    By Amy B. Johnson
 THE JINGLE OF THE LITTLE JAP                      283
    By Isabel Eccleston Mackay
  COUSIN FROM CONSTANTINOPLE                      284
    By Emma C. Dowd
 LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD                            286
    Retold from Grimm
 DOLLY'S DOCTOR                                    288
 THUMBELINA                                        288
    By Hans Christian Andersen
 THE FOX AND THE LITTLE RED HEN                    294
    By The Brothers Grimm
 THE GINGERBREAD BOY                               296


 MISCHIEF                                          297
    By Rosamond Upham
 WILLIE AND HIS DOG DIVER                          299
    By H. N. Powers
 GORDON'S TOY CASTLE ON THE HILL                   300
    By Everett Wilson
 HANS THE INNOCENT                                 302
    Written and Illustrated by M. I. Wood
 A REAL LITTLE BOY BLUE                            304
    By Caroline S. Allen
 TRAVELS OF A FOX                                  306
    Adapted by Cecilia Farwell
 OEYVIND AND MARIT                                 308


 WHAT THE CAT AND HEN DID                          313
    By Alice Ralston
 DOT'S BIRTHDAY CAKE                               316
 NED AND ROVER AND JACK                            317
 I HAD A LITTLE KITTEN                             318
 HOW POLLY HAD HER PICTURE TAKEN                   319
    By Everett Wilson
 IDLE BEN                                          321
 THE HOLE IN THE CANNA-BED                         321
    By Isabel Gordon Curtis
 THE CONCEITED MOUSE                               323
    By Ella Foster Case


 A BOY'S MOTHER                                    325
    By James Whitcomb Riley
 MOTHER                                            325
    By Rose Fyleman
 THE GOODEST MOTHER                                325
 MOTHER'S WAY                                      326
    By Carrie Williams
 WHO IS IT?                                        326
    By Ethel M. Kelley
 MY DEAREST IS A LADY                              327
    By Miriam S. Clark
 HOW MANY LUMPS?                                   327
 WHEN MOTHER GOES AWAY                             328
    By Clara Odell Lyon
    By Blanche Elizabeth Wade


 GRANDMOTHER'S MEMORIES                            329
    By Helen A. Byrom
 GREAT-AUNT LUCY LEE                               330
    By Cora Walker Hayes
 OUR VISITORS                                      334
    By Isabel Lyndall
 BEAUTIFUL GRANDMAMMA                              338
 THANKSGIVING DAY                                  340
    By Lydia Maria Child
 GRANDMA'S MINUET                                  340
 AUNT JAN                                          341
    By Norman Gale
 AFTER TEA                                         342


 TINGLE, TANGLE TITMOUSE                           343
 AN ENGLISH ALPHABET                               344
 NONSENSE ALPHABET                                 346
 PAST HISTORY                                      348
    By Edward Lear
 THE APPLE PIE                                     351
 WHO'S WHO IN THE ZOO                              352
    By Carolyn Wells
 A WAS AN ARCHER                                   357
 A LITTLE FOLKS' ALPHABET                          358
    By Carolyn Wells
 CHILD HEALTH ALPHABET                             360
    By Mrs. Frederick Peterson
 HERE'S A, B, C, D                                 363
 OUR STORIES                                       364

       *       *       *       *       *


  [Illustration: Figs. 1 though 5 and So big!]


These ten little live playthings can be held in every baby's hand, five
in one and five in the other and be the baby ever so poor yet he always
has these ten playthings because, you know, he brings them with him.

But all babies do not know how to play with them. They find out for
themselves a good many ways of playing with them but here are some of
the ways that a baby I used to know got amusement out of his.

The very first was the play called "Ta-ra-chese" (Ta-rar-cheese). It is
a Dutch word and there was a little song about it all in Dutch. This is
the way the baby I knew would play it when he was a tiny little fellow.

His Mamma would hold her hand up and move it gently around this way
(Fig. 1) singing "Ta-ra-chese, ta-ra-chese!" Baby would look and watch
awhile, and presently his little hand would begin to move and five
little playthings would begin the play--dear, sweet little chubby pink
fingers--for I think you have guessed these are every baby's playthings.

How glad Mamma is to find that her baby has learned his first lesson!

Then he must learn, "Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake Baker's man," (Fig. 2) and
"How big is baby?" "_So Big!_"

And here are some other ways by which a little sister's fingers may
amuse the baby.

"This the church and this is the steeple, Open the gates--there are all
the good people." (Fig. 3)

"Chimney sweep--Oho! oho! Chimney sweep!" (Fig. 4)

"Put your finger in the bird's nest. The bird isn't home." (Fig. 5)

And then when the little finger is poked in, a sly pinch is given by a
hidden thumb and baby is told, "The birdie has just come home!" But you
mustn't pinch hard, of course, just enough to make baby laugh at being

  [Illustration: Figs. 6 though 11.]

And then there is the play of "Two men sawing wood--one little boy
picking up chips." (Fig. 6) The two finger men are moved up and down and
the little boy finger works busily.

Everybody knows the rhyming finger-play:

     "Here's my Father's knives and forks, (Fig. 7)
     "Here's my Mother's table, (Fig. 8)
     "Here's my Sister's looking-glass, (Fig. 9)
     "And here's the baby's cradle." (Fig. 10)

Another play is a little act in which three persons are supposed to take
part, and it has come down from the old times of long ago.

The middle finger is the Friar. Those on each side of him touch each
other and make the door, the little finger is the Lady and the thumb is
the Page. (Fig. 11)

The Friar knocks at the door.

_Friar._ "Knock, Knock, Knock!"

_Page._ "Somebody knocks at the door! Somebody knocks at the door!"

_Lady._ "Who is it? Who is it?"

_Page._ (Going to door) "Who is it? Who is it?"

_Friar._ "A Friar, a Friar."

_Page._ "A Friar, Ma'am, a Friar, Ma'am."

_Lady._ "What does he want? What does he want?"

_Page._ "What do you want, Sir? What do you want, Sir?"

_Friar._ "I want to come in. I want to come in."

_Page._ "He wants to come in, Ma'am. He wants to come in."

_Lady._ "Let him walk in. Let him walk in."

_Page._ "Will you walk in, Sir? Will you walk in?"

So in he pops and takes a seat.

When each player is supposed to speak he or she must move gently,
bending forward and back and when the Friar is invited to enter, the
door must open only just far enough to let him "pop in."

These are only some of the plays with which the baby I knew used to be
amused; but they will suggest others to parents and older brothers and
sisters. The baby cannot make all of these things himself but he will be
quite as much interested when they are made by older hands.


     Here's a little wash bench,
     Here's a little tub.
     Here's a little scrubbing-board,
     And here's the way to rub.
     Here's a little cake of soap,
     Here's a dipper new.
     Here's a basket wide & deep,
     And here are clothes-pins two.
     Here's the line away up high,
     Here's the clothes all flying.
     Here's the sun so warm & bright,
     And now the washing's drying.
                          Edith Goodyear.

Finger Play.

By Edith Goodyear.

     The little space 'twixt fingers & thumbs
     Is round as a circle you see!
     While in there, a tiny square
     Shows corners four to me.

     Circles are like daisies while,
     Like pennies, candies and plates,
     Like Grandma's cookies and pumpkin pies;
     And best of all, the pretty blue
     In Baby's laughing eyes.

     The square makes me think of the rug where he sits
     On the nursery floor at play;
     Of the lawn where he rolls in the sunshine bright,
     And the dainty spread that covers his bed
     When he's fast asleep at night.


       This is the thumb, you see;
       This finger shakes the tree;
     And then this finger comes up;
     And this one eats the plums up;
       This little one, says he,
       "I'll tell of you, you'll see!"

       That one is the thumb;
       And this one wants a plum;
     This one says, "Where do they grow?"
     This one says, "Come with me--I know."
       But this little one, he says,
       "I will not go near the place!
       I don't like such naughty ways."

     Now, I think that through and through
     Little Finger's right--don't you?

       This one fell in the water,
       And this one helped him ashore,
     And this one put him into bed,
       And this one covered him o'er;
     And then, in walks this noisy little chap,
       And wakes him up once more.

     This one walked out into the wood,
       And caught a little hare;
     And this one took and carried it home,
       For he thought it dainty fare;
     And this one came and cooked it up
       With sauces rich and rare;
     And this one laid the table out,
       And did the plates prepare;
     And this little fellow the keeper told
       What the others were doing there.


     Thicken man, build the barn,
     Thinner man, spool the yarn,
     Longen man, stir the brew,
     Gowden man, make a shoe,
     Littlen man, all for you!


     Dear little bare feet,
       Dimpled and white,
     In your long nightgown
       Wrapped for the night.

     Come, let me count all
       Your queer little toes,
     Pink as the heart
       Of a shell or a rose.

     One is a lady
       That sits in the sun;
     Two is a baby,
       And three is a nun.

     Four is a lily
       With innocent breast;
     And five is a birdie
       Asleep on her nest.



     Five little piggie wiggies
       Standing in a row,
     We always have to toddle
       Where the baby wants to go;
     Up-stairs and down-stairs,
       Indoors and out,
     We're always close together
       And we never fall out.

     Father-Pig and Mother-Pig,
       And Big-Brother Pig,
     And Sister-Pig, and darling little
       Baby Piggie-Wig!

     Oh, sometimes we are all tied up
       In a bag so tight.
     This is when the baby goes
       "To sleepy-bye" at night.
     Then there's nothing else to do
       But cuddle down and rest--
     Just as little birdies cuddle
       In their little nest.

     Father-Pig and Mother-Pig
       And Big-Brother Pig,
     And Sister-Pig, and darling little
       Baby Piggie-Wig!


_To the tune of "Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush."_

     This is the way my fingers stand,
     Fingers stand, fingers stand,
     This is the way my fingers stand,
       So early in the morning.

     This is the way I fold my hand,
     Fold my hand, fold my hand,
     This is the way I fold my hand,
       So early in the morning.

     This is the way they dance about,
     Dance about, dance about,
     This is the way they dance about,
       So early in the morning.

     This is the way they go to rest,
     Go to rest, go to rest,
     This is the way they go to rest,
       So early in the morning.


     Thumbkin, Pointer, Middleman big,
     Sillyman, Weeman, rig-a-jig-jig.



     This is little Tommy Thumb,
     Round and smooth as any plum.
     This is busy Peter Pointer:
     Surely he's a double-jointer.
     This is mighty Toby Tall,
     He's the biggest one of all.
     This is dainty Reuben Ring:
     He's too fine for anything.
     And this little wee one, maybe,
     Is the pretty Finger-baby.

     All the five we've counted now,
     Busy fingers in a row.
     Every finger knows the way
     How to work and how to play;
     Yet together work they best,
     Each one helping all the rest.

  [A] _From "Songs and Music of Froebel's Mother Play"; used by permission
  of the publishers, D. Appleton & Company._


     Robert Barns, fellow fine,
     Can you shoe this horse of mine,
     So that I may cut a shine?
       Yes, good sir, and that I can,
       As well as any other man;
     There a nail, and here a prod,
     And now, good sir, your horse is shod.


     A little boy and a little girl
       Lived in an alley;
     Said the little boy to the little girl,
       "Shall I, oh! shall I?"

     Said the little girl to the little boy,
       "What will you do?"
     Said the little boy to the little girl,
       "I will kiss you."

     (_As the last words are sung, the mother kisses
     the little one in the folds of the neck._)

  [Illustration: OFF WITH MOTHER GOOSE


      Jack, be nimble,
        Jack, be quick;
 (_Jack is one hand walking along on
 its fore- and middle-fingers._)

      Jack, jump over
        The candlestick.
 (_Fist closed; uplifted thumb for
 candle. Jack jumps over it._)


     Two little hands so soft and white,
     This is the left--this is the right.
     Five little fingers stand on each,
     So I can hold a plum or a peach.
     But if I should grow as old as you
     Lots of little things these hands can do.


     Pat a cake, pat a cake, baker's man.
     So I do, master, as fast as I can.
     Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T,
     And then it will serve for Tommy and me.


     Baby, Baby, clap your hands!
     Where London's built, there London stands.
     And there's a bed in London Town,
     On which my Baby shall lie down.


_A Froebel Finger Play_

     Here upon the leaves at rest
     A little bird has built her nest.
     Two tiny eggs within she's laid,
     And many days beside them stayed.
     Now she's happy; listen well!
     Two baby birds break through the shell.
     Don't you hear them? "Peep! peep! peep!
     We love you, mother. Cheep! cheep! cheep!"


     There were two blackbirds sitting on a hill,
             (_Little pieces of paper perched on forefingers._)
     One named Jack, the other named Jill.
     Fly away, Jack; fly away, Jill.
                            (_Fingers soar gently in the air._)
     Come again, Jack; come again, Jill.
                                          (_Fingers fly back._)


     Is Master Smith within? Yes, that he is.
       Can he set a shoe? Ay, marry, two.
         Here a nail, and there a nail,


     Little Robin Redbreast
       Sat upon a rail,
               (_Right hand extended in shape of a bird is poised
                 on extended forefinger of left hand._)
     Niddle noddle went his head,
       And waggle went his tail.
               (_Little finger of right hand waggles from side to


     Good little Mother,
       How do you do?
     Dear strong "Daddy,"
       Glad to see you!
     Big tall Brother,
       Pleased you are here.
     Kind little Sister,
       You need not fear,
     Glad welcome we'll give you,
       And Babykins, too.
     Yes, Babykins,
       How do you do?


     Pump, pump, pump,
       Water, water, come;
     Here a rush, there a gush,
       Done, done, done.


_A Froebel Finger Play_

     Look, my dear, at this window clear.
     See how the light shines through in here.
     If you would always see the light,
     Keep your heart's window clean and bright.


     Sing a song of sixpence,
       A pocket full of rye;
     Four-and-twenty blackbirds
       Baked in a pie;
     When the pie was opened
       The birds began to sing;
     Was not that a dainty dish
       To set before the King?

     The King was in his counting-house,
       Counting out his money;
     The Queen was in the parlor,
       Eating bread and honey;
     The maid was in the garden
       Hanging out the clothes;
     When up came a blackbird
       And nipped off her nose.
     (_At this line somebody's nose gets nipped._)


_A Froebel Finger Play_

     Now I'm going to open my pigeon-house door.
       The pigeons fly out to the light,
     Straight to the meadows so pleasant they soar,
       And flutter about with delight.
     But at evening they'll all come home at last,
     And the door of the house I'll then shut fast.


     Said this little fairy, "I'm as thirsty as can be."
     Said this little fairy, "I'm hungry, too, dear me!"
     Said this little fairy, "Who'll tell us where to go?"
     Said this little fairy, "I'm sure that I don't know."
     Said this little fairy, "Let's brew some dewdrop tea."
     So they sipped it and ate honey beneath the maple tree.


      See the little mousie, creeping up the stair,
      Looking for a warm nest--there, oh, there!
 (_Mother's fingers creep up the body, and finally fumble in baby's neck._)


_A Froebel Finger Play_

     Baby, would you like to make
     For yourself a little cake?
     Pat it gently, smooth it down.
     Baker says: "Now, in to brown;
     Bring it here, baby dear,
     While the oven fire burns clear."
     "Baker, see, here is my cake;
     Bake it well for baby's sake."
     "In the oven, right deep down,
     Here the cake will soon get brown."


     What do I see? Baby's knee.
     Tickily, tickily, tic, tac, tee.
     One for a penny, two for a pound;
     Tickily, tickily, round and round.


     Up, down--up, down.
     One foot up and one foot down,
     All the way to London town.
       Tra la la la la la.


     My fingers are so sleepy
     It's time they went to bed,
     So first, you Baby Finger
     Tuck in your Little Head.

     Ringman, come now its your turn,
     And then come, Tallman Great;
     Now, Pointer Finger, hurry
     Because its getting late.

     Let's see if all are snuggled.
     No, here's one more to come,
     So come, lie close, little brothers,
     Make room for Master Thumb.


     Ten little squirrels up in a tree--
                (_Ten fingers outspread._)

     The first two said: "What do I see?"
                (_Thumbs only._)

     The next two said: "A man with a gun."
                (_Forefingers only._)

     The next two said: "Let's run, let's run."
                (_Middle fingers only._)

     The next two said: "Let's hide in the shade."
                (_Ring fingers only._)

     The last two said: "We're not afraid."
                (_Little fingers only._)

     Bang! went a gun.
                (_Clap hands._)

     Away they all run.
                (_All fingers scamper off._)


     See my little garden,
     How I rake it over,
     Then I sow the little brown seeds,
     And with soft earth cover.
     Now the raindrops patter
       On the earth so gayly;
     See the big round sun smile
       On my garden daily.
     The little plant is waking;
       Down the roots grow creeping;
     Up now come the leaflets
       Through the brown earth peeping.
     Soon the buds will laugh up
       Toward the springtime showers;
     Soon my buds will open
       Into happy flowers.



     This is the mother, so busy at home,
     Who loves her dear children, whatever may come.

     This is the father, so brave and so strong,
     Who works for his family all the day long.

     This is the brother, who'll soon be a man,
     He helps his good mother as much as he can.

     This is the sister, so gentle and mild,
     Who plays that the dolly is her little child.

     This is the baby, all dimpled and sweet,
     How soft his wee hands and his chubby pink feet!

     Father, and mother, and children so dear,
     Together you see them, one family here.

  [B] From "Songs and Music of Froebel's Mother Play"; used by permission
  of the publishers, D. Appleton & Co.

  [Illustration: IN DREAMLAND]


     Johnny shall have a new bonnet,
       And Johnny shall go to the fair,
     And Johnny shall have a new ribbon
       To tie up his bonny brown hair.

     And why may not I love Johnny?
       And why may not Johnny love me?
     And why may not I love Johnny?
       As well as another body?

     And here's a leg for a stocking,
       And here is a foot for a shoe,
     And he has a kiss for his daddy,
       And two for his mammy, I trow.

     And why may not I love Johnny?
       And why may not Johnny love me?
     And why may not I love Johnny
       As well as another body?



     To market ride the gentlemen,
       So do we, so do we;
     Then comes the country clown,
       Hobbledy gee, Hobbledy gee;
     First go the ladies, nim, nim, nim,
     Next come the gentlemen, trim, trim, trim;
     Then come the country clowns, gallop-a-trot.


         Here goes my lord--
     A trot! a trot! a trot! a trot!
         Here goes my lady--
     A canter! a canter! a canter! a canter!
         Here goes my young master--
     Jockey-hitch! jockey-hitch! jockey-hitch! jockey-hitch!
         Here goes my young miss--
     An amble! an amble! an amble! an amble!
         The footman lags behind,
     And goes gallop, a gallop, a gallop, to make up his time.


     A farmer went trotting upon his gray mare;
       Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
     With his daughter behind him, so rosy and fair;
       Lumpety, lumpety, lump!

     A raven cried croak! and they all tumbled down;
       Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
     The mare broke her knees, and the farmer his crown;
       Lumpety, lumpety, lump!

     The mischievous raven flew laughing away;
       Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
     And vowed he would serve them the same the next day;
       Lumpety, lumpety, lump!


     Up to the ceiling, down to the ground,
     Backward and forward, round and round;
     Dance, little baby, and mother will sing,
     With the merry chorus, ding, ding, ding!


     Here in the morning we're starting so soon,
     Give us a message, we'll ride to the moon,
     Straight through the meadows and hop o'er the stile,
     And we will but charge you a farthing a mile.
     A farthing a mile! a farthing a mile!
     We will but charge you a farthing a mile.


     Catch him, crow! Carry him, kite!
     Take him away till the apples are ripe;
     When they are ripe and ready to fall,
     Home comes [Johnny], apples and all.


     Ride a Cock-Horse to Charing Cross,
     To see a Young Lady jump on a White Horse,
     With Rings on her Fingers, and Bells on her Toes,
     She shall have Music wherever she goes.


     This is the way the ladies ride,
       Nin! Nin! Nin!
     This is the way the gentlemen ride,
       Trot! Trot! Trot!
     This is the way the farmers ride,
       Jogglety! Jogglety! Jogglety! Jog!


     Ride away, ride away,
       Johnny shall ride,
     And he shall have pussy-cat
       Tied to one side;
     And he shall have little dog
       Tied to the other,
     And Johnny shall ride
       To see his grandmother.


     To market, to market,
       To buy a plum bun;
     Home again, home again,
       My journey is done.



     Every evening Baby goes
       Trot, trot, to town--
     Across the river, through the fields,
       Up hill and down.

     Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
       Up hill and down,
     To buy a feather for her hat,
       To buy a woolen gown.

     Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
       The birds fly down, alack!
     "You cannot have our feathers, dear,"
       They say; "so please trot back."

     Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
       The lambs come bleating near.
     "You cannot have our wool," they say;
       "But we are sorry, dear."

     Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
       Trot, trot, to town.
     She buys a red rose for her hat,
       She buys a cotton gown.


     Ride a cock-horse to Banbury-cross,
       To see what Tommy can buy;
     A penny white loaf, a penny white cake,
       And a two-penny apple pie.

          *       *       *

     Ride a cock-horse to Shrewsbury-cross,
     To buy little Johnny a galloping horse;
     It trots behind and it ambles before,
     And Johnny shall ride till he can ride no more.

     Here we go UP, UP, UP!
     Here we DOWN, DOWN, DOWN!
     Here we go BACKWARDS and FORWARDS!
     And here we go AROUND AND AROUND!




  [Illustration: THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN


     I saw a ship a-sailing,
       A-sailing on the sea;
     And, oh! it was all laden
       With pretty things for thee!

     There were candies in the cabin,
       And apples in the hold;
     The sails were made of silk,
       And the masts were made of gold.

     The four-and-twenty sailors
       That stood between the decks,
     Were four-and-twenty white mice,
       With chains about their necks.

     The captain was a duck,
       With a packet on his back;
     And when the ship began to move,
       The captain cried, "Quack, quack!"


     Goosey, goosey, gander, where dost thou wander?
     Up stairs and down stairs, and in my lady's chamber;
     There I met an old man that would not say his prayers,
     I took him by his hind legs and threw him down stairs.


     Arthur O'Bower has broken his band,
     He comes roaring up the land--
     A King of Scots, with all his power,
     Cannot turn Arthur of the Bower.


     Once I saw a little bird
       Come hop, hop, hop,
     So I said, "Little bird,
       Will you stop, stop, stop?"

     I was going to the window
       To say, "How do you do?"
     But he shook his little tail
       And far away he flew.


     A pocket full of posies;
     Hush! hush! hush! hush!
     We're all tumbled down.


       Cross patch,
       Draw the latch,
     Sit by the fire and spin;

       Take a cup,
       And drink it up,
     And call your neighbors in.


     Merry are the bells, and merry would they ring;
     Merry was myself, and merry could I sing;
     With a merry ding-dong, happy, gay, and free,
     And a merry sing-song, happy let us be!

     Merry have we met, and merry have we been;
     Merry let us part, and merry meet again;
     With our merry sing-song, happy, gay, and free,
     And a merry ding-dong, happy let us be!


     There was an old woman tossed up in a basket,
       Nineteen times as high as the moon;
     Where she was going I couldn't but ask it
       For in her hand she carried a broom.

     "Old woman, old woman, old woman, quoth I,
       O whither, O whither, O whither so high?"
     "To brush the cobwebs off the sky!"
       "Shall I go with thee?" "Aye, by-and-by."

  [Illustration: _From a Drawing by Arthur Rackham_
       "Where she was going I couldn't but ask it,
        For in her hand she carried a broom."]


               The fox and his wife they had a great strife,
               They never ate mustard in all their whole life;
               They ate their meat without fork or knife,
                 And loved to be picking a bone, e-ho!

     The fox jumped up on a moonlight night,
     The stars they were shining, and all things bright.
     Oh, ho! said the fox, it's a very fine night
       For me to go through the town, e-ho!

               The fox when he came to yonder stile,
               He lifted his lugs and he listened awhile;
               Oh, ho, said the fox, it's but a short mile
                 From this unto yonder wee town, e-ho!

     The fox when he came to the farmer's gate,
     Who should he see but the farmer's drake;
     I love you well for your master's sake,
       And long to be picking your bone, e-ho!

               The gray goose she ran round the hay-stack.
               Oh, ho! said the fox, you are very fat;
               You'll grease my beard and ride on my back
                 From this unto yonder wee town e-ho!

     Old Gammer Hipple-hopple hopped out of bed,
     She opened the casement, and popped out her head.
     Oh! husband, oh! husband, the gray goose is dead,
       And the fox is gone through the town, oh!

               Then the old man got up in his red cap,
               And swore he would catch the fox in a trap;
               But the fox was too cunning, and gave him the slip,
                 And ran through the town, the town, e-oh!

     When he got to the top of the hill,
     He blew his trumpet both loud and shrill,
     For joy that he was safe
       Through the town, e-oh!

               When the fox came back to his den,
               He had young ones, both nine and ten.
               "You're welcome home, daddy; you may go again,
                 If you bring us such nice meat from the town, e-oh!"

  [Illustration: JACK FELL DOWN ...]


     Jack and Jill went up the hill,
       To draw a pail of water;
     Jack fell down and broke his crown,
       And Jill came tumbling after.

     Up Jack got, and home did trot
       As fast as he could caper;
     Went to bed to mend his head,
       With vinegar and brown paper.

     Jill came in, and she did grin
       To see his paper plaster;
     Mother, vexed, did whip her next
       For causing Jack's disaster.


     Willy boy, Willy boy, where are you going?
       I will go with you if I may
    "I'm going to the meadow to see them a-mowing,
       I'm going to help them make the hay."


     Bonny lass, bonny lass, wilt thou be mine?
     Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet serve the swine:
     Thou shalt sit on a cushion, and sew a fine seam,
     And thou shalt eat strawberries, sugar, and cream!


     Oh, where are you going,
       My pretty maiden fair,
     With your red rosy cheeks,
       And your coal-black hair?

     I'm going a-milking,
       Kind sir, says she,
     And it's dabbling in the dew
       Where you'll find me.


     Bobby Shaftoe's gone to sea,
     Silver buckles on his knee;
     He'll come back and marry me,
       Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.

     Bobby Shaftoe's fat and fair,
     Combing down his yellow hair,
     He's my love for evermair,
       Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.


                 Pussy's in the well.
       Who put her in? Little Johnny Green.
       Who pulled her out? Big Johnny Stout.
         What a naughty boy was that,
         To drown poor pussy cat,
       Who never did him any harm,
       And killed the mice in his father's barn.


     London bridge is broken down,
         Dance over my Lady Lee,
     London bridge is broken down,
         With a gay ladye.

     How shall we build it up again?
         Dance over my Lady Lee,
     How shall we build it up again?
         With a gay ladye.

     We'll build it up with gravel and stone,
         Dance over my Lady Lee,
     We'll build it up with gravel and stone,
         With a gay ladye.

     Gravel and stone will be washed away,
         Dance over my Lady Lee,
     Gravel and stone will be washed away,
         With a gay ladye.

     We'll build it up with iron and steel,
         Dance over my Lady Lee,
     We'll build it up with iron and steel,
         With a gay ladye.

     Iron and steel will bend and break,
         Dance over my Lady Lee,
     Iron and steel will bend and break,
         With a gay ladye.

     We'll build it up with silver and gold,
         Dance over my Lady Lee,
     We'll build it up with silver and gold,
         With a gay ladye.

     Silver and gold will be stolen away,
         Dance over my Lady Lee,
     Silver and gold will be stolen away,
         With a gay ladye.

     We'll set a man to watch it then,
         Dance over my Lady Lee,
     We'll set a man to watch it then,
         With a gay ladye.

     We'll put a pipe within his mouth,
         Dance over my Lady Lee,
     We'll put a pipe within his mouth,
         With a gay ladye.

  [Illustration: "Bobby Shaftoe's gone to sea."]


     All round the green gravel the grass grows so green,
     And all the pretty maids are fit to be seen,
     Wash them in milk, dress them in silk,
     And the first to go down shall be married in green.


       Old Mother Hubbard
       Went to the cupboard
     To get her poor dog a bone;
       But when she came there
       The cupboard was bare,
     And so the poor dog had none.

     She went to the baker's
       To buy him some bread,
     But when she came back
       The poor dog was dead.

     She went to the joiner's
       To buy him a coffin,
     But when she came back
       The poor dog was laughing.

     She went to the butcher's
       To get him some tripe,
     But when she came back
       He was smoking his pipe.

     She went to the hatter's
       To buy him a hat,
     But when she came back
       He was feeding the cat.

     She went to the barber's
       To buy him a wig,
     But when she came back
       He was dancing a jig.

     She went to the tailor's
       To buy him a coat,
     But when she came back
       He was riding a goat.

     She went to the cobbler's
       To buy him some shoes,
     But when she came back
       He was reading the news.

     She went to the seamstress
       To buy him some linen,
     But when she came back
       The dog was a-spinning.

     She went to the hosier's
       To buy him some hose,
     But when she came back
       He was dressed in his clothes.

     The dame made a curtsey,
       The dog made a bow;
     The dame said, "Your servant."
       The dog said, "Bow, wow."



     Little Bo-Peep, she lost her sheep,
       And can't tell where to find them;
     Leave them alone, and they'll come home,
       And bring their tails behind them.

     Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,
       And dreamed she heard them bleating;
     When she awoke she found it a joke,
       For they still were all fleeting.

     Then up she took her little crook,
       Determined for to find them,
     She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
       For they'd left their tails behind them!

     It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray
       Unto a meadow hard by--
     There she espied their tails side by side,
       All hung on a tree to dry.

     She heaved a sigh and wiped her eye,
       Then went over hill and dale,
     And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should,
       To tack to each sheep its tail.


     Boys and girls, come out to play,
     The moon does shine as bright as day;
     Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,
     And meet your playfellows in the street,
     Come with a whoop and come with a call,
     Come with a good will or not at all.
     Up the ladder and down the wall,
     A halfpenny roll will serve us all.
     You find milk and I'll find flour,
     And we'll have pudding in half an hour.


     Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree,
     Up went the Pussy-Cat, and down went he!
     Down came Pussy-Cat, away Robin ran,
     Says little Robin Redbreast--catch me if you can.

     Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a spade,
     Pussy-Cat jumped after him, and then he was afraid.
     Little Robin chirped and sung, and what did Pussy say?
     Pussy-Cat said Mew, mew, mew--and Robin flew away.


     Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn,
     The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn.
     What! Is this the way you mind your sheep,
     Under the haycock, fast asleep?


           My maid Mary
           She minds her dairy,
     While I go a-hoeing and mowing each morn.
           Merrily runs the reel
           And the little spinning-wheel
     While I am singing and mowing my corn.


         Hark! Hark!
         The dogs do bark!
     The beggars are come to town;

         Some in rags,
         Some in jags,
     And some in velvet gowns.

          *       *       *

     Whose Dog art thou?
     Little Tom Tinker's Dog,


     Blow, wind, blow! and go, mill, go!
     That the miller may grind his corn;
     That the baker may take it,
     And into rolls make it,
     And send us some hot in the morn.


     Bye, Baby bunting,
     Father's gone a-hunting,
       Mother's gone a-milking,
       Sister's gone a-silking,
     And Brother's gone to buy a skin,
     To wrap the Baby bunting in.


     Three little kittens, they lost their mittens,
       And they began to cry:
         "O mother dear,
         We very much fear,
       That we have lost our mittens."
         Lost your mittens!
         You naughty kittens!
       Then you shall have no pie.
           "Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow,"
       No, you shall have no pie.
           "Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow."

     The three little kittens, they found their mittens,
       And they began to cry:
         "O mother dear,
         See here, see here!
       See! we have found our mittens."
         Put on your mittens
         You silly kittens,
       And you may have some pie.
           "Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r,
       O let us have the pie.
           Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r."

     The three little kittens put on their mittens,
       And soon ate up the pie;
         "O mother dear,
         We greatly fear,
       That we have soiled our mittens."
         Soiled your mittens!
         You naughty kittens!
       Then they began to sigh,
           "Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow."
       Then they began to sigh,
           "Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow."

     The three little kittens, they washed their mittens.
       And hung them out to dry;
         "O mother dear,
         Do you not hear,
       That we have washed our mittens?"
         Washed your mittens!
         Oh, you're good kittens.
       But I smell a rat close by;
           Hush! Hush! "Mee-ow, mee-ow.
       We smell a rat close by,
           Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow."


     Tom, Tom was a piper's son,
     He learned to play when he was young,
     And all the tune that he could play
     Was "Over the hills and far away."
     Over the hills, and a great way off,
     The wind will blow my top-knot off.

     Now, Tom with his pipe made such a noise
     That he well pleased both the girls and boys,
     And they always stopped to hear him play
     "Over the hills and far away."


     Daffy-down-dilly is new come to town,
     With a petticoat green, and a bright yellow gown,
     And her white blossoms are peeping around.


     Oh, where have you been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
       Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?
     "I have been to seek a wife,
     She's the joy of my life,
       She's a young thing and cannot leave her mother."

     What work can she do, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
       What work can she do, charming Billy?
     "She can brew and she can bake,
     She can make a wedding cake--
       She's a young thing and cannot leave her mother."

     Can she make a cherry pie, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
       Can she make a cherry pie, charming Billy?
     "She can make a cherry pie
     Quick's cat can wink her eye--
       She's a young thing and cannot leave her mother."

     How old is she, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
       How old is she, charming Billy?
     "She is three times six, four times seven,
     Twenty-eight and eleven--
       She's a young thing and cannot leave her mother."


     Three wise men of Gotham
     Went to sea in a bowl,
     And if the bowl had been stronger
     My song had been longer.


     "Little Tommy Tucker,
       Sing for your supper."
     "What shall I sing?"
       "White bread and butter."
     "How shall I cut it
       Without any knife?
     How shall I marry
       Without any wife?"


     Nine little mice sat down to spin;
     Pussy passed by, and she peeped in.
     "What are you at, my little men?"
     "Making coats for gentlemen."
     "Shall I come in and bite off your threads?"
     "No, no, Miss Pussy, you'll snip off our heads."


     When I was a little boy, I lived by myself,
     And all the bread and cheese I got I put upon a shelf;
     The rats and the mice, they made such a strife,
     I was forced to go to London to buy me a wife.
     The streets were so broad, and the lanes were so narrow,
     I was forced to bring my wife home in a wheelbarrow;
     The wheelbarrow broke, and my wife had a fall,
     And down came the wheelbarrow, wife, and all.




     What a bonny little fellow is this fat boy of mine!
       He makes people die of joy!
     What a fine little fellow is this fat boy of mine!
       Now whose is this loving little boy?

     [Illustration: THE LITTLE FAT BOY.]

       Do you want to buy a beauty?
       Do you want to buy a beauty?
     If you buy him he will watch your house,
       And do it as his duty.

     And no matter as to servants,
       You may have them or may not,
     But you'll never need to lock your door,
       Or give your house a thought.

  [Illustration: A FINGER TEST.]


     You strike three times on the top, you see,
     And strike three times on the bottom for me,
     Then top and bottom you strike very fast,
     And open a door in the middle at last.



     Mrs. Chang, Mrs. Lee,
     Mama has a small babee;
     Stands up firm,
     Sits up straight,
     Won't eat milk,
     But lives on cake.

  [Illustration: OUR BABY.]



     My little golden sister
       Rides a golden horse slow,
     And we'll use a golden whip
       If the horse doesn't go.

     A little gold fish
       In a gold bowl we see,
     And a gold-colored bird
       On a gold-blossomed tree.

     A gold-plated god
       In a gold temple stands,
     With a gold-plated baby
       In his gold-plated hands.


(_A Chinese finger-play_)

     Three horses are drinking,
       Three horses are feeding,
     The two men are fighting,
       The old woman pleading,
     The baby is crying,
       But no one is heeding.

  [Illustration: TEN FINGERS.]



     A plum blossom foot,
       And a pudding face sweet;
     He's taller when he's sitting
       Than when standing on his feet.

  [Illustration: A RIDDLE.]


(_Another finger-play_)

     A great big brother,
       And a little brother so,
     A big bell-tower,
       And a temple and a show,
     And little baby wee, wee,
       Always wants to go.

  [Illustration: THE FIVE FINGERS.]


     Ladybug, ladybug,
       Fly away, do;
     Fly to the mountain,
       And feed upon dew.

     Feed upon dew,
       And sleep on a rug,
     And then run away
       Like a good little bug.


  [Illustration: LADYBUG.]


     Oh, my dear brother spider,
       With your body big and red,
     From the eaves you are hanging
       On a single little thread.

  [Illustration: THE SPIDER.]



     The wily Emperor Tsin Chi-hwang
     He built a wall both great and strong.
     The steps were narrow, but the wall was stout,
     So it kept the troublesome Tartars out.


"Pussy cat, Pussy cat"

     "Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?"
     "I've been to London, to see the Queen."
     "Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you there?"
     "I frightened a little mouse under the chair."

     "What did you say when you'd made your best bow?"
     "I opened my mouth and remarked '_miaow_.'"
     "What did the Queen say in answer to that?"
     "She screamed a little, and then she said, 'SCAT!'"

Little Boy Blue

    "Little boy Blue, come blow your horn,
     The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn.
     Is this the way you mind your sheep,--
     Under the haystack, fast asleep?"

     Little boy Blue, awake, awake,
     And see how merry your charges make!
     Through field and garden their course they steer,
     And the mischief they're doing,--oh dear, oh dear!


     "Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man
       Bake me a cake as quick as you can
     Pat it and prick it, and mark it with B,
       And put it in the oven for baby and me."

     Hurry it, hurry it, baker's man;
     Bring it to us as quick as you can.
     I hope it has raisins by way of surprise,
     And little black currants that look just like eyes.

     Here it comes, here it comes, baby mine.
     Never was cake that was half so fine;
     Brown as a berry, and hot from the pan,--
     Thank you, oh thank you, you good baker's man!

          *       *       *

     "Hickory, dickory, dock.
     The mouse ran up the clock,
       The clock struck one,
       The mouse ran down,--
     Hickory, dickory, dock."

     Hickory, dickory, dock,
     Again he tried the clock,
       This time,--don't frown,--
       The _clock_ ran down!
     Hickory, dickory, dock.



     How shall I go to Babylon?
       Who will tell me true?
     Oh, there are trains, and there are boats,
       And automobiles too.

     And one may ride a bicycle,
       Or go in a balloon;
     Or one may travel on his feet
       And get there 'most as soon.

     For trains go off the track, you see,
       And boats go down below;
     And automobiles go to smash
       In ways that none may know.

     And tires of bicycles go pop,
       Balloons will go and balk,
     So taking all in all, I think
       If I were you, I'd walk.

Hark! Hark!

       Hark, Hark the dogs do bark!
     The beggars have come to town.
     Some in rags, and some in tags,
       And some in velvet gowns.

     Hear, hear, they're drawing near!
       Just hark to the tramp of feet!
     So haste about, set tables out,
       And get them food to eat.

     Run, run, the turkey's done!
       I hope it is nicely dressed,
     For those who shirk and will not work
       Are sure to want the best.

There Was an Old Woman

    "There was an old woman
     Who lived in a shoe,
     Who had so many children
     She didn't know what to do
     She gave them some broth
     Without any bread
     And whipped them all soundly
     And sent them to bed."

     There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
     She had so many children she didn't know what to do;
     She gave them some broth without any bread;
     She whipped them all soundly, and put them to bed.

     Now it happened that Santa Claus,
       Passing that way,
     Peeped into the shoe top
       And saw how they lay--
     With their round, rosy faces
       All shining with tears,
     And resolved to do something
       To comfort the dears.

     So while they were sleeping
       In woful array,
     He bundled those children
       Right into his sleigh;
     And cracking his whip
       As his reindeers sped forth,
     Away they all flew
       To his home in the North.

     What wonders he showed them,
       Such beautiful toys!
     Such dolls for the girls,
       And such drums for the boys!
     Such farms and such stables,
       Such monkeys and bears,
     Such dishes and tables
       And tiny dolls' chairs!

     And when they had seen
       All the wonderful things
     Which each winter, at Christmas,
       Dear Santa Claus brings,
     He gave them, to make
       Their enchantment complete,
     Just all of the candy
       And cake they could eat.

     When they told of their travels,
       Their mother, it seems,
     Only laughed, and declared
       They were nothing but dreams.
     I am sure, though, things _must_
       Have occurred as they say,
     Else why were they, all of them,
       Ill the next day?

Humpty Dumpty

    "Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
     Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
     All the King's horses and all the King's men
     Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again."

     There he lay, stretched out on the ground,
     While all the company gathered around;
     When, valiantly stifling his tears and his groans,
     He sadly addressed them in quavering tones.

    "Friends," said Humpty, wiping his eyes,
    "This sudden descent was an awful surprise.
     It inclines me to think,--you may laugh at my views,--
     That a seat that is humble is safest to choose.

    "All are not fitted to sit on a wall,
     Some have no balance, and some are too small;
     Many have tried it and found, as I guess,
     They've ended, like me, in a terrible mess.

    "Hark, you horses, and all you king's men!
     Hear it, and never forget it again!
     'Tis those who are patient in seats that are low,
     Who some day get up in high places and crow."

     Then they took him and put him to bed.
     I hope you'll remember the things that he said;
     For all the king's horses and all the king's men
     Never once thought of his sermon again.

The Queen of Hearts

    "The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts
         All on a summer's day
     The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts
         And with them ran away.
     The King of Hearts called for the tarts
         And beat the Knave full sore.
     The Knave of Hearts brought back the tarts,
         And vowed he'd steal no more."

     This noble queen, with mind serene,
       Then made a mammoth cake.
     The naughty knave for cake did crave,
       And off with it did make.
     The haughty king, for punishing,
       Would have him eat it all,
     Which made the knave--unhappy slave--
       Too sick to speak or crawl.

     Since then, at ease, their majesties
       Eat pastries every day.
     The knave affirms his stomach squirms,
       And looks the other way.
     Alas, alas, to such a pass
       Doth gluttony invite!
     'Tis very sad to be so bad,
       And lose one's appetite.

     Next day the queen, with lofty mien,
       Prepared some lovely pies.
     The feeble knave side-glances gave
       At them with longing eyes.
     The cruel king, with mocking fling,
       Said: "Do, now, have some pie!"
     The qualmish knave, no longer brave,
       Could only groan, "Not I."

One Misty Moisty Morning

        "One misty, moisty morning
         When cloudy was the weather
     I chanced to meet an old man clothed all in leather.
     He began to compliment, and I began to grin,
     How do you do, and how do you do
         And how do you do again?"

         This morning as I wandered
         To enjoy the charming weather,
     I met a man in goggles and a modern suit of leather.
     He began to toot a horn and I began to run,
     He knocked me flat nor cared for that;
         And down the road he spun.


     "Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
      And a merry old soul was he:
      He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl,
      And he called for his fiddlers three.
      Every fiddler had a fine fiddle,
      And a very fine fiddle had he:
      (Twee-tweedle-dee, tweedle-dee, went the fiddlers three)--
      Oh, there's none so rare as can compare
        With King Cole and his fiddlers three!"

     Good Queen Kate was his royal mate,
       And a right royal mate was she:
     She would frequently state that carousing till late
       Was something that never should be.
     But every fiddler had such a fine fiddle,--
       Oh, such a fine fiddle had he,--
     That old King Cole, in his inmost soul,
       Was as restive as he could be.

     When thus spoke she to his majesty,
       He planted his crown on tight.
     "We will wait," whispered he to the fiddlers three,
       "Till the Queen has retired for the night."
     Every fiddler then tuned up his fiddle,
       And tuned it as true as could be:
     While old King Cole got his pipe and bowl
       And replenished them secretly.

     So gay they grew as the night hours flew,
       He forgot how the time sped away;
     Till swift overhead he heard the Queen's tread
     As she sprang out of bed, when he hurriedly said
       They might finish the tune the next day.
     Every fiddler he had a fine fiddle,
       And a very fine fiddle had he:
     Oh, 't was not fair such a concert rare
       Should be ended so suddenly!


     "Pussy sits beside the fire
        How can she be fair?
      Then comes in the little dog.
        "Pussy, are you there?
      So so, dear Mistress Pussy,
        Pray tell me how you do?"
     "Indeed, I thank you little dog,
        I'm very well just now."

     "Fy, pussy, what a lazy cat,
        On such a pleasant day
      To sit and drowse beside the fire
        And sleep the hours away!
      A self-respecting dog would think
        Himself a sorry cur,
      If he did nothing all day long
        But fold his arms and purr!"

     "Now, sir, you needn't criticize
        Because I sit and blink,
      For while my eyes are shut, like this,
        I think, and think, and think.
      And when I purr, please understand
        I work with all my might,
      A-humming over songs I sing
        When I go out at night.

     "Excuse me. Now I'll close my eyes,
        And think a little more.
      On busy days like this, I show
        My visitors the door.
      'T is only little dogs who judge
        That one must idle be,
      Unless one's chasing round and round
       Or barking up a tree."


    "The north wind doth blow, and we shall have snow,
     And what will the robin do then, poor thing?
     He'll sit in the barn and keep himself warm,
     And hide his head under his wing, poor thing."

     But never a word of plaint will be heard
     From robin, no matter how tired and cold;
     For well will he know that the winter will go,
     And the blossoms and greenness of spring unfold.

     And when the warm sun says winter is done,
     He'll gladden us all with his cheery song;
     And never will fret if the season is wet,
     Or wail that the winter was hard and long.


    "I had a little husband
     No bigger than my thumb,
     I put him in a pint pot,
     And there I bid him drum
     I bought a little handkerchief
     To wipe his little nose,
     And a pair of little garters
     To tie his little hose."

     I bought a little carriage
       And took him out to ride,
     And yet with all my efforts
       He wasn't satisfied.
     I never would have married,
       Now this I do declare,--
     If I'd supposed a husband
       Was such an awful care.

There was a man in our town

    "There was a man in our town,
     And he was wondrous wise
     He jumped into a bramble bush
     And scratched out both his eyes.
     And when he saw his eyes were out,
     With all his might and main
     He jumped into another bush
     And scratched them in again."

     This clever man then hastened on
       And bought a pair of shears,
     But when he tried to cut with them,
       He snipped off both his ears.
     And when he heard his ears were off,
       ('T was told him o'er and o'er),
     He seized the shears and snipped them back
       As they had been before.

    "Because," said he, "wise men like me,
       Who travel round about,
     And keep their eyes, and use them well,
       May find some people out.
     And if they also use their ears,
       And hark what hearsay brings,
     They're likewise pretty sure to hear
       Some very funny things."


     "See saw, sacaradown,
     Which is the way to Boston town?
     One foot up, the other foot down.
     That is the way to Boston town."

     See saw, steady and slow!
     Other places there are, I know,
     But they are not worth the trouble to go,
     For Boston people have told me so.

Sing a Song o' sixpence

     "Sing a song o' sixpence
       Pocket full of rye;
     Four-and-twenty blackbirds
       Baked in a pie.
     When the pie was opened
       The birds began to sing
     Was not this a dainty dish
       To set before the King?

     The King was in his counting-house
     Counting out his money;
     The Queen was in the parlor,
     Eating bread and honey.
     The maid was in the garden
     Hanging out the clothes
     When along came a blackbird
     And nipped off her nose."

     Sing a song o' sixpence
       A pocket full of rye;
     I know another blackbird
       Baked in a pie.
     The maid it was who baked it
       With all her might and main,
     Resolved there'd be one blackbird
       That shouldn't nip again.


    "I love little pussy, her coat is so warm,
     And if I don't hurt her, she'll do me no harm.
     I'll sit by the fire and give her some food,
     And pussy will love me because I am good."

     I never will dress her again, that is sure.
     Her scratches, you see, are not easy to cure.
     And I find that it takes much more time than you'd guess,
     To sew up the rents in my dolly's best dress.

     I'd give a good deal, if it wasn't for that,
     To see how she'd look in my dolly's new hat.
     But no, I'll not try it, you never can tell;
     And politeness is best till one's scratches get well.

The Horner Brothers

BY Elizabeth Raymond Woodward

     Jack Horner had three brothers,
       Their names were Horner, too--
     One was James, and one was George,
       And the little one was Hugh.
     And they always did exactly
       What they saw Jackie do--
     James and George and the littlest one,
       The one whose name was Hugh.

     So when Jack's Christmas pie was made,
       They made three others, too--
     One for James, and one for George,
       And a little one for Hugh.
     And _they_ sat up in corners,
       As they'd seen Jackie do--
     James and George and the littlest one,
       The one whose name was Hugh.

     I'm sure 't was _very_ lucky
       (Does it not seem so to you?)
     That the room had just four corners
     For Jack James George and Hugh
     For if Jackie had a corner,
       There _must_ be corners, too,
     For James and George and the littlest one,
       The one whose name was Hugh.

          *       *       *

     A little old man
       with a shiny bald head
     Was told by his wife
       they were all out of bread.
     He puckered his lips
       and replied with a frown,
     "Then bring me some toast
       that is crusty and brown."



     There was a man in our town,
       And all he did each day
     Was to skip and hop along the streets
       And on a trumpet play.


     The most wonderful sight I ever did see
     Was an owl on the branch of our old oak-tree;
     His eyes were so large and his head was so small
     That he seemed all eyes and no head at all.


     Afloat, afloat, in a golden boat!
       Hoist the sail to the breeze!
     Steer by a star to lands afar
       That sleep in the southern seas,
       And then come home to our teas!

An Up-to-date Pussy-cat.

     Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?
     I've been to London in my new machine.
     Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you there?
     The auto broke down and was hard to repair.
                         Adeline Knapp.


     The rain is falling,
       The fire is out!
     Jane has the toothache,
       John has the gout!



     The king and queen went out to-day,
     A-riding on a load of hay.
     The king fell off and lost his crown,
     The queen fell, too, and tore her gown.

  [Illustration: Old Mother Goose.]


By Ellen Manly.

     Once on a time there lived a child--so it was told to me--
       Who never heard of Mother Goose and her fine family.
     The man who lived up in the moon he saw her with his eyes,
       And told the shocking story to the Man so Wondrous Wise,
     Who said the proper thing to do in such a case would be
       To send the dreadful news at once to good old Mother G.

     So off he ran to Old King Cole and told the Fiddlers Three,
       And Old King Cole said, "Bless my soul! such things must never be!"
     And, putting up his pipe, dispatched a Fiddler in a trice
       To find Jack Horner and request the aid of his advice.

     Jack Horner cried; "Alack-a-day! and can it really be,
       There lives a child who never heard about my pie and me?
     I cannot spread the news myself--I'm busy finding plums.
       You'd better ask the King of France when next this way he comes!"

     The King of France was close at hand, a-marching up the hill,
       But kindly turned his men about to search for Jack and Jill;
     And Jack and Jill, with all good-will, they hunted up Bo-Peep,
       And then they wakened poor Boy Blue, beside the hay asleep.

     Bo-Peep she left her wandering sheep; Boy Blue he blew his horn,
       And sent the Knave of Hearts to tell the Maiden all Forlorn.
     John Barleycorn, he heard the news, and Tom the Piper's Son;
       And Tom set out to find John Stout as fast as he could run.

     The story shocked Miss Muffet so she dropped her curds and whey
       And flew to Mother Hubbard's house, but found her gone away
     To buy her poor old dog a bone, and so she told Jack Sprat
       As he was lecturing Tommy Green for drowning pussy cat.

     Brave Tommy Tucker stopped his song at hearing what she said,
       And, quite forgetting supper-time, his butter and his bread,
     To Mary Quite Contrary went, as in the garden row
       She raked the shells and silver bells that she had coaxed to grow!

     Then Mary left her precious flowers and ran with might and main,
       (The Man in Leather lent his coat in case it chanced to rain),
     And came to Mother Goose's farm before Bow Bells could ring,
       Which, Little Polly Flinders said, was quite a lucky thing.

     Within her cosy little house beneath the jimcrack-tree
       The worthy dame was just about to brew a cup of tea.
     But when she heard the dreadful news she let the teapot fall,
       And for her Sunday cap and gown impatiently did call.

    "Quick! get my steeple hat," quoth she, "my newest high heeled shoes,
       And bring my gander to the door; there is no time to lose!
     I must away to Santa Claus before the set of sun,
       To tell him this alarming tale and see what can be done!"

     She wrapped her in her scarlet cloak, she donned her steeple hat;
       The gander flapped his lovely wings and circled like a bat,
     And then the noble bird away to Christmas Land did soar,
       Nor slackened speed till they arrived at Santa Claus's door!

     Good Santa Claus was overjoyed his dear old friend to see,
       And treated her to cake and nuts from off a Christmas tree.
     Just what was said on either side I can't exactly tell,
       As nobody was near enough to hear it very well.

     But this I've learned: old Santa Claus that very Christmas took
       That poor, benighted little child a most enchanting book,
     And now she knows old Mother Goose--her children great and small,
       And, as good little folks should do, she dearly loves them all!



By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

     Sweet and low, sweet and low,
       Wind of the Western Sea.
     Low, low, breathe and blow,
       Wind of the Western Sea!
     Over the rolling waters go,
     Come from the dying Moon, and blow,
       Blow him again to me;
     While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

     Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
       Father will come to thee soon;
     Rest, rest on Mother's breast,
       Father will come to thee soon;
     Father will come to his Babe in the Nest,
     Silver sails all out of the West
       Under the Silver Moon;
     Sleep, my little one, sleep my pretty one, sleep.



One night Arabella and Araminta's mamma was sewing, and their papa was
reading his newspaper. And there was a fire in the grate--a warm, bright
fire in the grate.

And Arabella sat on the rug before the fire, and Araminta sat on the rug
before the fire.

And Arabella was playing with her little white kitty, and Araminta was
playing with her little black kitty.

And Arabella's little white kitty's name was Annabel, and Araminta's
little black kitty's name was Lillabel.

Arabella had a little red ball fastened to a long string, and Araminta
had a little blue ball fastened to a long string. Arabella would roll
her ball, and her little white kitty would run and jump for it. And
Araminta would roll her ball, and her little black kitty would run and
jump for it.

The kittens were so cunning and funny, and they were having such a
splendid time.

Sometimes when Arabella's kitty would run very fast, or jump very high,
Arabella would laugh until she tumbled right over on the floor.

And sometimes when Araminta's kitty would run very fast, or jump very
high, Araminta would laugh until she would tumble right over on the

Oh, they were having a splendid time.

But all at once their mamma looked up from her sewing, and said,
"Good-night, Arabella. Good-night, Araminta. The clock is on the stroke
of eight."

And their papa looked up from his paper, and said, "Yes, good-night,
Arabella. Good-night, Araminta. The clock is on the stroke of eight."

And Arabella said, "Oh, must we go to bed right now?"

And Araminta said, "Oh, must we go to bed right now?"

And their papa said, "Yes, indeed; yes, indeed. Good-night, Arabella.
Good-night, Araminta. The clock is on the stroke of eight."

Always, when it was bedtime, their papa and mamma would say,
"Good-night, Arabella. Good-night, Araminta."

And sometimes they were good, and sometimes they were bad; but they
always ran away to bed.

And their dear mamma always went with them and tucked them in and kissed
them, and then came away downstairs and left them. And sometimes they
were good, and sometimes they were bad; but they always went to sleep.

But to-night their mamma said,

     "Run and get your nighties, dears,
       And get each a flannel gown,
     And we'll sit and rock you here,
       Till you go to sleepy-town."

And Arabella ran upstairs and got her nighty and her little flannel
gown. And Araminta ran upstairs and got her nighty and her little
flannel gown. And their mamma undressed Arabella, and their papa
undressed Araminta.

Arabella's little flannel gown was red, and Araminta's little flannel
gown was pink. When they had put them on over their nighties they were
just as warm as toast.

Arabella's kitty was playing with Araminta's kitty on the rug before the
fire. They were rolling and tumbling and chasing each other, and they
looked so cunning and sweet.

And Arabella's mamma took Arabella on her lap, and Araminta's papa took
Araminta on his lap.

Arabella said, "Oh, I want my kitty in my lap, mamma!"

And Araminta said, "Oh, I want my kitty in my lap, papa!"

So they jumped down and caught the kitties.

Their mamma rocked Arabella, and their papa rocked Araminta; and they
sang to them,

     "Now a nice little rock,
      And never mind the clock,
      Now a nice little rock,
      And never mind the clock!"

And they sang it over, and over, and over.

     "Now a nice little rock,
      And never mind the clock,
      Now a nice little rock,
      And never mind the clock!"

And Arabella cuddled in her mamma's arms, and hugged her little kitty
close; and Araminta cuddled in her papa's arms, and hugged her little
kitty close.

And their mamma sang, and their papa sang,

     "Now she goes to sleepy-town, sleepy-town, sleepy-town;
      Cuddled in her little gown, here she goes to sleepy-town."

And they sang it over, and over, and over.

     "Now she goes to sleepy-town, sleepy-town, sleepy-town;
      Cuddled in her little gown, here she goes to sleepy-town."

And very soon Arabella could only just hear her mamma singing, and very
soon Araminta could only just hear her papa singing, "Sleepy-town,
sleepy-town." And soon they couldn't hear them at all. They were sound

And their mamma looked at their papa, and said, "Our precious little
dears are both sound asleep."

And their papa said, "Yes, our little pets have both reached

And Arabella's mamma carried her upstairs and put her in her little bed,
and Araminta's papa carried her upstairs and put her in her little bed.
And Arabella was hugging her white kitty up close in her arms and
Araminta was hugging her black kitty up close in her arms. And the
kitties were both sound asleep, too.

But Arabella's kitty and Araminta's kitty did not sleep with them all
night--oh, no indeed! They had a nice little, warm little, soft little
bed down in the basement, close to the furnace.

And their papa took the kitties out of their arms, and carried them down
to their bed.

And Arabella slept, and slept, and slept, and slept, and slept. And
Araminta slept, and slept, and slept, and slept, and slept.

And the little kitties in their soft little bed slept, and slept, too.
All through the long, dark, beautiful night they slept.

And the sun came, and the morning came, and it was another day!

  [C] From "Arabella and Araminta Stories." Used by permission of
  publishers, Small, Maynard & Co., Boston.



"How can I go to bed," said Penny, the flossy dog, "till I say
good-night to Baby Ray? He gives me part of his bread and milk, and pats
me with his little, soft hand. It is bedtime now for dogs and babies. I
wonder if he is asleep?"

So he trotted along in his silky, white nightgown till he found Baby Ray
on the porch in mamma's arms.

And she was telling him the same little story that I am telling you:

     The doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
     Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said Snowdrop and Thistledown, the youngest
children of Tabby, the cat, "till we have once more looked at Baby Ray?
He lets us play with his blocks and ball, and laughs when we climb on
the table. It is bedtime now for kitties and dogs and babies. Perhaps
we shall find him asleep." And this is what the kitties heard:

     One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
     Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
     Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said the three little Bunnies, "till we have
seen Baby Ray?" Then away they went in their white, velvet nightgowns as
softly as three flakes of snow. And they, too, when they got as far as
the porch, heard Ray's mamma telling the same little story:

     One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
     Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
     Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap,
     Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said the four white Geese, "till we know that
Baby Ray is all right? He loves to watch us sail on the duck-pond, and
he brings us corn in his little blue apron. It is bedtime now for geese
and rabbits and kitties and dogs and babies, and he really ought to be

So they waddled away in their white, feather nightgowns, around by the
porch, where they saw Baby Ray, and heard mamma tell the "Go-Sleep"

     One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
     Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
     Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap,
     Four geese from the duck-pond, deep, deep, deep,
     Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

"How can we go to bed," said the five white Chicks, "till we have seen
Baby Ray once more? He scatters crumbs for us and calls us. Now it is
bedtime for chicks and geese and rabbits and kittens and dogs and
babies, so little Ray must be asleep."

Then they ran and fluttered in their downy, white nightgowns till they
came to the porch, where little Ray was just closing his eyes, while
mamma told the "Go-Sleep" story:

     One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
     Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
     Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap,
     Four geese from the duck-pond, deep, deep, deep,
     Five downy little chicks, crying peep, peep, peep,
     All saw that Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.

  [D] Used by permission of _The Youth's Companion_.

  [Illustration: THE LAND OF NOD]



     So it is over, the long bright Day,
       And little Maid Twilight, quiet and meek,
     Comes stealing along in her creep-mouse way
       Whispering low--for she may not speak--
     "The Gentle Dark is coming to play
       At a game of Hide and Seek."

     Some babies are cross when she whispers them this,
       And some are afraid and begin to cry.
     I never can think what they find amiss.
       Afraid of the Dark! I wonder why.
     The Gentle Dark that falls like a kiss
       Down from the sleepy sky.

     O Gentle Dark, we know you are kind
       By the lingering touch of your cool soft hand;
     As over our eyes the veil you bind
       We shut them tight at word of command,
     You are only playing at Hoodman-Blind,
       A game that we understand.

     The voice is tender (O little one, hark!),
       The eyes are kindly under the hood,
     Blow out the candle, leave not a spark,
       Trusting your friend as a playmate should.
     Hold up your arms to the Gentle Dark,
       The Dark that is kind and good.

  [E] From "A Year of Song," by W. Grahame Robertson; used by permission
  of the publishers, John Lane Company.


     Sway to and fro in the twilight gray;
       This is the ferry for Shadowtown;
     It always sails at the end of the day,
       Just as the darkness closes down.

     Rest little head, on my shoulder, so;
       A sleepy kiss is the only fare,
     Drifting away from the world, we go,
       Baby and I in the rocking-chair.

     See where the fire-logs glow and spark,
       Glitter the lights of the shadowland,
     The raining drops on the window, hark!
       Are ripples lapping upon its strand.

     There, where the mirror is glancing dim,
       A lake lies shimmering, cool and still.
     Blossoms are waving above its brim,
       Those over there on the window-sill.

     Rock slow, more slow in the dusky light,
       Silently lower the anchor down;
     Dear little passenger, say "Good-night."
       We've reached the harbor of Shadowtown.


     Hush-a-bye, baby, in the tree top:
     When the wind blows, the cradle will rock;
     When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
     Down will come baby, cradle, and all.



     See the kitten on the wall,
     Sporting with the leaves that fall,
     Withered leaves--one--two--and three--
     From the lofty elder tree!
     Through the calm and frosty air
     Of this morning bright and fair,
     Eddying round and round they sink
     Softly, slowly: one might think
     From the motions that are made,
     Every little leaf conveyed
     Sylph or fairy hither tending,
     To this lower world descending,
     Each invisible and mute,
     In his wavering parachute.
     But the kitten, how she starts,
     Crouches, stretches, paws and darts!
     First at one and then its fellow,
     Just as light and just as yellow;
     There are many now--now one--
     Now they stop and there are none:
     What intenseness of desire
     In her upward eye of fire!
     With a tiger-leap, halfway,
     Now she meets the coming prey;
     Lets it go as fast and then
     Has it in her power again.
     Now she works with three or four,
     Like an Indian conjuror;
     Quick as he in feats of art,
     Far beyond in joy of heart.


By Josephine Preston Peabody

     My father brought Somebody up
       To show us all asleep.
     They came as softly up the Stairs
       As you could creep.

     They whispered in the Doorway there,
       And looked at us awhile.
     I had my Eyes shut up, but I
       Could feel him smile.

     I shut my Eyes up close, and lay
       As still as I could keep.
     Because I knew He wanted us
       To be asleep.

From "The Book of the Little Past," by Josephine Preston Peabody;
used by permission of the publishers, Houghton Mifflin Co.



     When the sun has left the hilltop,
       And the daisy-fringe is furled,
     When the birds from wood and meadow
       In their hidden nests are curled,
     Then I think of all the babies
       That are sleeping in the world.

     There are babies in the high lands
       And babies in the low,
     There are pale ones wrapped in furry skins
       On the margin of the snow,
     And brown ones naked in the isles
       Where all the spices grow.

     And some are in the palace,
       On a white and downy bed;
     And some are in the garret,
       With a clout beneath their head;
     And some are on the cold, hard earth,
       Whose mothers have no bread.

     O little men and women,
       Dear flowers yet unblown--
     O little kings and beggars
       Of the pageant yet unshown--
     Sleep soft and dream pale dreams now,
       To-morrow is your own.


     Hush, Dolly, bye, Dolly, sleep, Dolly, dear,
     See what a bed, Dolly, I've for you here;
     Therefore, to sleep, Dolly! don't fret and cry;
     Lay down your head, Dolly, shut up your eye.

     When the bright morn, Dolly, once more has come,
     Up gets the sun, and goes forth to roam;
     Then shall my dear Dolly soon get up, too;
     Then shall be playtime for me and for you.

     Now go to sleep, Dolly, good night to you;
     You must to bed, Dolly--I'm going too;
     Just go to sleep without trouble or pain,
     And in the morning I'll come back again.


     I see a nest in a green elm-tree
     With little brown sparrows--one, two, three!
     The elm-tree stretches its branches wide,
     And the nest is soft and warm inside.
     At morn the sun, so golden bright,
     Climbs up to fill the world with light;
     It opens the flowers, it wakens me,
     And wakens the birdies--one, two, three.
     And leaning out of my window high,
     I look far up at the blue, blue sky,
     And then far out at the earth so green,
     And think it the loveliest ever seen--
     The loveliest world that ever was seen!



     Little birds sleep sweetly
       In their soft round nests,
     Crouching in the cover
       Of their mother's breasts.
     Little lambs lie quiet,
       All the summer night,
     With their old ewe mothers,
       Warm, and soft, and white.

     But more sweet and quiet
       Lie our little heads,
     With our own dear mothers
       Sitting by our beds;
     And their soft sweet voices
       Sing our hush-a-byes,
     While the room grows darker,
       As we shut our eyes.

     And we play at evening
       Round our father's knees;
     Birds are not so merry,
       Singing on the trees,
     Lambs are not so happy,
       'Mid the meadow flowers;
     They have play and pleasure,
       But not love like ours.


     Rock-a-bye, baby, your cradle is green,
     Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen,
     And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring,
     And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the King.



       The rosy clouds float overhead
         The sun is going down,
       And now the Sandman's gentle tread
         Comes stealing through the town.
       "White sand, white sand," he softly cries,
         And as he shakes his hand,
       Straightway there lies on babies' eyes
         His gift of shining sand.
       Blue eyes, black eyes, gray eyes and brown,
     As shuts the rose, they softly close,
           when he goes through the town.

       From sunny beaches far away--
         Yes, in another land--
       He gathers up at break of day
         His store of shining sand.
       No tempests beat that shore remote,
         No ships may sail that way,
       His little boat alone may float
         Within that lovely bay.
       Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
     As shuts the rose, they softly close,
           when he goes through the town.

       He smiles to see the eyelids close
         Above the happy eyes;
       And every child right well he knows--
         Oh, he is very wise!
       But if, as he goes through the land,
         A naughty baby cries,
       His other hand takes dull gray sand
         To close the wakeful eyes.
       Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
     As shuts the rose, they softly close,
           when he goes through the town.

       So when you hear the Sandman's song
         Sound through the twilight sweet,
       Be sure you do not keep him long
         A-waiting on the street.
       Lie softly down, dear little head,
         Rest quiet, busy hands,
       Till, by your bed his good-night said,
         He strews the shining sands.
       Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
     As shuts the rose, they softly close,
           when he goes through the town.



     Come cuddle close in daddy's coat
       Beside the fire so bright,
     And hear about the fairy folk
       That wander in the night.
     For when the stars are shining clear
       And all the world is still,
     They float across the silver moon
       From hill to cloudy hill.

     Their caps of red, their cloaks of green,
       Are hung with silver bells,
     And when they're shaken with the wind
       Their merry ringing swells,
     And riding on the crimson moth,
       With black spots on his wings,
     They guide them down the purple sky
       With golden bridle rings.

     They love to visit girls and boys,
       To see how sweet they sleep,
     To stand beside their cozy cots
       And at their faces peep.
     For in the whole of fairy-land
       They have no finer sight
     Than little children sleeping sound
       With faces rosy bright.

     On tiptoe crowding round their heads,
       When bright the moonlight beams,
     They whisper little tender words
       That fill their minds with dreams;
     And when they see a sunny smile,
       With lightest finger tips
     They lay a hundred kisses sweet
       Upon the ruddy lips.

     And then the little spotted moths
       Spread out their crimson wings,
     And bear away the fairy crowd
       With shaking bridle rings.
     Come bairnies, hide in daddy's coat,
       Beside the fire so bright--
     Perhaps the little fairy folk
       Will visit you to-night.



     A little fairy comes at night;
       Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown,
     With silver spots upon her wings,
       And from the moon she flutters down.

     She has a little silver wand,
       And when a good child goes to bed,
     She waves her wand from right to left,
       And makes a circle round its head.

     And then it dreams of pleasant things--
       Of fountains filled with fairy fish,
     And trees that bear delicious fruit.
       And bow their branches at a wish.

     Of arbors filled with dainty scents
       From lovely flowers that never fade,
     Bright flies that glitter in the sun,
       And glow-worms shining in the shade.

     And talking birds with gifted tongues
       For singing songs and telling tales,
     And pretty dwarfs to show the way
       Through fairy hills and fairy dales.

     But when a bad child goes to bed,
       From left to right she weaves her rings,
     And then it dreams all through the night
       Of only ugly, horrid things!

     Then lions come with glaring eyes,
       And tigers growl, a dreadful noise,
     And ogres draw their cruel knives,
       To shed the blood of girls and boys.

     Then stormy waves rush on to drown,
       Or raging flames come scorching round,
     Fierce dragons hover in the air,
       And serpents crawl along the ground.

     Then wicked children wake and weep,
       And wish the long black gloom away;
     But good ones love the dark, and find
       The night as pleasant as the day.



     Come lay your head on my breast, my dear,
     That I may feel your sweet form near;
     Then we'll rock, rock, in the rocking chair,
     And play we're sailing up through the air.

     Your body so warm, so close, and so round,
     A more precious bundle ne'er was found;
     Just nestle your head right here on my arm,
     And Mother will keep you safe from all harm.

     Now, we rock, rock, and away we go,
     Over the houses and trees, just so,
     Like the birds, we'll fly to a sunny land,
     And there we'll join the fairies' band.

     We'll take them to ride; we'll sail for home,
     For Father is there, and he's all alone;
     Then we'll alight on the nursery bed,
     Fairies for company in Mother's stead.



     Skeeters am a hummin' on de honeysuckle vine,
       Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
     San'man am a comin' to dis little coon of mine,--
       Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
     Silv'ry moon am shinin' in de heabens up above,
     Bobolink am pinin' fo' his little lady love:
     Yo' is mighty lucky, babe of old Kentucky,--
       Close yo' eyes in sleep.

     Fly away, Kentucky Babe, fly away to rest,
     Lay yo' kinky, woolly head on yo' mammy's breast,--
       Close yo' eyes in sleep.

     Daddy's in de canebrake wid his little dog and gun,--
       Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
     Possum fo' yo' breakfast when yo' sleepin' time is done,--
       Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
     Bogie man'll catch yo' sure unless yo' close yo' eyes,
     Waitin' jes outside de doo' to take yo' by surprise!
       Close yo' eyes in sleep.

  [F] These words are published by the Company in the form of a musical
  composition by Adam Geibel, the well-known composer.


     I'm a rich man,
       If ever there was one:
     I've a horse and an apple,
       And both are my own.

     But some others might wish
       Such fine presents to keep;
     So I'll take them to bed,
       To hold while asleep.

     And when in the morning
       I wake up once more,
     I've my toy and my apple,
       To me a rich store.



The sun was up and the breeze was blowing, and the five chicks, and four
geese, and three rabbits, and two kitties, and one little dog were just
as noisy and lively as they knew how to be.

They were all watching for Baby Ray to appear at the window, but he was
still fast asleep in his little white bed, while mamma was making ready
the things he would need when he would wake up.

First, she went along the orchard path as far as the old wooden pump,
and said: "Good pump, will you give me some nice, clear water for the
baby's bath?"

And the pump was willing.

     The good old pump by the orchard path
     Gave nice, clear water for the baby's bath.

Then she went a little further on the path, and stopped at the woodpile,
and said: "Good chips, the pump has given me nice, clear water for dear
Baby Ray; will you come and warm the water and cook his food?"

And the chips were willing.

     The good old pump by the orchard path
     Gave nice clear water for the baby's bath.
     And the clean white chips from the pile of wood
     Were glad to warm it and cook his food.

So mamma went on till she came to the barn, and then said: "Good cow,
the pump has given me nice, clear water, and the woodpile has given me
clean, white chips for dear little Ray; will you give me warm, rich

And the cow was willing.

Then she said to the top-knot hen that was scratching in the straw:
"Good Biddy, the pump has given me nice, clear water, and the woodpile
has given me clean, white chips, and the cow has given me warm, rich
milk for dear little Ray; will you give me a new-laid egg?"

And the hen was willing.

     The good old pump by the orchard path
     Gave nice, clear water for the baby's bath.
     The clean, white chips from the pile of wood
     Were glad to warm it and cook his food.
     The cow gave milk in the milk-pail bright,
     And the top-knot Biddy an egg new and white.

Then mamma went on till she came to the orchard, and said to a Red June
apple tree: "Good tree, the pump has given me nice, clear water, and the
woodpile has given me clean, white chips, and the cow has given me warm,
rich milk, and the hen has given me a new-laid egg for dear little Ray;
will you give me a pretty, red apple?"

And the tree was willing.

So mamma took the apple and the egg and the milk and the chips and the
water to the house, and there was Baby Ray in his nightgown looking out
of the window.

And she kissed him and bathed him and dressed him, and while she brushed
and curled his soft, brown hair, she told him the Wake-Up Story that I
am telling you.

     The good old pump by the orchard path
     Gave nice, clear water for the baby's bath.
     The clean, white chips from the pile of wood
     Were glad to warm it and cook his food.
     The cow gave milk in the milk-pail bright;
     The top-knot Biddy an egg new and white;
     And the tree gave an apple so round and so red,
     For dear little Ray who was just out of bed.

  [G] Used by permission of _The Youth's Companion_.





A Mother Biddy sat on her nest, with what do you think in the nest? Six
smooth white eggs! After she had sat there quite a long time till she
was very tired, what do you suppose happened to one of those eggs? There
was a noise that went "snick, snick," and out of the shell stepped
something like a little fuzzy ball, but with two bright eyes, and two
bits of feet to walk on. What do you think it was? A little chicken?
Yes, and Mother Biddy was so glad to see it, and she called it "Fluffy."
And Fluffy said "Peep, peep! I have some brothers and sisters in the
shells; if you call them, I think they will come." So Mother Biddy said
"Cluck, cluck!" and something said: "Peep, peep!" and out came another
chicken, as black as it could be, so Mother Biddy called it "Topsy."
"Are there any more?" said Mother Biddy. "Yes. Peep, peep! We're coming;
wait for us," and there came four more little chickens as fast as they
could run. One was as white as snow, and Mother Biddy called it
"Snowball." The next was yellow and white, and she named it "Daisy."
Then there was a yellow one with a brown ring around its neck, and that
was called "Brownie." And what do you think! one was all black, only it
had a little white spot on the top of its head that looked like a cap,
so Mother Biddy called it "Spottie." Now they were all out of their
shells, and they said: "Peep, peep! We're hungry." So Mother Biddy said:
"Cluck, cluck! Come see my babies," and out of the house, close by, came
a little girl with some corn-meal in a dish, and my! wasn't she glad to
see the chickens?


After they had eaten all they wanted, they thought they would take a
walk and see this queer world they had come to live in.

Pretty soon they came to a brook, and they all stood in a row and looked
in. "Let us have a drink," they said, so they put their heads down,

"Peep, peep!" said Spottie. "I see a little chicken with a spot on its

"No, no," said Brownie; "it has a ring around its neck, and looks like

"Peep, peep!" said Daisy. "I think it's like me, for it is yellow and
white." And I don't know but they would all have tumbled in to see if
they hadn't felt something drop right on the ends of their noses.
"What's that?" said Fluffy.

"Cluck, cluck!" said Mother Biddy. "Every chicken of you come in, for it
is going to rain, and you'll get your feathers wet."

So they ran as fast as they could, and in a few minutes the six little
chickens were all cuddled under Mother Biddy's wing, fast asleep.



     "My frock is green."
     "My frock is blue."
     "You look pretty."
     "So do you."



Little Philip was very fond of horses, and as he was too old to sit on a
chair or box or trunk and make believe a rocking-horse was pulling it
along his bedroom floor, his father bought him a horse all spotted brown
and white, with a beautiful white mane; and Philip loved to get up on
his back.

In winter he would go out in his sleigh, even when the snow was deep. It
was jolly fun to be in the sleigh all wrapped up cozy and warm in furry
robes. He would crack his long whip and make it sound almost as loud as
a fire-cracker. He used to carry a make-believe pistol when he dressed
up in his "Rough-Rider" suit and went horseback-riding. But all the
neighbors thought it was funny that Philip would always leave the saddle
on his horse when he went out in his sleigh. But you won't think it is
funny when I tell you a secret--maybe you have guessed it
already--Philip couldn't get the saddle off, because, don't you see, his
horse was only a make-believe, hobby-horse.

  [Illustration: PHILIP IN HIS SLEIGH.]

The Kitten That Forgot How to Mew

By Stella George Stern

All little girls, and little boys too, like to read stories about
kittens. Here is a story about a dear little kitten that belonged to a
dear little girl named Peggy.

Peggy had two brothers, and three cousins--all boys--and every boy had a
little dog. At first the dogs would tease the kitten, but they soon
learned better. The dogs and the kitten played together. All day long,
out in the yard, you could hear them going, "Bow-wow!" and "Mew!"

But, you see, there was only one little "Mew" and ever so many
"Bow-wows," and after a while the kitten hardly ever spoke at all.

But one day the kitten wanted to mew, and--what do you suppose?--she had
forgotten how to do it! She tried and tried, and all she could say was
"M-m-m-bow!"--just as much like a dog as a kitten. She was so sad. She
ran out into the yard and cried.

The Big White Hen passed by and asked what was the matter.

"Oh, Big White Hen," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk
kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Hen; "I will teach you to talk. Listen
to this: M-m-m-cut, cut, cut, cut, cut-ca-_da_-cut!"

"No," said the kitten; "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she
cried again.

Then along came the Sheep and asked, "What is the matter?"

"Oh, Sheep," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk
kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Sheep; "I will teach you to talk.
Listen: M-m-m-baa!"

"No," said the kitten, "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she
cried again.

Then along came the Horse and asked what was the matter.

"Oh, Horse," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk
kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Horse; "I will teach you to talk.
Listen to this: M-m-m-neigh!"

"No," said the kitten; "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she
cried again.

Then along came the Cow and asked what was the matter.

"Oh, Cow," sobbed the kitten, "I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk.
I try and I try, as hard as I ever can, and all I can say is,

"Never mind, Kitty Cat," said the Cow; "I will teach you to talk. Listen
to this: M-m-m-moo!"

"No," said the kitten; "that is more like it, but that's not the way to
talk kitten-talk." And she cried again.

The New Baby was sitting in her high chair at the kitchen door.

"Baby dear," sighed the kitten, "I am in trouble. I have forgotten how
to talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!
Can't you teach me?"

The Baby nodded her head and began, "M-m-m-google-google-goo!"

"No," said the kitten; "that's not the way to talk kitten-talk." And she
sat on the kitchen step and cried again.

"What is the matter?" asked a soft voice behind her.

"Oh!" sobbed the kitten, without looking up, "I have forgotten how to
talk kitten-talk. I try and I try, and nothing can help me. All I can
say is, M-m-m-bow!"

"Look at me," said the soft voice.

The little kitten looked. And there stood a beautiful big gray cat!

"I can teach you to talk," said the Cat. And she did. She taught her so
well that the little kitten never again forgot how to mew, though she
played out on the soft, green grass with the dogs every day.



     There was an old farmer who had a cow,
       Moo, moo, moo!
     She used to stand on the pump and bow,
       And what could the farmer do?
     Moo, moo, moo, moo,
       Moo, moo, moo!
     She used to stand on the pump and bow,
       And what could the farmer do?

     There was an old farmer who owned some sheep,
       Baa, baa, baa!
     They used to play cribbage while he was asleep,
       And laugh at the farmer's ma.
     Baa, baa, baa, baa!
       Moo, moo, moo!
     He owned a cow and he owned some sheep,
       And what could the poor man do?

     There was an old farmer who owned a pig,
       Whoof, whoof, whoof!
     He used to dress up in the farmer's wig,
       And dance on the pig-pen roof.
     Whoof, whoof! Baa, baa!
       Moo, moo, moo!
     He owned a pig, some sheep, and a cow,
       And what could the poor man do?

     There was an old farmer who owned a hen,
       Cuk-a-ca-doo, ca-doo!
     She used to lay eggs for the three hired men,
       And some for the weasel, too.
     Cuk-a-ca-doo! Whoof, whoof!
       Baa, baa! Moo!
     He owned a hen, pig, sheep, and a cow,
       And what could the poor man do?

     There was an old farmer who had a duck,
       Quack, quack, quack!
     She waddled under a two-horse truck
       For four long miles and back.
     Quack, quack! Cuk-a-ca-doo!
       Whoof! Baa! Moo!
     With a duck, hen, pig, a sheep, and a cow,
       Pray what could the poor man do?

     There was an old farmer who had a cat,
       Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow!
     She used to waltz with a gray old rat
       By night in the farmer's mow.
     Mee-ow! Quack! Cuk-a-ca-doo!
       Whoof! Baa! Moo!
     With cat, duck, hen, pig, sheep, and a cow,
       Pray what could the poor man do?



     I saw a stork on a chimney high,
     And called to him as I passed by,
     "O stork! what'll you bring,
     Tucked away carefully under your wing?
     A baby sister and a brother,
     One for me, and one for mother."



Little Elinor Gray lived in a big city, but her grandmother lived in a
big house in the country. Elinor and her Nurse Norah were going to visit
her, and had to take a long ride in the railway-train, and another ride
in a carriage that Grandmother sent to meet them, so it was almost dark
when they drove up to the door.

Elinor's grandmother had two beautiful dogs--"Bruno," a big collie, and
"Bounder," a little fox-terrier. And when they saw the little girl jump
out of the carriage, they barked and barked because they were so glad to
see her. And they said to themselves (I _think_ they said to
themselves): "We will let her have a good sleep to-night, for she must
be very tired and it is nearly dark. But to-morrow, bright and early, we
will ask her to come for a romp with us in the garden, and show her how
much nicer it is to live in the country than in the city, where little
girls have to walk so quietly along the streets, and dogs have to be led
along the sidewalk, and cannot frolic on the soft green grass."

Elinor was very sleepy after her long ride in the train, and so, after
she had had her supper, her grandmother told her she might go to bed
early and get a good sleep, and that Nurse Norah would call her at seven
o'clock in the morning.

But what do you think happened? Why, Bruno and Bounder somehow got into
the house _before_ seven o'clock that morning, and came leaping up the
stairs, and went straight to Elinor's door. Elinor was a very sound
sleeper, and did not hear them at first, and did not wake up. But soon
Bounder began to scratch at the door with his little, sharp claws and to
make queer little whine-y sounds; and Bruno's bushy tail went "Rap! rap!
rap!" on the door, too. Then Elinor woke up, and listened a moment, and
then she said: "Oh, _I_ know what it is! It's those darling dogs!" And
she jumped out of bed and opened the door, and there, sure enough, was
Bounder, dashing right into the room, barking, "Good morning! good
morning!" and big Bruno, looking at Elinor as if saying, "Good morning!
didn't you hear us? It's time to get up!"

Elinor said: "Oh, you beauties! Yes, I know! And I'll get dressed right

But what do you think happened _then_! Why, Bruno and Bounder didn't
give her time even to call Nurse Norah and get dressed. You see, Bruno
and Bounder did not often have so nice a little visitor, and they were
ready to begin play that very minute. Bounder was jumping up and down
and all over the room, and at last he spied Elinor's slippers on the
floor and caught up one of them between his sharp little teeth and ran
round and round the room with it. But Bruno chased Bounder all round the
room trying to make him drop the slipper, while Elinor stood still and
laughed and laughed and laughed!

But just then Nurse Norah came rushing in from the next room, asking
what _was_ the matter and in a minute, the naughty Bounder was made to
give up Elinor's slipper, and Bruno chased him all the way out of the

And just as soon as Elinor had had her breakfast, she ran out and had a
fine romp with Bruno and Bounder in Grandmother's garden.

  [Illustration: From the engraving of the painting by Arthur J. Elsley.
                 "TIME TO GET UP!"]



(_For Very Little Folk_)

Mr. and Mrs. Squeaky were two little, gray mice. They lived away back in
the corner of a great, big, empty box in the cellar.

One morning Mr. Squeaky went up the cellar stairs on tiptoes, to hunt
for some bread and cheese in the kitchen.

All at once he heard some one talking, and he hid behind the broom and
was as still as he could be.

It was the little boy Johnnie, who lived up-stairs. He had a big hammer
and a saw in his hand, and he was talking to his little sister.

"I think that big, empty box down cellar would make a fine dolls' house,
Maggie. I can fix a little porch on it, and make an up-stairs and a
down-stairs," the little boy said.

"Oh, Johnnie, that will be lovely," his little sister said. "I'll do
something for you sometime. Maybe--maybe--I'll draw a whole slate full
of el'phants, for you to look at!"

Then they started down the cellar steps.

Mr. Squeaky was so frightened that he almost tumbled down the stairs.

"Oh, my dear," he whispered, "they are going to break up our house with
a big hammer and a saw, and make a dolls' house out of it! Let's run as
fast as we can!"

Poor little Mrs. Squeaky began to cry.

"Where shall we go?" she whispered. "Oh, I am so afraid, and there are
always those dreadful traps around to catch us!"

But they ran as fast as they could to the darkest corner. Mrs. Squeaky's
sharp little eyes saw a hole, and she ran into it, and Mr. Squeaky
squeezed in after her.

Now where do you think they found themselves? Right inside of an old
shoe! The hole that they came through was just a hole in the shoe and
made a nice little door. And there was another hole a little higher up
that made a nice little window to peep out of.

"Why, this is the dearest little house, so cozy and warm," Mrs. Squeaky
said. "Nobody will ever find us in here, I know."

After they lived there a while, a whole family of little pink baby mice
came to live with them. The papa mouse and the mama mouse were so proud
and so glad, they got little bits of cotton and soft paper and rags, and
made the nicest little beds you ever saw.

The little pink baby mice could only say, "Squeak! Squeak!" and cuddle
up under the warm covers, but Mr. and Mrs. Squeaky laughed, and thought
they were the smartest babies in the whole world.

"Why, I feel like 'The Old Woman Who Lived in the Shoe and had so many
children she didn't know what to do,'" Mrs. Squeaky said one day. She
was sitting by the little window rocking the baby mouse and taking a
little rest.

Mr. Squeaky had gone out to hunt for some supper, and the four other
little mice were peeping out of the little hole in the toe of their shoe
house, for Papa to come home.

All at once, Maggie, the little girl who lived up-stairs, ran into the
dark corner to hide from Johnnie, just for fun. And what do you think
she saw?

The four little mice peeping out of the door, and the poor, frightened
mama mouse and the little baby at the window.

Maggie stopped just a minute to whisper gently to little, gray Mrs.
Squeaky, "Don't be frightened, 'Little Old Woman Who Lives in the Shoe.'
I'll never, never tell anybody where you live. No, I won't even tell
Johnnie or my kitty. They might try to catch you. It shall be my VERY
OWN SECRET--and yours!"

So nobody but little Maggie ever knew about Mr. and Mrs. Squeaky, and
their little pink babies in the old shoe--until long afterward, when she
told me the story, as I have told it to you.




Once there was a little piggie, a very good little piggie, who obeyed
his mother so well that often she let him out of the pen to play with
his friends on the farm. One afternoon this little piggie was playing
with them, when suddenly he heard his mother calling "Piggie, wiggie,
wiggie, wiggie, wiggie!"

"Piggie, dear," she said, as he ran to her, "take this and trot as fast
as you can to market and get me a pail of milk for Father's supper


So Piggie took the pail between his teeth, and off he went to do what
his mother told him. Now, you must remember that this little piggie was
such a dear, good little piggie, that he had a great many friends among
the other animals. So he had not gone far when who should spy him but
his friend Bossie Calf. "Hello, there!" said the calf. "Where are you
off to, Piggie?"

"I'm going to market to bring my mother a pail of milk for Father's
supper to-night," squealed Piggie.

"Are you? I believe I'll go, too. I am so fond of milk." And the calf
leaped over his master's fence, and away he went scampering after

By and by, who should come along but Piggie's friend Billie Goat. "Mercy
on us!" baa-ed Billie. "Where are you going in such a hurry, Bossie?"

"Going with Piggie," said the calf.

"Where are you going, Piggie?"

"Going to market to bring my mother a pail of milk for Father's supper
to-night," squealed Piggie, in a great hurry.

"Are you? I believe I'll go, too. I am so fond of milk." So Billie Goat
ran out of the barn-yard and hurried after the calf.

Just as they were passing the house, who should spy them but Rover the

"Where are you going, Billie," barked Rover, running out to the gate as
he saw them rushing along. "Going with Bossie," said the goat.

"Where are you going, Bossie?" "Going with Piggie."

"Where are you going, Piggie?"

"I am going to market to bring Mother a pail of milk for Father's supper
to-night," squealed Piggie, in a great hurry.

"Are you? I believe I'll go, too. I am so fond of milk." So Rover
hurried along up the road after the goat.

Just as they turned into the road, who should come jumping along but
Tabby the cat.

"Well, well!" he meowed. "When did the circus come to town, Rover?"

"This is not a circus parade," said the dog, the goat, the calf, and
Piggie all at once, as they ran on.

"Then, where are you going, Rover?" again meowed Tabby.

"Going with Billie," barked Rover.

  [Illustration: "'MY, THAT'S GOOD!'"]

"Where are you going, Billie?" "Going with Bossie."

"Where are you going, Bossie?" "Going with Piggie."

"Where are you going, Piggie?"

"I am going to market to get my mother a pail of milk for Father's
supper to-night," squealed Piggie in a great hurry.

"Are you? I believe I'll go along. I am so fond of milk." So Tabby raced
along after Rover.

When they got to the market, Piggie told his friends to wait outside
while he hurried in and got the milk for his father's supper. It did not
take him long, and he soon came trotting out because he was to hurry
back home.

"Give me a sup for politeness' sake," meowed Tabby the cat, as she stuck
her head in the pail. "My, that's good!"

"Pass it to me, Tabby," barked Rover the dog, "for politeness' sake. My,
that's good!"

"Give me a sup for politeness' sake," said Billie Goat. "My, that's

"Do not forget me, Billie, for politeness' sake," said Bossie the calf.
"My, that's good!"


"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" squealed Piggie, when he saw what had happened.
"What shall I do?" And away he trotted all by himself with an empty
pail, to tell his mother that he did really and truly get the milk, but
that his friends had "supped" it all up!

But just then the farmer came with a great, _big_ pail of milk and gave
it all to them, so that the good little piggie and his father and mother
had a fine supper, and much more milk than Piggie could have brought.



     Over the hills and far away,
       There's a beautiful, wonderful place,
     Where happy babies in gardens play,
       With mothers dressed all in lace,--

     Dressed all in lace and in silken gown,
       With flowers in their hair,--
     Where trees with blossoms are laden down,
       And perfumes fill the air.


     "Wait, Kitty; here's soap and water,
       And I must wash your face;
     For the way you do it with your paws
       Is simply a disgrace!"
         _But Kitty didn't wait!_

  [Illustration: "WHO SPEAKS FIRST?"



           _Moo, moo!_
         What can I do
       For my little girl of three?
     I will eat the sweet grass,
     I will give her a glass
       Of my milk for her tea;
         Moo, moo! that 's what I'll do
       For my dear little maiden of three.

           _Mew, mew!_
         What can I do
       For my little girl of three?
     I will catch all the mice,
     And they shall not come twice
       To the cake, you'll see;
         Mew, mew! that's what I'll do
       For my sweet little maiden of three.

         I will go now
       With my little girl of three;
     I will make a great noise;
     I will frighten the boys,
       For they all fear me;
         Bow-wow! that is just how
     I'll guard my sweet maiden of three.

           _Neigh, neigh!_
         Out of the way
       For my little girl of three!
     I will give her a ride,
     We will canter and glide
       O'er the meadowy lea;
         Neigh, neigh! that's just the way
       I'll help my sweet maiden of three.


There was a little lady she was'nt very big She had a spotted cow ...
Also a spotted pig ... Her dress had dots ... Her dog had lots ... it
was a funny family but oh so very trig


When Charley awoke one morning, he looked from the window, and saw the
ground deeply covered with snow.

On the side of the house nearest the kitchen, the snow was piled higher
than Charley's head.

"We must have a path through this snow," said his father. "I would make
one if I had time. But I must be at the office early this morning.

"Do you think you could make the path, my son?" he asked little Charley.

"I? Why, the snow is higher than my head! How could I ever cut a path
through that snow?"

"How? Why, by doing it _little_ by _little_. Suppose you try," said the
father, as he left for his office.

So Charley got the snowshovel and set to work. He threw up first one
shovelful, and then another; but it was slow work.

"I don't think I can do it, mother," he said. "A shovelful is so little,
and there is such a heap of snow."

"Little by little, Charley," said his mother. "That snow fell in tiny
bits, flake by flake, but you see what a great pile it has made."

"Yes, mother, I see," said Charley. "If I throw it away little by
little, it will soon be gone."

So he worked on.

When his father came home to dinner, he was pleased to see the fine
path. The next day he gave little Charley a fine blue sled, and on it
was painted in yellow letters, "Little by Little."

  [Illustration: "SAFETY FIRST"]



This is the kind of stories that the kindergartners call "cumulative,"
or "repetitive." They keep repeating and then adding to themselves until
they are quite long. The repetition helps the children memorize them,
and adding to them holds the children's attention and interest.

You will find these very useful to read and teach to the little ones.

                                                     THE EDITORS.


     This is the house that Jack built.
     This is the malt
     That lay in the house that Jack built.

     This is the rat,
     That ate the malt,
     That lay in the house that Jack built.

     This is the cat,
     That killed the rat,
     That ate the malt,
     That lay in the house that Jack built.

     This is the dog,
     That worried the cat,
     That killed the rat,
     That ate the malt,
     That lay in the house that Jack built.

     This is the cow with crumpled horn,
     That tossed the dog,
     That worried the cat,
     That killed the rat,
     That ate the malt,
     That lay in the house that Jack built.

     This is the maiden all forlorn,
     That milked the cow with crumpled horn,
     That tossed the dog,
     That worried the cat,
     That killed the rat,
     That ate the malt,
     That lay in the house that Jack built.

     This is the man all tattered and torn,
     That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
     That milked the cow with crumpled horn,
     That tossed the dog,
     That worried the cat,
     That killed the rat,
     That ate the malt,
     That lay in the house that Jack built.

     This is the priest all shaven and shorn,
     That married the man all tattered and torn,
     That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
     That milked the cow with crumpled horn,
     That tossed the dog,
     That worried the cat,
     That killed the rat,
     That ate the malt,
     That lay in the house that Jack built.

     This is the cock that crowed in the morn,
     That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
     That married the man all tattered and torn,
     That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
     That milked the cow with crumpled horn,
     That tossed the dog,
     That worried the cat,
     That killed the rat,
     That ate the malt,
     That lay in the house that Jack built.

     This is the farmer sowing his corn,
     That kept the cock that crowed in the morn,
     That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
     That married the man all tattered and torn,
     That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
     That milked the cow with crumpled horn,
     That tossed the dog,
     That worried the cat,
     That killed the rat,
     That ate the malt,
     That lay in the house that Jack built.


     This is Giant
       Thunder Bones.

          This is the Dwarf with anxious looks
     Who guarded the castle and kept the books
     For Giant Thunder Bones.

     This is the Gnome with beard so gray
       Who digged for gems all night and day
         To please the Dwarf with anxious looks
           Who guarded the castle and kept the books
             For Giant Thunder Bones.

     This is the Princess of Wandeltreg
     Who, while playing a game of Mumblepeg,
     Was caught by the Gnome with beard so gray
     Who digged for gems all night and day
     To please the Dwarf with anxious looks
     Who guarded the castle and kept the books
     For Giant Thunder Bones.

     This is the Prince so brave and so grand
     Who sailed over sea and rode over land
     Till he found the Princess of Wandeltreg
     Who, while playing a game of Mumblepeg,
     Was caught by the Gnome with beard so gray
     Who digged for gems all night and day
     To please the Dwarf with anxious looks
     Who guarded the castle and kept the books
     For Giant Thunder Bones.

     This is the Goblin with fingers so frail
     Who hopped with ease over mountain and dale
     As he chased the Prince so brave and so grand
     Who sailed over sea and rode over land
     Till he found the Princess of Wandeltreg
     Who, while playing a game of Mumblepeg,
     Was caught by the Gnome with beard so gray
     Who digged for gems all night and day
     To please the Dwarf with anxious looks
     Who guarded the castle and kept the books
     For Giant Thunder Bones.

     This is the Witch with Broomstick and Cat
     Who sputtered and snarled and shook her tall hat
     When she missed the Goblin with fingers so frail
     Who hopped with ease over mountain and dale
     As he chased the Prince so brave and so grand
     Who sailed over sea and rode over land
     Till he found the Princess of Wandeltreg
     Who, while playing a game of Mumblepeg,
     Was caught by the Gnome with beard so gray
     Who digged for gems all night and day
     To please the Dwarf with anxious looks
     Who guarded the castle and kept the books
     For Giant Thunder Bones.

     And last comes the Kobold who slept while 'twas light
     And did all the housework in the dead of the night
     To worry the Witch with Broomstick and Cat
     Who sputtered and snarled and shook her tall hat
     When she missed the Goblin with fingers so frail
     Who hopped with ease over mountain and dale
     As he chased the Prince so brave and so grand
     Who sailed over sea and rode over land
     Till he found the Princess of Wandeltreg
     Who, while playing a game of Mumblepeg,
     Was caught by the Gnome with beard so gray
     Who digged for gems all night and day
     To please the Dwarf with anxious looks
     Who guarded the castle and kept the books
     For Giant Thunder Bones.

                                   _Stella Doughty._



     This is the _House_ that Jill built.

     This is the _Doll_ that lived in the House that Jill built.

     This is the _Cake_ that fed the Doll that lived in the House
          that Jill built.

     This is the _Oven_ that baked the Cake that fed the Doll that
          lived in the House that Jill built.

     This is the _Wood_ that heated the Oven that baked the Cake
          that fed the Doll that lived in the House that Jill built.

     This is the _Tree_ of a dusky shade that gave the Wood that
          heated the Oven that baked the Cake that fed the Doll that
          lived in the House that Jill built.

     This is the _Ax_ with a shining blade that chopped the Tree of a
          dusky shade that gave the Wood that heated the Oven that
          baked the Cake that fed the Doll that lived in the House that
          Jill built.

     This is the _Woodman_ sober and staid who slung the Ax with a shining
          blade that chopped the Tree of a dusky shade that gave the Wood
          that heated the Oven that baked the Cake that fed the Doll that
          lived in the House that Jill built.

     This is the _Horse_ that pranced and neighed when he saw the Woodman
          sober and staid who slung the Ax with a shining blade that
          chopped the Tree of a dusky shade that gave the Wood that heated
          the Oven that baked the Cake that fed the Doll that lived in the
          House that Jill built.

     This is the _Knight_ with the red cockade who rode on the Horse that
          pranced and neighed when he saw the Woodman sober and staid who
          slung the Ax with a shining blade that chopped the Tree of a
          dusky shade that gave the Wood that heated the Oven that baked
          the Cake that fed the Doll that lived in the House that Jill

     This is the _Lady_ in gay brocade who followed the Knight with the
          red cockade who rode on the Horse that pranced and neighed when
          he saw the Woodman sober and staid who slung the Ax with a
          shining blade that chopped the Tree of a dusky shade that gave
          the Wood that heated the Oven that baked the Cake that fed the
          Doll that lived in the House that Jill built.

     This is the _Glittering Cavalcade_ that rode after the Lady in gay
          brocade who followed the Knight with the red cockade who rode
          on the Horse that pranced and neighed when he saw the Woodman
          sober and staid who slung the ax with a shining blade that
          chopped the Tree of a dusky shade that gave the Wood that heated
          the Oven that baked the Cake that fed the Doll that lived in the
          House that Jill built.

     This is the _Donkey_ who loudly brayed at sight of the Glittering
          Cavalcade that rode after the Lady in gay brocade who followed
          the Knight with the red cockade who rode on the Horse that
          pranced and neighed when he saw the Woodman sober and staid who
          slung the Ax with a shining blade that chopped the Tree of a
          dusky shade that gave the Wood that heated the Oven that baked
          the Cake that fed the Doll that lived in the House that Jill

     This is the _King_ who was much dismayed to hear the Donkey who loudly
          brayed at sight of the Glittering Cavalcade that rode after the
          Lady in gay brocade who followed the Knight with the red cockade
          who rode on the Horse that pranced and neighed when he saw the
          Woodman sober and staid who slung the Ax with a shining blade
          that chopped the Tree of a dusky shade that gave the Wood that
          heated the Oven that baked the Cake that fed the Doll that lived
          in the House that Jill built.


An old woman was sweeping her house, and she found a little crooked
sixpence. "What," said she, "shall I do with this little sixpence? I
will go to market, and buy a little pig."

As she was coming home, she came to a stile, but the piggy wouldn't go
over the stile.

She went a little further, and she met a dog. So she said to him: "Dog!
dog! bite pig, piggy won't go over the stile; and I shan't get home
to-night." But the dog wouldn't.

She went a little further, and she met a stick. So she said: "Stick!
stick! beat dog! dog won't bite pig; piggy won't get over the stile; and
I shan't get home to-night." But the stick wouldn't.

She went a little further, and she met a fire. So she said: "Fire! fire!
burn stick, stick won't beat dog; dog won't bite pig; piggy won't get
over the stile; and I shan't get home to-night." But the fire wouldn't.

She went a little further, and she met some water. So she said: "Water!
water! quench fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't beat dog; dog
won't bite pig; piggy won't get over the stile, and I shan't get home
to-night." But the water wouldn't.

She went a little further, and she met an ox. So she said: "Ox! ox!
drink water; water won't quench fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't
beat dog; dog won't bite pig; piggy won't get over the stile; and I
shan't get home to-night." But the ox wouldn't.

So she went a little further, and she met a butcher. So she said:
"Butcher! butcher! kill ox; ox won't drink water; water won't quench
fire; fire won't burn stick, stick won't beat dog, dog won't bite pig;
piggy won't get over the stile; and I shan't get home to-night." But the
butcher wouldn't.

She went a little further, and she met a rope. So she said: "Rope! rope!
hang butcher; butcher won't kill ox; ox won't drink water; water won't
quench fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't beat dog; dog won't bite
pig; piggy won't get over the stile, and I shan't get home to-night!"
But the rope wouldn't.

She went a little further, and she met a rat. So she said: "Rat! rat!
gnaw rope; rope won't hang butcher; butcher won't kill ox; ox won't
drink water; water won't quench fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't
beat dog; dog won't bite pig; piggy won't get over the stile; and I
shan't get home to-night." But the rat wouldn't.

She went a little further, and she met a cat. So she said: "Cat! cat!
kill rat; rat won't gnaw rope; rope won't hang butcher; butcher won't
kill ox; ox won't drink water; water won't quench fire; fire won't burn
stick, stick won't beat dog; dog won't bite pig; piggy won't get over
the stile; and I shan't get home to-night." But the cat said to her: "If
you will go to yonder cow, and fetch me a saucer of milk, I will kill
the rat." So away went the old woman to the cow.

But the cow said to her: "If you will go to yonder hay-stack, and fetch
me a handful of hay, I'll give you the milk." So away went the old woman
to the hay-stack; and she brought the hay to the cow.

As soon as the cow had eaten the hay she gave the old woman the milk;
and away she went with it in a saucer to the cat.

As soon as the cat had lapped up the milk, the cat began to kill the
rat; the rat began to gnaw the rope; the rope began to hang the butcher;
the butcher began to kill the ox; the ox began to drink the water; the
water began to quench the fire; the fire began to burn the stick; the
stick began to beat the dog; the dog began to bite the pig, the little
pig in a fright jumped over the stile; and so the old woman got home
that night.

  [H] From "English Fairy Tales," collected by Joseph Jacobs; used by
  permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam's Sons.


Once upon a time there was a wee, wee Lambikin, who frolicked about on
his little tottery legs, and enjoyed himself amazingly. Now one day he
set off to visit his Granny, and was jumping with joy to think of all
the good things he should get from her, when whom should he meet but a
Jackal, who looked at the tender young morsel and said: "Lambikin!
Lambikin! I'LL EAT YOU!"

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said:

     "To Granny's house I go,
      Where I shall fatter grow,
      Then you can eat me so."

The Jackal thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

By and by he met a Vulture, and the Vulture, looking hungrily at the
tender morsel before him, said: "Lambikin! Lambikin! I'LL EAT YOU!"

But the Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said:

     "To Granny's house I go,
      Where I shall fatter grow,
      Then you can eat me so."

The Vulture thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

And by and by he met a Tiger, and then a Wolf, and a Dog, and an Eagle;
and all these, when they saw the tender little morsel, said: "Lambikin!
Lambikin! I'LL EAT YOU!"

But to all of them Lambikin replied, with a little frisk:

     "To Granny's house I go,
      Where I shall fatter grow,
      Then you can eat me so."

At last he reached his Granny's house, and said, all in a great hurry,
"Granny dear, I've promised to get very fat, so, as people ought to keep
their promises, please put me into the corn-bin at once."

So his Granny said he was a good boy, and put him into the corn-bin, and
there the greedy little Lambikin stayed for seven days, and ate, and
ate, and ate, until he could scarcely waddle, and his Granny said he was
fat enough for anything, and must go home. But cunning little Lambikin
said that would never do, for some animal would be sure to eat him on
the way back, he was so plump and tender.

"I'll tell you what you must do," said Master Lambikin; "you must make
a little drumikin out of the skin of my little brother who died, and
then I can sit inside and trundle along nicely, for I'm as tight as a
drum myself."

So his Granny made a nice little drumikin out of his brother's skin,
with the wool inside, and Lambikin curled himself up snug and warm in
the middle, and trundled away gayly. Soon he met with the Eagle, who
called out:

     "Drumikin! Drumikin!
      Have you seen Lambikin?"

And Mr. Lambikin, curled up in his soft, warm nest, replied:

     "Fallen into the fire, and so will you,
      On little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too!"

"How very annoying!" sighed the Eagle, thinking regretfully of the
tender morsel he had let slip.

Meanwhile Lambikin trundled along, laughing to himself, and singing.

     "Tum-pa, tum-too;
      Tum-pa, tum-too!"

Every animal and bird he met asked him the same question:

     "Drumikin! Drumikin!
      Have you seen Lambikin?"

And to each of them the little slyboots replied:

     "Fallen into the fire, and so will you,
      On little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too;
        Tum-pa, tum-too; Tum-pa, tum-too!"

Then they all sighed to think of the tender little morsel they had let

At last the Jackal came limping along, for all his sorry looks as sharp
as a needle, and he, too, called out:

     "Drumikin! Drumikin!
      Have you seen Lambikin?"

And Lambikin, curled up in his snug little nest, replied gayly:

     "Fallen into the fire, and so will you,
      On little Drumikin! Tum-pa----"

But he never got any farther, for the Jackal recognized his voice at
once, and cried "Hullo! you've turned yourself inside out, have you?
Just you come out of that!"

Whereupon he tore open Drumikin and gobbled up Lambikin.

  [I] From "Indian Fairy Tales," edited by Joseph Jacobs; used by
  permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam's Sons.


     The cat and the mouse
     Played in the malt-house:

The cat bit the mouse's tail off. "Pray, puss, give me my tail." "No,"
says the cat, "I'll not give you your tail, till you go to the cow, and
fetch me some milk."

     First she leaped, and then she ran,
     Till she came to the cow, and thus began:

"Pray, Cow, give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me
my own tail again." "No," said the cow, "I will give you no milk, till
you go to the farmer, and get me some hay."

     First she leaped, and then she ran,
     Till she came to the farmer, and thus began:

"Pray, Farmer, give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give
me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail
again." "No," said the farmer, "I'll give you no hay, till you go to
the butcher and fetch me some meat."

     First she leaped, and then she ran,
     Till she came to the butcher, and thus began:

"Pray, Butcher, give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmer
may give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk,
that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again." "No,"
says the butcher, "I'll give you no meat, till you go to the baker and
fetch me some bread."

     First she leaped, and then she ran,
     Till she came to the baker, and thus began:

"Pray, Baker, give me bread, that I may give butcher bread, that butcher
may give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmer may give me
hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may give
cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again."

     "Yes," says the baker, "I'll give you some bread,
     But if you eat my meal, I'll cut off your head."

Then the baker gave mouse bread, and mouse gave butcher bread, and
butcher gave mouse meat, and mouse gave farmer meat, and farmer gave
mouse hay, and mouse gave cow hay, and cow gave mouse milk, and mouse
gave cat milk, and cat gave mouse her own tail again.

  [J] From "English Fairy Tales," collected by Joseph Jacobs; used by
  permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam's Sons.


One day Henny-penny was picking up corn in the cornyard
when--whack!--something hit her upon the head. "Goodness gracious me!"
says Henny-penny; "the sky's a-going to fall; I must go and tell the

So she went along, and she went along, and she went along till she met
Cocky-locky. "Where are you going, Henny-penny?" says Cocky-locky. "Oh!
I'm going to tell the king the sky's a-falling," says Henny-penny. "May
I come with you?" says Cocky-locky. "Certainly," says Henny-penny. So
Henny-penny and Cocky-locky went to tell the king the sky was falling.

They went along, and they went along, and they went along till they met
Ducky-daddles. "Where are you going to, Henny-penny and Cocky-locky?"
says Ducky-daddles. "Oh! we're going to tell the king the sky's
a-falling," says Henny-penny and Cocky-locky. "May I come with you?"
says Ducky-daddles. "Certainly," says Henny-penny and Cocky-locky. So
Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, and Ducky-daddles went to tell the king the
sky was a-falling.

So they went along, and they went along, and they went along till they
met Goosey-poosey. "Where are you going to, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,
and Ducky-daddles?" says Goosey-poosey. "Oh! we're going to tell the
king the sky's a-falling," says Henny-penny, and Cocky-locky and
Ducky-daddles. "May I come with you?" says Goosey-poosey. "Certainly,"
says Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, and Ducky-daddles. So Henny-penny,
Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey went to tell the king the
sky was a-falling.

So they went along, and they went along, and they went along till they
met Turkey-lurkey. "Where are you going, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,
Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey?" says Turkey-lurkey. "Oh! we're going
to tell the king the sky's a-falling," says Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,
Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey. "May I come with you, Henny-penny,
Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey?" says Turkey-lurkey. "Oh,
certainly, Turkey-lurkey," says Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddies,
and Goosey-poosey. So Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddies,
Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey all went to tell the king the sky was

So they went along, and they went along, and they went along till they
met Foxy-woxy, and Foxy-woxy says to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,
Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey: "Where are you going,
Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and
Turkey-lurkey?" And Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,
Goosey-Poosey, and Turkey-lurkey says to Foxy-woxy: "We're going to tell
the king the sky's a-falling." "Oh! but this is not the way to the king,
Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and
Turkey-lurkey," says Foxy-woxy; "I know the proper way; shall I show it
you?" "Oh, certainly, Foxy-woxy," says Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,
Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey. So Henny-penny,
Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, Turkey-lurkey, and Foxy-woxy
all went to tell the king the sky was a-falling.

So they went along, and they went along, and they went along till they
came to a narrow and dark hole. Now this was the door of Foxy-woxy's
cave. But Foxy-woxy says to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddies,
Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey: "This is the short way to the king's
palace; you'll soon get there if you follow me. I will go first and you
come after, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and
Turkey-lurkey," "Why, of course, certainly, without doubt, why not?"
says Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and

So Foxy-woxy went into his cave, and he didn't go very far, but turned
round to wait for Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,
Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey. So at last Turkey-lurkey went through
the dark hole into the cave. He hadn't got far when "Hrumph!" Foxy-woxy
snapped off Turkey-lurkey's head and threw his body over his left
shoulder. Then Goosey-poosey went in, and "Hrumph!" off went her head
and Goosey-poosey was thrown beside Turkey-lurkey. Then Ducky-daddles
waddled down, and "Hrumph!" snapped Foxy-woxy, and Ducky-daddles's head
was off, and Ducky-daddles was thrown alongside Turkey-lurkey and
Goosey-poosey. Then Cocky-locky strutted down into the cave, and he
hadn't gone far when "Snap, Hrumph!" went Foxy-woxy, and Cocky-locky was
thrown alongside of Turkey-lurkey, Goosey-poosey, and Ducky-daddles.

  [Illustration: "THIS IS THE SHORT WAY"]

But Foxy-woxy had made two bites at Cocky-locky, and when the first snap
only hurt Cocky-locky, but didn't kill him, he called out to
Henny-penny. But she turned tail and off she ran home, so she never told
the king the sky was a-falling.

  [K] From "English Fairy Tales," collected by Joseph Jacobs; used by
  permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam's Sons.



Once upon a time there was a little boy whose task it was to drive the
goats to and from the hills. One morning, as they went along the road,
the first goat saw a hole in the fence which shut off a field of rye.

"Oh," said the first goat, "here is a chance to get into that field. I
do not think that we want to eat rye--there is plenty of grass on the
hill. But we can go in and see what it is like, just the same."

With that he turned aside from the road and went through the hole into
the ryefield, and the others followed after him.

"Here," cried the boy, "come out of that!"

But the goats did not come out, so the boy climbed over the fence and
started after them to chase them out. But the goats just ran round and
round in the field, until at last the little boy was so tired that he
sat down by the fence and cried.

By-and-by a dog came down the road. "Why, little boy," he said, "what
are you crying for?"

"I am crying because the goats will not come out of the ryefield. I was
driving them along the road to the hills and they went through the
fence, and I have chased them and chased them, and they will not come

"Well," said the dog, "that is nothing to cry about. Just you wait here
and I will go into the field and chase them out for you."

So the dog ran through the hole and started after the goats, barking
loudly. When the goats saw him coming they started to run, and ran round
and round in the field until at last the dog was so tired that he sat
down by the fence and cried.

By-and-by a fox came trotting down the road. "Why, dog," he said, "what
are you crying for?"

"I am crying because little boy is crying," said the dog.

"And what are you crying for, little boy?" asked the fox.

"I am crying because the goats will not come out of the ryefield. I was
driving them along the road to the hills and they went through the
fence, and I have chased them and chased them and they will not come

"Well," said the fox, "that is nothing to cry about. Just you wait here
and I will go into the field and chase them out for you."

So the fox ran through the hole and started after the goats, barking
shrilly. And when they saw him coming they started to run, and ran
round and round in the field until at last the fox was so tired that he
sat down by the fence and cried.

By-and-by a bee came flying lightly overhead.

"Why, fox," he said, "why are you crying?"

"I am crying because dog is crying," said the fox.

"And why are you crying, dog?" asked the bee.

"I am crying because little boy is crying," said the dog.

"And why are you crying, little boy?" asked the bee.

"I am crying because the goats will not come out of the ryefield. I was
driving them along the road to the hills, and they went through the
fence, and I have chased them and chased them and they will not come

"Oh," said the bee, "that is nothing to cry about. Just you wait here
and I will go into the field and chase them out for you."

So he flew over the fence and flew straight to the first goat and began
to buzz in his ear. The first goat lifted up his head and said: "Ho!
What is this?" and he looked all around him, but could see nothing from
which to run.

"Buzz, buzz, buzz!" said the bee, and he lighted on the ear of the goat.

"Now here is someone that means business," said the goat, and he shook
his head to shake off the bee, but the bee only clung the tighter.

"Buzz, buzz, buzz!" he said. Then he stung the first goat in the ear.
"Now," said the first goat, "this is a serious matter. Ouch!" he added,
as the bee stung him again. "Come on, you," he called to the others, "it
is time to get out of here!" With that he led them straight to the hole
in the fence, and they ran through it, all three of them, and out into
the road where the little boy sat with the dog and the fox.

"Oh," said the dog, "the bee can do something that I cannot, even if he
is so small."

"Yes," said the fox, "the bee didn't make much noise, but the noise that
he did make counted more than all of our barking."



There was once upon a time a teeny-tiny woman who lived in a teeny-tiny
house in a teeny-tiny village. Now, one day this teeny-tiny woman put on
her teeny-tiny bonnet and went out of her teeny-tiny house to take a
teeny-tiny walk. And when this teeny-tiny woman had gone a teeny-tiny
way, she came to a teeny-tiny gate; so the teeny-tiny woman opened the
teeny-tiny gate, and went into a teeny-tiny meadow. And when this
teeny-tiny woman had got into the teeny-tiny meadow, she saw a
teeny-tiny bone on a teeny-tiny stone, and the teeny-tiny woman said to
her teeny-tiny self: "This teeny-tiny bone will make me some teeny-tiny
soup for my teeny-tiny supper." So the teeny-tiny woman put the
teeny-tiny bone into her teeny-tiny pocket, and went home to her
teeny-tiny house.

Now, when the teeny-tiny woman got home to her teeny-tiny house, she was
a teeny-tiny bit tired; so she went up her teeny-tiny stairs to her
teeny-tiny bed, and put the teeny-tiny bone into a teeny-tiny cupboard.
And when this teeny-tiny woman had been to sleep a teeny-tiny time, she
was awakened by a teeny-tiny voice from the teeny-tiny cupboard, which


And this teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny bit frightened, so she hid
her teeny-tiny head under the teeny-tiny clothes, and went to sleep
again. And when she had been asleep again a teeny-tiny time, the
teeny-tiny voice again cried out from the teeny-tiny cupboard a
teeny-tiny louder:


This made the teeny-tiny woman a teeny-tiny more frightened, so she hid
her teeny-tiny head a teeny-tiny further under the teeny-tiny clothes.
And when the teeny-tiny woman had been asleep again a teeny-tiny time,
the teeny-tiny voice from the teeny-tiny cupboard said again a
teeny-tiny louder:


At this the teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny bit more frightened; but
she put her teeny-tiny head out of the teeny-tiny clothes, and said in
her loudest teeny-tiny voice:

     "TAKE IT!"

  [L] From "English Fairy Tales," collected by Joseph Jacobs; used by
  permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam's Sons.


     Out in the green, green orchard
       Standeth a fine pear tree;
     The fine pear tree has leaves, too.
       What on the tree may be?
         Why, there's a beautiful branch,
         Branch on the tree,
         Tree in the ground.

     Out in the green, green orchard
       Standeth a fine pear tree,
     The fine pear tree has leaves, too,
       And what on its branch may be?
         A beautiful twig.
         Twig on the branch,
         Branch on the tree,
         Tree in the ground.

     Out in the green, green orchard
       Standeth a fine pear tree,
     The fine pear tree has leaves, too.
       Now what on the twig may be?
         A beautiful nest.
         Nest on the twig,
         Twig on the branch,
         Branch on the tree,
         Tree in the ground.

     Out in the green, green orchard
       Standeth a fine pear tree;
     The fine pear tree has leaves, too.
       Now, what in the nest may be?
         A beautiful egg.
         Egg in the nest,
         Nest on the twig,
         Twig on the branch,
         Branch on the tree,
         Tree in the ground.

     Out in the green, green orchard
       Standeth a fine pear tree,
     The fine pear tree has leaves, too.
       Now, what from the egg shall we see?
         A beautiful bird.
         Bird from the egg,
         Egg in the nest,
         Nest on the twig,
         Twig on the branch,
         Branch on the tree,
         Tree in the ground.

     Out in the green, green orchard
       Standeth a fine pear tree;
     The fine pear tree has leaves, too.
       Now, what on the bird may be?
         A beautiful feather.
         Feather on the bird,
         Bird from the egg,
         Egg in the nest,
         Nest on the twig,
         Twig on the branch,
         Branch on the tree,
         Tree in the ground.

     Out in the green, green meadow
       Standeth a fine pear tree;
     The fine pear tree hath leaves, too.
       Now, what from the feather will be?
         A beautiful bed.
         Bed from the feather,
         Feather from the bird,
         Bird from the egg,
         Egg in the nest,
         Nest on the twig,
         Twig on the branch,
         Branch on the tree,
         Tree in the ground.

     Out in the green, green meadow
       Standeth a fine pear tree;
     The fine pear tree hath leaves, too.
       Now, what in that bed may be?
         A beautiful child.
         Child in the bed,
         Bed from the feather,
         Feather from the bird,
         Bird from the egg,
         Egg from the nest,
         Nest on the twig,
         Twig on the branch,
         Branch on the tree,
         Tree in the ground.

     Out in the green, green meadow
       Standeth a fine pear tree,
     The fine pear tree hath leaves, too,
       And on it these things all be.



     In this tale is shown to you
     How large the boast of Cock-alu;
     But, when he comes to act, you'll see
     Small hope indeed for Hen-alie;
     And thus you clearly will perceive
     That who has great things to achieve
     Must not stand talking but must do,
     Else he will fail like Cock-alu.
     For he who would perform the most
     Will utter no vainglorious boast;
     But still press onward, staunch and true,
     With but the honest end in view.

Cock-alu and Hen-alie sat on the perch above the bean-straw. It was four
o'clock in the morning, and Cock-alu clapped his wings and crowed; then,
turning to Hen-alie, he said: "Hen-alie, my little wife, I love you
better than all the world, you know I do. I always told you so! I will
do anything for you; I'll go round the world for you, I'll travel as far
as the sun for you! You know I would! Tell me, what shall I do for you?"

"Crow!" said Hen-alie.

"Oh, that is such a little thing!" said Cock-alu, and crowed with all
his might. He crowed so loud that he woke the farmer's wife, and the dog
and the cat, and all the pigeons and horses in the stable, and the cow
in the stall. He crowed so loud that all the neighbors' cocks heard him
and answered him, and they woke all their people; and thus Cock-alu woke
the whole parish.

"I've done it rarely this morning!" said Cock-alu; "I told you I would
do anything to please you!"

The next morning, at breakfast, as Hen-alie was picking beans out of the
bean-straw, one stuck in her throat; and she was soon so ill that she
was just ready to die.

"Oh, Cock-alu," said she, calling to him in the yard, where he stood
clapping his wings in the sunshine, "run and fetch me a drop of water
from the silver-spring in the Beech-wood! Fetch me a drop quickly, while
the dew is in it; for that is the true remedy."

But Cock-alu was so busy crowing against a neighbor that he took no

"Oh, Cock-alu, do run and fetch me the water from the silver-spring, or
I shall die; for the bean sticks in my throat, and nothing but water
with dew in it can cure me! Oh, Cock-alu, dear, run quickly!"

Cock-alu heard her this time, and set off, crowing as he went. He had
not gone far before he met the snail.

"Where are you going, snails?" says he.

"I'm going to the cow-cabbage," says the snail; "and what urgent
business may it be that takes you out thus early, Cock-alu?" says the

"I'm going to the silver-spring in the Beech-wood, to fetch a drop of
water for my wife, Hen-alie, who has got a bean in her throat," says

"Oh," says the snail, "run along quickly, and get the water while the
dew is in it; for nothing else will get a bean out of the throat. Don't
stop by the way, for the bull is coming down to the silver-spring to
drink, and he'll trouble the water. Gather up my silver-trail, however,
and give it to Hen-alie with my love, and I hope she'll soon be better!"

Cock-alu hastily gathered up the silver-trail which the snail left.
"This will make Hen-alie a pair of stockings!" said he, and went on his

He had not gone far before he met the wood-pigeon. "Good morning,
pigeon," says he; "and which way are you going?"

"I am going to the pea-field," says the pigeon, "to get peas for my
young ones; and what may your business be this morning, Cock-alu!"

"I'm going to the silver-spring in the Beech-wood, to fetch a drop of
water for my wife, Hen-alie, who has got a bean in her throat."

"I'm sorry to hear that," says the pigeon; "but don't let me detain you,
for water with the dew in it is the best thing to get a bean out of the
throat; and let me advise you to make haste, for the bloodhound is going
to lap at the spring, and he'll trouble the water. So run along, and
here, take with you my blue velvet neck-ribbon, and give it to Hen-alie
with my love, and I hope she'll soon be better."

"Oh, what a nice pair of garters this will make for Hen-alie!" exclaimed
Cock-alu, and went on his way.

He had not gone far before he met the wild-cat. "Good morning, friend,"
says Cock-alu, "and where may you be going this morning?"

"I'm going to get a young wood-pigeon for my breakfast, while the mother
is gone to the pea-field," says the wild-cat; "and where may you be
traveling to this morning, Cock-alu?"

"I'm going to the silver-spring in the Beech-wood," replied Cock-alu,
"to get a drop of water for my little wife Hen-alie, who has got a bean
in her throat."

"That's a bad business," says the wild-cat, "but a drop of water with
the dew in it is the right remedy; so don't let me keep you; and you had
better make haste, for the woodman is on his way to fell a tree by the
spring, and if a branch falls into it, the water will be troubled; so
off with you! But carry with you a flash of green fire from my right
eye, and give it to Hen-alie with my love, and I hope she'll soon be

"Oh, what a beautiful green light, like the green on my best
tail-feathers! I'll keep it for myself; it's fitter for me than for
Hen-alie!" said Cock-alu.

So he hung the green light on his tail-feathers, which made them very
handsome, and he went on his way.

He had not gone far before he met with the sheep-dog. "Good morning,
sheep-dog," says Cock-alu; "where are you going?"

"I'm going to hunt up a stray lamb for my master," says the sheep-dog,
"and what brings you abroad?"

"I'm going to the silver-spring in the Beech-wood, to get a drop of
water for my little wife Hen-alie, who has got a bean in her throat,"
says Cock-alu.

"Then why do you stop talking to me?" says the sheep-dog, in his short
way; "your wife's bad enough, I'll warrant me; and a drop of water with
the dew in it is the thing to do her good. Be off with you! The farmer
is coming to lay the spring dry this morning. I left him sharpening his
mattock when I set out. You'll be too late, if you don't mind!" and with
that the sheep-dog went his way.

"An unmannerly fellow," says Cock-alu, and stood looking after him;
"I'll not go at his bidding, not I!" So he clapped his wings and crowed
in the wood, just to show that he set light by his advice. "And never to
give me anything for poor Hen-alie, that lies sick at home with a bean
in her throat! The ill-natured churl!" cried Cock-alu to himself, and
then he stood and crowed again with all his might.

After that he marched on, and before long reached the Beech-wood, but as
the silver-spring lay yet a good way off, he had not gone far in the
wood before he met the squirrel.

"Good morning, squirrel," says he; "what brings you abroad so early?"

"Early do you call it, Cock-alu?" says the squirrel; "why, I've been up
these four hours; I just stopped to give the young ones their
breakfasts, and then set off to silver-spring for a drop of water while
the dew was in it; I've got it here in a cherry-leaf. And pray you, what
business may take you abroad, Cock-alu?"

"The same as yours," replied Cock-alu; "I'm going for water, too, for my
wife Hen-alie, who has got a bean in her throat."

"Ah, well-a-day!" says the squirrel, "that's a bad thing! But run along
with you; for the old sow is coming down with her nine little pigs, and
if they trouble the water it will be all too late for poor little

And with that the squirrel leaped up into the oak-tree above where
Cock-alu stood, for that was her way home, and left him without further

"Humph!" said Cock-alu; "she might have given me some of the water out
of her cherry-leaf for my poor little Hen-alie!" And so saying, he
walked on through the Beech-wood, and as he met no more creatures he
soon reached the silver-spring.

But it was now noon-day, and there was not a drop of dew in the water,
and the bull had been down and drunk, and the bloodhound had lapped, and
the old sow and her nine little pigs had wallowed in it, so the water
was troubled, and besides that the woodman had felled the tree which now
lay across the spring, and the farmer was digging the new watercourse,
so the spring was getting lower every minute. Cock-alu had come quite
too late; there was not a drop left for poor little Hen-alie.

When Cock-alu saw this he was very much disconcerted; he did not know
what to do, he stood a little while considering, and then he set off as
hard as he could go to the squirrel's house to beg a drop of water from
her. But the squirrel lived a long way off in the wood, and thus it was
a considerable time before he got there.

When he reached the squirrel's house, however, nobody was at home. He
knocked and knocked for a long time, and at last he walked in, but they
were all gone out; he peeped therefore into the pantry to see if he
could find the water; there was plenty of hazel-nuts and beech-nuts,
heaps and heaps of them all laid up in store for winter, but no water;
at length he saw the curled-up cherry-leaf, like a water-jug, standing
at the squirrel's bed-side, but it was empty; there was not a single
drop in it.

"This is bad business!" said Cock-alu to himself, and turned to leave
the house. At the squirrel's door he met a woodpecker.

"Woodpecker," says he, "where is the squirrel gone to? I want to beg a
drop of water from the silver-spring for my wife Hen-alie, who has got a
bean in her throat!"

"Lack-a-day!" said the woodpecker, "the old squirrel drank every drop,
and drained the jug into the bargain; he lay sick in bed this morning,
but there was such virtue in the water that he got well as soon as he
drank it; and now he has taken his wife and the little ones out for an
airing; they will not be back till night, I know. But if you will leave
any message with me I will be sure and deliver it, for the squirrel and
I are very neighborly."

"Oh!" groaned Cock-alu; "but what would be the use of leaving a message
if they have no water to give me!"

With that he came down from the old pine tree where the squirrel lived,
set out on his way home again, and came at length out of the Beech-wood,
but it was then getting toward evening.

He came to his own yard. There was the perch on which he and Hen-alie
had so often sat, and there was the bean-straw, and there lay poor
Hen-alie just as he had left her.

"Hen-alie, my little wife," said he, crowing loudly as he came up, that
he might put a cheerful face on the matter, "I have been very unlucky; I
could not get you any water, but I have got something so nice for you! I
have brought you a pair of silver-gauze stockings which the snail has
sent you, and a pair of blue velvet garters to wear with them, which the
ring-tail dove gave me!"

"Thank you," said poor little Hen-alie, in a very weak voice, "but I
wish you could have brought me some water, these things will do me no

"I could not bring you water, for the silver-spring is dry," said
Cock-alu, feeling very unhappy, and yet wishing to excuse himself;
"there's not a drop of water left in it!"

"Then it's all over with me!" sighed poor little Hen-alie.

"Don't be down-hearted, my little wife," said Cock-alu, trying to seem
cheerful, "I will give you something better than all, I will give you
the green-fire flash from the wild-cat's eye, which he gave me to wear
on my tail-feathers. Look up, my poor little Hen-alie, and I'll give it
all to you!"

"Alas!" sighed poor little Hen-alie, "what good will they do me! Oh,
that somebody only loved me well enough to have brought me one drop of
silver-spring water!"

All this while something very nice was happening, which I must tell you.

There was in the poultry-yard a shabby little drab-colored hen, very
small and very much despised; Cock-alu would not look at her, nor
Hen-alie either; she had no tail-feathers at all, and long black legs
which looked as if she had borrowed them from a hen twice her size; she
was, in short, the meanest, most ill-conditioned hen in the yard.

All the time, however, that Cock-alu was out on his fruitless errand,
she had been comforting Hen-alie in the best way she could, and assuring
her that Cock-alu would soon be back again with the water from the
silver-spring. But when he came back without a single drop, and only
offered the fine silk stockings and blue velvet garters instead, she set
off, without saying a word, as fast as her long legs would carry her out
of the wood and down to the silver-spring, which she reached in a
wonderfully short time.

Fortunately the silver-spring had flowed into its new channel as clearly
as ever, and the evening dew had dropped its virtues into it. The owls
were shouting "Kla-vit!" from one end of the wood to the other, The dark
leathern-winged bats and the dusky white and buff-colored moths were
flitting about the broad shadows of the trees, but the little hen took
no notice of any of them. On she went, thinking of nothing but that
which she had to do; and reaching the silver-spring, she gathered up
twelve drops of water, and, hurrying back again, came into the yard just
as poor Hen-alie was saying: "Oh, that somebody had loved me well enough
to fetch me only one drop of silver-spring water!"

"That I do!" said the shabby little hen, and dropped one drop after
another into her beak.

The first drop loosened the bean, the second softened it, and the third
sent it down her throat.

Hen-alie was well again; Cock-alu was ready to clap his wings and crow
for joy; and the little hen turned quietly away to her solitary perch.

"Nay," said Hen-alie, "but you shall not go unrewarded; see, here is a
pair of silk stockings for you, and here is green fire which will make
the most beautiful feathers in the world grow all over your body! Take
them all, you good little thing, and to-morrow morning you will come out
the handsomest hen in the yard!"

So it was. There must have been magic in those silk stockings and that
green fire, for the shabby little thing was now transformed into a
regular queen-hen. The farmer's wife thought she must have strayed away
from some beautiful foreign country, and gave her a famous breakfast to
keep her. Cock-alu was very attentive to her; and as to Hen-alie, she
never ceased singing her praises as long as she lived.


     There is the key of the Kingdom.
     In that Kingdom there is a city;
     In that city there is a town;
     In that town there is a street;
     In that street there is a lane;
     In that lane there is a yard;
     In that yard there is a house;
     In that house there is a room;
     In that room there is a bed;
     On that bed there is a basket;
     In that basket there are some flowers.

     Flowers in the basket,
     Basket on the bed,
     Bed in the room,
     Room in the house,
     House in the yard,
     Yard in the lane,
     Lane in the street,
     Street in the town,
     Town in the city,
     City in the Kingdom,
     And this is the key of the Kingdom.





Tommy took his sister out in their new pony-cart for a ride.

They met a little friend very soon, and asked her to ride, too.

Then Billie came along and of course they had to invite him.

But they had forgotten how fat Billie was, so their ride ended very



  [Illustration: "OH DEAR, THIS IS DREADFUL!"]







  [Illustration: II. "WHAT'S THAT NOISE? SEE! A MOUSE TAIL!"]


  [Illustration: BEGIN TO PULL.]

  [Illustration: NOW, "ALL TOGETHER!"--]

  [Illustration: BUT THIS IS WHAT IT WAS.]



  [Illustration: HOW THEY]

  [Illustration: MADE THAT]

  [Illustration: AWFUL WISH]

  [Illustration: COME TRUE!]


Nonsense Rhyme.

from the Negro quarters

     Jay-bird a-sittin' on a Hickory limb.
     He winked at me, I winked at him.
         'Taint gwine to rain no mo'.

     Hawk and Buzzard went to law;
     Hawk fell down and broke his jaw.
         'Taint gwine to rain no mo'.

     Oh, de Wren and de Thrush go clackety-clack,
     Dey bofe talk at once an dey bofe talk back,
     Dey say: "Jim Crow, my but you =is= black!"
         'Taint gwine to rain no mo'.



     Oh! Timothy Trundle was bouncingly fat,
       As round as a robin was he;
     The jolliest babe ever sat on a mat
       To frolic and gurgle with glee!
     His father who tossed him now up and now down,
       Called him "Timothy Trundle of Topplety Town."

     When Timothy Trundle grew up to be "Tim",
       A rotund, jolly chunk of a lad,
     The hoop that he played with looked slim, beside him,
       Such a sphere of a shape as he had;
     And folks on the street lost all signs of a frown,
       To see Timothy Trundle of Topplety Town.

     Once Timothy Trundle went out for a slide,
       He dragged up the sled with a will;
     But as he pushed off on his ride, o'er the side
       He rolled, and then rolled down the hill;--
     A snowball, like Heidelberg's fun of renown,
       Buried Timothy Trundle of Topplety Town.

     Of Timothy Trundle, the youth like an O,
       For years I had never a trace
     Till I went to a circus, and lo! in the show
       I found his full-moon of a face.
     A troup of trick tumblers performed, and the clown
       Was Timothy Trundle of Topplety Town!

  [Illustration: AN UNWELCOME GUEST]

  [Illustration: PLAYMATES

  [Illustration: MORE PLAYMATES

  [Illustration: A DREAM OF GLORY]









  [Illustration: AND IT WORKED FINELY!]






  IT NOW!"]



  [Illustration: IVAN SEES THE WOLF]











  [Illustration: 1. TWO BEARS ON MISCHIEF BOUND]

  [Illustration: 2. A BIG JAR OF HONEY FOUND.]


  [Illustration: 4. BOTH TO EAT AT ONCE BEGAN.]

  [Illustration: 5. WHITEY BUMPED ON BRUIN'S CROWN;]


  [Illustration: 7. THIS TO ROUGH AND TUMBLE LED,]

  [Illustration: 8. TILL THEY WERE HEELS OVER HEAD.]

  [Illustration: 9. BRUIN THOUGHT HE WAS IN CLOVER;]

  [Illustration: 10. WHITEY CAME AND TURNED HIM OVER.]


  [Illustration: 12. NOT AWARE WHAT'S COMING AFTER--]

  [Illustration: 13. THE JAR IS BROKEN ON HIS HEAD;]

  [Illustration: 14. JAR AND HONEY BOTH ARE FLED!]

  [Illustration: 15. SAD AND SORRY, VERY SLOW,]


Little Eski and the Polar Bear

An Arctic Story in Four Chapters



_The_ Frog's Fiasco

by D. K. Stevens

         There was once a Frog
         In a lonesome Bog
     With a voice that was well worth praising.
     He had one song and it used to go
     Way down in the added lines below
     Like this: [Symbol: music] which is quite amazing.

             So he said one day
             In a casual way
         "Although it is scarcely vital
       And I may be wrong, it appears to me
     That a frog with a voice like mine should be
         First class in a Song Recital."

             So he posted sheets
             In the village streets
     With the date and the price: one shilling;
       And he billed himself "_Signor_" because
     He thought he would get immense applause
       By the aid of a little _frilling_.

               Well, it came about
             That his friends turned out
       From the Crane to the Curious Cricket,
     With the Hare and the Hedgehog, Coon and Fox,
         And the Critical Owl in a private box,
             (On a Complimentary Ticket.)

             When the clock struck eight
             _Signor_ Frog in state
           Thus opened the exhibition:
     "For my first attempt on the concert-stump
     I shall render a song that is called '_Ger-rump_.'
           An original composition."

               Then the Critical Owl
               With a guttural growl,
       Or a noise which was something near it,
     Stood up and observed: "All summer long
     From dusk till day you have sung that song--
         And why should we _pay_ to hear it?"

               So they all marched out
                 In a regular rout,
       With remarks most decidedly chilling,
       And every one, as he passed the stand
     Where the Muskrat kept all the cash in hand,
         Demanded and _got_ his shilling!

           And the luckless Frog,
           In the lonesome Bog,
       Relapsed into deep dejection;
     As he broods alone on his dismal case
     And sings all night in a booming bass,
     "_Ger-rump_" is his one selection.

The Musical Trust

By D. K. Stevens

         There was once a man who could execute
             "Old Zip Coon" on a yellow flute,
             And several other tunes to boot,
     But he couldn't make a penny with his tootle-ti-toot
       Though he played all day on his yellow flute,
     He couldn't make a penny with his tootle-ti-toot.

             One day he met a singular
           Quaint old man with a big tu_ba_,
         Who said: "I've travelled wide and far
     But I haven't made a penny with my _oom_-pah-pah."
           _Oom_-pah! _Oom_-pah! _Oom_-pah-pah!
           _Oom_-pah! _Oom_-pah! _Oom_-pah-pah!
         Though he played all day on his big tu_ba_
     He couldn't make a penny with his _oom_-pah-pah.

         Then they met two men who were hammering
           On a big bass drum and a cymbal thing,
         Who said: "We've banged since early spring
     And we haven't made a penny with our boom-zing-zing."
             _Boom_-zing! _Boom_-zing! _Boom_-zing-zing!
     Though the banged on the drum and the cymbal thing
     They couldn't make a penny with their _boom_-zing-zing.

               So the man with the flute
                 Played tootle-ti-toot,
         And the other man he played _oom_-pah,
     While the men with the drum and the cymbal thing
         Went: _boom_-b-b-_boom_-boom--zing-zing!
             And they travelled wide and far.
             Together they made the welkin ring
       With a Tootle-ootle! _Oom_-pah! _Boom_-zing-zing!
             Tootle-ootle! _Oom_-pah! _Boom_-zing-zing!
             Tootle-ootle! _Oom_-pah! _Boom_-zing-zing!
             And Oh! the pennies the people fling!
     When they hear the tootle-_oom_-pah-_boom_-zing-zing!

                                   Katherine Maynadier Browne

The Cautious Cat

by D.K. Stevens

               A Cautious Cat
               And a Reckless Rat
     Went to sea with an Innocent Lamb.
               They sailed in a yawl
               With nothing at all
     To eat but a Sugar-cured Ham.
               The wind blew high
               In a sky-blue sky,
     At a rate they had never foreseen.
               The wind blew low,
               And the wind also
     Blew a little bit in between--
     Just a little bit in between.

               Said the Cautious Cat
               To the Reckless Rat,
     Likewise to the Innocent Lamb:
               "We'll tack this smack
               And sail right back
     To send a Mar-coni-o-gram.
               For the winds might blow
               Both high and low
     And I wouldn't care a Lima Bean,
               But I never can sail
               When the ocean gale
     Blows a little bit in between--
     Just a little bit in between.

               "Of course with me
               You will never agree,"
     Said the Cat to the Rat and the Lamb,
               "But if you balk
               You will have to walk,--
     That's the kind of kitten I am!"
               So they sailed right back
               On the larboard tack
     To the nearest port of call,
               And the Reckless Rat
               Let it go at that,
     While the Lamb said nothing at all--
     Said nothing--whatever--at all.

                                   Katherine Maynadier Browne



     Three little bears came into the town.
       "How do you do?" said everybody.
     Their faces were smiling, with never a frown.
       "How sweet!" said everybody.
     The three little bears made three little bows.
       "How very polite!" said everybody.
     They bowed as boys bow in dancing-school.
       "What airs and what grace!" said everybody.

     One little bear had a little red coat.
       "How smart!" said everybody.
     One had a tippet all made of soft down.
       "How cozy and warm!" said everybody.
     And one was a fiddler of great renown.
       "What charming music!" said everybody.

     The three little bears began then to dance.
       "How cute!" said everybody.
     "What do you want, you little black bears
       With manners so nice?" said everybody.
     "I don't like to be a fool, so I want to go to school,"
       Said the red-coated bear to everybody.

     Then Tommy Perkins, making a bow,
       Right in front of everybody,
     Took down his book and his slate as well,
       And began to explain to everybody
     Just what the little black bears should do
       To read and to cipher like everybody.

     "Sit up quite straight, and mind your stops;
       Say, 'A, B, C,' for everybody."
     "A, B, C," said the three little bears,
       All in one voice, to everybody.
     "A, B, C! What fiddle-dee-dee!"
       Was whispered aloud by everybody.

     "I want to count," said one little bear.
       "One! Two! Three! Four!" shouted everybody.
     "We're not at all deaf!" said the three little bears.
       "Oh! I beg your pardon!" said everybody.

     "We'd like to learn manners," said the three little bears;
       "And we'd like to learn from everybody,
     But every one hasn't fine manners," they said.
       "Some have very bad manners," said everybody.

     "What manners you have may be better than ours,"
       Said the three little bears to everybody,
     "For we live in the wood--which no manners requires."
       "Then how did you learn?" said everybody.

     "For when you came in you were quite as polite
       As Tommy Perkins," said everybody.
     "You bowed and you danced, while we all sat entranced,
       So sweet were the notes," said everybody.

     "You wanted to learn to say, 'A, B, C,'
       Like good little bears," said everybody.
     "And when we exclaimed, 'Such fiddle-dee-dee!'
       No notice you took," said everybody.
     "And when we all shouted out, 'One! Two! Three! Four!'
       Instead of roaring," said everybody,
     "You gently reminded us all that in school
       We must not be noisy," said everybody.

     "If you won't teach us manners,
       We're going back home,"
     Said the three little bears to everybody.
       "For after the night falls it won't do to roam;
     So we'll say our farewells to everybody."

     Then they stood up and bowed, and held out their paws,
       And shook hands all round with everybody.

     "We'll dance all the way, for we know how to play,"
       Said the three little bears to everybody.
     "And with our best compliments we wish you good day."

       "Good day and good luck!" said everybody.



     One day we built a snowman.
       We made him out of snow;
     You'd ought to see how fine he was--
       All white from top to toe!

     We poured some water on him,
       And froze him, legs and ears;
     And when we went indoors to bed
       _I_ said he'd last two years.

     But in the night a warmer kind
       Of wind began to blow,
     And winter cried and ran away,
       And with it ran the snow.

     And in the morning when we went
       To bid our friend good day,
     There wasn't any snowman there--
     _Everything_'d runned away!





"I want to do just as I like," said Tiny Hare to his Mama one day, as he
ran to the door of his home.

"What do you want to do, my dear?" she said.

"I do not know, but I want to do just as I like," said Tiny Hare.

  [Illustration: "SOON MAN CAME BY."]

"You may run out a wee bit of a way, and run and jump and play in the
sun," said his Mama.

"I do not want to run and jump and play. I want to do just as I like,"
said Tiny Hare.

"You may eat the good food that you can find near our home," said his
Mama, "but if you go far MAN may get you, or DOG may eat you, or HAWK
may fly away with you."

"I do not want to eat the good food that I can see here. I want to do
just as I like."

Papa Hare then said very low and deep, "_What_ do you want to do, my

"I do not know," said Tiny Hare, "but I want to do just as I like."

Then said Papa Hare, "Do not wake me from my nap any more now, and when
the big moon is high in the sky, and it is just like day. I will take
you far out in the wood, and you may run and jump and play and eat, and
be very safe, for MAN will be in his home, and DOG in his, and HAWK in

"I do not want to go out in the wood, and run and jump and play when the
moon is high in the sky. I want to do just as I like."

"Do not wake me," said Papa Hare, and he shut his eyes and put his ears

"Come here," said Mama Hare, "and I will tell you a tale of the cold
time of the year when snow is over bush and tree and our good food, and
what came to the hare who did just as his Mama told him not to. Step,
step, step in the snow he went till he came to the Red Fire, and--"

"I do not want to hear the tale," said Tiny Hare. "I want to do just as
I like."

  [Illustration: "HE SAW HAWK FAR UP IN THE SKY."]

"Do not wake me from my nap, then," said his Mama, and she shut _her_
eyes and put _her_ ears down.

Just then Tiny Hare saw a Wind Ball roll by. A Wind Ball is the part of
one kind of a weed that is left when the weed does not grow any more,
and it is dry and like wool, and it can roll like a ball, and fly as
fast as a bird.

"I can run as fast as you," said Tiny Hare. "I can do just as I like,
and I want to get you."

On went the Wind Ball, roll, roll, roll, and on went Tiny Hare, leap,
leap, leap. Just as he was near it, the Wind Ball rose into the air, and
flew like a bird, and on went Tiny Hare, jump, jump, jump. Roll and fly,
roll and fly went the Wind Ball, and leap and jump, leap and jump went
Tiny Hare till he was not able to run any more, and his feet were sore.
He lay down to rest, but soon MAN came by, and Tiny Hare ran into a hole
in a tree, and now how he _did_ wish that he was at home!


By and by he came out to try to hunt for his home, and DOG came by, and
Tiny Hare ran into a hole in a wall, and how he _did_ wish he was at
home! By and by he came out to try to hunt for his home, and he ran, and
he ran, and he ran! And, by and by, he saw HAWK far up in the sky, and
Tiny Hare ran into a bush, and how he _did_ wish he was at home.

By and by he came out to try to hunt for his home, and Wind Ball went by
once more.

"I can't get you, and I don't want to," said Tiny Hare, but the wind was
low, and Wind Ball went roll, roll, roll, slow, slow, slow, and Tiny
Hare went with it, limp, limp, limp, and by and by he saw his home. Tiny
Hare ran as fast as a hare with lame feet can run, and soon he went in
and lay down in the home by his Mama.

"I have not been good, Mama," he said very low in her ear in a way that
a tiny hare has.

"Be good now, then," she said.

"I want to," said Tiny Hare, and then he said, "Do not wake me," and he
shut _his_ eyes, and put _his_ ears down, and they _all_ took a nap.





Once, just as the long, dark time that is at the end of each day came,
Mama Hare said to Tiny Hare, who was at play,

"Come in, now, it is time for bed. You know you must hide from Man, and
Dog, and Hawk; but I must tell you that you are to hide from Cat, also."

"Who is CAT?" said Tiny Hare.

"CAT is not so big as DOG. She has soft fur and two big wild eyes."

"She is just like me," said Tiny Hare. "I have soft fur and big eyes;
then CAT is just a Hare."

"The very idea!" said Mama Hare. "You have not big _wild_ eyes, and your
tail is not long like CAT'S. CAT is not good for a Hare to meet. She can
run very fast, and she has a claw for each toe," and she gave Tiny Hare
a wee bite.

"Does CAT live in our wood?" said Tiny Hare.


"No, she is with MAN and DOG, but she goes out in the day time or at
dark, and she can get a Tiny Hare who runs away from home when he is
_too_ tiny."

"Am I too tiny?" said Tiny Hare. "Yes, yes, yes; far too tiny," said his
Mama; and _how_ she did wash him from his head to his feet!

"I wish to see CAT," said Tiny Hare.

"No, no, no," said his Mama; and _how_ she did wash his soft fur!

He did not wish to see CAT for many, many days, but one day the rain
came, and it was cold, and his Mama told him to stay at home in the dry

"I want to go with you," said Tiny Hare to his Mama and Papa when they
were to go out for food.

"It is too wet," said his Mama. "If your fur gets too wet you can't run
far and fast, and it is not safe for you to go."

"I like rain. I like the wet. I want to go out. I want to do just as I
like," said Tiny Hare, and he laid his ears back, and half shut his
eyes, and put his pink lip out, and did not look kind.

"Hush!" said Papa Hare, in a low, deep tone. And Mama Hare and Papa Hare
went away, and left Tiny Hare at home.

Do you know what Tiny Hare did then? Oh, it was not good!


"I will go to see CAT," he said, very loud. He ran out, over the damp
moss in the wet, wet wood, and, oh, dear me! up the path to the door of
MAN and CAT. The door was open. CAT sat by the fire in a box. She was
most sad, for once she had two baby cats in that box, and now they were
gone. She did not purr. She did not eat. She did not wash her soft fur.
She just sat by the fire and was sad. By and by she was _so_ sad with no
baby cat to love that she said very low and deep: "Mew! Mew!" Tiny Hare
was so wet and so weak he just _had_ to lie down on the step. Then CAT
saw him.

How fast she did jump out of the box, and run to the door! Tiny Hare saw
her long tail, and her big wild eyes. He shut his eyes; and how he _did_
wish he was at home! But CAT did not eat him. She took him in her soft
lips, and laid him in the box by the fire.

"_Now_ she will eat me," said Tiny Hare; and how he _did_ wish he was at

Then MAN and DOG came in. MAN was wet, and had much mud on him. He took
the box away from the fire to put fresh hay in it, and then he saw Tiny
Hare. Then MAN went near the fire to get warm and dry, and DOG ran to
CAT to look at her baby cat. When he saw Tiny Hare he gave a loud bark,
"Bow-wow-wow-wow!" and his tail did not wag any more. But just as he was
to JUMP on Tiny Hare, CAT put a claw on his nose.

"Wow!" said DOG, and MAN made DOG lie down, and he came once more to
look at CAT in her box. "Well, well," said he, "a hare for a baby cat!
Do you mean to eat it, Puss?"

"Purr, purr, purr," said CAT, and Tiny Hare did not like to hear her
purr, and he said: "She _will_ eat me now"; and how he _did_ wish he was
at home!

CAT did not want to eat Tiny Hare, but she did want to wash him, and
play that he was her own baby cat. And she did wash him, oh, _so_ hard,
and _so_ much, from head to feet, and from feet to head, over and over
and over. She gave him a wee bite now and then when she felt a knot in
his wet fur.

"Wee! Wee! Wee!" said Tiny Hare, very loud and high, when she hurt him
too much, but CAT did not care, and did not stop.

By and by when Tiny Hare was warm and dry, and his fur was like silk,
MAN and DOG went out to tea; and CAT saw that the eyes of Tiny Hare were
shut, so _she_ went out to tea. When CAT was gone, oh, how fast did Tiny
Hare _jump_ out of the box, and _run_ out of the door, and _skip_ up the
long road, and _leap_ past the wet wood, home to his Mama. The rain was
over, and the sun was warm, so he was now dry, and his fur was like

"I _will_ be good now, Mama." "Oh, dear," said his Mama. "This is a

"Oh, no, no, no, no, NO!" said Tiny Hare. "I _am_ your Tiny Hare."

"Is it our Tiny Hare?" said Mama Hare to wise Papa Hare.

"Yes," said Papa Hare, "it is, but he is too much like CAT."

Tiny Hare was not glad, and he did not want to play, so he sat near his
home till the dark came. Then his Mama grew too sad for his sake, and
she came out to him. How she _did_ rub him with moss and hay, and how
she _did_ wash him, from his head to his feet. Tiny Hare did not like
it, but he did not say one word.

"_Now_, you _are_ like my dear Tiny Hare," she said at last, and she
took him home. When it grew dark, Tiny Hare said: "I am your Tiny Hare,
and I _will_ be good now," and Papa Hare said, "Yes, I am _sure_ you
will," and gave the ear of Tiny Hare a wee bite for love.

Then Mama Hare put _her_ ears down, and Papa Hare put _his_ ears down,
and Tiny Hare put _his_ ears down, and they all took a long, long nap
till the dawn.

  [Illustration: TINY HARE AT HOME.]




One day in the cold time when he lay snug and warm by his Mama, Tiny
Hare said, "Tell me of the hare who went step, step, step in the snow
till he came to the RED FIRE."

So his Mama gave him a hug and said:

Once upon a time was a wise Wee Hare who knew how to run fast when MAN
came by. He knew how to hide when DOG was near, and when he saw the dark
spot in the sky that HAWK made, how fast he did jump to his Mama! But
Wee Hare did not like to go out and run and jump and play in the sun.

"I do not want to run and jump and play in the sun. I want to run far,
far in the wood, and find the red bush. I have seen it away off in the
dark. It is good for me to eat, I know."

"It is FIRE," said his Mama. "Only MAN can make it, and it is not good
for you. It can burn and hurt. You may eat the good food that you can
find near our home," and she bit his ear for a kiss.

"I do not want to eat the good food that I can see here. I want to do
just as I like. I want to pick the red food from the red bush. I know it
is like buds in the warm time."

"Hush," said Papa Hare, very low and deep. "You are not good. When you
are good, and the moon is high in the sky, and it is just like day, I
will take you far out in the wood, and you may run and jump and play and
eat the food that is best for you."

"I do not want to go out in the wood, and run and jump and play when the
moon is high in the sky. I want to do just as I like. I want to eat the
red buds from the red bush," said the Wee Hare.

"Shut your eyes, and put your ears down, and take your nap," said his
Mama. "You are too tiny to go away from me. Now, hush, do not say one
more word. The red bush is the RED FIRE. It can hurt and burn. MAN has
it, and DOG is with man. They can hurt you, and if you run too far in
the wood, WIND may blow too hard for a wee hare, and SNOW may come and
bury you. Shut your eyes, and put your ears down, and take your nap."

It was noon; the sun was high in the sky.

Good Papa Hare took _his_ nap, and Mama Hare took _her_ nap. The Wee
Hare shut his eyes, and put his ears down, but he took no nap. By and by
he went out of the door, and ran and ran till he came to the wood. Then
he ran and ran in the wood, but he did not come to the RED FIRE, and he
ran and ran and ran till his feet were sore, but he did not come to the
RED FIRE, and he ran and ran and ran and ran till he was not able to run
any more, and no RED FIRE did he see. He lay down to rest in a bush, and
very soon his eyes were shut, and he did not see or hear, for it was
long past the hour for his nap. When he woke SNOW lay on all the open
ways of the wood. The Wee Hare gave a leap from his bush, for he knew
that SNOW can grow deep and deep, and a wee hare cannot walk in it. How
he _did_ wish he was at home!

  [Illustration: "THEN DOG SAID: 'WOW!' AND PUT HIS EARS UP."]

The sun was far down in the west, and its last rays lay red on the SNOW.
Step, step, step went the lame Wee Hare in the cold SNOW. He went back
into the wood to try to find his way home. It grew gray, and it grew
dark, and SNOW grew so deep that the Wee Hare had hard work to walk.
Then WIND came. It was _so_ cold, and blew him out of the path, and how
he _did_ wish he was at home! Step, step, step in the SNOW he went. The
WIND blew more and more.

"I can not walk; my feet are too lame," said the Wee Hare, and just then
he saw the RED FIRE! It grew in the path in the wood, and by it sat MAN
and DOG. Oh, how the Wee Hare felt! His nose grew hot, and his ears grew
cold, and he was not able to move. Then DOG said "WOW!" and put his ears
up, but MAN said: "Lie down," and DOG lay down by the RED FIRE. The Wee
Hare went into a tiny, tiny hole in a tree, and sat on his feet to warm
them. He saw the RED FIRE. He did not like to see it. MAN and DOG did
not let it come too near them, and he saw _them_ keep away from the RED

"They fear it, too," said the Wee Hare. "It is not good for me. I must
take care or it will come and hurt me." He sat on his cold feet, and did
not dare to take a nap.

By and by MAN put SNOW over the RED FIRE, and he and DOG went away, and
the Wee Hare went step, step, step in the snow, soft, soft, soft, for

"I _wish_ I had been good," said the Wee Hare, and WIND and SNOW were
able to hear, and they felt sad for a wee hare.

  [Illustration: "HOW FAST HE WENT--HOP, SKIP, AND JUMP!"]

"We will help him," they said, but low and soft so he did not hear. The
moon came up high in the sky till it was just like day, and it grew very
cold. SNOW grew hard as ice in the cold, and the Wee Hare did not sink
in it any more. WIND did not blow so hard. It came back of Wee Hare now,
push, push, push, to help the Wee Hare over the SNOW. How fast he
went--hop, skip, and jump! Soon he came to his home. How glad he was! He
went in and lay down by his Mama.

"I have not been good, Mama," he said, very low in her ear.

"Be good now, then," his Mama said, and he did not know how glad she was
to have him back.

"I want to be good," said the Wee Hare; and he shut his eyes, and put
his ears down, and they all took a nap till the dawn came.

"Just like us," said Tiny Hare, and he was glad that _he_ lay snug and
warm by _his_ Mama, and he was glad she had told him the tale of the Wee
Hare and the RED FIRE.

The Good King
By Margaret and Clarence Weed

Once upon a time there was a King in Spain who had only one leg. He was
a Good King and he had a big Animal Farm where he kept all the animals
who had lost one or more of their legs.

In another part of Spain there was a Little Half Chick with only one
eye, one wing and one leg. The other chickens with two eyes and two legs
gobbled up the corn so fast that Little Half Chick was nearly starved.

One day a Donkey told Little Half Chick about the Good King and his
Animal Farm. Little Half Chick at once started hoppity-hop for Mother
Hen and said,

"Mother Hen, I am going to Madrid to see the Good King."

"All right," said Mother Hen, "good luck to you."

So Little Half Chick started off, hoppity-hop, hoppity-hop along the
road to Madrid to see the Good King.

Soon she met a Two-legged Cat going along hippity-hip, hippity-hip on
her leg and crutch. The Cat said,

"Hello, Little Half Chick, where are you going so fast?"

Little Half Chick said, "I am going to Madrid to see the Good King."

"May I go too?" said the Two-legged Cat.

"Yes," said Little Half Chick, "fall in behind."

So the Cat fell in behind. Hoppity-hop, hoppity-hop went Little Half
Chick. Hippity-hip, hippity-hip went the Two-legged Cat.

Soon they met a Three-legged Dog going along humpity-hump, humpity-hump.
The Dog said:

"Hello, Little Half Chick, where are you going so fast?"

Little Half Chick said "I am going to Madrid to see the Good King."

"May I go too?" said the Three-legged Dog.

"Yes," said Little Half Chick, "fall in behind."


So the Dog fell in behind. Hoppity-hop, hoppity-hop went Little Half
Chick. Hippity-hip, hippity-hip went the Two-legged Cat. Humpity-hump,
humpity-hump went the Three-legged Dog.

Soon they met a One-legged Crow going along jumpity-jump, jumpity-jump.
The Crow said:

"Hello, Little Half Chick, where are you going so fast?"

Little Half Chick said: "I am going to Madrid to see the Good King."

"May I go too?" said the One-legged Crow.

"Yes," said Little Half Chick, "fall in behind."

So the Crow fell in behind. Hoppity-hop, hoppity-hop went Little Half
Chick. Hippity-hip, hippity-hip went the Two-legged Cat. Humpity-hump,
humpity-hump went the Three-legged Dog. Jumpity-jump, jumpity-jump went
the One-legged Crow.

Soon they met a Snake with no legs at all. He had caught his tail in his
teeth and was rolling along loopity-loop, loopity-loop. The Snake said:

"Hello, Little Half Chick, where are you going so fast?"

"I am going to Madrid to see the Good King," said Little Half Chick.

"May I go, too?" said the Snake.

"Yes," said Little Half Chick, "fall in behind."

So the Snake fell in behind. Hoppity-hop, hoppity-hop went Little Half
Chick. Hippity-hip, hippity-hip went the Two-legged Cat. Humpity-hump,
humpity-hump went the Three-legged Dog. Jumpity-jump, jumpity-jump went
the One-legged Crow. Loopity-loop, loopity-loop went the Snake with no
legs at all.

Soon they came to Madrid and saw the Good King. With the King was his
little daughter Margaret. They both laughed as all these funny animals
came up. The King said to Little Margaret:

"Do you want to see us all go out to the Animal Farm?"

"Yes," said Little Margaret, "I will lead the way."

So she led the way along the street to the Animal Farm. Behind Margaret
came the One-legged King. Next came the Little Half Chick, next the
Two-legged Cat, next the Three-legged Dog, next the One-legged Crow, and
last of all the Snake with no legs at all. So they all went out to the
Animal Farm. And there they lived happily ever after.



 Go to bed early--wake up with joy;
 Go to bed late--cross girl or boy.

 Go to bed early--ready for play;
 Go to bed late--moping all day.

 Go to bed early--no pains or ills;
 Go to bed late--doctors and pills.

 Go to bed early--grow very tall;
 Go to bed late--stay very small.

The Little Pink Pig and the Big Road.


Once there was a little pink pig with five little spotted brothers and
sisters. They had a nice home in the wood lot with their mama, and a
nice yard with a little white fence around it. The little pigs were very
happy playing in the yard. They made mud pies and baked them in the sun.

One day the little pink pig asked his mama to let him go out of the gate
into the big road.

"You are too little and do not know enough yet," said his mama. "When
you grow bigger I shall teach you about the big road, and then you may
go. Now, be a good little pig, and run and play with your brothers and

But the little pink pig would not play with his brothers and sisters. He
ran off in a corner by himself and would not make mud pies.


Pretty soon the milkman came in his wagon to bring the milk for dinner.
He carried it in and knocked at the back door, and poured it in a pail
for mama. Then he ran out as fast as he could and hopped up in his wagon
and drove away.

But he forgot to close the gate.

The little pink pig saw the gate was open, and he ran right out into the
big road.

"I will show my mama how much I know," he said. And he trotted down the
big road as fast as his little pink legs would carry him.

He had not gone very far when he saw a big black and white thing. The
black and white thing ran after the little pig, and rolled him over in
the dust.


The little pig squealed and squealed, and the black and white thing
rolled him and rolled him over, and kept saying "Bow wow!" But by and by
he turned and went away.

The little pig got up and tried to shake off the dust, but he couldn't
shake it all off. He wanted to go home, but he had rolled over and over
so much, that he couldn't tell where home was. So he ran into a
cornfield to hide, till he was sure the black and white thing was gone.

Pretty soon a man came along and found him in the cornfield and said:

"Hello, pink pig, are you eating my corn?"

"Oh, no!" said the little pig. "I would not eat your corn."

"Then you should keep out of my cornfield," said the man. "I will take
you home and shut you in a pen."

And he took the little pink pig home and shut him up in a pen.

"I do not want to be shut up. Please let me out," said the little pink

But the man did not let him out. It was not a nice pen, and the little
pig got all muddy and dirty in it. He wished he was at home in his own
little house with his mama, and his spotted brothers and sisters.


He ran round and round till he found a little hole in the fence. He was
such a tiny pig that he squeezed through the hole and got out, though he
had a hard time, for the buttons on his jacket got caught, and he could
hardly get loose. He did not know which way to go to find his home, but
he ran as fast as he could to get away from the pen.

He ran through a fence into a big place where there was plenty of grass.
There were some very big red things in there, and one saw the little pig
and ran after him.

"Oh, dear!" said the little pink pig (only he was not pink any more
because he was all covered with mud), "are you a big pig?"

The big red thing shook its head and said "Moo!" and tossed the little
pig up in the air. The little pig fell on the ground with a hard bump.
He lay still till the red thing went away. Then he got up and ran as
fast as he could.

He ran out in the road, and right into a black and white speckled thing
with two legs. The speckled thing puffed up and said "Squawk!"

The little pig ran as fast as he could because he thought the speckled
thing was chasing him. But it wasn't.

The little pig did not know where he was running, and he did not have
time to find out. The first thing he knew he almost ran into a lot of
two-legged things. They had big yellow mouths.


One of them said "Hiss-ss!" and ran out and nipped the little pig's hind
leg. The little pig squealed and ran the other way.

"Oh, dear!" he thought, "if I ever get back to my mama, I will never try
to go down the big road again, till she teaches me what these queer
things are."

Just then he found himself in front of his own little house with the
white fence around it. He ran into the house and told his mama
everything that had happened to him. "Oh, mama," he said, "what was the
black and white thing?"


"It was a dog," she said. "Dogs sometimes chase little pigs."

"Oh, mama," he said, "a man found me in his cornfield and put me in a

"You must keep out of cornfields," said mama. "People do not like pigs
in their cornfields."

"Oh, mama, what was the big red thing with sharp things on top of its

"It was a cow," said mama. "You should not go where cows are till you
are big enough to keep out of their way."

"Oh, mama, what was the speckled thing that puffed up and said

"It was a hen," said mama. "She was not chasing you, she was only going
to the other side of the road."

"Oh, mama, what was the white thing that nipped me?" "It was a goose.
You should always keep away from them."

"Oh, mama, this is a big world, and there are lots of funny things in


"Yes," said mama. "That is why it is best for little pigs not to go out
on the big road till they know more. You need not be afraid of anything
if you know what it is. You have learned a great deal today for such a
little pig, but if you are patient and wait till I teach you, you will
not have such a hard time. We shall walk out every day, and I will teach
you how a little pig can take care of himself all the time." Then she
put the little pig in the wash-tub, for he was all covered with mud, and
washed him nicely--and before long he was the little pink pig again.



Author of "Queen Zixi of Ix," "The Wizard of Oz," etc.

"Oh, Mama!" cried Fuzzy Wuz, running into the burrow where her mother
lay dozing, "may I go walking with Chatter Chuk?"

Mrs. Wuz opened one eye sleepily and looked at Fuzzy.

"If you are careful," she said; "and don't go near Juggerjook's den; and
watch the sun so as to get home before the shadows fall."

"Yes, yes; of course," returned Fuzzy, eagerly.

"And don't let Chatter Chuk lead you into mischief," continued Mrs. Wuz,
rubbing one long ear with her paw lazily. "Those red squirrels are
reckless things and haven't much sense."

"Chatter's all right," protested Fuzzy Wuz. "He's the best friend I have
in the forest. Good-by, Mother."

"Is your face clean, Fuzzy?"

"I've just washed it, Mother."

"With both paws, right and left?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Then run along and be careful."

"Yes, Mother."

Fuzzy turned and darted from the burrow, and in the bright sunshine
outside sat Chatter Chuk on his hind legs, cracking an acorn.

"What'd she say, Fuz?" asked the red squirrel.

"All right, I can go, Chat. But I've got to be careful."

As the white rabbit hopped away through the bushes and he glided along
beside her, Chatter Chuk laughed.

"Your people are always careful, Fuz," said he. "That's why you see so
little of the world, and lose all the fun in life."

"I know," replied Fuzzy, a little ashamed. "Father is always singing
this song to me:

        "Little Bunny,
         Don't get funny;
     Run along and mind your eye;
         It's the habit
         Of a rabbit
     To be diffident and shy."

"We squirrels are different," said Chatter Chuk, proudly. "We are always
taught this song:

        "Squirrel red,
         Go ahead!
     See the world, so bright and gay.
         For a rover
         May discover
     All that happens day by day."

"Oh, if I could run up a tree, _I_ shouldn't be afraid, either,"
remarked Fuzzy Wuz. "Even Juggerjook couldn't frighten me then."

"Kernels and shucks! Juggerjook!" cried Chatter Chuk, scornfully. "Who
cares for him?"

"Don't you fear him?" asked Fuzzy Wuz, curiously.

"Of course not," said the squirrel. "My people often go to his den and
leave nuts there."

"Why, if you make presents to Juggerjook, of course he won't hurt you,"
returned the rabbit. "All the beasts carry presents to his den, so he
will protect them from their enemies. The bears kill wolves and carry
them to Juggerjook to eat; and the wolves kill foxes and carry them to
Juggerjook, and the foxes kill rabbits for him. But we rabbits do not
kill animals, so we cannot take Juggerjook anything to eat except roots
and clover; and he doesn't care much for those. So we are careful to
keep away from his den."

"Have you ever seen him or the place where he lives?" asked the

"No," replied Fuzzy Wuz.

"Suppose we go there now?"

"Oh, no! Mother said--"

"There's nothing to be afraid of. I've looked at the den often from the
trees near by," said Chatter Chuk. "I can lead you to the edge of the
bushes close to his den, and he'll never know we are near."

"Mother says Juggerjook knows everything that goes on in the forest,"
declared the rabbit, gravely.

"Your mother's a 'fraid-cat and trembles when a twig cracks," said
Chatter, with a careless laugh. "Why don't you have a little spirit of
your own, Fuzzy, and be independent?"

Fuzzy Wuz was quite young, and ashamed of being thought shy, so she

"All right, Chat. Let's go take a peep at Juggerjook's den."

"We're near it, now," announced the squirrel. "Come this way; and go
softly, Fuzzy Wuz, because Juggerjook has sharp ears."

They crept along through the bushes some distance after that, but did
not speak except in whispers. Fuzzy knew it was a bold thing to do. They
had nothing to carry to the terrible Juggerjook, and it was known that
he always punished those who came to his den without making him
presents. But the rabbit relied upon Chatter Chuk's promise that the
tyrant of the forest would never know they had been near him. Juggerjook
was considered a great magician, to be sure, yet Chatter Chuk was not
afraid of him. So why should Fuzzy Wuz fear anything?

The red squirrel ran ahead, so cautiously that he made not a sound in
the underbrush; and he skilfully picked the way so that the fat white
rabbit could follow him. Presently he stopped short and whispered to his

"Put your head through those leaves, and you will see Juggerjook's den."

Fuzzy Wuz obeyed. There was a wide clearing beyond the bushes, and at
the farther side was a great rock with a deep cave in it. All around the
clearing were scattered the bones and skulls of animals, bleached white
by the sun. Just in front of the cave was quite a big heap of bones, and
the rabbit shuddered as she thought of all the many creatures Juggerjook
must have eaten in his time. What a fierce appetite the great magician
must have!

The sight made the timid rabbit sick and faint. She drew back and hopped
away through the bushes without heeding the crackling twigs or the
whispered cautions of Chatter Chuk, who was now badly frightened

When they had withdrawn to a safe distance the squirrel said peevishly:

"Oh, you foolish thing! Why did you make such a noise and racket?"

"Did I?" asked Fuzzy Wuz, simply.

"Indeed you did. And I warned you to be silent."

"But it's all right now. We're safe from Juggerjook here," she said.

"I'm not sure of that," remarked the squirrel, uneasily. "One is never
safe from punishment if he is discovered breaking the law. I hope the
magician was asleep and did not hear us."

"I hope so, too," added the rabbit; and then they ran along at more
ease, rambling through the forest paths and enjoying the fragrance of
the woods and the lights and shadows cast by the sun as it peeped
through the trees.

Once in a while they would pause while Fuzzy Wuz nibbled a green leaf or
Chatter Chuk cracked a fallen nut in his strong teeth, to see if it was
sound and sweet.

"It seems funny for me to be on the ground so long," he said. "But I
invited you to walk with me, and of course a rabbit can't run up a tree
and leap from limb to limb, as my people do."

"That is true," admitted Fuzzy; "nor can squirrels burrow in the ground,
as rabbits do."

"They have no need to," declared the squirrel. "We find a hollow tree,
and with our sharp teeth gnaw a hole through the shell and find a warm,
dry home inside."

"I'm glad you do," remarked Fuzzy. "If all the animals burrowed in the
ground there would not be room for us to hide from each other."

Chatter laughed at this.

"The shadows are getting long," he said. "If you wish to be home before
sunset, we must start back."

"Wait a minute!" cried the rabbit, sitting up and sniffing the air. "I
smell carrots!"

"Never mind," said the squirrel.

"Never mind carrots? Oh, Chatter Chuk! You don't know how good they

"Well, we haven't any time to find them," he replied. "For my part, I
could run home in five minutes, but you are so clumsy it will take you
an hour. Where are you going now?"

"Just over here," said Fuzzy Wuz. "Those carrots can't be far off."

The squirrel followed, scolding a little because to him carrots meant
nothing especially good to eat. And there, just beside the path, was an
old coverless box raised on a peg, and underneath it a bunch of juicy,
fat, yellow carrots.

There was room under the box for Fuzzy Wuz to creep in and get the
carrots, and this she promptly did, while Chatter Chuk stood on his hind
legs a short distance away and impatiently waited. But when the white
rabbit nibbled the carrots, the motion pulled a string which jerked out
the peg that held up the box, and behold, Fuzzy Wuz was a prisoner!

She squealed with fear and scratched at the sides of the box in a vain
endeavor to find a way to escape; but escape was impossible unless some
one lifted the box. The red squirrel had seen the whole mishap, and
chattered angrily from outside at the plight of his captured friend. The
white rabbit thought he must be far away, because the box shut out so
much the sound of his voice.

"Juggerjook must have heard us, and this is part of his revenge," said
the squirrel. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I wonder what the great magician will
do to _me_."

He was so terrified by this thought that Chatter Chuk took flight and
darted home at his best speed. He lived in a tree very near to the
burrow where Mrs. Wuz resided, but the squirrel did not go near the
rabbit-burrow. The sun was already sinking in the west, so he ran into
his nest and pretended to sleep when his mother asked him where he had
been so late.


All night Mrs. Wuz waited for Fuzzy, and it was an anxious and sleepless
night for the poor mother, as you may well believe. Fuzzy was her one
darling, several other children having been taken from her in various
ways soon after their birth. Mr. Wuz had gone to attend a meeting of the
Rabbits' Protective Association and might be absent for several days; so
he was not there to help or counsel her.

  [Illustration: "'I SMELL CARROTS!'"]

When daybreak came, the mother rabbit ran to the foot of the squirrels'
tree and called:

"Chatter Chuk! Chatter Chuk! Where is my Fuzzy Wuz? Where is my darling

Chatter Chuk was too frightened to answer until his mother made him.
Then he ran down to the lowest limb of the tree and sat there while he

"We went walking," he said, "and Fuzzy found some carrots under a box
that was propped up with a peg. I told her not to eat them; but she did,
and the peg fell out and made her a prisoner."

You see, he did not mention Juggerjook at all, yet he knew the magician
was at the bottom of all the trouble.

But Mrs. Wuz knew rabbit-traps quite well, being old and experienced; so
she begged the red squirrel to come at once and show her the place where
Fuzzy had been caught.

"There isn't a moment to lose," she said, "for the trappers will be out
early this morning to see what they have captured in their trap."

Chatter Chuk was afraid to go, having a guilty conscience; but his
mother made him. He led the way timidly, but swiftly, and Mrs. Wuz
fairly flew over the ground, so anxious was she to rescue her darling.

The box was in the same place yet, and poor Fuzzy Wuz could be heard
moaning feebly inside it.

"Courage, my darling!" cried the mother, "I have come to save you."

First she tried to move the box, but it was too heavy for her to stir.
Then she began scratching away the earth at its edge, only to find that
it had been placed upon a big, flat stone, to prevent a rabbit from
burrowing out.

  [Illustration: "FUZZY CREPT UNDER THE BOX."]

This discovery almost drove her frantic, until she noticed Chatter Chuk,
who stood trembling near by.

"Here!" she called; "it was you who led my child into trouble. Now you
must get her out."

"How?" asked the red squirrel.

"Gnaw a hole in that box--quick! Gnaw faster than you ever did before in
your life. See! the box is thinnest at this side. Set to work at once,
Chatter Chuk!"

The red squirrel obeyed. The idea of saving his friend was as welcome to
him as it was to the distracted mother. He was young, and his teeth were
as sharp as needles. So he started at the lower edge and chewed the wood
with all his strength and skill, and at every bite the splinters came

It was a good idea. Mrs. Wuz watched him anxiously. If only the men
would keep away for a time, the squirrel could make a hole big enough
for Fuzzy Wuz to escape. She crept around the other side of the box and
called to the prisoner: "Courage, dear one! We are trying to save you.
But if the men come before Chatter Chuk can make a hole big enough,
then, as soon as they raise the box, you must make a dash for the
bushes. Run before they can put in their hands to seize you. Do you

"Yes, Mother," replied Fuzzy, but her voice wasn't heard very plainly,
because the squirrel was making so much noise chewing the wood.

Presently Chatter Chuk stopped.

"It makes my teeth ache," he complained.

"Never mind, let them ache," replied Mrs. Wuz. "If you stop now, Fuzzy
will die; and if she dies, I will go to Juggerjook and tell him how you
led my child into trouble."

The thought of Juggerjook made the frightened squirrel redouble his
efforts. He forgot the pain in his teeth and gnawed as no other
squirrel had ever gnawed before. The ground was covered with tiny
splinters from the box, and now the hole was big enough for the prisoner
to put the end of her nose through and beg him to hurry.

Chatter Chuk was intent on his task, and the mother was intent upon
watching him, so neither noticed any one approaching, until a net fell
over their heads, and a big voice cried, with a boisterous laugh:

"Caught! and neat as a pin, too!"

Chatter Chuk and Mrs. Wuz struggled in the net with all their might, but
it was fast around them, and they were helpless to escape. Fuzzy stuck
her nose out of the hole in the box to find out what was the matter, and
a sweet, childish voice exclaimed: "There's another in the trap, Daddy!"

Neither the rabbits nor the squirrel understood this strange language;
but all realized they were in the power of dreadful Man and gave
themselves up for lost.

Fuzzy made a dash the moment the box was raised; but the trapper knew
the tricks of rabbits, so the prisoner only dashed into the same net
where her mother and Chatter Chuk were confined.

"Three of them! Two rabbits and a squirrel. That's quite a haul,
Charlie," said the man.

  [Illustration: "'WHERE IS MY CHILD?'"]

The little boy was examining the box.

"Do rabbits gnaw through wood, Father?" he asked.

"No, my son," was the reply.

"But there is a hole here. And see! There are the splinters upon the

The man examined the box in turn, somewhat curiously.

"How strange!" he said. "These are marks of the squirrel's teeth. Now, I
wonder if the squirrel was trying to liberate the rabbit."

"Looks like it, Daddy; doesn't it?" replied the boy.

"I never heard of such a thing in my life," declared the man. "These
little creatures often display more wisdom than we give them credit for.
But how can we explain this curious freak, Charlie?"

The boy sat down upon the box and looked thoughtfully at the three
prisoners in the net. They had ceased to struggle, having given way to
despair; but the boy could see their little hearts beating fast through
their furry skins.

"This is the way it looks to me, Daddy," he finally said. "We caught the
small rabbit in the box, and the big one must be its mother. When she
found her baby was caught, she tried to save it, and she began to burrow
under the box, for here is the mark of her paws. But she soon saw the
flat stone, and gave up."

"Yes; that seems reasonable," said the man.

"But she loved her baby," continued the boy, gazing at the little
creatures pitifully, "and thought of another way. The red squirrel was a
friend of hers, so she ran and found him, and asked him to help her. He
did, and tried to gnaw through the box; but we came too soon and
captured them with the net because they were so busy they didn't notice

"Exactly!" cried the man, with a laugh. "That tells the story very
plainly, my son, and I see you are fast learning the ways of animals.
But how intelligent these little things are!"

"That's what _my_ mother would do," returned the boy. "She'd try to save
me; and that's just what the mother rabbit did."

"Well, we must be going," said the man; and as he started away he picked
up the net and swung it over his shoulder. The prisoners struggled madly
again, and the boy, who walked along the forest path a few steps behind
his father, watched them.


"Daddy," he said softly, coming to the man's side, "I don't want to keep
those rabbits."

"Oh, they'll make us a good dinner," was the reply.

"I--I couldn't eat 'em for dinner, Daddy. Not the mama rabbit and the
little one she tried to save. Nor the dear little squirrel that wanted
to help them. Let's--let's--let 'em go!"

The man stopped short and turned to look with a smile into the boy's
upturned, eager face.

"What will Mama say when we go back without any dinner?" he asked.

"You know, Daddy. She'll say a good deed is better than a good dinner."

The man laid a caressing hand on the curly head and handed his son the
net. Charlie's face beamed with joy. He opened wide the net and watched
the prisoners gasp with surprise, bound out of the meshes, and scamper
away into the bushes.

Then the boy put his small hand in his father's big one, and together
they walked silently along the path.

       *       *       *

"All the same," said Chatter Chuk to himself, as, snug at home, he
trembled at the thought of his late peril, "I shall keep away from old
Juggerjook after this. I am very sure of that!"

"Mama," said Fuzzy Wuz, nestling beside her mother in the burrow, "why
do you suppose the fierce Men let us go?"

"I cannot tell, my dear," was the reply. "Men are curious creatures, and
often act with more wisdom than we give them credit for."

  [Illustration: "What you burying, a bone?"
                 "Nop, interning a muzzle."]



Once upon a time there was a little gray kitten, who had wandered far
away from home. At first she liked all the strange sights she saw, but
by and by she began to feel very homesick, and wished she was once more
cuddled up with her brothers and sisters.

Now the only word this little gray kitten knew was "Mew, mew!" So when
she was lonely she would say "Mew;" when she was hungry, "Mew;" when she
was cold or tired, glad or sad, it was always "Mew." At home they knew
what she meant when she said "Mew," but out in the wide, wide world,
nobody seemed to know.

Wandering along the street, she came upon a little squirming earthworm.
"Mew," said she, meaning, "Where is my home?"

The earthworm, however, did not notice little gray kitten, but crawled
away across the street.

Next, the little gray kitten met a butterfly on the top of a dandelion.
"Mew," said the little gray kitten, meaning, "Can you tell me where my
home is?" But the butterfly did not say anything, and flew away.


  [Illustration: "THE BUTTERFLY FLEW AWAY."]

  [Illustration: MISCHIEF

  [Illustration: "THEN SHE SPIED A ROBIN."]

  [Illustration: "SOON SHE MET A BIG RED COW."]

The little gray kitten walked on, and then she spied a robin on a stone
wall near-by. "Mew," said the little gray kitten, "Where is my home?"

But the robin, cocking his head on one side, answered, "Chirp, chirp,"
and then spreading his wings, flew away.


She felt very sad indeed, but running along she came up to a big black
dog. "Mew, mew!" said the little gray kitten, "Oh, can you not tell me
where my home is?"

But the big black dog shook his tail, and barked "Bow-wow,
bow-wow-wow-wow!" so loudly that the little gray kitten ran away from
him as fast as she could go.

The little gray kitten was very tired, but she still ran on, and soon
met a big red cow. "Mew, mew-ew," said the little gray kitten, "Can you
not tell me where my home is?"


The big red cow, however, hardly looking at the little kitten, stretched
out her big head, and shouted, "Moo, moo-oo!" which so frightened the
little gray kitten that she jumped over a fence and landed right in the
middle of a flower-bed.

There she caught sight of a little girl running up to her, and with such
a sweet smile on her face that the little gray kitten ran toward her and
said once more, "Mew, do _you_ know where my home is?"

"Oh, you dear fluffy gray ball!" said the smiling little girl, catching
the kitten up in her arms. "I'm going to take you right home to live
with me."

The little girl was the only one who had understood, and the little gray
kitten purred softly. She was happy for she had found a home.



     I wonder what you're thinking of, my darling little cat.
     It may be meat, it may be cream, that makes you nice and fat;
     It may be all the fun you have in barn-loft warm and dry;
     It may be mice you try to catch as by their hole you lie.

     Perhaps you think of trees to climb, with birds that sing up there,
     They always get away from you, although you creep with care.
     Perhaps you think of warm, green grass, and basking in the sun,
     Or of your ball, that slides so fast as after it you run.

     I hope you think of me, sometimes, because I love you well;
     I hope you love me back again, although you cannot tell;
     And how I know you're thinking (it's a secret that I've found),
     Is 'cause I hear, close to my ear, your thought-wheels going round.



     The small gray Mouse ran East
       And the small gray Mouse ran West
     And could not tell in the least
       Which way was best.

     The small gray Mouse ran North
       And the small gray Mouse ran South
     And scurried back and forth
       To escape the Kitten's dreadful teeth-lined mouth!

     But Kitty thought it precious fun
     To see the panting Mousie run,
     And when it almost got away
     Her furry paw upon its back would lay.

     But Kitty grew too vain and sure;
     She thought she had the Mouse secure;
     She turned her head, she shut her eyes.
       That was not wise,
     And ere she knew
     The gray Mouse up the chimney flew,
     Where dainty cats could not pursue.
       So she had nothing else to do
         But miew--oo--oo--!



The little girl and the little boy stood in the corn-field near the
hollow tree where the Owl lived. The corn was in shocks like wigwams,
and the yellow pumpkins lay on the ground. The Turtle came up from the
brook below the corn-field, and stuck his head out of his shell to
watch. The Rabbit sat on the edge of the slope, with his ears sticking
straight up, to listen.

The sleepy Owl stirred behind his knot-hole.

"Don't you think," said the little boy, "that the Rabbit--"

"And the Turtle--" said the little girl.

"And the Owl," went on the little boy, "should have a Thanksgiving

"Yes, a good dinner," replied the little girl, "right here in the

"We could have a pumpkin table," said the little boy.

"And pumpkin chairs," said the little girl.

So, as Thanksgiving was that very day, and there was no time to lose,
they began to work. They found a fine, big, flat-topped pumpkin, and
placed it for a table at the foot of the Owl's tree. Then they found
three little pumpkins for stools.

"They won't want to eat until night," said the little boy.

"No," said the little girl; "the Owl and the Turtle and the Rabbit,
too,--they like dinner at night."

"We will lay everything out for them before we go to Grandmother's,"
said the little boy, "and when we come home, we can see all eating their
good Thanksgiving dinner."

The little boy ran and brought parsley and cabbage leaves for the
Rabbit; and when the Rabbit saw that, he trotted home in a hurry, for
fear he might be tempted to eat before it was time.

The little girl brought a fine big mushroom for the Turtle, for she had
once seen a turtle nibble all around the edge of a mushroom.

"The Owl will have to bring his own dinner," said the little boy, "but I
will get him a piece of bread to eat with it." So he did.

That night the little girl and boy drove home by moonlight from their
grandmother's farm. When they were in their own room they looked out of
the window toward the corn-field. They saw the corn-shocks, like
wigwams, with black shadows. They saw the tree dark against the sky.
They saw the big round yellow moon rising above the ridge of the field.
They saw the pumpkin table and pumpkin chairs. They saw, sitting on one
chair, the Rabbit, with his ears sticking straight up as he ate his
parsley and cabbage. They saw the Turtle, stretching his head out of his
shell as he nibbled his mushroom. They saw the Owl on his chair, eating
the dinner he had brought. "Oh, isn't it beautiful!" said the little
girl. "Beautiful!" said the little boy.



     My bunnies like their cozy house, although they scamper out to play;
     My chickens like the slatted coop where all the mother hens must stay.
     My kitten likes her basket bed out in the woodshed near our door,
     My puppy loves his cellar box; he sleeps and plays, then sleeps
               some more.

     But _I_ have got the nicest home. My house is better far than theirs;
     Its windows let the sunshine in; it has a porch, it has some stairs.
     But I like best the kitchen warm, with table, stove, and pantry neat;
     The place where Dinah works, and makes good things for us to eat!

  [Illustration: Bill of Fare

               Fish          Perch
               Entree        Bread
               Vegetables    Corn
               Dessert       Watermelon

  [Illustration: Here comes our dinner!]

  [Illustration: A Shower of good things.]


                              A Glutton.

  [Illustration: "FULL INSIDE."




A little girl and a little boy started down the road together to take a
walk. They met a dog.

"Good morning, Dog," said the little girl. "Bow-wow!" answered the dog.

"Come and take a walk with us, Dog," said the little boy.

So they all went down the road together.

Pretty soon they met a cat.

"Good morning, Cat," said the little boy. "Miaouw!" answered the cat.

"Come and take a walk with us, Cat," said the little girl. So they all
went down the road together.

Pretty soon they met a rooster.

"Good morning, Rooster," said the little girl. "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"
answered the rooster.

"Come and take a walk with us, Rooster," said the little boy.

So they all went down the road together.

Pretty soon they met a duck.

"Good morning, Duck," said the little boy. "Quack, quack!" answered the

"Come and take a walk with us, Duck," said the little girl.

So they all went down the road talking merrily with one another.

Pretty soon they saw a little pinky-white pig with a funny little curly


"Good morning, Pig," said the little girl. "Grunt, grunt!" answered the

"Come and take a walk with us, Pig," said the little boy.

So they all went down the road together.

Pretty soon they came to a pasture.

In the pasture was a nice, old, red cow.

"Good morning, Cow," said the little boy. "Moo, moo!" answered the cow.

"Come and take a walk with us," said the little girl.

But the cow shook her head; she couldn't open the pasture bars.

"We will let down the bars for you, Cow," said the little boy and the
little girl.

So they let down the bars, and the dog, and the cat, and the rooster,
and the duck, and the little white pig with the curly tail, and the
little boy, and the little girl, all went in to see the cow.

The little girl climbed on the cow's back, and the little boy climbed on
the cow's back, and the dog jumped on the cow's back, and the cat jumped
on the cow's neck, and the rooster flew up on the cow's head, and the
little white pig with the curly tail, and the duck, walked behind the
cow, and they all went down the road together just as happy as they
could be.


Pretty soon they met a carriage with two women in it.

"Mercy on me!" said the two women. "What's this!"

"This is a fine, good show," answered the little girl.

"Well, I should think it was!" said the two women. "It is a beautiful

"Thank you," said the little boy.

"Good-by," said the two women.

"Good-by," said the little girl.

So the cow, carrying the little boy, and the little girl, and the dog,
and the cat, and the rooster, with the little white pig with the curly
tail, and the duck, walking along behind, all went down the road

Pretty soon they met a wagon with three men in it.

"Well! Well! Well!" said the three men. "Just look! What's all this?"

"This is a fine, good show," said the little boy, bowing very politely.

"Indeed it is!" said the three men. "It's great!"

"Thank you," said the little boy, "I am pleased that you like it."

"Good-by," said the little girl.

So the cow, carrying the little girl, and the little boy, and the dog,
and the cat, and the rooster, with the little white pig with the curly
tail, and the duck, walking behind, all went down the road together.

  [Illustration: THE FINE, GOOD SHOW.]

Pretty soon they came to a store. The Store Man stood out in front of
his store.

"Good morning, Mr. Store Man," said the little boy, "I have a little
silver piece in my pocket."

"Good morning!" said the Store Man. "What can I do for you?"

"We want to buy some things for our Show," said the little boy.

"I'm glad of that!" said the Store Man.

So the little boy jumped down, and the little girl jumped down, and the
dog jumped down, and the cat jumped down, and the rooster flew down.

"We want to buy a little corn for our cow and our pig," said the little

"And we want to buy a little wheat for our rooster and our duck," said
the little girl.

"And we want to buy a little meat for our dog," said the little boy.

"And we want to buy a little milk for our cat," said the little girl.

"And we want to buy some great, long sticks of candy for us!" said the
little boy and the little girl together. "I hope you have some."

The Store Man took the money and brought out all the things.


The cow and the little white pig with the curly tail ate the corn; the
rooster and the duck ate the wheat; the dog ate the meat, and the cat
drank the milk, and the little girl and the little boy ate the great,
long sticks of candy.

"Good-by, Mr. Store Man," said the little girl.

"Good-by, Mr. Store Man," said the little boy.

"Good-by, all of you," answered the Store Man.

So the little girl, and the little boy, and the dog, and the cat, and
the rooster, and the duck, and the little pig with the curly tail, all
went back up the road again.

Pretty soon they came to the pasture. The cow walked in.

"Good-by, Cow and Dog and Cat and Rooster and Duck and Pig!" shouted the
little boy.

"Good-by, Pig and Duck and Rooster and Cat and Dog and Cow!" called the
little girl.

"Moo-moo!" answered the cow.

"Grunt-grunt!" answered the pig.

"Miaouw, miaouw!" answered the cat.

"Quack, quack!" answered the duck.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" answered the rooster. "Bow-wow!" answered the dog.

And the little boy and the little girl put up the bars and ran back home
as fast as they could go.

                              _Jessie Wright Whitcomb._



(_A Rhyming Story for Little Folk_)

      One beautiful day in the month of May,
      A little girl whose name was Gay
      (They called her that, because, you see,
      She was always cheerful as she could be)
      Went for a walk in the woods near by,
      And her dog went with her (his name was Spy).

      As they strolled along a fine woodland path
      She saw a little bird taking a bath.
      She kept very still and watched him splash,
      When all at once, with a sudden dash,
      Into the brook jumped little dog Spy.
      My, how he made the water fly!
     "What a bad, bad dog you are!" said Gay.
     "Birdie won't bathe any more to-day.
      You frightened him so, but, never mind,
      He's only frightened, not hurt, he'll find.
      We'll walk on further and you must try
      To be good and quiet."
                           "_Bow-wow!_" said Spy.


      They had only walked on a little way,
      When something rustled: "What's that?" said Gay.
      Out from the leaves sprang a squirrel red
      And sped like a flash down the path ahead.
      Close behind him was little dog Spy.
      He paid no heed to the little girl's cry.


      She whistled and called; they were out of sight.
      She waited a moment, then laughed outright.
      For who was this coming? Why, little dog Spy!
      But he didn't look happy--with head held high--
      Indeed, he looked rather ashamed instead
      For he hadn't caught the squirrel red.
      Spy couldn't climb trees, and so, you see,
      Master Squirrel escaped quite easily.
     "You're young," said Gay, "and is that why
      You act so silly?"
                           "_Bow-wow!_" said Spy.

     "I'm tired of walking," the little girl said,
     "I think I will pick some flowers instead.
      I will take them home to my Grandma, dear;
      She loves them but she can't walk out here."
      There were plenty of flowers all around.
      Sweet white violets covered the ground.
      There were lovely long-stemmed blue ones, too,
      And all around the May-flowers grew.
      But when she had all her hands would hold,
      It was time to leave, it was growing cold.
      The sun was sinking. But where was Spy?
      She whistled and called,--but no reply!
     "Where can he be?" she said, when hark!
      Off in the distance she heard him bark.
     "He must have a rabbit," said she, "that's all."
      And sure enough, by an old stone-wall,
      Spy was barking away as hard as he could--
      As if scaring the rabbit would do any good.
     "The rabbit is safe in that wall," said Gay,
     "He wouldn't come out if you barked all day.
      So you better come home for it's growing late.
      And Mother will wonder why I wait.
      Supper'll be ready, too. Oh, my!
      Are you hungry as I am?"
                           "_Bow-wow!_" said Spy.

  [Illustration: "I'SE BIGGEST!"

The Ballad of a runaway Donkey:

by Emilie Poulsson:

here shadow'd forth in divers pictures by Alfred Brenon.

     A sturdy little Donkey,
     All dressed in sober gray,
     Once took it in his long-eared head
     That he would run away.

  2  So, when a little open
     He saw the sable door,
     He ran as if he never would
     Come back there any more.

  3  Away that Donkey galloped
     And ran and ran and ran
     And ran and ran and ran and ran
     And Ran and RAn and RAN!

  4  Behind him ran the Children,
     The Groom and Coachman, too;
     The Farmer and the farmer's man,
     To see what  they could do.

  5  Some carried whips to whip him,
     Some, oats to coax him near,
     Some called "Come here you foolish beast!"
     And some, "Come, Barney, dear."

  6  But not a whit cared Barney
     For cross or coaxing word;
     And clatter, clatter, clatter still,
     His little hoofs were heard.

  7  And all across the meadow,
     And up and o'er the hill,
     And through the woods and down the dale
     He galloped with a will.

  8  And into every hayfield
     And through the swamp and mire
     Still Barney ran and ran and ran
     As if he'd never tire!

  9  His chasers all stopped running,
     Then meek as any lamb
     Did Barney stand as if to say,
     "Come catch me! here I am."

 10  But when one of them started,
     Then Barney started, too;
     As if the chase had just begun
     Away he swiftly flew.

 11  But there's an end to all things,
     And so, (the stupid elf)
     When no one else could capture him
     This donkey caught himself.

 12  For, running in the barn-yard,
     He did not calculate
     What consequences would befall,
     And hit the swinging gate.

 13  It quickly swung together,
     Down dropped the iron latch
     O, Barney Gray! to think that you
     The runaway should catch!

 14  The Children danced with pleasure,
     The Groom roared with delight,
     The Others smiled their broadest smiles
     Or laughed with all their might.

 15  But Barney, naughty Barney,
     Had mischief in him still
     For when the laughing Coachman tried
     To lead him up the hill

 16  His donkeyship determined
     That he would yet have fun
     So braced himself and stood stock still
     As if he weighed a ton!

 17  But mighty was the Coachman
     And pulled with such a will
     That Barney soon was being dragged
     Full roughly up the hill.

 18    "Well, well!" at last thought Barney
       "The Coachman is so strong
     I might as well be good just now,"
     And so he walked along.

 19  And when he reached the stable
     And stood within the stall,
     You'd scarce believe so meek a beast
     Could run away, at all!

 20  Now all the meditations
     Of this same Barney Gray
     Are only of some future chance
     When he may run away.


Once upon a time there were three bears who lived in a castle in a great
wood. One of them was a great big bear, and one was a middling bear, and
one was a little bear. And in the same wood there was a fox who lived
all alone; his name was Scrapefoot. Scrapefoot was very much afraid of
the bears, but for all that he wanted very much to know all about them.
And one day as he went through the wood he found himself near the Bears'
Castle, and he wondered whether he could get into the castle. He looked
all about him everywhere, and he could not see any one. So he came up
very quietly, till at last he came up to the door of the castle, and he
tried whether he could open it. Yes! the door was not locked, and he
opened it just a little way, and put his nose in and looked, and he
could not see any one. So then he opened it a little way farther, and
put one paw in, and then another paw, and another and another, and then
he was all in the Bears' Castle. He found he was in a great hall with
three chairs in it--one big, one middling, and one little chair; and he
thought he would like to sit down and rest and look about him; so he sat
down on the big chair. But he found it so hard and uncomfortable that it
made his bones ache, and he jumped down at once and got into the
middling chair, and he turned round and round in it, but he couldn't
make himself comfortable. So then he went to the little chair and sat
down in it, and it was so soft and warm and comfortable that Scrapefoot
was quite happy; but all at once it broke to pieces under him and he
couldn't put it together again! So he got up and began to look about him
again, and on one table he saw three saucers, of which one was very big,
one was middling, one was quite a little saucer. Scrapefoot was very
thirsty, and he began to drink out of the big saucer. But he only just
tasted the milk in the big saucer, which was so sour and so nasty that
he would not taste another drop of it. Then he tried the middling
saucer, and he drank a little of that. He tried two or three mouthfuls,
but it was not nice, and then he left it and went to the little saucer,
and the milk in the little saucer was so sweet and so nice that he went
on drinking it till it was all gone.

Then Scrapefoot thought he would like to go upstairs; and he listened
and he could not hear any one. So upstairs he went, and he found a great
room with three beds in it; one was a big bed, and one was a middling
bed, and one was a little white bed; and he climbed up into the big bed,
but it was so hard and lumpy and uncomfortable that he jumped down again
at once, and tried the middling bed. That was rather better, but he
could not get comfortable in it, so after turning about a little while
he got up and went to the little bed; and that was so soft and so warm
and so nice that he fell fast asleep at once.

And after a time the Bears came home, and when they got into the hall
the big Bear went to his chair and said, "Who's been sitting in my
chair?" and the middling Bear said, "Who's been sitting in my chair?"
and the little Bear said, "Who's been sitting in my chair and has broken
it all to pieces?" And then they went to have their milk, and the big
bear said, "Who's been drinking my milk?" and the middling Bear said,
"Who's been drinking my milk?" And the little Bear said, "Who's been
drinking my milk and has drunk it all up?" Then they went upstairs and
into the bedroom, and the big Bear said, "Who's been sleeping in my
bed?" and the middling Bear said, "Who's been sleeping in my bed?" and
the little Bear said, "Who's been sleeping in my bed?--and see here he
is!" So then the Bears came and wondered what they should do with him;
and the big Bear said, "Let's hang him!" and then the middling Bear
said, "Let's drown him!" and then the little Bear said, "Let's throw him
out of the window." And then the Bears took him to the window, and the
big Bear took two legs on one side and the middling Bear took two legs
on the other side, and they swung him backwards and forwards, backwards
and forwards, and out of the window. Poor Scrapefoot was so frightened,
and he thought every bone in his body must be broken. But he got up and
first shook one leg--no, that was not broken; and then another, and that
was not broken; and another and another, and then he wagged his tail and
found there were no bones broken. So then he galloped off home as fast
as he could go, and never went near the Bears' Castle again.

  [M] From "More English Fairy Tales," edited by Joseph Jacobs. Used by
  permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam's Sons.



"Yes," the little bear cub would say, "that is my picture. I am a native
of the State of California. I don't remember distinctly where I was
born, but it was up in the Sierras, where the snow lies in great banks,
and the giant trees stand like sentinels, and where you might travel for
days and weeks and meet no one but bears.

"The first thing I recollect was finding myself in a big burrow covered
with snow, then my mother broke the way out and led us (I had a brother)
down the mountain. We soon left the snow; and I remember one day, at
sunset, we stood on an overhanging rock, and my mother showed us the
green valleys and nice dark forests where we could hide, and far off was
the gleaming sea. Mother did not care very much for the water, I think.

"My mother was hungry, after the long winter fast, and every day took us
lower and lower, until one night she led us into a sheep ranch. Then our
troubles began, for she left us to catch a lamb, and never came back. We
heard all about it afterward. Some ranchers had seen her, and rode out
on horseback to enjoy the cruel sport of 'roping a bear'. As they rode
around her, one threw his lariat about her neck; another caught her
forefoot as she stood up, another her hind leg; and then they dragged
her away to the ranch-house--and so we became orphans.

"It was not long before the dogs found us, and a man carried me home in
a basket to his wife, who treated me very kindly. I did not like it, but
pretended I did, and ate all I could, always watching and hoping for a
chance to run away to my mountain home. My mistress, however, soon
thought I was too knowing, and put a chain about my neck. Finally, when
I was about four months old, they sent me to a friend in San Francisco.
I shall never forget how people looked at me and laughed when I stood on
my hind legs, as if there was anything laughable in that! But they gave
me sugar and other good things, and I fared well.

"My new master was a butcher, and most of the time I stayed in his shop.
But some days, when I was very homesick, and longed for my mother, and
the little cub who had been carried off, I did not know where, the
butcher's wife would take me into her room back of the shop, and then I
would go to sleep, cuddled up close upon a rug, with my paws on her
hand, and dream that I was back in my mountain home.

"One day I heard my master say I was to be pho-to-graphed, and I thought
my time had come. You see, I had never heard the word before. There was
no escape, as I was kept tied, and the next morning my master took me
under his big coat in the cable-cars. I could just peep through one of
the button-holes, and all at once I uttered a loud whine. You should
have seen how the passengers stared at my master, who I know looked
embarrassed, as he gave me a tremendous squeeze. We soon got out, and I
was carried up a flight of stairs, and placed on a table in a room, the
walls of which were covered with pictures of people's faces, all of
which seemed to keep their eyes fixed on me.

"My master petted me and gave me some sugar, and I began to think that
being photographed was possibly not so bad, after all. Presently a man
came in. He looked very much astonished, and said, 'Why, I thought you
engaged a sitting for "a descendant of one of the early settlers"?'

"'So I did,' replied my master; 'there it is,' pointing to where I stood
up, blinking with all my might.

"'Why, it's a cub bear!' exclaimed the man.

"'Well, it is a relative of some early settlers, all the same,' my
master answered.

"At this the man smiled good-humoredly, then he went into another room,
while my master petted me and gave me so much sugar that I had the
toothache from it. After a while the man came back and said he was
ready, and I was taken into a room where there was a big thing like a
gun on three legs, with a cloth over it. My master sat down in a chair
and held me in his lap while the man pointed the gun at us.

"I thought I was to be shot, and tried to get away, and this made the
man so cross that he came out from under the cloth and said he couldn't
do it. Then my master put me up in a child's chair and propped something
tight against my head, at which they both laughed so loud you could have
heard them in the street, and I jumped down.

"Finally, the man tapped his forehead and said, 'I have it.' He put a
screen before the gun and my master set me on top of it, holding my
chain while the man crept under the cloth. I did not dare move, as I was
astride of the screen, my hind feet hanging in the air. I prepared for
the worst. Then the man came out again, looked at me sharply, and turned
my head a little, telling me to smile, at which my master laughed. The
man next shook a tambourine at me, and as I turned to see what the noise
meant, I heard a _click!_ and just then my master took me down and
carried me home, much to my relief.

"I wondered what it was all about until one day my master took me on his
knee, and, holding up a card, said, 'Well, here you are!'--and what do
you suppose it was? Nothing more or less than my picture; just as I was
perched astride the screen the day when I thought I was going to be
killed. Here it is":




This tale, my young readers, will seem to you to be quite false; but
still it must be true, for my Grandfather, who used to tell it to me,
would wind up by saying, "All this is true, my son, else it would never
have been told to me." The tale runs thus:--

It was a fine summer's morning, just before harvest-time; the buckwheat
was in flower, and the sun was shining brightly in the heaven above, a
breeze was blowing over the fields, where the larks were singing; and
along the paths the people were going to church dressed in their best.
Every creature seemed contented, even the Hedgehog, who stood before his
door singing as he best could a joyful song in praise of the fine
morning. Indoors, meanwhile, his Wife was washing and drying the
kitchen, before going into the fields for a walk to see how the crops
were getting on. She was such a long while, however, about her work that
Mr. Hedgehog would wait no longer, and trotted off by himself. He had
not walked any very long distance before he came to a small thicket,
near a field of cabbages, and there he espied a Hare, who he guessed had
come on a similar errand to himself; namely, to devour a few fine heads.
As soon as Mr. Hedgehog saw the Hare, he wished him a good morning; but
the latter, who was in his way a high-minded creature, turned a fierce
and haughty look upon the Hedgehog, and made no reply to his greeting.
He asked, instead, in a very majestic tone, how he came to be walking
abroad at such an early hour. "I am taking a walk," replied the

"A walk!" repeated the Hare, in an ironical tone, "methinks you might
employ your legs about something better!"

This answer vexed the Hedgehog most dreadfully, for he could have borne
anything better than to be quizzed about his legs, because they were
naturally short, and from no fault of his own. However, he said to the
Hare, "Well, you need not be so proud, pray, what can you do with those
legs of yours?" "That is my affair," replied the Hare. "I expect, if you
would venture a trial, that I should beat you in a race," said the

"You are laughing! you, with your short legs!" said the Hare
contemptuously. "But still, since you have such a particular wish, I
have no objection to try. What shall the wager be?"

"A louis d'or," replied the Hedgehog.

"Done!" said the Hare, "and it may as well come off at once."

"No! not in such great haste, if you please," said the Hedgehog; "I am
not quite ready yet; I must first go home and freshen up a bit. Within
half-an-hour I will return to this place."

Thereupon the Hedgehog hurried off, leaving the Hare very merry. On his
way home the former thought to himself, "Mr. Hare is very haughty and
high-minded, but withal he is very stupid, and although he thinks to
beat me with his long legs, I will find a way to defeat him." So, as
soon as the Hedgehog reached home, he told his Wife to dress herself at
once to go into the field with him.

"What is the matter?" asked his Wife.

"I have made a wager with the Hare, for a louis d'or, to run a race with
him, and you must be witness."

"My goodness, man! are you in your senses!" said the Wife, "do you know
what you are about? How can you expect to run so fast as the Hare?"

"Hold your tongue, Wife; that is my affair. Don't you reason about men's
business. March, and get ready to come with me."

As soon, then, as the Hedgehog's Wife was ready they set out together;
and on the way he said, "Now attend to what I say. On the long field
yonder we shall decide our bet. The Hare is to run on the one side of
the hedge and I on the other, and so all you have to do is to stop at
one end of the hedge, and then when the Hare arrives on the other side
at the same point, you must call out, 'I am here already.'"

They soon came to the field, and the Hedgehog stationed himself at one
end of the hedge, and his Wife at the other end; and as soon as they had
taken their places the Hare arrived. "Are you ready to start?" asked the
Hare. "Yes," answered the Hedgehog, and each took his place. "Off once,
off twice, three times and off!" cried the Hare, and ran up the field
like a whirlwind; while the Hedgehog took three steps and then returned
to his place.

The Hare soon arrived at his goal, as he ran all the way at top speed,
but before he could reach it, the Hedgehog's Wife on the other side
called out, "I am here already!" The Hare was thunderstruck to hear this
said, for he thought it really was his opponent, since there was no
difference in the voices of the Hedgehog and his Wife. "This will not
do!" thought the Hare to himself; but presently he called out, "Once,
twice, and off again;" and away he went as fast as possible, leaving the
Hedgehog quietly sitting in her place. "I am here before you," cried
Mr. Hedgehog, as soon as the Hare approached. "What! again?" exclaimed
the Hare in a rage; and added, "Will you dare another trial!" "Oh! as
many as you like; do not be afraid on my account," said Mr. Hedgehog,

So the Hare then ran backwards and forwards three-and-seventy times, but
each time the Hedgehogs had the advantage of him, for either Mr. or Mrs.
shouted before he could reach the goal, "Here I am already!"

The four-and-seventieth time the Hare was unable to run any more. In the
middle of the course he stopped and dropped down quite exhausted, and
there he lay motionless for some time. But the Hedgehog took the louis
d'or which he had won, and went composedly home with his Wife.




There was an old gray Pussy Cat, and she went away down by a brookside.
There she saw a wee Robin Redbreast hopping on a brier bush.

Says the gray Pussy Cat: "Where are you going, wee Robin?"

And the wee Robin makes answer: "I'm going away to the King to sing him
a song this glad Christmas morning."

And the gray Pussy Cat says, "Come here, wee Robin, and I'll let you see
a pretty white ring I have around my neck."

But the wee Robin says: "No, no! gray Pussy Cat, no, no! You worried the
wee mousie, but you cannot worry me!"

So the wee Robin flew away until he came to a wall of earth and grass,
and there he saw a gray greedy Hawk sitting.

And the gray greedy Hawk says: "Where are you going, wee Robin?"

And the wee Robin makes answer: "I'm going away to the King to sing him
a song this glad Christmas morning."

And the gray greedy Hawk says: "Come here, wee Robin, and I'll let you
see the bright feather in my wing."


But wee Robin says: "No, no! gray greedy Hawk, no, no! You pecked the
little Meadowlark, but you cannot peck me!"

So the wee Robin flew away until he came to a steep, rocky hillside, and
there he saw a sly Fox sitting. And the sly Fox says, "Where are you
going, wee Robin?"

And the wee Robin makes answer: "I'm going away to the King to sing him
a song this glad Christmas morning."

And the sly Fox says: "Come here, wee Robin, and I'll let you see the
pretty spot on the tip of my tail."

But the wee Robin says: "No, no! sly Fox, no, no! You worried the little
Lamb, but you cannot worry me!"

So the wee Robin flew away until he came to a grassy meadow, and there
he saw a little shepherd boy.

And the little shepherd says: "Where are you going, wee Robin?"

And wee Robin makes answer: "I'm going away to the King to sing him a
song this glad Christmas morning."

And the little shepherd boy says: "Come here, wee Robin, and I'll give
you some crumbs from my lunch."

But the wee Robin says: "No, no! little shepherd boy, no, no! You caught
the Goldfinch, but you cannot catch me!"

So the wee Robin flew away till he came to the King; and there he sat on
a plowshare, and sang the King a cheery song. And the King says to the
Queen: "What will we give to the wee Robin for singing us this cheery

And the Queen makes answer to the King: "I think we'll give him the wee
Wren to be his wife."

So the wee Robin and the wee Wren were married, and the King and the
Queen, and all the court danced at the wedding. Then the wee Robin and
the wee Wren flew away home to the wee Robin's own brookside, and hopped
on the brier bush.


     The Fox set out in a hungry plight,
       And begged the moon to give him light,
     For he'd many a mile to travel that night
       Before he could reach his den O!

     First he came to a farmer's yard,
       Where the ducks and geese declared it was hard
     That their nerves should be shaken, and their rest be marred
       By a visit from Mr. Fox O!

     He seized the gray goose by the sleeve,
       Says he, "Madam Gray Goose, by your leave,
     I'll carry you off without reprieve,
       And take you away to my den O!"

     He seized the gray duck by the neck,
       And flung her over across his back,
     While the old duck cried out, "Quack, quack, quack,"
       With her legs dangling down behind O!

     Then old Mrs. Flipper Flapper jumped out of bed,
       And out of the window she popped her head,
     Crying, "John, John, John, the gray goose is gone,
       And the Fox is off to his den O!"

     Then John went up to the top of the hill,
       And he blew a blast both loud and shrill.
     Says the Fox, "That is fine music, still
       I'd rather be off to my den O!"

     So the Fox he hurried home to his den,
       To his dear little foxes eight, nine, ten.
     Says he, "We're in luck, here's a big fat duck
       With her legs dangling down behind O!"

     Then the Fox sat down with his hungry wife,
       And they made a good meal without fork or knife.
     They never had a better time in all their life,
       And the little ones picked the bones O!



     We go on our walk together--
       Baby and dog and I--
     Three little merry companions,
       'Neath any sort of sky
     Blue as our baby's eyes are,
       Gray like our old dog's tail;
     Be it windy or cloudy or stormy,
       Our courage will never fail.

     Baby's a little lady;
       Dog is a gentleman brave;
     If he had two legs as you have,
       He'd kneel to her like a slave;
     As it is, he loves and protects her,
       As dog and gentleman can.
     I'd rather be a kind doggie,
       I think, than a cruel man.



     To Pussy-town, the other day,
           The movies came.
           And you must know,
     The only chance mice have to play
           Is when the cats
           Go to the show!

     (Yes, mice have certain little "rights"--
           Though I confess
           'Em hard to see!
     And one is to stay up o' nights
           And steal our cheese--
           If cheese there be!)

     Well, in the playhouse, on the screen,
           The pussies saw
           (And so may you)
     True love run smoothly, I ween:
           But "also ran,"
           A dog in blue!

     The foolish cats, in great alarm,
           Dashed out, nor
           Asked for money back!--
     A dog policeman has no charm
           When he is close
           Upon one's track!

     They did not use their heads. I fear;
           (Some boys and girls
           Are just like that)
     And so the pussies now must hear
           The grown folks say
           "'Fraid cat! 'Fraid cat!"

  [Illustration: THE CATS AT THE MOVIES



     "Will you walk into my parlor?" said the Spider to the Fly,
     "'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy;
     The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
     And I have many curious things to show when you are there."
     "Oh, no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain;
     For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

     "I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
     Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly.
     "There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin;
     And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!"
     "Oh, no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said,
     They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"

     Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, "Dear friend, what can I do
     To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?
     I have, within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;
     I'm sure you're very welcome--will you please to take a slice?"
     "Oh, no, no," said the little Fly, "kind sir, that cannot be,
     I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

     "Sweet creature," said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise;
     How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
     I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf;
     If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
     "I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say,
     And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

     The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
     For well he knew the silly Fly would soon be back again;
     So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly,
     And set his table ready to dine upon the Fly.
     Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing:
     "Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
     Your robes are green and purple, there's a crest upon your head;
     Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead."

     Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
     Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by:
     With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew--
     Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue;
     Thinking only of her crested head--poor foolish thing! At last,
     Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
     He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den
     Within his little parlor--but she ne'er came out again!


#Everyday Verses#




     When Mother drops things on the floor,
       My father asks me: "Who
     Should always pick them up for her?"
       And so I always do.

     He says I haven't far to reach
       And that a gentleman
     Must do things for his Mother
       And be helpful as he can.

     But Mother bends down just the same,--
       She has to, don't you see?
     For after she's said "Thank you, dear,"
       She stoops and kisses me.


     There's a time to run and a time to walk;
     There's a time for silence, a time for talk;
     There's a time for work and a time for play;
     There's a time for sleep at the close of day.
     There's a time for everything you do,
     For children and for grown-ups, too.
     A time to stand up and a time to sit,--
     But see that the time and actions fit.


     Umbrellas and rubbers
       You never forget,
     Whenever it's raining
       Or snowy or wet;

     But if it should clear up,
       While you are away,
     Please bring them back home
       For the next rainy day.


     "Do not whisper" is a rule
      You will find in every school,
      And the reason here is given
          In a rhyme:
      For children all will chatter
      About any little matter--
      And there'd be a dreadful clatter,
          All the time!


         The romping boys
         Make lots of noise,
     And run and jump and laugh and shout,
         While here and there,
         With quiet air,
     The girls in couples walk about.

         A game begins,
         But no one wins,
     Although they play with might and main,
         For long before
         The game is o'er
     The bell rings out for school again.


     Although we like to go to school,
       We're rather glad to put away
     Our books and slates and other things,
       When it is over for the day.

     And off we go to play and romp,
       While teacher, who is good and kind,
     Is left behind all by herself--
       But then, perhaps, she doesn't mind.


     Study them well on Friday,
       For it's much the better way,
     Because when once they're finished
       You've all Saturday for play.


     No matter where we children are
       We run in answer to the bell,
     And dinner comes in piping hot;
       It makes us hungry just to smell.

     Poor Father sharpens up his knife,
       And carves with all his might and main;
     But long before he's had a bite
       Our Willie's plate comes back again.

     We eat our vegetables and meat,
       For Mother, who is always right,
     Says those who wish to have dessert,
       Must show they have an appetite.

     And when a Sunday comes around,
       So very, very good we seem,
     You'd think 'most any one could tell
       That for dessert we'd have ice-cream.



     There isn't any giant
       Within this forest grim,
     And if there were, I wouldn't be
       A bit afraid of him!



     My doll, my doll, my Annabel,
     She's really feeling far from well!
     Her wig is gone, her eyes are out,
     Her legs are left somewhere about,
     Her arms were stolen by the pup,
     The hens ate all her sawdust up,
     So all that's really left of her
     Is just her clothes and character.


     I always buy at the lollipop-shop,
       On the very first day of spring,
     A bag of marbles, a spinning-top,
       And a pocketful of string.



     In merry, merry England,
       In the merry month of May,
     Miss Mary Ella Montague
       Went out in best array.
     Her wise mama called out to her,
       "My darling Mary Ella,
     It looks like rain to-day, my dear;
       You'd best take your umbrella!"
     That silly girl she paid no heed
       To her dear mother's call.
     She walked at least six miles that day,
       And it never rained at all!



     Oh, I'm a goose, and you're a goose, and we're all geese together.
     We wander over hill and dale, all in the sweet June weather,
     While wise folk stay indoors and pore
     O'er dusty books for learning lore.
     How glad I am--how glad you are--that we're birds of a feather:
     That you're a goose, and I'm a goose, and we're all geese together!



     Let me make you acquainted with Mrs. O'Toole,
     Though she's had little learning, she's nobody's fool,
     She loves her fine geese, but when they are dead
     She'll comfort herself with a new feather bed.





     I have a little wat'ring-pot,
       It holds two quarts I think,
     And when the days are very hot
       I give the plants a drink.

     They lift their heads as flowers should,
       And look so green and gay;
     I'm sure that if they only could,
       "We thank you, Sir," they'd say.


     Sometimes Mother gives to me
     Such a lot of money--See!
     But it's very hard to buy
     All the things you'd like to try,
     And you always share your penny
     With a child who hasn't any.


         Pockets are fine
         For marbles and twine,
     For knives and rubber bands;
         So, stuff them tight
         From morning till night
     With anything else but hands!


     When one is very hungry,
       It's hard to wait, I know,
     For minutes seem like hours
       And the clock is always slow.

     There isn't time to play a game,
       You just sit down and wait,
     While Mother says, "Be patient,
       Our cook is never late."

     It's best when one is hungry,
       To think of other things,
     For then, before you know it,
       The bell for dinner rings.


     If only more people would write fewer books
       How well pleased I would be!
     If all the authors would change into cooks
       'T would suit me perfectly.



     The Widow Hill has a fine plum-tree!
     The Widow Hill is fond o' me.
       I'll call on her to-day!
     The plum-tree grows by her front door.
     I've been meaning to call for a week or more
       To pass the time o' day!



     If I were Queen of Anywhere,
       I'd have a golden crown,
     And sit upon a velvet chair,
       And wear a satin gown.
     A Knight of noble pedigree
       Should wait beside my seat,
     To serve me upon bended knee
       With things I like to eat.
     I'd have bonbons and cherry pie,
       Ice-cream and birthday cake,
     And a page should always stay near by
       To have my stomach-ache!



     Oh, to be a sailor
       And sail to foreign lands--
     To Greenland's icy mountains
       And India's coral strands!
     To sail upon the Ganges
       And see the crocodile,
     Where every prospect pleases,
       And only man is vile.

     I'd love to see the heathen
       Bow down to wood and stone,
     But his wicked graven image
       I'd knock from off its throne!
     The heathen-in-his-blindness
       Should see a thing or two!
     He'd know before I left him
       What a Yankee boy can do!



     This is the way we wash our clothes,
       Wash our clothes,
       Wash our clothes;
     This is the way we wash our clothes,
       So early Monday morning.

     This is the way we iron our clothes,
       Iron our clothes,
       Iron our clothes;
     This is the way we iron our clothes,
       So early Tuesday morning.

     This is the way we mend our shoes,
       Mend our shoes,
       Mend our shoes;
     This is the way we mend our shoes,
       So early Wednesday morning.

     This is the way we visit our friends,
       Visit our friends,
       Visit our friends;
     This is the way we visit our friends,
       So early Thursday morning.

     This is the way we sweep the house,
       Sweep the house,
       Sweep the house;
     This is the way we sweep the house,
       So early Friday morning.

     This is the way we bake our cake,
       Bake our cake,
       Bake our cake;
     This is the way we bake our cake,
       So early Saturday morning.

     This is the way we go to church,
       Go to church,
       Go to church;
     This is the way we go to church,
       So early Sunday morning.


     Monday's child is fair of face,
     Tuesday's child is full of grace,

     Wednesday's child is brave and glad,
     Thursday's child is never bad,

     Friday's child is loving and kind,
     Saturday's child is clear in mind,

     The child that is born on the Sabbath day
     Is fair and wise and good and gay.


     They that wash on Monday
       Have all the week to dry;
     They that wash on Tuesday
       Are not so much awry;
     They that wash on Wednesday
       Are not so much to blame;
     They that wash on Thursday
       Wash for very shame;
     They that wash on Friday
       Wash because of need,
     And they that wash on Saturday,
       Oh, they are lazy indeed!


     Solomon Grundy,
     Born on a Monday,
     Christened on Tuesday,
     Married on Wednesday,
     Took ill on Thursday,
     Worse on Friday,
     Died on Saturday,
     Buried on Sunday:
     This is the end
     Of Solomon Grundy--
     Born on a Monday,
     Christened on Tuesday,
     Married, _etc._


     How many days has my baby to play?
     Saturday, Sunday, Monday,
     Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday,
     Saturday, Sunday, Monday.



     "Oh, ho! little maidens, all in a row,
      And each one wearing a butterfly bow.
      Which is the prettiest, Betty, or Lou,
      Dolly, or Polly, or Sallie, or Sue?
      I do not know, so I'll have to ask you."



     Little-Mouse-Sunday found a great, big bun;
     Little-Mouse-Monday wished that _he_ had one;
     Little-Mouse-Tuesday was fat enough without;
     Little-Mouse-Wednesday sat down to sulk and pout,
     Said Little-Mouse-Thursday, "_I'll_ get one for myself!"
     Said Little-Mouse-Friday, "There's another on the shelf";
     Little-Mouse-Saturday began to beg and squeak;
     "Come on!" said all the seven, "we've enough to last a week!"


     "Good morning, Monday!
     Tell me how is Tuesday?"
     "Very well, Dame Wednesday.
     Please to tell Miss Thursday,
     Also little Saturday,
     To call on Mister Sunday."


(_In a meter neither new nor difficult_)


      All was well on Sunday morning,
      All was quiet Sunday evening;
      But, behold, quite early Monday
      Came a queer, surprising Weakness--
      Weakness seizing little Tommy!
      It came shortly after breakfast--
      Breakfast with wheat-cakes and honey
      Eagerly devoured by Tommy,
      Who till then was well as could be.
      Then, without a moment's warning,
      Like a sneeze, that awful Aw-choo!
      Came this Weakness on poor Tommy.
     "Mother, dear," he whined, "dear mother,
      I am feeling rather strangely--
      Don't know what's the matter with me--
      My right leg is out of kilter,
      While my ear--my left ear--itches.
      Don't you know that queerish feeling?"
     "Not exactly," said his mother.
     "Does your head ache, Tommy dearest?"
      Little Thomas, always truthful,
      Would not say his head was aching,
      For, you know, it really wasn't.
     "No, it doesn't _ache_," he answered
      (Thinking of that noble story
      Of the Cherry-tree and Hatchet);
     "But I'm tired, and I'm sleepy,
      And my shoulder's rather achy.
      Don't you think perhaps I'd better
      Stay at home with you, dear mother?"

      Thoughtfully his mother questioned,
     "How about your school, dear Tommy?
      Do you wish to miss your lessons?"
     "Well, you know," was Tommy's answer,
     "Saturday we played at football;
      I was tired in the evening,
      So I didn't learn my lessons--
      Left them all for Monday morning,
      Monday morning bright and early--"
     "And this morning you slept over?"
      So his mother interrupted.
     "Yes, mama," admitted Tommy.
     "So I have not learned my lessons:
      And I'd better wait till Tuesday.
      Tuesday I can start in earnest--
      Tuesday when I'm feeling brighter!"

      Smilingly his mother eyed him,
      Then she said, "Go ask your father--
      You will find him in his study,
      Adding up the week's expenses.
      See what father says about it."

      Toward the door went Tommy slowly,
      Seized the knob as if to turn it.
      Did not turn it; but, returning,
      Back he came unto his mother.
     "Mother," said he, very slowly,
     "Mother, I don't feel so badly;
      Maybe I'll get through my lessons.
      Anyway, I think I'll risk it.
      Have you seen my books, dear mother--
      My Geography and Speller,
      History and Definitions,--
      Since I brought them home on Friday?"
      No. His mother had not seen them.
      Then began a search by Tommy.
      Long he searched, almost despairing,
      While the clock was striking loudly.
      And at length when Tommy found them--
      Found his books beneath the sofa--
      He'd forgotten all his Weakness,
      Pains and aches were quite forgotten.
      At full speed he hastened schoolward.
      But in vain, for he was tardy,
      All because of that strange Weakness
      He had felt on Monday morning.

      Would you know the name that's given,
      How they call that curious feeling?
      'Tis the dreaded "Idon'twantto"--
      Never fatal, but quite common
      To the tribe of Very-lazy.
      Would you know the charm that cures it--
      Cures the Weakness "Idon'twantto"?
      It is known as "Butyou'vegotto,"
      And no boy should be without it.

      Now you know the curious legend
      Of the paleface little Tommy,
      Of his Weakness and its curing
      By the great charm "Butyou'vegotto."
      Think of it on Monday mornings--
      It will save you lots of trouble.

St. Saturday


     Oh, Friday night's the queen of nights, because it ushers in
     The Feast of good St. Saturday, when studying is a sin,
     When studying is a sin, boys, and we may go to play
     Not only in the afternoon, but all the livelong day.

     St. Saturday--so legends say--lived in the ages when
     The use of leisure still was known and current among men;
     Full seldom and full slow he toiled, and even as he wrought
     He'd sit him down and rest awhile, immersed in pious thought.

     He loved to fold his good old arms, to cross his good old knees,
     And in a famous elbow-chair for hours he'd take his ease;
     He had a word for old and young, and when the village boys
     Came out to play, he'd smile on them and never mind the noise.

     So when his time came, honest man, the neighbors all declared
     That one of keener intellect could better have been spared,
     By young and old his loss was mourned in cottage and in hall,
     For if he'd done them little good, he'd done no harm at all.

     In time they made a saint of him, and issued a decree--
     Since he had loved his ease so well, and been so glad to see
     The children frolic round him and to smile upon their play--
     That school boys for his sake should have a weekly holiday.

     They gave his name unto the day, that as the years roll by
     His memory might still be green; and that's the reason why
     We speak his name with gratitude, and oftener by far
     Than that of any other saint in all the calendar.

     Then, lads and lassies, great and small, give ear to what I say--
     Refrain from work on Saturdays as strictly as you may;
     So shall the saint your patron be and prosper all you do--
     And when examinations come he'll see you safely through.


1, 2, 3, 4, 5

     I caught a hare alive.

     I let it go again.



     Over in the meadow,
       In the sand, in the sun,
     Lived an old mother toad
       And her little toadie one.
     "Wink!" said the mother;
       "I wink," said the one:
     So she winked and she blinked
       In the sand, in the sun.

     Over in the meadow,
       Where the stream runs blue,
     Lived an old mother fish
       And her little fishes two.
     "Swim!" said the mother;
       "We swim," said the two:
     So they swam and they leaped
       Where the stream runs blue.

     Over in the meadow,
       In a hole in a tree,
     Lived a mother bluebird
       And her little birdies three.
     "Sing!" said the mother;
       "We sing," said the three:
     So they sang and were glad
       In the hole in the tree.

     Over in the meadow,
       In the reeds on the shore,
     Lived a mother muskrat
       And her little ratties four.
     "Dive!" said the mother;
       "We dive," said the four:
     So they dived and they burrowed
       In the reeds on the shore.

     Over in the meadow,
       In a snug beehive,
     Lived a mother honeybee
       And her little honeys five.
     "Buzz!" said the mother;
       "We buzz," said the five:
     So they buzzed and they hummed
       In the snug beehive.

     Over in the meadow,
       In a nest built of sticks,
     Lived a black mother crow
       And her little crows six.
     "Caw!" said the mother;
       "We caw," said the six:
     So they cawed and they cawed
       In their nest built of sticks.

     Over in the meadow,
       Where the grass is so even,
     Lived a gray mother cricket
       And her little crickets seven.
     "Chirp!" said the mother;
       "We chirp," said the seven:
     So they chirped cheery notes
       In the grass soft and even.

     Over in the meadow,
       By the old mossy gate,
     Lived a brown mother lizard
       And her little lizards eight.
     "Bask!" said the mother;
       "We bask!" said the eight:
     So they basked in the sun
       By the old mossy gate.

     Over in the meadow,
       Where the clear pools shine,
     Lived a green mother frog
       And her little froggies nine.
     "Croak!" said the mother;
       "We croak," said the nine:
     So they croaked and they splashed
       Where the clear pools shine.

     Over in the meadow,
       In a sly little den,
     Lived a gray mother spider
       And her little spiders ten.
     "Spin!" said the mother;
       "We spin," said the ten:
     So they spun lace webs
       In their sly little den.

     Over in the meadow,
       In the soft summer even,
     Lived a mother firefly
       And her little flies eleven.
     "Shine!" said the mother;
       "We shine," said the eleven:
     So they shone like stars
       In the soft summer even.

     Over in the meadow,
       Where the men dig and delve,
     Lived a wise mother ant
       And her little anties twelve.
     "Toil!" said the mother;
       "We toil," said the twelve:
     So they toiled and were wise
       Where the men dig and delve.


     One, I love,
     Two, I love,
     Three, I love, I say,
     Four, I love with all my heart,
     And five, I cast away;
     Six, he loves,
     Seven, she loves,
     Eight, they both love;
     Nine, he comes,
     Ten, he tarries,
     Eleven, he courts,
     Twelve, he marries;
     Thirteen, wishes,
     Fourteen, kisses,
     All the rest little witches.



     Here's a baby! Here's another!
     A sister and her infant brother.
     Which is which 'tis hard to tell,
     But "mother" knows them very well.



     1 little rabbit, =one=
     went out in the field to run.

     2 little rabbits, =two=
     Said they didn't know what to do.

     3 little rabbits, =three=
     Said: "Let us climb a tree."

     4 little rabbits, =four=
     Said: "Let's swing on the old barn door."

     5 little rabbits, =five=
     Said: "We're glad just to be alive."

     6 little rabbits, =six=
     Said: "We like to pick up sticks."

     7 little rabbits, =seven=
     Said: "We wish we were eleven."

     8 little rabbits, =eight=
     Said: "Come let us run through the gate."

     9 little rabbits, =nine=
     Said: "Then let us form in line."

     10 little rabbits, =ten=
     all got in line--and then--wasn't it fun to see them run?



     Ten little fire crackers
       Standing in a line,
     One thought he'd light a match
       There were nine.

     Nine little fire crackers
       Walking very straight,
     One caught an engine spark
       There were eight.

     Eight little fire crackers
       Trying to spell "LEAVEN,"
     One went too near the gas,
       There were seven.

     Seven little fire crackers
       Cutting up tricks,
     One played with lighted punk
       There were six.

     Six little fire crackers
       Glad they are alive,
     One went to have a smoke
       There were five.

     Five little fire crackers
       Wishing there were more,
     One went to find a friend
       There were four.

     Four little fire crackers
       Merry as could be,
     One played upon the hearth
       There were three.

     Three little fire crackers
       Puzzled what to do,
     One started the kitchen fire
       There were two.

     Two little fire crackers
       Looking for some fun,
     One met a little boy
       There was one.

     One little fire cracker
       Sat him down to cry,
     'Tis such a risky thing
             To live
             In July.

The Wish of Priscilla Penelope Powers

      Priscilla Penelope Powers one day
      Took tea at a neighbor's just over the way.
      Two pieces of pie they urged her to take,
      And seven whole slices of chocolate cake!
     "Oh, dear," sighed Priscilla Penelope Powers,
     "I wish I was your little girl 'stead of ours!"

                              _Mrs. John T Van Sant._

Winklelman Von Winkel

     Winkelman Von Winkel is the wisest man alive,
     He Knows that one and one make two, and two and three make five;
     He knows that water runs down hill, that the sun sets in the west,
     And that for winter weather wear, one's winter clothes are best;
     In fact, he does not mingle much with common folk around,
     Because his learning is so great--his wisdom so profound.

                              _Clara Odell Lyon._


     Ten little cookies, brown and crisp and fine--
     Grandma gave Baby one; then there were nine.

     Nine little cookies on a china plate--
     Betty took a small one; then there were eight.

     Eight little cookies, nice and round and even--
     The butcher boy ate one; then there were seven.

     Seven little cookies, much liked by chicks--
     The old hen ate one, then there were six.

     Six little cookies, when grandma went to drive--
     Betty had another one; then there were five.

     Five little cookies, placed too near the door--
     The little doggie ate one; then there were four.

     Four little cookies, brown as brown could be--
     Grandma took one for herself, then there were three.

     Three little cookies--when grandpa said, "I too,
     Would like a very little one", then there were two.

     Two little cookies--fast did Betty run
     To give one to her mamma; then there was one.

     One little cooky--and now our story is done,
     Baby Jane ate the last, then there was none.


     One head with curly hair,
     Two arms so fat and bare,
     Two hands and one wee nose,
     Two feet with ten pink toes,
     Skin soft and smooth as silk,
     When clean, 'tis white as milk.



     Once there was a little Kitty,
       White as the snow;
     In a barn she used to frolic,
       Long time ago.

     In the barn a little mousie
       Ran to and fro,
     For she heard the little Kitty,
       Long time ago.

     Two black eyes had little Kitty,
       Black as a sloe;
     And they spied the little mousie,
       Long time ago.

     Four soft paws had little Kitty,
       Paws soft as snow;
     And they caught the little mousie,
       Long time ago.

     Nine pearl teeth had little Kitty,
       All in a row;
     And they bit the little mousie,
       Long time ago.

     When the teeth bit little mousie,
       Mousie cried out, "Oh!"
     But she slipped away from Kitty,
       Long time ago.


     One, Two--buckle my shoe;
     Three, Four--open the door;
     Five, Six--pick up sticks;
     Seven, Eight--lay them straight;
     Nine, Ten--a good fat hen;
     Eleven, Twelve--I hope you're well;
     Thirteen, Fourteen--draw the curtain;
     Fifteen, Sixteen--the maid's in the kitchen;
     Seventeen, Eighteen--she's in waiting;
     Nineteen, Twenty--my stomach's empty.





The little girls who lived on Amity Street all wore mittens when they
went to school in winter. Nobody's mother ever thought of anything else
to keep small hands warm. Some mothers or grandmothers crocheted them,
and some knit them with fancy stitches down the back, or put other mark
of distinction upon them; but they were always mittens, and were always
fastened to a long ribbon or piece of braid or knitted rein, so that
they might not get lost, one from the other.

This connecting-link frequently gave rise to confusion, for when two
little girls put their arms around each other's necks as they walked to
school, they sometimes got tangled up in the mitten string and had to
duck and turn and bump heads before the right string was again resting
on the right shoulder. But as it was possible to laugh a great deal and
lose one's breath while this was going on, it was rather an advantage
than otherwise, and little girls who were special chums were pretty sure
to manage a tangle every other day at least.

Clarabel Bradley did her tangling and untangling with Josephine Brown,
who lived at the end of Amity Street. They both went to the same school
and were in the same class. They waited for each other in the morning,
and came home together, and shared each other's candy and ginger cookies
whenever there were any, and took firm sides together whenever the
school-yard was the scene of dispute.

But into this intimacy came a pair of gloves, almost wrecking it.

The gloves were sent by Clarabel's aunt, who was young and pretty and
taught school in a large city; and they came done up in white
tissue-paper inside a box with gilt trimming around the edges and a
picture on the center of the cover. Taken out of the paper, they
revealed all their alluring qualities. They were of a beautiful glossy
brown kid with soft woolly linings and real fur around the wrists, and
they fastened with bright gilded clasps.

With them was a note which said:

     For Clarabel, with love from her Aunt Bessie. =Not to be kept for
     Sundays, but worn every day.=

And the last sentence was underscored.

Clarabel's mother looked doubtful as she read the message. Such gloves
were an extravagance even for best--and mittens were warmer. But when
she encountered Clarabel's shining eyes she smiled and gave in.

So Clarabel took the gloves to her room that night, and slept with them
on the foot-board of her bed, where she could see them the first thing
when she waked; and in the morning she put them on and started for

One hand was held rigidly by her side, but the other was permitted to
spread its fingers widely over the book she carried. Both were well in
view if she looked down just a little. Passers-by might see; all Amity
Street might see; best of all, Josephine might see!

But Josephine, waiting at the corner, beheld and was impressed to the
point of speechlessness. Whereupon Clarabel dropped her book, and had to
pick it up with both hands. The furry wrists revealed themselves fully.

Josephine found her voice.

"You've got some new gloves," she said.

"Yes; my Aunt Bessie sent them."

"Aren't they pretty!"

"I think so, and they're lots nicer than mittens. I'm not going to wear
my mittens again."

Josephine looked down at her own chubby hands. Her mittens were red this
winter, with a red-and-green fringe around the wrists. Only that
morning she had admired them. Now they looked fat and clumsy and
altogether unattractive; but she wasn't going to admit that to any one


"I like mittens best," she said stoutly,--"for school, anyway," she
added, and gave Clarabel more of the sidewalk.

"My Aunt Bessie said specially that these were to wear to school." And
Clarabel walked nearer the fence.

Josephine was hard put to it--Clarabel's manner had become so superior.

"I don't think your Aunt Bessie knows everything, even if she does teach
school in a big city. My mother says she's too young to--"

What she was too young to do was not allowed to be explained; for
Clarabel, with a color in her face that rivaled Josephine's mittens, had
faced her.

"My Aunt Bessie's lovely, and I won't listen to another word against
her, not another one--so there!"

Then she turned, with a queer feeling in her throat, and ran down the
street to catch up with another little girl who was on ahead.

Josephine swung her books and walked as if she didn't care.

Clarabel overtook the little girl, who was all smiling appreciation of
the new gloves, and was overtaken by other little girls who added
themselves to the admiring group. But somehow her triumphal progress was
strangely unsatisfactory; the glory was dimmed.

At recess, Josephine paired off with Milly Smith, who stood first in
geography and wore two curly feathers in her hat. Clarabel shared her
cookies with Minnie Cater, because it didn't matter who helped eat them
if it wasn't Josephine. Neither spoke to the other, and at noontime they
walked home on different sides of the street.

Perhaps that was why in the afternoon Clarabel lost her place in the
reader and failed on so many examples in arithmetic that she was told
she must stay after school.

Usually there would have been several to keep her company, but on this
day there was no one else,--even Angelina Maybelle Remington had got
through without disaster,--and Clarabel, wistful-eyed, saw the other
girls file out.

At another time Josephine would have stayed; she always did when
Clarabel had to, as Clarabel did when she was in like need. But to-night
she filed out with the rest, and Clarabel, with a sense of desertion,
bent over her problems of men and hay to mow, men and potatoes to dig,
men and miles of railroad to build.

The noise of scurrying feet grew fainter, the sound of children's voices
died away. The room settled into stillness, except for the solemn tick
of the clock and the scratching of Clarabel's pencil on the slate. There
were fractions in the problems, and fractions were always hard for
Clarabel. Her pencil stopped often while she frowned at the curly-tailed
figures. In one of these pauses the door squeaked open a little way. It
squeaked again, and some one sidled into the room; it was Josephine.

"Please may I go to my seat?" she asked.

"Certainly," said the teacher, and watched her curiously.

She tiptoed to the back seat, fumbled for a few minutes in her desk,
then slipped to a seat a few rows farther in front; then to another and
another, till she had reached the row in which Clarabel sat.

Clarabel, though she was bending over her slate, had heard every
hesitating move, and when the last halt was made she shook her curls
back from her eyes, looked around, and dimpled into smiles.

The teacher, watching, waited to see what would happen next. Nothing
did, except that the two little girls sat and smiled and smiled and
smiled as if they never would stop.

Presently the teacher herself smiled and spoke. She had a very sweet
voice sometimes--one that seemed to hint at happy secrets. That was the
way it sounded now.

"Would you like to help Clarabel, Josephine?" she asked. "You may if you
wish to."

"If she'll let me," answered Josephine, her eyes fixed on Clarabel's

"I would love to have her," said Clarabel, _her_ eyes on Josephine. And
instantly the one narrow seat became large enough for two.

For ten minutes more there was great scratching of slate-pencils and
much whispering and some giggling. Then with cheerful clatter the slate
was borne to the platform. The teacher looked at the little girls more
than at the examples. "I'm sure they're right," she said. "Now, off to
your homes--both of you!"

"Good night," said Clarabel.

"Good night," said Josephine.

"Good night, dear little girls," said the teacher.

There was a soft swish of dresses and the children had reached the
dressing-room. Within its familiar narrowness, Josephine hesitated and
fingered her cloak-buttons.

"I think your Aunt Bessie"--it was very slow speech for Josephine--"is
ever so nice and knows a lot."

"Oh!" bubbled Clarabel, joyously, "I do love the color of your mittens!
Don't you--don't you"--she finished with a rush--"want to let me wear
them home and you wear my gloves?"

Josephine put aside the dazzling offer.

"Your gloves are prettier and you ought to wear them."

Clarabel thought a minute, a shadow in her eyes.

"I know what," she declared, the shadow vanishing. "You wear one glove
and mitten and I'll wear the other glove and mitten!"

"Oh!" said Josephine, with a rapturous hug, "that will be splendid!"

And thus they scampered home, the two mittened hands holding each other
tight, while the two gloved hands were gaily waved high in the air with
each fresh outburst of laughter from the little schoolmates.



Molly was such a little girl that she didn't seem big enough to have a
party all her own with truly ice-cream in it. But she had asked for one
so many times that at last Mother decided to give her one. And the party
was to be a surprise to Molly herself.

Early that afternoon Molly wanted to go for a little visit to Miss
Eleanor. Miss Eleanor lived up Molly's street, in a white house with
apple-green blinds. Molly often went all alone.

Miss Eleanor was always so sunny and full of songs and stories and games
that Molly loved her next best to Father and Mother and Baby.

"You may go, dear," said Mother, "if you will come home exactly at three

"You always say exactly three o'clock, Mother," said Molly.

"Well, five minutes after three, then," laughed Mother. "And, Molly, so
that you won't forget this time, all the way to Miss Eleanor's, say over
and over, 'Five minutes after three.' Then, just as soon as you get
there, say the words quickly to Miss Eleanor, 'Five minutes after

"Five minutes after three," said Molly; "I can remember that."

"That will give me plenty of time to get ready for the party," thought

Up the street with her white parasol flew Molly. "Five minutes after
three," she said over and over in a whisper until she began to sing it.
"Five minutes after three," she sang until she stopped a moment on the
bridge to see some boys fishing. Just about there, a big dog who was a
friend of Molly's ran out to say, "Good afternoon."

"Oh, Fritzie," cried Molly, "I'm going to Miss Eleanor's to make her a
visit. Want to come?"

But Fritz had the house to look after. So Molly gave him a hug and ran

"Three minutes after five," sang Molly; "three minutes after five," over
and over until she ran into Miss Eleanor's sunny little sitting-room.

"Three minutes after five," cried Molly; "that's how long I can stay.
Won't that be nice?"

"Why, it's little Molly!" cried Miss Eleanor, "I'm all alone and so glad
to have company! We'll hear the clock strike five. Then, if you put on
your wraps, you'll be all ready to start home at three minutes past."

It seemed a very very short time to Molly before the little clock struck

"There, deary," said Miss Eleanor. "Put on your things and hurry right

Molly put on her hat and coat. Then she kissed Miss Eleanor and hurried
down the street.

When she reached the corner, she saw that the parlor at home was all
lighted. And out of it came such a hubbub of little voices all laughing
and talking that Molly ran faster than ever.

At the door she met Mother.


"Oh, Molly, _where_ have you been?" cried Mother. "I couldn't go after
you because I couldn't leave Baby. And I couldn't take him."

Molly scarcely heard. "Oh, Mother, Mother," she cried, "it looks like a
party. And it sounds like one. Is it a party, Mother?"

"Yes," said Mother, "your own little party, Molly. And you're the only
one who is late. How could you forget?"

"But I didn't forget, Mother," cried Molly, hurrying out of her coat,
"truly I didn't. Every step of the way I said it, and I said it to Miss
Eleanor the very first thing."

"What did you say?" asked Mother.

"_Three minutes after five_," said Molly.

Mother laughed. "Why, Molly dear, you got the hour and minutes turned
around. I said _five_ minutes after _three_. Well, never mind. Run along
just as you are. It's a lovely party, dear, with truly ice-cream in



Edith was a little girl who was just learning to write. Her mother told
her one day that she could have a tea-party on the next Tuesday, if the
weather was fine, and that she could invite her little friend Helen, who
lived on the same street, though not very far away; but she must write
the letter to ask Helen to come. So, Edith got up at her mother's
writing-desk and took some of her own writing paper, and began to write.
She could make the letters but she could not spell very well. She asked
her mother how to spell the words and then she wrote them down. And this
is the letter she wrote:

  [Illustration: hand-written letter

  Dear Helen,

  Mamma says I May ask you to come
  to my tea party next Tuesday at four oclock
  Bring your dolly.

                your loving friend.

Then she sealed the letter in the envelop, and put a stamp on it, and
stood on the front piazza so as to give it to the postman herself.

When Tuesday came, Edith's nurse dressed her in a fresh, white frock,
and Edith dressed her dolly in her best dress, and went out under the
trees where her nurse had set the table for two. And then she sat in a
chair at the table and waited. But the big town clock struck four and no
Helen came; and then she waited for half an hour longer. Then Edith put
her dolly down on the chair and went in the house to find her mother.

"Mama," she said, "I think Helen is very rude, she doesn't come to my
party and I invited her!"

  [Illustration: EDITH WAITING FOR HELEN.]

"Just wait a little longer, dear," said her mother, "and she will come.
Maybe her nurse was busy dressing Helen's little sister and brother and
couldn't get her ready in time."

"But I invited her," was all Edith could say; "but I invited her, and
she doesn't come."

Then her mother went to the telephone and called up Helen's mother. In a
moment she came back.

"Edith, dear," she said, "what day did you write Helen to come? Her
mother says she thought it was to be Thursday, and so did Helen, and
this is only Tuesday."

"But I _did_ say Tuesday, mama," said Edith, who was almost ready to
cry. "I remember because that was the hardest word to spell, and I think
I made a blot when I wrote it."

"Well, never mind, dear; Helen is getting ready now and will be over in
a few minutes," said her mama.

And Edith was very happy, and ran out to the tea-table under the trees
with her doll to wait.

But she did not have to wait very long this time, for in a little while
Helen came running across the lawn carrying her doll; and so happy were
both little girls that Edith forgot all about the long time she had been
waiting for Helen to come.

  [Illustration: HELEN AND HER DOLLY.]

Helen wanted Edith to know that she had not been rude in staying away,
so she brought with her the letter Edith had sent to her, so she could
show it to Edith. And there, sure enough, the word "Tuesday" was written
so badly that it looked more like "Thursday," and that was why Helen did
not think she was expected on this day.

Well, the very first thing they did was to undress their dolls and put
them to sleep under one of the bushes on the lawn--in the shade, so that
the sun would not hurt their eyes, and so that the wax would not be
melted from their cheeks. Edith put her napkin over both dolls for a
comforter, for you never know when it will blow up cold, and little
girls have to be as careful of their dolls as their own mothers are!

Very soon the maid came out with cookies and lady-fingers and
make-believe tea, and another napkin to take the place of the one Edith
had put over the dolls, and they had tea. Then the two little girls and
Edith's nurse had a nice game of croquet, and they had a lovely
tea-party after all, and Edith forgot all about waiting so long for
Helen to come.

But Edith never again made a mistake when she spelled "Tuesday."




     I have a doll, Rebecca,
       She's quite a little care,
     I have to press her ribbons
       And comb her fluffy hair.

     I keep her clothes all mended,
       And wash her hands and face,
     And make her frocks and aprons,
       All trimmed in frills and lace.

     I have to cook her breakfast,
       And pet her when she's ill;
     And telephone the doctor
       When Rebecca has a chill.

     Rebecca doesn't like that,
       And says she's well and strong;
     And says she'll try--oh! very hard,
       To be good all day long.

     But when night comes, she's nodding;
       So into bed we creep
     And snuggle up together,
       And soon are fast asleep.

     I have no other dolly,
       For you can plainly see,
     In caring for Rebecca,
       I'm busy as can be!



"It seems very queer," said Dorothea thoughtfully, "people who are going
to do something nice always have presents given them, but people who are
going to do something horrid never get a thing, and they need it twice
as much."

"As for instance?" said her father, laying down his paper and drawing
her onto his knee, while the rest of the family prepared to give the
customary amused attention to their youngest's remarks.


"Well, when Cousin Edith went to Europe we all gave her presents to take
with her, and when she came home lots of people sent her flowers.
Anita's been getting cups and things ever since she was engaged, and
last spring, when Florence graduated, almost all the family gave her
something; and when Mary Bowman was confirmed she got a lovely white
prayer-book and a gold cross and chain. But when people are going to do
what they hate to do, they're left out in the cold."

"What are you going to do that you don't like, Baby?" asked Florence.

"Why, you know, school begins again next week," said Dorothea. "It makes
me feel quite mournful, and I don't see anything to cheer me up and make
it interesting for me." A little smile was hidden in the corners of her
mouth although her tone was as doleful as possible.

"If you were going to boarding-school--" began Anita, who was apt to
take everything seriously.

"Then I'd have lots of things," interrupted Dorothea. "New clothes and a
trunk and a bag, and you'd all come to see me off, and it would be
interesting. But I'm going to work just as hard here at day-school, and
yet I've got to bear it, all by myself."

Her father pinched her ear, and her big brother Jim offered to have a
bunch of roses placed on her desk at school if that would make her feel
better, while her two sisters looked at each other as though the same
idea had occurred to them both.

       *       *       *

On the morning of the first day of school, Dorothea was suddenly
awakened by a loud ting-a-ling-a-ling. She sat up in bed and rubbed her
eyes. The room was flooded with morning light and the brass knobs on her
bed gleamed cheerfully at her and seemed to say: "Get up, get up!" Now
Dorothea was a "sleepyhead" and had seldom been known to get up when
first awakened. It usually took at least three calls from her mother or
the girls, and sometimes Jim stole in and administered a "cold pig,"
that is, a few drops of chilly water squeezed upon her neck from a
sponge, before she was ready to leave her comfortable bed.

"It's an alarm clock," thought Dorothea. "But where is it?" Her eyes
traveled sleepily around the room but saw nothing that had not been
there the night before. The ting-a-ling-a-ling sounded once more. "It's
in this room somewhere!" she exclaimed, bouncing out of bed. She looked
on bureau, washstand, bookcase, and window-seat, and then jumped, for
the loud ting-a-ling came almost from underneath her feet. She hastily
lifted the drooping cover of a little table that stood near the window,
and there on the edge of the lower shelf stood an alarm-clock of the
ordinary pattern but of rather extraordinary appearance, owing to a
large yellow paper ruff which encircled its face.

"How did it get there?" exclaimed Dorothea in astonishment; and as she
gazed the clock burst forth with another loud ting-a-ling.

"Isn't it ever going to stop doing that?" she said, lifting it as she
spoke. The yellow ruff seemed to have something written on it, so she
took it off and, smoothing it out, read:

     DEAR DOLLY: Happy school-day! After much earnest consideration I
     have selected this as a suitable reminder of this joyful (?)
     anniversary. It will continue to remind you five mornings in the
     week, thereby saving your family much wear and tear, for it will be
     properly wound and set every night by

                              Your affectionate brother,

     P.S. When you are sufficiently aroused, press the lever and the
     alarm will stop.

  [Illustration: Dorothea was a "sleepyhead"]

"It's one of those awful clocks that go off every minute!" said
Dorothea, carefully examining it to find the lever. She almost dropped
it when it began another of its loud and long rings, but she soon found
and pressed the lever and thereafter the clock was silent except for its
customary tick.

"I don't believe I shall ask anybody to give me presents any more," she
said, eying Jim's "reminder" with disfavor. But she changed her mind a
little later when, on looking for a clean handkerchief, she discovered a
flat square box tied with blue ribbon, and, opening it, saw half a dozen
handkerchiefs with narrow blue borders and a little blue D in the
corner. On the top was Cousin Edith's visiting-card, on the back of
which was printed in fantastic letters:

     Dear Dolly: Use a handkerchief
     Whenever you're inclined to sniff.
     But with this band of blue I think
     They don't need polka-dots of ink.

It was a constant wonder to the household what Dorothea did with her
handkerchiefs when she was at school. In vain she protested that she
didn't wipe her pen on them, and she didn't use them as blotters or to
wash out her ink-well; but, nevertheless, black stains almost always
appeared upon them, and Florence insisted that the family had to buy an
extra pint of milk a day to take out all these ink-stains. Cousin Edith
was too frequent a visitor not to know all the family plans and jokes,
and Dolly, as she laughed and shook out one of the blue-bordered
squares, resolved that "polka-dots" should be conspicuous by their
absence, for Edith would be sure to know.

She entered the breakfast room just as the family were sitting down to
the table.

"Behold the effects of my generosity and fore-thought!" exclaimed Jim
waving his hand toward her. "Our Youngest is in time for breakfast!"

"Many happy returns of the day, small sister," said Anita, just as if it
was her birthday, kissing her good morning and slipping a little hard
package into her hand. "Bob sends you this with his love."

"I don't mind returns of the day when it's like this," said Dorothea,
opening the package and at the same time spying a couple of tissue-paper
parcels lying beside her plate. Inside was a small chamois-skin case out
of which slid a little pearl-handled penknife. The accompanying card
bore the name of her future brother-in-law, and also these words:

     I hesitate to offer you
       This knife, for I shall be
     Afraid that if you cut yourself
       You straightway will cut me.

"How long did it take Bob to execute that masterpiece?" inquired Jim as
Dorothea read it aloud.

"You're jealous," she said. "Yours wasn't half so lovely as Cousin
Edith's and Bob's. It wasn't poetry at all."

"I left all the eloquence to my gift itself," answered Jim, helping
himself to an orange.

Dorothea paid no attention to him, for she was opening a small package
fastened by a rubber band. It was a silver-mounted eraser with a tiny
brush at one end. The inclosed note read:

     This advice I must repeat;
     Spare the rub and spoil the sheet.
     If you can't restrain your speed,
     This will prove a friend in need.

Dolly joined rather shamefacedly in the general smile, as she thanked
Florence, whose writing she had recognized. She was very apt to postpone
her work until the last minute, and then rush through it as fast as
possible; her compositions suffered from the many careless mistakes that
she was always in too much of a hurry to correct, while her drawings
belonged to what Jim called the "slap-dash school."

"We shall know by the amount of rubber left at the end of the term
whether you have taken my valuable advice," said Florence. "What's in
that other package, Baby? I know it is Anita's by the extreme elegance
of its appearance."


Dorothea opened an oblong package tied with green ribbon and found a set
of blotters fastened to a dark green suède cover ornamented with an
openwork design of four-leaf clovers, and a pen-wiper to match. On top
lay a slip of paper on which was written in Anita's pretty hand:

     Wishing "Our Youngest" good luck and a happy school year.

"I'm not good at verses, so you'll have to be content with plain prose,"
said Anita, and Dorothea assured her that she was quite satisfied.

"Half past eight, Dolly," said her mother when breakfast was over. "It
is time you started."

"Oh, not yet, mother," said Dorothea the Dawdler. "It only takes me
fifteen minutes."

"Now, see here," said Jim; "what do you suppose stirring young
business-men like your father and brother are lingering until the nine
o'clock train for, unless it is to see you off for school? We want to
give you as good a send-off as possible, for you're going to be absent
four whole hours, but we can't,--unless you do your part and begin to go
pretty soon. I don't believe you've got all your books together, as it


"Yes, I have," answered Dorothea triumphantly. "They are all on the hall
table, for I put them there last night. Oh, gracious!" she exclaimed
blankly: "I forgot to see whether I had any pencils! I don't believe I
have one! Jim, lend me yours, won't you? Just for to-day."

"Lend you my most cherished possession? Never!" said Jim, placing his
hand dramatically over his breast pocket.

"Then, Daddy, won't you please lend me yours?"

"Trot along, trot along!" said her father; and Dorothea, not knowing
quite what to make of having her demands thus ignored, put on her big
sailor hat and started to gather up her books. On top of the pile was a
slender inlaid box under a card bearing the words, "For Dolly, from
Father." Pushing back the sliding cover, Dorothea saw that the box
contained a row of pencils, all beautifully sharpened, a dozen pens, and
a slim gunmetal penholder.

"Oh!" she squealed with delight. "So that's why you wouldn't lend me any
pencils!" and gave her father a hug.

"Hurry up, now," said Jim. "Don't forget we've got to see ourselves off
after we've seen you."

"Why don't you take your bag?" asked Anita.

"It's too small for my new Geography," answered Dorothea, placing this
huge outward and visible sign of her progress in learning so that it
would form a foundation for the rest of her books. "Besides, it's too

"You had better take it to-day, anyhow, as you have so much to carry,"
suggested her mother. "I brought it downstairs and it's on the

"I just hate it!" pouted Dorothea, turning; and then stopped in
surprise, for instead of her little old satchel, a large new one made of
soft dark brown leather was hanging on the rack. It was ornamented on
one side with her monogram in raised tan-colored letters, and it was
large enough for the largest Geography that she was ever likely to have.

"Who gave me that?" she cried. "Oh, I know--Mother! It's just exactly
what I wanted. I think going to school this way is perfectly lovely!"
she added as she slipped her other possessions into the bag.

"Twenty minutes to nine!" called Jim warningly.

"All right, I'm going now," answered Dorothea gaily as she kissed them
all around.

"And the first day of school isn't so dismal after all, is it?" said her


"Oh, it's splendid, just splendid!" she replied enthusiastically. At the
gate she turned to wave her hand at the assembled family, who waved back
at her vigorously; and then, swinging her bag, she ran off down the
street toward school.



Doris's papa gave her a five-dollar bill, such a lot of money! Doris
went to a big bank and asked if they could give her smaller money for
it. The banker said he thought they could. So he gave her two two-dollar
bills and a big silver dollar. How much did that make? Doris wanted the
dollar changed again; so the banker asked if she would have two
fifty-cent pieces, or one fifty-cent piece and two quarters--or perhaps
four quarters or ten dimes--or twenty five-cent pieces--or a hundred

Doris thought a hundred pennies would be a good many to count and to
carry, so she said she would take two quarters, three dimes and four
five-cent pieces.

She laid away four dollars in the bank, those were the two bills, and
put the change in her purse. When she went to the shop, she had such a
lot of money that she thought she never could spend it. So she bought a
paint-box with two little saucers in it for 10 cents; that left her 90
cents; and then a big rubber balloon for 25 cents; that left 65 cents;
and a little one for 10 cents; and then Doris bought a whole pound of
candy for thirty cents. Out of the 25 cents she had left, it cost 10
cents to go in the car.

When Doris got home she opened her paint-box. What do you think? Of
course it was only a cheap paint-box and the paints were so hard that
they would not paint at all. Doris cut out the dolls, but they were no
better than those in any newspaper's colored supplement. Doris's mama
said that the candy was too bad to eat at all, and the rubber balloons
got wrinkled and soft in the night, because the gas went out of them.
Doris cried when she saw them. "Now," she said, "I have nothing left of
my beautiful dollar but 15 cents."

"I'm sorry, Dearie," Doris's mama said, "but it's bad enough to have
wasted one dollar without crying about it, too. When you and I go out,
we'll try to get such good things for the next dollar, that it will make
up for our mistake about this one." The next bright day they went to the
bank and got another dollar.

Now Doris's mama was a very wise person (mamas often are). So they went
to a store where there were some books that had been wet a little by the
firemen when the store caught fire. There they found a large, fine book
of animal stories with pictures in it that had been 50 cents, but the
book-store man sold it for 10 cents, because the back cover and a little
bit of the edge was stained with water and smoke.

That left--how much? Ninety cents. Doris's brother had told her he would
teach her to play marbles, so she bought six glass marbles for 5 cents
and a hoop with a stick for 5 more. That left 80 cents.

Then Doris asked if her mama thought she could buy a pair of roller
skates. Her mama said they could ask how much roller skates cost, but
the shopman said they were a dollar a pair! So Doris said she would save
up the 80 cents that was left of her dollar and wait until she had
enough for the skates.

However, a little boy was looking in at the window of the toy-shop and
he looked so sad, and so longingly at the toys, that Doris spoke to him,
and when he said he wanted one of the red balls, she bought it for 5
cents, and gave it to him. That left 75 cents.

When they got home, they told papa about the skates and he said he could
get them down-town for 75 cents, and he did.

So Doris learned by losing her first dollar, to get a lot of good things
that would be more useful and would last longer, with her second



"I've been crying again, father."

"Have you, sweetheart? I'm sorry."


"Yes, darling."

"I don't like Holland at all. I wish we had stayed in New York. And I
would much rather stay in Amsterdam with you to-day than to go and see
those horrid little Dutch children. I'm sure I shall hate them all."

"But how about Marie? You want to see her, don't you?"

"No. I'm very much annoyed with Marie. I don't see why she could not
have been contented in New York. After taking care of me ever since I
was a baby, she must like me better than those nieces and nephews she
never saw till yesterday."

"I am sure Marie loves you very dearly, Katharine, but you are getting
to be such a big girl now that you no longer need a nurse, and Marie was
homesick. She wished to come back to Holland years ago, but I persuaded
her to stay till you were old enough to do without her, and until Aunt
Katharine was ready to come to New York and live with us, promising her
that when that time came you and I would come over with her, just as we
have done, on our way to Paris. We must not be selfish and grudge Marie
to her sisters, who have not seen her for twelve years."

"I am homesick now, too, father. I was so happy in New York with my
dolls--and you--and Marie--and--"

"So you shall be again, darling; in a few months we will go back, taking
dear Aunt Katharine with us from Paris, and you will soon love her
better than you do Marie."

Katharine and her father, Colonel Easton, were floating along a canal
just out of Amsterdam, in a _trekschuit_, or small passenger-boat, on
their way to the home of one of Marie's sisters, two of whom were
married and settled near one of the dikes of Holland. Katharine was to
spend the day there with her nurse, and make the acquaintance of all the
nieces and nephews about whom Marie had told her so much, while her
father was to return to Amsterdam, where he had business to transact
with a friend. They had arrived in Holland only the day before, when
Marie had immediately left them, being anxious to get home as soon as
possible, after exacting a promise from the colonel that Katharine
should visit her the next day.

Katharine felt very sure she would never like Holland as she gazed
rather scornfully at the curious objects they passed: the queer
gay-colored boats, the windmills which met the eye at every turn, with
their great arms waving in the air, the busy-looking people, men and
women, some of the latter knitting as they walked, carrying heavy
baskets on their backs, and all looking so contented and placid.

"Try and think of the nice day you are going to have with Marie and the
children," said the colonel; "then this evening I will come for you, and
we will go together to Paris, and when you see Aunt Katharine you will
be perfectly happy. See, we are nearly at the landing, and look at that
row of little girls and boys. I do believe they are looking for you."

"Yes; they must be Marie's sister's children, I know them from the
description Marie has read me from her letters. Aren't they horrid
little things, father? Just look at their great clumps of shoes--"

"Yes--_klompen_; that is what they are called, Katharine."

"And their baggy clothes and short waists! One of them knitting, too!
Well, I would never make such a fright of myself, even if I did live in
Holland, which I'm glad I don't."


By this time they had made the landing. Then Katharine and Marie fell
into each other's arms and cried, gazed at in half-frightened curiosity
by seven small, shy Hollanders, and in pitying patience by a very large

"Au revoir. I will call for Katharine this afternoon," called Colonel
Easton, when the time came for him to go on board again.

Katharine waved her handkerchief to her father as long as his boat was
in sight.

"See, Miss Katharine," said Marie--in Dutch now, for Katharine
understood that language very well, Marie having spoken it to her from
her infancy--"here is Gretel, and this is her little sister Katrine and
her brother Jan. The others are their cousins. Come here, Lotten; don't
be shy. Ludolf, Mayken, Freitje, shake hands with my little American
girl; they were all eager to come and meet you, dear, so I had to bring

Katharine shook hands very soberly with the little group, and then
walked off beside Marie, hearing nothing but the clatter-clatter of
fourteen wooden shoes behind her.

Soon they arrived at the cottage, and in a moment seven pairs of klompen
were ranged in a neat row outside a small cottage, while their owners
all talked at once to two sweet-faced women standing in the doorway.
These were Marie's sisters, whose husbands were out on the sea fishing,
and who lived close beside each other in two tiny cottages exactly

"Oh," exclaimed Katharine, as, panting and breathless, she joined the
group, "do you always take off your shoes before you go into the

  [Illustration: LITTLE MAYKEN]

"Why, of course," said the children.

"How funny!" said Katharine.

Then Marie, who had been left far behind, came up and introduced the
little stranger to Juffrouw Van Dyne and Juffrouw Boekman, who took her
into the house, followed by the three children who belonged there and
the four cousins who belonged next door. They took off her coat and hat
and gave her an arm-chair to sit in as she nibbled a tiny piece of
gingerbread, while large pieces from the same loaf disappeared as if by
magic among the other children. Then Gretel showed to her her doll; Jan
shyly put into her hand a very pretty small model of the boat she had
come in on that morning; Lotten offered her a piece of Edam cheese,
which she took, while politely declining Mayken's offer to teach her to
knit, little Katrine deposited a beautiful white kitten on her lap;
Ludolf showed her a fine pair of klompen on which his father was
teaching him to carve some very pretty figures; Freitje brought all his
new fishing-tackle and invited her to go fishing with him at the back of
the house. It was not long before Katharine forgot that she was
homesick, and grew really interested in her surroundings; and later the
dinner, consisting chiefly of fish and rye bread, tasted very good to
the now hungry Katharine.

It was after dinner that the tragedy happened. The children had all
started out for a walk. Before they had gone more than a mile from the
house the fog settled all around them--so dense, so thick, blotting out
everything, that they could not see more than a step ahead. They were
not frightened, however, as all they had to do was to turn round and go
straight ahead toward home. The children took one another's hands at
Gretel's direction, stretching themselves across the road, Katharine,
who held Gretel's hand, being at one end of the line. They walked on
slowly along the dike for a short time, talking busily, though not able
to see where they were going, when suddenly Katharine felt her feet
slipping. In trying to steady herself she let go of Gretel, gave a wild
clutch at the air, and then rolled, rolled, right down a steep bank,
and, splash! into a pool of water at the bottom. For a moment she lay
half stunned, not knowing what had happened to her; then, as her sense
came, "Oh," thought she, "I must be killed, or drowned, or something!"
She tried to call "Gretel," but her voice sounded weak and far off, and
she could see nothing. Slowly she crawled out of the pool, only to
plunge, splash! into another. She felt, oh, so cold, wet, and bruised!
"I must have rolled right down the dike," she thought. "If I could find
it, I might climb up again." She got up and tried to walk, but sank to
her ankles in water at every step.

She was a little lame from her fall, and soaked from head to foot. Her
clothes hung around her most uncomfortably when she tried to walk. But,
if she had to crawl on hands and knees, she must find the house; so,
plunging, tumbling, rising again, she crawled in and out of ditches,
every minute getting more cold and miserable.

But on she went, shivering and sore, every moment wandering farther from
her friends, who were out searching all along the bottom of the dike.

After what seemed to her a long time, she came bump up against something
hard. She did not know what it was, but she could have jumped for joy,
if her clothes had not been so heavy to hear a voice suddenly call out
in Dutch "What's that? Who has hit against my door? Ach! where in the
world have you come from?" Then in a considerably milder tone: "Ach! the
little one! and she is English. How did you get here, dear heart?"

"I--I--fell down the dike. I have--lost--everybody. Oh, how shall I ever
get back to father?" answered Katharine in her very poor Dutch.

"But tell me, little one, where you came from--ach! so cold and wet!"

"I was spending the day with Marie and Gretel--and--Jan--and we were
walking on the dike when the fog came on; then I fell, and could not
find my way--"

"Gretel and Jan--could they be Juffrouw Van Dyne's children?"

"Yes, yes," eagerly; "that is where I was. Oh, _can_ you take me back,
dear, dear juffrouw?"

"Yes, when the fog clears away, my child. I could not find the house
now; it is more than two miles from here. Besides, you must put off
these wet clothes; you will get your death of cold--poor lambkin."

At this Katharine's sobs broke forth afresh. It must be late in the
evening now, she thought; her father would come to Marie's and would not
be able to find her--

"No, dear child, it is only four o'clock in the afternoon. The fog may
clear away very soon, and then I will take you back."

Quickly the wet garments were taken off and hung about the stove.
Katharine presently found herself wrapped up in blankets in a great
arm-chair in front of the fire, a cushion at her back and another under
her feet, drinking some nice hot broth, and feeling so warm and
comfortable that she fell fast asleep, and awoke two hours later to find
the room quite light, the fog almost gone, the juffrouw sitting beside
her knitting, and a comfortable-looking cat purring noisily at her

  [Illustration: GRETEL AND KATRINE.]

"I think I have been asleep," she said.

"I think you have," said Dame Donk.

Just then a loud knock was heard at the door, a head was poked in, then
another, and still another. The cottage was fast filling up. There
stood, first of all, poor, pale, frightened Marie, holding a large
bundle in her arms, Jan with another smaller one, Gretel carrying a pair
of shoes, and one of the sisters, completely filling up the doorway with
her ample proportions, last of all.

It appears that as soon as the fog had begun to clear, the good Dame
Donk had despatched a boy from a neighboring cottage to let them know
where Katharine was, and that her wardrobe would need replenishing.

The excitement on finding the child safe and sound may be better
imagined than described. How she was kissed, cried, and laughed over,
what questions were asked and not answered, as she was taken into an
adjoining room and arrayed in a complete suit of Gretel's clothes, even
to the klompen, for, alas! her French shoes were now in no condition to
be worn, the pretty blue frock torn and stained and hopelessly wet, the
hat with its dainty plume crushed and useless; indeed, every article she
had worn looked only fit for the rag-bag.

Gretel was so much smaller than Katharine that the clothes were a very
tight fit, the skirt which hung round Gretel's ankles reaching just
below Katharine's knees, and it was a funny little figure that stepped
back into the room--no longer a fashionably dressed New York maiden, but
a golden-haired child of Holland, even to the blue eyes, sparkling now
with fun and merriment.

"But didn't you bring a cap for me, Marie?" she asked in a grieved tone.

"Ah, no, deary; I never thought of a cap."

"Well, you must put one on me the minute we get back."

"Oh, what will father say?" she cried delightedly, as she surveyed
herself in the little mirror.

This sobered Marie at once. What would "father" say, indeed? Would he
not have a right to be very angry with her, that she had allowed the
child to get into such danger?

       *       *       *

"Where is Katharine?" asked the colonel, as he stood, tall and
commanding, on the threshold, later that evening, surveying eight small
Hollanders, looking so much alike, except for the difference in their
sizes, that they might have passed for eight Dutch dolls propped up in a
row against the wall.

A sudden shriek of laughter, and one of the dolls was in his arms,
smothering him with kisses. Then every one began to talk at once, as
usual, and it was not until late the next evening, when he and Katharine
were steaming out of Amsterdam, that the colonel was told the whole
story and for the first time fully understood all that had happened to
his little girl on that eventful day.

Meanwhile the new light in his daughter's eyes and the laughter on her
lips kept him from any desire to inquire too deeply into the reason for
a certain embarrassed frightened look on the faces of the women.

Before leaving Amsterdam the colonel was obliged to purchase a complete
suit of Dutch garments for Katharine as a memento of this visit, and
"because they are so pretty, father," she said, and "oh, father, I just
love Holland! As for those Dutch children, I think they are simply the
dearest, sweetest things I ever saw, and I have promised to write to
Gretel as soon as ever I get to Paris."



     There lives in a town that is called Chu-Bo
     A little Jap girl named Nami-Ko.
     She learns to spell and she learns to write,
     But her A B C's are the _oddest_ sight!

     For _this_ is the way that the letters look
     In her neat little, queer little copy-book:

     This little Jap girl has shoes most neat
     To put on her tiny Japanese feet,
     But O! They are _queer_--such heels, such toes!
     You'd think she would fall on her little Jap nose!

     And _these_ are the shoes--beware of mishap
     If you wear what belongs to a queer little Jap!

     When this little Jap girl goes out to call
     She wears no hat--but a parasol!
     And her little Jap mother wears one too--
     In fact it's the way that the Japs all do.

     And _this_ is the curious parasol
     Which the little Jap girl wears out to call:

     This little Jap girl, when she goes to bed,
     Has no soft pillow beneath her head,
     For little Jap girls have to take great care
     Of their smooth little, black little Japanese hair!

     And _this_ is the pillow!  Imagine, chicks,
     A pillow like this--and as hard as bricks!



The Little Cousin from Constantinople was to have been given a party on
her seventh birthday; but, just before the invitations were written,
Mumps came uninvited, and, of course, there could be no other guests
while Mumps stayed.


The Little Cousin could not help feeling just a little tearful on her
birthday morning, for Mumps, as nearly everybody knows, is a painful,
disagreeable visitor. She did not cry when anybody was near--oh, no,
indeed! She even tried to smile; but she found smiling very difficult
with a poultice on each side of her face, and she had to give it up. The
Merry Mother understood, however, and told her she was a dear, brave
little girl, and strove to comfort her just as the dear absent Mother in
Constantinople would have comforted her if she had been there.

Before the Merry Mother left her the Little Cousin felt almost happy,
sitting up among her soft pillows, and wearing her new, pink, birthday
sacque, with its pretty ribbons.

"I am sorry I must be away all the morning," the Merry Mother said; "but
I hope your pleasant company will keep you from missing me. I am going
to shut your door for a minute, and when it opens you can pull in your
visitors as fast as you please." She laughed to see the Little Cousin's
astonished face, for the doctor had said that the children must not come
in to see her as long as Mumps stayed. Then the door closed.

There was a slight commotion outside. The Little Cousin listened
eagerly. What could it mean? Hushed voices, bits of laughter, the
sliding of something over the polished floor, scurrying footsteps here
and there--the Little Cousin heard it all, and waited breathlessly.

At last the feet retreated, the door opened, and the Merry Mother's face
appeared. Something attached to a string came flying toward the bed.

"Catch it!" she called.

The Little Cousin grabbed it--only a small block of wood, on which was
printed, "PULL."

Eagerly the little hands obeyed, when in through the doorway slid an
oblong package. Across the rug and up on the bed the Little Cousin drew
it, till her excited fingers clasped the package tight--what could it

Fastened to the further end of the bundle was another block of wood, and
attached to it was another string which led outside the door. On this
block was printed. "When you are ready, PULL again!"

"I'll open this first," said the Little Cousin to herself, untying the
block, and laying it aside with its dangling cord. Eagerly she tore off
the wrappings--it was, it _was_ a doll, such a darling of a doll! It had
brown eyes and fluffy yellow curls, and--this seemed very strange--the
only thing in the way of clothing that it possessed was a little blanket
that was wrapped around it.

Never mind! she was learning to sew, and she would make it a dress as
soon as she was well again. She cuddled Dolly down against the pillows.
She would not be lonely any more, even if Mumps should stay for a longer
visit than was expected. Her dolls had all been left for the Little
Sister in Constantinople, and it was so nice to have a dolly of her own

Then her eyes fell on the block of wood, with its inscription, and she
began to pull in the string.

A square package appeared in the doorway, and she drew it toward her.
Attached to it was a third block. This she untied as before, and removed
the paper from her gift. It was a small trunk. She lifted the cover, and
there were Dolly's missing garments! A blue dress, a pink dress, a white
dress, dainty underwear, sash ribbons, a coat and hat, and even a tiny
comb and brush, were found in that wonderful trunk. Of course, Dolly had
to come out from her nook in the pillows, and be dressed. It took some
time, because Little Cousin must stop to admire every separate garment.
At last, however, the third present was pulled in, and it was a chair
for Dolly to sit in.

The fourth package was big and rather heavier than the others. The
Little Cousin wondered what it could be, and she found out just as soon
as she could get it open. It was a dining-table for Dolly, with a real
little table-cloth, and napkins, and a set of pretty china dishes.

"Oh, oh!" gasped the Little Cousin, in sheer delight. It is a pity there
was no one there to see the shining of her eyes. She rested awhile among
her pillows; but not long, for Dolly must have her table set for
luncheon--she might be hungry.

Ready for the make-believe repast, string number five was pulled, and
when the box was opened the Little Cousin fairly squealed, for there was
a real luncheon for Dolly and herself, all in twos! There were two tiny
buttered biscuits, two very small apple turnovers, and two little
frosted cakes. There were, also, two small bottles containing a brownish
liquid. It was chocolate! Oh, how glad the Little Cousin was that she
had passed the stage where she could not eat! It would have been hard,
indeed, to have left all those goodies for Dolly. As it was she had to
take food in very small bits, but that only made it last the longer; and
if it did hurt a little once in a while she did not mind, it tasted so
good. So on the whole, the luncheon was a very happy affair.

When the sixth present was pulled upon the bed the Little Cousin said,
"Oh!" to the accompaniment of very bright eyes, for the shape of it told
her that must be a carriage--a carriage for Dolly, and it proved to be
one of the very prettiest that ever a small doll rode in. She was put on
the seat in a twinkling, and had only one tumble--which did not even
muss her dress, and the next time she was strapped in so that she could
not fall.

The seventh gift was a little white bedstead, with mattress and sheets,
a dear little puffy comfortable, and a dainty coverlet and two pillows.
Of course, Dolly was tired enough after her ride to be undressed and go
to bed, and very sweet she looked as she was tucked snugly in.

"Now shut your eyes and go right to sleep!" Dolly was bidden, and she
obeyed at once.

"What a perfectly lovely birthday!" murmured Little Cousin, drawing her
darling--bed and all--close to her pillow. Then she shut her own eyes,
to keep Dolly company.

When the Merry Mother peeped in, the Little Cousin from Constantinople
lay quite still among her treasures--fast asleep.



There was once a sweet little girl, who had gained the love of every
one, even those who had only seen her once. She had an old grandmother,
who knew not how to do enough for her, she loved her so much. Once she
sent her a little cloak with a red velvet hood, which became her so well
that she obtained the name of Little Red Riding-Hood.

One day her mother said to her: "Come, Red Riding-Hood, I want you to go
and see your grandmother, and take her a piece of cake and a bottle of
wine; for she is ill and weak, and this will do her good. Make haste and
get ready before the weather gets too hot, and go straight on your road
while you are out, and behave prettily and modestly; and do not run, for
fear you should fall and break the bottle, and then grandmother would
have no wine. And when you pass through the village, do not forget to
courtesy and say 'Good-morning' to every one who knows you."

"I will do everything you tell me, mother," said the child as she wished
her good-by and started for her long walk.

It was quite half an hour's walk through the wood from the village to
the grandmother's house, and no sooner had Red Riding-Hood entered the
wood than she met a wolf.

Red Riding-Hood did not know what a wicked animal he was, and felt not
the least afraid of him.

"Good-day, Red Riding-Hood," he said.

"Good-morning, sir," replied the little girl, with a courtesy.

"Where are you going so early, Red Riding-Hood?" he asked.

"To my grandmother, sir," she replied. "Mother baked yesterday, and she
has sent me with a piece of cake and a bottle of wine to her because she
is sick, and it will make her stronger and do her good."

"Where does your grandmother live, Red Riding-Hood?"

"About half a mile from here through the wood; her house stands under
three large oak trees, near to the nut hedges; you would easily know
it," said Red Riding-Hood.

The wolf, when he heard this, thought to himself, "This little, delicate
thing would be a sweet morsel for me at last, and taste nicer than her
old grandmother, but she would not satisfy my hunger; I must make a meal
of them both."

Then he walked quietly on by the side of Red Riding-Hood till they came
to a part of the wood where a number of flowers grew.

"See, Red Riding-Hood," he said, "what pretty flowers are growing here;
would you not like to rest and gather some? And don't you hear how
sweetly the birds are singing? You are walking on as steadily as if you
were going to school, and it is much more pleasant here in the wood."

Then Red Riding-Hood looked up and saw the dancing sunbeams shining
between the trees and lighting up the beautiful flowers that grew all
around her, and she thought, "If I were to take my grandmother a fresh
nosegay, it would make her so pleased; it is early yet, and I have
plenty of time."

So she went out of her way into the wood to gather flowers. And when she
had picked a few, she saw some more beautiful still at a little distance
so she walked on further and further, till she was quite deep in the

Meanwhile the wolf went straight on to the grandmother's house, and
knocked at the door. There was no answer.

So the wolf lifted the latch and the door flew open; then he rushed in,
hoping to seize upon the poor old grandmother, and eat her up. But she
had gone out for a little walk, so he shut the door, dressed himself in
the old woman's nightgown and nightcap, and lay down in the bed to wait
for Red Riding-Hood.

After Red Riding-Hood had gathered as many flowers as she could carry,
she found her way back quickly to the right path, and walked on very
fast till she came to her grandmother's house, and knocked at the door.

"Who is there?" said the wolf, trying to imitate the grandmother. His
voice was so gruff, however, that Little Red Riding-Hood would have been
frightened, only she thought her grandmother had a cold.

So she replied: "It's Little Red Riding-Hood. Mother sent you a piece of
cake and a bottle of wine."

"Lift up the latch and come in," said the wolf.

So Red Riding-Hood lifted the latch and went in.

When she saw her grandmother, as she thought, lying in bed, she went up
to her and drew back the curtains; but she could only see the head, for
the wolf had pulled the nightcap as far over his face as he could.

  [Illustration: LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD.

"Good-morning," she said; but there was no answer. Then she got on the
bed, and cried out: "Grandmother, what great ears you have!"

"The better to hear with, my dear," he said.

"Grandmother, what great eyes you have!"

"The better to see you, my dear, the better to see you."

"Grandmother, what great teeth you have!"

"The better to eat you up!"

The old wolf jumped out of bed, and Little Red Riding Hood, in the
greatest terror, screamed as loud as she could.

Just then the door opened, and in came the grandmother and some woodmen
who were passing. They were just in time to save Little Red-Riding-Hood
from the old wolf.



     Come and see my baby dear;
     Doctor, she is ill, I fear.
     Yesterday, do what I would,
     She would touch no kind of food;
     And she tosses, moans, and cries.
     Doctor, what do you advise?


     Hum! ha! good madam, tell me, pray,
     What have you offered her to-day?
     Ah, yes! I see! a piece of cake--
     The worst thing you could make her take.
     Just let me taste. Yes, yes; I fear
     Too many plums and currants here.
     But, stop; I must just taste again,
     For that will make the matter plain.


     But, Doctor, pray excuse me, now--
     You've eaten all the cake, I vow!
     I thank you kindly for your care;
     But surely that was hardly fair.


     Ah, dear me! did I eat the cake?
     Well, it was for dear baby's sake.
     But keep him in his bed, well warm,
     And, you will see, he'll take no harm.
     At night and morning use once more
     His draught and powder, as before;
     And he must not be over-fed,
     But he may have a piece of bread.
     To-morrow, then, I dare to say,
     He'll be quite right. Good day! good day!



She had a little house of her own, a little garden, too, this woman of
whom I am going to tell you, but for all that she was not quite happy.

"If only I had a little child of my own," she said, "how the walls would
ring with her laughter, and how the flowers would brighten at her
coming. Then, indeed, I should be quite happy."

And an old witch heard what the woman wished, and said, "Oh, but that is
easily managed. Here is a barley-corn. Plant it in a flower-pot and tend
it carefully, and then you will see what will happen."

The woman was in a great hurry to go home and plant the barley-corn, but
she did not forget to say "Thank you" to the old witch. She not only
thanked her, she even stayed to give her six silver pennies.

Then she hurried away to her home, took a flower-pot and planted her
precious barley-corn.

And what do you think happened? Almost before the corn was planted, up
shot a large and beautiful flower. It was still unopened. The petals
were folded closely together, but it looked like a tulip. It really was
a tulip, a red and yellow one, too.

The woman loved flowers. She stooped and kissed the beautiful bud. As
her lips touched the petals, they burst open, and oh! wonder of wonders;
there, in the very middle of the flower, sat a little child. Such a
tiny, pretty little maiden she was.

They called her Thumbelina. That was because she was no bigger than the
woman's thumb.

And where do you think she slept? A little walnut shell, lined with
blue, that was her cradle.

When she slept little Thumbelina lay in her cradle on a tiny heap of
violets, with the petal of a pale pink rose to cover her.

And where do you think she played? A table was her playground. On the
table the woman placed a plate of water. Little Thumbelina called that
her lake.

Round the plate were scented flowers; the blossoms lying on the edge,
while the pale green stalks reached thirstily down to the water.

In the lake floated a large tulip leaf. This was Thumbelina's little
boat. Seated there she sailed from side to side of her little lake,
rowing cleverly with two white horse hairs. As she rowed backward and
forward she sang softly to herself. The woman listening heard, and
thought she had never known so sweet a song.

And now such a sad thing happened.

In through a broken window-pane hopped a big toad--oh, such an ugly big
toad! She hopped right on to the table, where Thumbelina lay dreaming in
her tiny cradle, under the pale pink rose leaf.

"How beautiful the little maiden is," she croaked. "She will make a
lovely bride for my handsome son." And she lifted the little cradle,
with Thumbelina in it, and hopped out through the broken window-pane,
and down into the little garden.

At the foot of the garden was a broad stream. Here, under the muddy
banks, lived the old toad with her son.

How handsome she thought him! But he was really very ugly. Indeed, he
was exactly like his mother.

When he saw little Thumbelina in her tiny cradle, he croaked with

"Do not make so much noise," said his mother, "or you will wake the tiny
creature. We may lose her if we are not careful. The slightest breeze
would waft her away. She is as light as gossamer."

Then the old toad carried Thumbelina out into the middle of the stream.
"She will be safe here," she said, as she laid her gently on one of the
leaves of a large water lily, and paddled back to her son.

"We will make ready the best rooms under the mud," she told him, "and
then you and the little maiden will be married."

Poor little Thumbelina! She had not seen the ugly big toad yet, nor her
ugly son.

When she woke up early in the morning, how she wept! Water all around
her! How could she reach the shore? Poor little Thumbelina!

Down under the mud the old toad was very busy, decking the best room
with buttercups and buds of water-lilies to make it gay for her little
daughter-in-law, Thumbelina.

"Now we will go to bring her little bed and place it ready," said the
old toad, and together she and her son swam out to the leaf where little
Thumbelina sat.

"Here is my handsome son," she said, "he is to be your husband," and she
bowed low in the water, for she wished to be very polite to the little

"Croak, croak," was all the young toad could say, as he looked at his
pretty little bride.

Then they took away the tiny little bed, and Thumbelina was left all

How the tears stained her pretty little face! How fast they fell into
the stream! Even the fish as they swam hither and thither thought, "How
it rains today," as the tiny drops fell thick and fast.

They popped up their heads and saw the forlorn little maiden.

"She shall not marry the ugly toad," they said, as they looked with
eager eyes at the pretty child. "No, she shall not marry the ugly toad."

But what could the little fish do to help Thumbelina?

They found the green stem which held the leaf on which Thumbelina sat.
They bit it with their little sharp teeth, and they never stopped
biting, till at last they bit the green stem through; and away, down the
stream, floated the leaf, carrying with it little Thumbelina.

"Free, free!" she sang, and her voice tinkled as a chime of fairy bells.
"Free, free!" she sang merrily as she floated down the stream, away, far
away out of reach of the ugly old toad and her ugly son.

And as she floated on, the little wild birds sang round her, and on the
banks the little wild hare-bells bowed to her.

Butterflies were flitting here and there in the sunshine. A pretty
little white one fluttered onto the leaf on which sat Thumbelina. He
loved the tiny maiden so well that he settled down beside her.

Now she was quite happy! Birds around her, flowers near her, and the
water gleaming like gold in the summer sunshine. What besides could
little Thumbelina wish?

She took off her sash and threw one end of it round the butterfly. The
other end she fastened firmly to the leaf. On and on floated the leaf,
the little maiden and the butterfly.

Suddenly a great cockchafer buzzed along. Alas! he caught sight of
little Thumbelina. He flew to her, put his claw round her tiny little
waist and carried her off, up onto a tree.

Poor little Thumbelina! How frightened she was! How grieved she was,
too, for had she not lost her little friend the butterfly?

Would he fly away, she wondered, or would her sash hold him fast?

The cockchafer was charmed with the little maiden. He placed her
tenderly on the largest leaf he could find. He gathered honey for her
from the flowers, and as she sipped it, he sat near and told her how
beautiful she looked.

But there were other chafers living in the tree, and when they came to
see little Thumbelina, they said, "She is not pretty at all."

"She has only two legs," said one.

"She has no feelers," said another.

Some said she was too thin, others that she was too fat, and then they
all buzzed and hummed together, "How ugly she is, how ugly she is!" But
all the time little Thumbelina was the prettiest little maiden that ever

And now the cockchafer who had flown off with little Thumbelina thought
he had been rather foolish to admire her.

He looked at her again. "Pretty? No, after all she was not very pretty."
He would have nothing to do with her, and away he and all the other
chafers flew. Only first they carried little Thumbelina down from the
tree and placed her on a daisy. She wept because she was so ugly--so
ugly that the chafers could not live with her. But all the time, you
know, she was the prettiest little maiden in the world.

She was living all alone in the wood now, but it was summer and she
could not feel sad or lonely while the warm golden sunshine touched her
so gently, while the birds sang to her, and the flowers bowed to her.

Yes, little Thumbelina was happy. She ate honey from the flowers, and
drank dew out of the golden buttercups and danced and sang the livelong

But summer passed away and autumn came. The birds began to whisper of
flying to warmer countries, and the flowers began to fade and hang their
heads, and as autumn passed away, winter came, cold, dreary winter.

Thumbelina shivered with cold. Her little frock was thin and old. She
would certainly be frozen to death, she thought, as she wrapped herself
up in a withered leaf.

Then the snow began to fall, and each snow-flake seemed to smother her.
She was so very tiny.

Close to the wood lay a corn-field. The beautiful golden grain had been
carried away long ago, now there was only dry short stubble. But to
little Thumbelina the stubble was like a great forest.

She walked through the hard field. She was shaking with cold. All at
once she saw a little door just before her.

The field-mouse had made a little house under the stubble, and lived so
cozily there. She had a big room full of corn, and she had a kitchen and
pantry as well.

"Perhaps I shall get some food here," thought the cold and hungry little
maiden, as she stood knocking at the door, just like a tiny beggar
child. She had had nothing to eat for two long days. Oh, she was very

"What a tiny thing you are!" said the field-mouse, as she opened the
door and saw Thumbelina. "Come in and dine with me."

How glad Thumbelina was, and how she enjoyed dining with the

She behaved so prettily that the old field-mouse told her she might live
with her while the cold weather lasted. "And you shall keep my room
clean and neat, and you shall tell me stories," she added.

That is how Thumbelina came to live with the field-mouse and to meet Mr.

"We shall have a visitor soon," said the field-mouse. "My neighbor, Mr.
Mole, comes to see me every week-day. His house is very large, and he
wears a beautiful coat of black velvet. Unfortunately, he is blind. If
you tell him your prettiest stories he may marry you."

Now the mole was very wise and very clever, but how could little
Thumbelina ever care for him. Why, he did not love the sun, nor the
flowers, and he lived in a house underground. No, Thumbelina did not
wish to marry the mole.

However she must sing to him when he came to visit his neighbor, the
field-mouse. When she had sung, "Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home," and
"Boys and girls, come out to play," the mole was charmed, and thought he
would like to marry the little maiden with the beautiful voice.

Then he tried to be very agreeable. He invited the field-mouse and
Thumbelina to walk along the underground passage he had dug between
their houses. Mr. Mole was very fond of digging underground.

As it was dark the mole took a piece of tinder-wood in his mouth and led
the way. The tinder-wood shone like a torch in the dark passage.

A little bird lay in the passage, a little bird who had not flown away
when the flowers faded and the cold winds blew.

It was dead, the mole said.

When he reached the bird, the mole stopped and pushed his nose right
up through the ceiling to make a hole, through which the daylight might


There lay a swallow, his wings pressed close to his side, his little
head and legs drawn in under his feathers. He had died of cold.

"Poor little swallow!" thought Thumbelina. All wild birds were her
friends. Had they not sung to her and fluttered round her all the long
glad summer days?

But the mole kicked the swallow with his short legs. "That one will sing
no more," he said roughly. "It must be sad to be born a bird and to be
able only to sing and fly. I am thankful none of my children will be
birds," and he proudly smoothed down his velvet coat.

"Yes," said the field-mouse, "what can a bird do but sing? When the cold
weather comes it is useless."

Thumbelina said nothing. Only when the others moved on, she stooped down
and stroked the bird gently with her tiny hand, and kissed its closed

That night the little maiden could not sleep. "I will go to see the poor
swallow again," she thought.

She got up out of her tiny bed. She wove a little carpet out of hay.
Down the long underground passage little Thumbelina walked, carrying the
carpet. She reached the bird at last, and spread the carpet gently round
him. She fetched warm cotton and laid it over the bird.

"Even down on the cold earth he will be warm now," thought the gentle
little maiden.

"Farewell," she said sadly, "farewell, little bird! Did you sing to me
through the long summer days, when the leaves were green and the sky was
blue? Farewell, little swallow!" and she stooped to press her tiny
cheeks against the soft feathers.

As she did so, she heard--what could it be? pit, pat, pit, pat! Could
the bird be alive? Little Thumbelina listened still. Yes, it was the
beating of the little bird's heart that she heard. He had not been dead
after all, only frozen with cold. The little carpet and the covering the
little maid had brought warmed the bird. He would get well now.

What a big bird he seemed to Thumbelina! She was almost afraid now, for
she was so tiny. She was tiny, but she was brave. Drawing the covering
more closely round the poor swallow, she brought her own little pillow,
that the bird's head might rest softly.

Thumbelina stole out again the next night. "Would the swallow look at
her," she wondered.

Yes, he opened his eyes and looked at little Thumbelina, who stood there
with a tiny torch of tinder-wood.

"Thanks, thanks, little Thumbelina," he twittered feebly. "Soon I shall
grow strong and fly out in the bright sunshine once more; thanks,
thanks, little maiden."

"Oh! but it is too cold, it snows and freezes, for now it is winter,"
said Thumbelina. "Stay here and be warm, and I will take care of you,"
and she brought the swallow water in a leaf.

And the little bird told her all his story--how he had tried to fly to
the warm countries, and how he had torn his wing on a blackthorn bush
and fallen to the ground. But he could not tell her how he had come to
the underground passage.

All winter the swallow stayed there, and Thumbelina was often in the
long passage, with her little torch of tinder-wood. But the mole and the
field-mouse did not know how Thumbelina tended and cared for the

At last spring came, and the sun sent its warmth down where the swallow
lay in the underground passage.

Little Thumbelina opened the hole which the mole had made in the
ceiling, and the sunshine streamed down on the swallow and the little

How the swallow longed to soar away, up and up, to be lost to sight in
the blue, blue sky!

"Come with me, little Thumbelina," said the swallow, "come with me to
the blue skies and the green woods."

But Thumbelina remembered how kind the field-mouse had been to her when
she was cold and hungry, and she would not leave her.

"Farewell! farewell! then, little maiden," twittered the swallow as he
flew out and up, up into the sunshine.

Thumbelina loved the swallow dearly. Her eyes were full of tears as she
watched the bird disappearing till he was only a tiny speck of black.

And now sad days came to little Thumbelina.

The golden corn was once more waving in the sunshine above the house of
the field-mouse, but Thumbelina must not go out lest she lose herself
among the corn.

Not go out in the bright sunshine! Oh, poor little Thumbelina!

"You must get your wedding clothes ready this summer," said the
field-mouse. "You must be well provided with linen and worsted. My
neighbor the mole will wish a well-dressed bride."

The mole had said he wished to marry little Thumbelina before the cold
winter came again.

So Thumbelina sat at the spinning-wheel through the long summer days,
spinning and weaving with four little spiders to help her.

In the evening the mole came to visit her. "Summer will soon be over,"
he said, "and we shall be married."

But oh! little Thumbelina did not wish the summer to end.

Live with the dull old mole, who hated the sunshine, who would not
listen to the song of the birds--live underground with him! Little
Thumbelina wished the summer would never end.

The spinning and weaving were over now. All the wedding clothes were
ready. Autumn was come.

"Only four weeks and the wedding-day will have come," said the

And little Thumbelina wept.

"I will not marry the tiresome old mole," she said.

"I shall bite you with my white tooth if you talk such nonsense," said
the field-mouse. "Among all my friends not one of them has such a fine
velvet coat as the mole. His cellars are full and his rooms are large.
You ought to be glad to marry so well," she ended.

"Was there no escape from the underground home?" little Thumbelina

The wedding-day came. The mole arrived to fetch his little bride.

How could she say good-by forever to the beautiful sunshine?

"Farewell, farewell!" she cried, and waved her little hands toward the
glorious sun.

"Farewell, farewell!" she cried, and threw her tiny arms round a little
red flower growing at her feet.

"Tell the dear swallow, when he comes again," she whispered to the
flower, "tell him I will never forget him."

"Tweet, tweet!" What was that Thumbelina heard? "Tweet, tweet!" Could it
be the swallow?

The flutter of wings was round her. Little Thumbelina looked. How glad
she was, for there, indeed, was the little bird she had tended and cared
for so long. She told him, weeping, she must not stay. She must marry
the mole and live underground, and never see the sun, the glorious sun.

"Come with me, come with me, little Thumbelina," twittered the swallow.
"You can sit on my back, and I will fly with you to warmer countries,
far from the tiresome old mole. Over mountains and seas we will fly to
the country where the summer never ends, and the sunlight always

Then little Thumbelina seated herself on her dear swallow's back, and
put her tiny feet on his outstretched wing. She tied herself firmly with
her little sash to the strongest feather of the bird.

And the swallow soared high into the air. High above forests and lakes,
high above the big mountains that were crested with snow, he soared.

They had reached the warm countries now.

On and on flew the swallow, till he came to a white marble palace.
Half-ruined it was, and vine leaves trailed up the long slender pillars.
And among the broad, green leaves many a swallow had built his nest, and
one of these nests belonged to Thumbelina's little swallow.

"This is my home," said the bird, "but you shall live in one of these
brilliant flowers, in the loveliest of them all."

And little Thumbelina clapped her hands with joy.

The swallow flew with her to a stately sun-flower, and set her carefully
on one of the broad yellow petals.

But think, what was her surprise! In the very heart of the flower stood
a little Prince, fair and transparent as crystal. On his shoulders were
a pair of delicate wings, and he was small, every bit as small as
Thumbelina. He was the spirit of the flower.

For you know in each flower there is a spirit--a tiny little boy or
girl, but this little Prince was King of all the flower spirits.

The little King thought Thumbelina the loveliest maiden he had ever
seen. He took off his golden crown and placed it on the tiny head of the
little maid, and in a silvery voice he asked, "Will you be my bride,
little Thumbelina, and reign with me over the flower spirits?"

How glad Thumbelina was!

The little King wished to marry her. Yes, she would be his little Queen.

Then out of each blossom stepped tiny little children. They came to pay
their homage to little Thumbelina.

Each one brought her a present, and the most beautiful of all the
presents was a pair of wings, delicate as gossamer. And when they were
fastened on the shoulders of the little Queen, she could fly from flower
to flower.

And the swallow sat on his nest above, and sang his sweetest bridal song
for the wedding of little Thumbelina.


Once upon a time there was a little red hen. She lived in a little white
house and she had a little green garden. Every day she worked in the
house and garden.

Near her home lived a family of foxes. One day Mamma Fox said to Papa
Fox, "I want a fat hen to eat." There was nothing in the pantry for the
baby foxes, so Papa Fox started out to find something for them all.

He ran down the road until he came to the woods. "Surely I will find
something here," he said, but he found nothing to eat in the woods. As
he came near the little green garden he said, "Oh, I smell fresh cake!
Oh, I smell a little red hen!"

Sure enough, there was the Little Red Hen eating her cake.

Papa Fox stole up softly behind her and grabbed her and put her into the
bag on his back; then he ran quickly off down the hill toward his home.

The Little Red Hen was so frightened that she could only whisper, "Oh,
dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"

Just then she had to sneeze, and when she put her claw into her pocket
for her handkerchief, she felt her little scissors. Quick as a flash she
took them out and cut a little hole in the bag. Peeping out she saw a
great hill just ahead, all covered with stones. As Papa Fox stopped to
rest on his way up the hill, with his back turned toward her, she cut a
big hole in the bag, jumped out and quickly put a big stone in the bag
in her place.

As Papa Fox kept on up the hill, he thought the bag was pretty heavy,
but he said, "Never mind, she is a fat little red hen."

Mamma Fox met him at the front door with all the baby foxes.

"The water is boiling," said she. "What have you in your bag?" asked the
Baby Foxes.

"A fat little red hen," said Papa Fox.

As he held the bag over the pot, he said to Mamma Fox, "When I drop her
in, you clap on the lid." So he opened the bag. Splash! went the boiling
water. It spilled all over Papa Fox and Mamma Fox and the Baby Foxes.
Never again did they try to catch the Little Red Hen.



There was once a shoemaker, who, from no fault of his own, had become so
poor that at last he had nothing left, but just sufficient leather for
one pair of shoes. In the evening he cut out the leather, intending to
make it up in the morning; and, as he had a good conscience, he lay
quietly down to sleep, first commending himself to God. In the morning
he said his prayers, and then sat down to work; but, behold, the pair of
shoes were already made, and there they stood upon his board. The poor
man was amazed, and knew not what to think; but he took the shoes into
his hand to look at them more closely, and they were so neatly worked,
that not a stitch was wrong; just as if they had been made for a prize.
Presently a customer came in; and as the shoes pleased him very much, he
paid down more than was usual; and so much that the shoemaker was able
to buy with it leather for two pairs. By the evening he had got his
leather shaped out; and when he arose the next morning, he prepared to
work with fresh spirit; but there was no need--for the shoes stood all
perfect on his board. He did not want either for customers; for two came
who paid him so liberally for the shoes, that he bought with the money
material for four pairs more. These also--when he awoke--he found all
ready-made, and so it continued; what he cut out overnight was, in the
morning, turned into the neatest shoes possible. This went on until he
had regained his former appearance, and was becoming prosperous.

One evening--not long before Christmas--as he had cut out the usual
quantity, he said to his wife before going to bed, "What say you to
stopping up this night, to see who it is that helps us so kindly?" His
wife was satisfied, and fastened up a light; and then they hid
themselves in the corner of the room, where hung some clothes which
concealed them. As soon as it was midnight in came two little manikins,
who squatted down on the board; and, taking up the prepared work, set to
with their little fingers, stitching and sewing, and hammering so
swiftly and lightly, that the shoemaker could not take his eyes off them
for astonishment. They did not cease until all was brought to an end,
and the shoes stood ready on the table; and then they sprang quickly

  [Illustration: The Shoemaker & the Little Elves]

The following morning the wife said, "The little men have made us rich,
and we must show our gratitude to them; for although they run about they
must be cold, for they have nothing on their bodies. I will make a
little shirt, coat, waistcoat, trousers, and stockings for each, and do
you make a pair of shoes for each."

The husband assented; and one evening, when all was ready, they laid
presents, instead of the usual work, on the board, and hid themselves to
see the result.

At midnight in came the Elves, jumping about, and soon prepared to work,
but when they saw no leather, but the natty little clothes, they at
first were astonished, but soon showed their rapturous glee. They drew
on their coats, and smoothing them down, sang--

     "Smart and natty boys are we;
      Cobblers we'll no longer be."

And so they went on hopping and jumping over the stools and chairs, and
at last out at the door. After that evening they did not come again, but
the shoemaker prospered in all he undertook, and lived happily to the
end of his days.


Now you shall hear a story that somebody's great, great-grandmother told
a little girl ever so many years ago:

There was once a little old man and a little old woman, who lived in a
little old house in the edge of a wood. They would have been a very
happy old couple but for one thing--they had no little child, and they
wished for one very much. One day, when the little old woman was baking
gingerbread, she cut a cake in the shape of a little boy, and put it
into the oven.

Presently, she went to the oven to see if it was baked. As soon as the
oven door was opened, the little gingerbread boy jumped out, and began
to run away as fast as he could go.

The little old woman called her husband, and they both ran after him.
But they could not catch him. And soon the gingerbread boy came to a
barn full of threshers. He called out to them as he went by, saying:

     "I've run away from a little old woman,
       A little old man,
     And I can run away from you, I can!"

Then the barn full of threshers set out to run after him. But though
they ran fast, they could not catch him. And he ran on till he came to a
field full of mowers. He called out to them:

     "I've run away from a little old woman,
       A little old man,
       A barn full of threshers,
     And I can run away from you, I can!"

Then the mowers began to run after him, but they couldn't catch him. And
he ran on till he came to a cow. He called out to her:

     "I've run away from a little old woman,
       A little old man,
       A barn full of threshers,
       A field full of mowers,
     And I can run away from you, I can!"

But though the cow started at once, she couldn't catch him. And soon he
came to a pig. He called out to the pig:

     "I've run away from a little old woman,
       A little old man,
       A barn full of threshers,
       A field full of mowers,
       A cow,
     And I can run away from you, I can!"

But the pig ran, and couldn't catch him. And he ran till he came across
a fox, and to him he called out:

     "I've run away from a little old woman,
       A little old man,
       A barn full of threshers,
       A field full of mowers,
       A cow and a pig,
     And I can run away from you, I can!"

Then the fox set out to run. Now, foxes can run very fast, and so the
fox soon caught the gingerbread boy and began to eat him up.

Presently the gingerbread boy said: "O dear! I'm quarter gone!" And
then: "Oh, I'm half gone!" And soon: "I'm three-quarters gone!" And at
last: "I'm all gone!" and never spoke again.

  [N] First published in _St. Nicholas_. Used by permission of the
  publishers, The Century Company.




Mischief was a cunning little fellow from the very first day that I saw
him. Such a round, plump little body, such short, clumsy legs, and such
a roguish face; just the one of all his nine brothers and sisters about
whom to write a story, and so you shall hear of his preparations for the
long journey upon which he went when he was two months old.

His playmates were sent away, one by one, until at last he was left all
alone, with only the mastiff Rex for a companion, and a most forlorn
little pup he was, running about all day long, trying to keep up with
his new protector.

One morning in January, the weather being very severe, Mischief was
taken into the kitchen to live, and a happier dog than he could not be
imagined, trotting about after the cook and housemaid from morning until
night, chasing the cats, stealing towels and brushes--in fact, attending
to all the mischief that came in his way.

One day, about two weeks after he came into the house to live, a letter
came from Milwaukee saying that he, too, must be sent off. And of
course, Mischief knew about it. How could he help it, when the whole
household were so sorry to have him go? And accordingly he began to make
ready for the long journey he was so soon to take.

As he sat by the range, evidently trying to make up his mind what to
take with him, his first thought was of the old coat he had had as a
bed; so he crossed the room, took the coat in his mouth, and with his
paws scratched it up into a bundle.

Then he thought of his milk-dish. Of course he must take that, for how
could he drink from any other dish than the shiny one given him by the
cook two weeks before? So he took that between his teeth and put it
beside the coat. And the stove-hook, why not take that? No one seemed to
be using it just at the moment. And a gelatin-box that had just been
emptied, would it not be nice to pack his new collar in?

So he ran tumbling across the floor for the box, and back again for the
string, when just then a pair of mittens caught his eye, and in this
cold weather the mittens would be a comfort on so long a journey, so
they were added to the collection under the table. And Mischief was just
thinking he was about ready to start, when the very thing he most
dreaded to leave behind him ran across the floor--the little yellow
kitten; why could she not go with him, and then the journey would not
seem so long? Accordingly, he ran after her, caught her by the neck, and
tried to put her down with his other baggage; but the kitten could not
understand what Mischief meant, and scratched and spit in a way that
plainly said she would not accompany him.

Poor Mischief lay down in despair, and, after his hard morning's work,
took a long nap, only waking in time for his dinner. The next day he was
put into a warm box, carried to the station, and after a three days'
journey arrived in Milwaukee, happy, well, and delighted with his new
master, apparently quite forgetting his little mistress whom he left in
her New Hampshire home.



Willie was a very little child and lived near a mill. One day he saw a
big cruel boy come along and throw a little puppy into the mill-pond,
and then run away. Willie cried out: "O Papa, Papa, do come here!"

"What is the matter?" said his papa.

"Oh, Papa! I want the little doggie! Please get him for me. He will be

His papa took a long pole and put it under the puppy's neck and pulled
it out of the water and gave it to Willie. He was very happy with his
dog, which, by next year, grew to be a big, strong, shaggy fellow, and
was named Diver. He used to go with Willie everywhere the boy went, and
he loved Willie very much. Everybody said: "What a beautiful dog!" and
Willie was proud of him.

One day when the nuts were ripe, Willie took his basket and went to pick
hazelnuts. One big bush full of nuts hung over a deep place in the
mill-pond, and, as Willie reached for the top branch, he slipped and
fell in the water out of sight. But when he came up, Diver jumped in,
took him by his collar, and brought him safe to land. So if it was good
for Willie to save the dog's life when he was a little puppy, it was
good for the dog to save Willie's life when _he_ was a little boy.

And that was Diver's way of thanking Willie for saving his life. It was
a very good way, too! And Willie and Diver were always the best of



Last Christmas little Gordon Bruce had a fine, large Christmas tree and
lots of toys, just as a great many other nice boys and girls had. The
tree was up in his playroom, a great, big, sunny room that used to be
called the "nursery" when he was a baby.

A few days after Christmas, Gordon's mother said: "Now, Gordon, I think
we will have to take down your Christmas tree, for it is getting all
dried up, and the little pine needles are dropping all over the floor,
and the maid has to sweep them up every day."

Gordon was sorry to have the tree taken down, for it looked so bright
and Christmas-y, and he knew it would be a whole year before he would
have another Christmas tree, so he asked his mother if she wouldn't wait
just one day more. I think that is the way almost all the girls and boys
feel. And his mother said she would wait until to-morrow.

It was a rainy day, and as none of his little friends were with him, he
began to play with all his toys one after the other; there were many of
them, and some of the little ones were still hanging on the tree.

Gordon's father came from Scotland, and he had read to Gordon many
stories of the old days in Scotland, when the great generals and the
noble lords lived in strong castles set high up on the mountains, so
that the soldiers could not get near them. Now among Gordon's Christmas
presents was a tiny castle just like the ones he had seen in the books
his father read the stories from; and with this castle came a lot of

So this day Gordon got out his castle and soldiers and began to play
with them. First he got a chair and put a big, thick rug over it to make
it look like a steep hill; then he set the castle on top of the hill and
stood the soldiers on the ground at the bottom of the hill--all in a
row. He was making believe that the soldiers were trying to get up to
the castle. Then he dropped some beautiful colored glass marbles, that
his Uncle George had given him, down on the floor of the castle. The
marbles rolled out of the front door of the castle and down the rug to
the bottom of the hill, and bang! they would bump right against the tall
soldiers and tumble them down. One after another Gordon would roll the
marbles down until by and by every one of the soldiers would be knocked
over, and as they were only wooden soldiers, of course they couldn't get
up by themselves. Then Gordon would stand them all up in a row again and
roll the marbles down the hill until not a single soldier was standing.
It was lots of fun for Gordon, for you know it really didn't hurt the
soldiers a bit, for they were only made of wood and their uniforms were
just red and blue paint.

The next day Gordon's mother took down the tree, and packed up the
beautiful things that were on it, and put them away until next




Once upon a time there was a woman called Mrs. Stockchen and she had a
son named Hans. They lived together in a little cottage and they had a
hen and a cow.

One morning Mrs. Stockchen said to her son: "Hans, my dear, will you
take Cowslip, the cow, to pasture, and remember not to be late for
supper." "Very well," said Hans, and he took up his stick and started
for the field.

The sun was very hot when he got there, and seeing a row of five shady
trees, he lay down underneath them and fell asleep in two seconds. He
snored with his mouth open. Cowslip had been watching him and when she
saw his eyes close, she said, "Now! here's my chance!" and, jumping over
the fence, she ran away.

Hans stopped snoring and awoke at supper-time. He looked for Cowslip,
but she had disappeared; he ran about calling for her, but she did not
come; and at last he went home to his mother with a very sad face and
said: "Oh, mother, Cowslip ran away while I was asleep. I have looked
for her and cannot find her anywhere."

"You lazy, careless, naughty, careless, naughty, lazy Boy!" cried Mrs.
Stockchen. "You have left my poor cow wandering all alone. She will lose
her way in the dark. Just you go and find her this instant. You will get
no supper till you bring her back, or my name is not Matilda Maria!"

Mrs. Stockchen had grown quite scarlet with rage and she shook the
soup-ladle at her son to make him go faster. It was getting quite dark
by the time Hans reached the field again and nowhere did he see any
trace of the cow. He did not know in what direction she had gone, so he
walked round and round the field, feeling very miserable.

Just as 10 o'clock was striking, Cowslip stepped out from behind a tree,
and kneeling at Hans's feet, said in a choking voice, "I am really very
sorry, Hans." "Well," said Hans, "I am sorry too, but let us get home
now." So they set out, tired and rather cross.

But when they came within sight of the light in their own cottage
window, they met two soldiers who stopped them, and asked what they were
doing out so late. "We're just going home," said Hans. "Why," said the
soldiers "you ought to have been there two hours ago."

"Well, I couldn't help it," said Hans, "this cow ran away and I had to
fetch her before going home to supper."

"Boy!" said the soldiers, "you are not speaking the truth, you have
stolen the cow, and you are very impertinent as well. We will take you
to prison."

They tied a rope round Hans's neck and another round the cow's, and took
them to prison. They put Hans into a dungeon full of horrid creatures,
but they let poor Cowslip wander about in the fields outside.

One morning when Hans was crying because the door was locked and because
the window bars looked so strong, Cowslip heard him. She came up beside
the window, and standing on her hind-legs she peeped in and said, "Hans,
my dear master, do you think that if I tried to knock down the wall with
my horns, you could get out?" "I will try," said Hans. It was rather
hard work for Cowslip, but at last she made a big enough hole and Hans
leaped out.

He knocked off his hat in doing so, but then Hans didn't care about a
little thing like that.

He jumped on her back, and away they went, over fallen trees, stones,
ditches, hedges, everything. They came in sight of the cottage at last,
and the sound of their approach caused Mrs. Stockchen to look out of the
window. When she saw who it was she fairly jumped for joy and she rushed
out at once to meet them.

Hans fell into his mother's arms. And they all lived happily ever



Once there were four little brothers. The oldest had black eyes. He was
called Little Boy Black. But I haven't time to tell about him just now.
The second little brother had brown eyes. He was called Little Boy
Brown. But I cannot tell you about him either. The third little brother
had gray eyes, and was called Little Boy Gray. There is a very nice
story I could tell you about him, but I am sure you would rather hear
about the fourth little brother.

  [Illustration: "'YES, PLEASE,' SAID LITTLE BOY BLUE."]

For the youngest little brother had blue eyes; and his father and
mother, his grandfather and grandmother, and every one else, called him
Little Boy Blue. His eyes were very blue--as blue as the flowers you
find down by the brook. You love the blue flowers, I know. And so I will
tell you about Little Boy Blue.

His jacket was blue, his trousers were blue, his stockings were blue,
and even his little shoes were blue.

One day Little Boy Blue's mother said to him: "Do you want to go and
visit Aunt Polly?" "Who is Aunt Polly?" asked Little Boy Blue. "Aunt
Polly lives on a farm, on a high hill. She has horses, and cows, and
pigs, and hens, and ducks, and geese--" "And elephants?" asked Little
Boy Blue. "No, not any elephants. But she has a woolly white lamb." "Oh,
then I will go," cried Little Boy Blue. So his mother went up-stairs and
found a little blue traveling-bag. And in the little blue bag she packed
some of Little Boy Blue's clothes. Then Little Boy Blue and his mother
went to visit Aunt Polly, who lived on a farm on a high hill.

Little Boy Blue's mother stayed two days, and Little Boy Blue stayed ten
days. When his mother was going home, she said to Aunt Polly: "Little
Boy Blue likes to play, but he likes to work, too. So be sure to give
him some work to do every day."

"Very well," said Aunt Polly. And so by-and-by Aunt Polly went to find
Little Boy Blue. And she said to him: "Dear Little Boy Blue, what can
you do to help?" He thought a minute, and then he said: "I can eat
apples to see if they are ripe. And I can pull the roses in the garden,
if you have too many."

"The apples are not ripe, and I have just enough roses in the garden,"
said Aunt Polly. "Can you drive the cows out of the corn?"

"Oh, yes, I can," said Little Boy Blue, "if Towzer can come too." Towzer
was the dog.

"And perhaps you can look after the sheep?"

"Yes, Aunt Polly, I can do that," said Little Boy Blue.

On the shelf in Little Boy Blue's room stood a little blue clock. And
every morning at five o'clock the door of the clock flew open, and a
cuckoo came out. The cuckoo said, "Cuck-oo," five times, and then went
into the little blue clock again, and the little door closed after him.
Then Little Boy Blue knew it was time to get up.

When he was dressed, he came down-stairs, and Aunt Polly gave him his
breakfast. He had new milk in a blue bowl, and johnny-cake on a little
blue plate. These he always carried out onto the door-step because he
liked, while he was eating and drinking, to see the green grass bending
in the breeze, and the yellow butterflies dancing here and there in the

"This is the creamiest milk I ever saw," said Little Boy Blue.

"That's nice," said Aunt Polly. "Do you want some more?"

"Yes, please," said Little Boy Blue. So Aunt Polly brought the blue
pitcher, and poured more creamy milk into his little blue bowl, and
Little Boy Blue said: "Thank you, Aunt Polly."

When Little Boy Blue could eat no more golden johnny-cake, and drink no
more creamy milk, he jumped up from the door-step.

First he put his arms around Aunt Polly's neck, and gave her a hug and a
kiss. Then he went into the house to get his horn. The horn was a little
blue one, and it hung on a peg near the kitchen door.

What do you suppose the horn was for? Why, Little Boy Blue watched the
cows and the sheep. Then if they got into the wrong places, and trampled
on the crops, Little Boy Blue blew the horn. One of the men always heard
the horn, and came to help drive the cows or the sheep back where they

All this was very pleasant. But one day--what do you think? The sheep
ran away, and jumped over a stone wall into the meadow, and the cows got
into the corn. Nobody knew how it happened. Little Boy Blue had gone out
that morning, just as he always did, to look after them; and no one had
heard any horn. At last Towzer ran up to the barn, barking loudly. That
was to give the alarm--about the sheep and the cows.

"How queer!" said Aunt Polly, who was in the barn-yard feeding the

"How strange!" said Uncle Ben.

"Where's Little Boy Blue?" asked the men.

  [Illustration: "'HE'S UNDER THE HAYCOCK, FAST ASLEEP!'"]

"I'll call him," said Aunt Polly. So she walked, and she walked, all
around the farm. As Aunt Polly walked she looked here, and she looked
there. And she called:

     "Little Boy Blue! Come blow your horn.
      The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn."

Where do you think Aunt Polly found him? When the head-farmer asked her,
"Where's the little boy that looks after the sheep?" Aunt Polly said:
"He's under the haycock, fast asleep."

"Shall we go wake him?" said the head-farmer.

"No, no; let him lie," said Aunt Polly. "For if we should wake him,
'he'd cry, cry, cry.'"

You see Little Boy Blue got up so early, he grew sleepy. And the sun was
hot. And the haymow made a soft pillow. So he fell sound asleep, and
dreamed about the woolly white lamb.

But on the day after that, Little Boy Blue took a nap, first, so that
when he looked after the cows and the sheep he could keep awake. He
never again had to be told to blow his horn.

When Little Boy Blue's visit was over, Aunt Polly said: "You've been a
dear little helper. I'm going to give you something to take home." And,
oh, joy! it was the woolly white lamb!



The Fox was digging under an old tree and found a bumblebee. He gathered
it up and put it into his bag and tied the string. Then he went to the
first cottage at the end of the village street and said:

"Good morning, Good Mother. The way is long, and I am weary. May I leave
my bag here while I go to the grocery store?"

"That will be all right," said the old woman, "put it behind the door."

So the Fox put the bag behind the door, saying, as he did so: "Be sure
that you do not untie the string, Good Mother." Then he went out of the
cottage and on up the road.

The old woman looked at the bag and said to herself: "Now, I wonder what
that sly fellow carries so carefully? It will do no harm to see."

So she untied the string and started to look into the bag, and when the
bag was opened the bumblebee flew out, and the rooster which was
stalking about in the kitchen promptly ate him up.

When the Fox came back he saw that his bag had been opened and he said
to the old woman: "Where is my bumblebee?"

"I opened the bag for but an instant," said the old woman, "and the
bumblebee flew out and the rooster ate him up."

"Then I must take the rooster," said the Fox. So he gathered up the
rooster, put him into the bag and tied the string, and threw the bag
over his shoulder and went on down the road.

When he came to the next cottage he knocked at the door and said: "Good
morning, Good Mother. The way is long and I am weary. May I leave my bag
here while I go on to the grocery store?"

"That will be all right," said the old woman, "put it behind the door."

So the Fox put the bag behind the door, saying as he did so: "Be sure
that you do not untie the string, Good Mother," and he went on down the

The old woman looked at the bag and said to herself, "Now I wonder what
it is that that sly old fellow carries so carefully. It will do no harm
to see."

So she untied the string and started to look into the bag, and when the
bag was opened the rooster flew out, and the pig which was in the
kitchen promptly ate him up.

When the Fox came back he saw that the bag had been opened, and he said:
"Where is my rooster, Good Mother?"

"I opened the bag for but an instant, and the rooster flew out and the
pig ate him up," said the woman.

"Then I must have the pig," said the Fox. So he gathered up the pig and
put him into the bag and tied the string and threw the bag over his
shoulder and went on down the road.

When he came to the next cottage he knocked at the door and said: "Good
morning, Good Mother. The way is long and I am weary. May I leave my bag
here while I go to the grocery store?"

"That will be all right," said the old woman, "put it behind the door."

So the Fox put the bag behind the door, saying as he did so, "Be sure
that you do not untie the string, Good Mother," and went on down the

The old woman looked at the bag and said to herself: "Now I wonder what
it is that that sly old fellow carries so carefully. It will do no harm
to see."

So she untied the string and opened the bag the least little bit, and
the pig jumped out of the bag and ran into the house where the ox stood
and the ox promptly gored him to death.

When the Fox came back and saw that the bag had been opened he said:
"Where is my pig, Good Mother?"

"I opened the bag the least little bit, and the pig jumped out and the
ox gored him to death," said the woman.

"Then I must have the ox," said the Fox. So he went out into the yard
and gathered up the ox and put him into the bag and tied the string and
threw the bag on his back and went on down the road.

When he came to the next cottage he knocked at the door and said: "Good
morning, Good Mother. The way is long and I am weary. May I leave my bag
here while I go to the grocery store?"

"That will be all right," said the old woman, "put it behind the door."

So the Fox put the bag behind the door, saying as he did so: "Be sure
that you do not untie the string, Good Mother," and went on down the


The woman looked at the bag and said to herself: "Now I wonder what it
is that that sly old fellow carries so carefully? It will do no harm to

So she untied the string and opened the bag and the ox jumped out and
ran out into the yard, and the little boy who was playing there chased
him off over the hill and into the wood.

When the Fox came back he saw that the string had been untied, and he
said to the old woman: "Where is my ox?"

"I opened the bag the least little bit, and the ox jumped out and the
little boy chased him over the hill and into the wood," said the old

"Then I must take the little boy," said the Fox.

So he gathered up the little boy and put him into the bag and tied the
string and threw the bag over his shoulder and started off down the

When he came to the next house he knocked at the door and said: "Good
morning, Good Mother. The way is long and I am weary. May I leave my bag
while I go to the store?"

"That will be all right," said the woman, "put it behind the door."

So the Fox put the bag behind the door, saying as he did so: "Be sure
that you do not untie the string, Good Mother," and went off.

This woman was very busy that morning, making cake, and she had no time
to think of the bag, and it lay there for a long time. By-and-by when
the cake was done her little boys gathered around the table, crying:
"Let me taste the cake, Mother. Give me a piece of cake!" And she gave
each one of them a piece of cake.

The cake smelled so good that the little boy in the bag cried out: "Oh,
I want a piece of cake, too."

When the woman heard the little boy cry out she went to the bag, and
looking down at it, she said: "Now I wonder what that sly Fox has been
about?" And the little boy cried out again, and the woman untied the
string and let him out, and took the house dog and put him into the bag
instead, and the little boy joined the others around the table, and she
gave him a piece of the cake.

When the Fox came back he saw that the bag was all tied up, and looked
just as it had when he left it, so he took it from behind the door and
threw it over his shoulder, saying to himself: "I have had a long
journey to-day, and I am hungry. And I have not done so badly, either. I
will now go into the woods and see how the little boy tastes."

So he went into the woods and untied the string to take the little boy
out of the bag. But the little boy, as we know, was standing around the
table with the other little boys eating cake. And no sooner was the
string untied than the house dog jumped out of the bag and sprang right
on the Fox, and they had a fight right then and there in the woods.
Pretty soon the dog went trotting down the road. But the Fox did not go
home. In fact he did not go anywhere at all.


Oeyvind was his name. A low barren cliff overhung the house in which he
was born, fir and birch looked down on the roof, and wild-cherry strewed
flowers over it. Upon this roof there walked about a little goat, which
belonged to Oeyvind. He was kept there that he might not go astray, and
Oeyvind carried leaves and grass up to him. One fine day the goat leaped
down, and--away to the cliff; he went straight up, and came where he
never had been before. Oeyvind did not see him when he came out after
dinner, and thought immediately of the fox. He grew hot all over, looked
around about, and called, "Killy-killy-killy-goat."

"Bay-ay-ay," said the goat, from the brow of the hill, as he cocked his
head on one side and looked down.

But at the side of the goat there kneeled a little girl.

"Is it yours, this goat?" she asked.

Oeyvind stood with eyes and mouth wide open, thrust both hands into the
breeches he had on, and asked, "Who are you?"

"I am Marit, mother's little one, father's fiddle, the elf in the house,
grand-daughter of Ole Nordistuen of the Heide farms, four years old in
the autumn, two days after the frost nights, I!"

"Are you really?" he said, and drew a long breath, which he had not
dared to do so long as she was speaking.

"Is it yours, this goat?" asked the girl again.

"Ye-es," he said, and looked up.

"I have taken such a fancy to the goat. You will give it to me?"

"No, that I won't."

She lay kicking her legs, and looking down at him, and then she said,
"But if I give you a butter-cake for the goat, can I have him then?"

Oeyvind came of poor people, and had eaten butter-cake only once in his
life, that was when grandpapa came there, and anything like it he had
never eaten before nor since. He looked up at the girl. "Let me see the
butter-cake first," said he.

She was not long about it, took out a large cake, which she held in her
hand. "Here it is," she said, and threw it down.

"Ow, it went to pieces," said the boy. He gathered up every bit with the
utmost care; he could not help tasting the very smallest, and that was
so good, he had to taste another, and, before he knew it himself, he had
eaten up the whole cake.

"Now the goat is mine," said the girl. The boy stopped with the last bit
in his mouth, the girl lay and laughed, and the goat stood by her side,
with white breast and dark brown hair, looking down.

"Could you not wait a little while?" begged the boy; his heart began to
beat. Then the girl laughed still more, and got up quickly on her knees.

"No, the goat is mine," she said, and threw her arms around its neck,
loosened one of her garters, and fastened it around. Oeyvind looked up.
She got up, and began pulling at the goat; it would not follow, and
twisted its neck downward to where Oeyvind stood. "Bay-ay-ay," it said.
But she took hold of its hair with one hand, pulled the string with the
other, and said gently, "Come, goat, and you shall go into the room and
eat out of mother's dish and my apron." And then she sung,--

     "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."

There stood the boy.

He had taken care of the goat since the winter before, when it was born,
and he had never imagined he could lose it; but now it was done in a
moment, and he would never see it again.

His mother came up humming from the beach, with wooden pans which she
had scoured: she saw the boy sitting with his legs crossed under him on
the grass, crying, and she went up to him.

"What are you crying about?"

"Oh, the goat, the goat!"

"Yes; where is the goat?" asked his mother, looking up at the roof.

"It will never come back again," said the boy.

"Dear me! how could that happen?"

He would not confess immediately.

"Has the fox taken it?"

"Ah, if it only were the fox!"

"Are you crazy?" said his mother; "what has become of the goat?"

"Oh-h-h--I happened to--to--to sell it for a cake!"

As soon as he had uttered the word, he understood what it was to sell
the goat for a cake; he had not thought of it before. His mother said,--

"What do you suppose the little goat thinks of you, when you could sell
him for a cake?"

And the boy thought about it, and felt sure that he could never again be
happy. He felt so sorry, that he promised himself never again to do
anything wrong, never to cut the thread on the spinning-wheel, nor let
the goats out, nor go down to the sea alone. He fell asleep where he
lay, and dreamed about the goat.

Suddenly there came something wet close up to his ear, and he started
up. "Bay-ay-ay!" it said; and it was the goat, who had come back again.

"What! have you got back?" He jumped up, took it by the two fore-legs,
and danced with it as if it were a brother; he pulled its beard, and he
was just going in to his mother with it, when he heard some one behind
him, and, looking, saw the girl sitting on the greensward by his side.
Now he understood it all, and let go the goat.

"Is it you, who have come with it?"

She sat, tearing the grass up with her hands, and said,--

"They would not let me keep it; grandfather is sitting up there,

While the boy stood looking at her, he heard a sharp voice from the road
above call out, "Now!"

Then she remembered what she was to do; she rose, went over to Oeyvind,
put one of her muddy hands into his, and, turning her face away,

"I beg your pardon!"

But then her courage was all gone; she threw herself over the goat, and

"I think you had better keep the goat," said Oeyvind, looking the other

"Come, make haste!" said grandpapa, up on the hill; and Marit rose, and
walked with reluctant feet upward.

"You are forgetting your garter," Oeyvind called after her. She turned
round, and looked first at the garter and then at him. At last she came
to a great resolution, and said, in a choked voice,--

"You may keep that."

He went over to her, and, taking her hand, said,--

"Thank you!"

"O, nothing to thank for!" she answered, but drew a long sigh, and
walked on.

He sat down on the grass again. The goat walked about near him, but he
was no longer so pleased with it as before.

The goat was fastened to the wall; but Oeyvind walked about, looking up
at the cliff. His mother came out, and sat down by his side, he wanted
to hear stories about what was far away, for now the goat no longer
satisfied him. So she told him how once everything could talk: the
mountain talked to the stream, and the stream to the river, the river to
the sea, and the sea to the sky; but then he asked if the sky did not
talk to any one; and the sky talked to the clouds, the clouds to the
trees, the trees to the grass, the grass to the flies, the flies to the
animals, the animals to the children, the children to the grown-up
people; and so it went on, until it had gone round, and no one could
tell where it had begun. Oeyvind looked at the mountain, the trees, the
sky, and had never really seen them before. The cat came out at that
moment, and lay down on the stone before the door in the sunshine.

"What does the cat say?" asked Oeyvind, pointing. His mother sang,--

     "At evening softly shines the sun,
      The cat lies lazy on the stone.
      Two small mice,
      Cream thick and nice,
      Four bits of fish,
      I stole behind a dish,
      And am so lazy and tired,
      Because so well I have fared,"

says the cat.

But then came the cock, with all the hens.

"What does the cock say?" asked Oeyvind, clapping his hands together.
His mother sang,--

     "The mother-hen her wings doth sink,
      The cock stands on one leg to think:
      That gray goose
      Steers high her course;
      But sure am I that never she
      As clever as a cock can be.
      Run in, you hens, keep under the roof to-day,
      For the sun has got leave to stay away,"

says the cock.

But the little birds were sitting on the ridge-pole, singing. "What do
the birds say?" asked Oeyvind, laughing.

     "Dear Lord, how pleasant is life,
      For those who have neither toil nor strife,"

say the birds.

And she told him what they all said, down to the ant, who crawled in the
moss, and the worm who worked in the bark.

That same summer, his mother began to teach him to read. He had owned
books a long time, and often wondered how it would seem when they also
began to talk. Now the letters turned into animals, birds, and
everything else; but soon they began to walk together, two and two; _a_
stood and rested under a tree, which was called _b_, then came _c_, and
did the same; but when three or four came together, it seemed as if they
were angry with each other, for it would not go right. And the farther
along he came, the more he forgot what they were: he remembered longest
_a_, which he liked best; it was a little black lamb, and was friends
with everybody; but soon he forgot _a_ also: the book had no more
stories, nothing but lessons.

One day his mother came in, and said to him,--

"To-morrow school begins, and then you are going up to the farm with

Oeyvind had heard that school was a place where many boys played
together; and he had no objection. Indeed, he was much pleased. He had
often been at the farm, but never when there was school there; and now
he was so anxious to get there, he walked faster than his mother up over
the hills. As they came up to the neighboring house, a tremendous
buzzing, like that from the water-mill at home, met their ears; and he
asked his mother what it was.

"That is the children reading," she answered, and he was much pleased,
for that was the way he used to read, before he knew the letters. When
he came in, there sat as many children round a table as he had ever
seen at church; others were sitting on their luncheon boxes which were
ranged round the walls; some stood in small groups round a large printed
card; the schoolmaster, an old gray-haired man, was sitting on a stool
by the chimney-corner, filling his pipe. They all looked up as Oeyvind
and his mother entered, and the mill-hum ceased as if the water had
suddenly been turned off. All looked at the new-comers; the mother bowed
to the schoolmaster, who returned her greeting.


"Here I bring a little boy who wants to learn to read," said his mother.

"What is the fellow's name?" said the schoolmaster, diving down into his
pouch after tobacco.

"Oeyvind," said his mother, "he knows his letters, and can put them

"Is it possible!" said the schoolmaster, "come here, you Whitehead!"

Oeyvind went over to him: the schoolmaster took him on his lap, and
raised his cap.

"What a nice little boy!" said he, and stroked his hair. Oeyvind looked
up into his eyes, and laughed.

"Is it at me you are laughing?" asked he, with a frown.

"Yes, it is," answered Oeyvind, and roared with laughter. At that the
schoolmaster laughed, Oeyvind's mother laughed; the children understood
that they also were allowed to laugh, and so they all laughed together.

So Oeyvind became one of the scholars.

As he was going to find his seat, they all wanted to make room for him.

"Now, what are you going to do?" asked the schoolmaster, who was busy
with his pipe again. Just as the boy is going to turn round to the
schoolmaster, he sees close beside him, sitting down by the hearthstone
on a little red painted tub, Marit, of the many names; she had covered
her face with both hands, and sat peeping at him through her fingers.

"I shall sit here," said Oeyvind, quickly, taking a tub and seating
himself at her side. Then she raised a little the arm nearest him, and
looked at him from under her elbow; immediately he also hid his face
with both hands, and looked at her from under his elbow. So they sat,
keeping up the sport, until she laughed, then he laughed too; the
children had seen it, and laughed with them; at that, there rung out in
a fearfully strong voice, which, however, grew milder at every pause,--

"Silence! you young scoundrels, you rascals, you little
good-for-nothings! Keep still, and be good to me, you sugar-pigs."

That was the schoolmaster, whose custom it was to boil up, but calm down
again before he had finished. It grew quiet immediately in the school,
until the water-wheels again began to go: every one read aloud from his
book, the sharpest louder and louder to get the preponderance, here
trebles piped up, the rougher voices drummed and there one shouted in
above the others, and Oeyvind had never had such fun in all his life.

"Is it always like this here?" whispered he to Marit.

"Yes, just like this," she said.

Afterwards, they had to go up to the schoolmaster, and read; and then a
little boy was called to read, so that they were allowed to go and sit
down quietly again.

"I have got a goat now, too," said she.

"Have you?"

"Yes; but it is not so pretty as yours."

"Why don't you come oftener up on the cliff?"

"Grandpapa is afraid I shall fall over."

"Mother knows so many songs," said he.

"Grandpapa does, too, you can believe."

"Yes; but he does not know what mother does."

"Grandpapa knows one about a dance. Would you like to hear it?"

"Yes, very much."

"Well, then, you must come farther over here, so that the schoolmaster
may not hear."

He changed his place, and then she recited a little piece of a song
three or four times over, so that the boy learned it.

"Up with you, youngsters!" called out the schoolmaster. "This is the
first day, so you shall be dismissed early; but first we must say a
prayer, and sing."

Instantly, all was life in the school; they jumped down from the
benches, sprung over the floor, and talked into each other's mouths.

"Silence! you young torments, you little beggars, you noisy boys! be
quiet, and walk softly across the floor, little children," said the
schoolmaster; and now they walked quietly, and took their places, after
which the schoolmaster went in front of them, and made a short prayer.
Then they sung. The schoolmaster began in a deep bass, all the children
stood with folded hands, and joined in. Oeyvind stood farthest down by
the door with Marit, and looked on; they also folded their hands, but
they could not sing.

That was the first day at school.

#Happy Days#


Four little children were playing in their garden one day. There were
Mollie and Jamie and Betty and Teddy.


They were so busy making mud-pies that they did not see "Mrs. Tomkins,"
the old cat, when she came and mewed, and mewed, and put up her paw, and
touched Mollie and Jamie and Betty and Teddy--first one and then the
other, as much as to say, "Do come, some of you, and help me! Do come,

By and by the children's mama came out of the house and saw how queerly
the cat was acting, and said: "Children, Mrs. Tomkins is trying to get
you to go with her and see if her babies are all right."

So the children left their play, and said: "Come, Mrs. Tomkins, we will
go with you now."

The old cat gave a thankful "m-i-e-o-u," and started down the walk
leading to the barn. Every now and then she looked back to see if the
children were really coming. When she got to the stable, she ran and
jumped up on the manger, and looked down into it, and gave a quick,
sharp "m-i-e-o-u," as if to say, "What do you think of that?" And the
children looked in and saw a hen sitting upon the old cat's kittens and
trying to keep them all covered up! When the cat tried to go near them,
the hen would peck at her and drive her away. How the children laughed!
Mollie said: "Did you ever see anything so funny! I am going to ask Mama
to write a funny story about it,--how our old hen 'dopted the kittens."

The hen had been sitting upon some eggs in a nest near where the cat had
set up housekeeping, and when the cat went out, the hen came over and
took the cat's little family under her wings, just as if they had been
so many chick-a-biddies. And when the cat went home again, the hen
wouldn't let her come near the kittens. Mollie took the hen off, and
Mrs. Tomkins was happy.


The next day she came again, looking as though she said, "I am very
sorry to trouble you, but I _must_." Then she said, "M-i-e-o-u!
m-i-e-o-u!" So the children left their play and went to the stable with
her, and found the hen playing mother to Mrs. Tomkins's kittens again
and trying to make them keep still and stay under her wings. If one of
them poked its head out, she would give it a sharp peck to make it go

The children laughed again, and Mollie said: "Poor Mrs. Tomkins, I would
look for a new house if I were you--you do have such meddlesome
neighbors! Then she took the hen off, and Mrs. Tomkins picked up one of
the kittens.

  [Illustration: "MRS. TOMKINS GAVE A SHARP 'M-I-E-O-U,' AS IF TO SAY,

The children's mama was sitting in the library reading when the old cat
came in, with a kitten in her mouth. She put it softly down, went out,
and soon returned with another. She kept on doing this until she had
moved all her family of five kittens. Then she settled herself in a cozy
corner, and looked at the lady, and purred in this way: "If you only
knew how much trouble I have had with that bad old hen, you would let me
and my children stay here."

The lady laughed and said: "I will see what I can do for you."

Just then the children came in and begged to have the kittens stay. So a
new home was made for them in a box in the woodhouse.


Once there was a little girl called Dot. And she was just five years
old. And she had a fine birthday cake. It was big and round, and it had
five beautiful little pink candles set in pink rosebuds on top.

Dot sat at the big table at dinner that day, and by and by they put a
pretty pink paper cap on her head and then brought in the birthday cake.
And the little candles were all burning bright. And when she saw it she
said, "Oh! oh! how lovely! It is just too pretty to cut!"

But her mama said, "I will cut it for you, dear." So she cut one piece
for Dot, and then she asked Dot, "Will Marie have a piece?" Marie was
Dot's big doll. And Dot looked at her and said, "Marie says, 'No, thank
you.'" And mama said, "Will Fuzzy have a piece?" Fuzzy was Dot's Teddy
Bear. And Dot looked at him and said: "He says, 'No, thank you.'" And
mama said, "Will papa have a piece?" And Dot said, "Oh, yes. Won't you,
papa?" And papa said, "Yes, please." And Dot said, "Mama, you will. You
_must_ have a piece of my birthday cake." And mama said, "Yes, thank

And mama cut the cake and gave Dot a piece and papa a piece and herself
a piece. But she left the parts of the cake where the candles were
burning,--one, two, three, four, five. And Dot's birthday cake lasted
one, two, three, four, five whole days before it was all gone.


A boy named Ned had a little puppy-dog named Rover. One day, Ned's papa
gave him a nice new toy wagon. Ned was pulling it around the yard when
he saw Rover. "Come, Rover!" he said, "I will give you a fine ride." So
he took Rover and put him in the wagon and gave him a ride.

But just then Ned saw a boy he knew, named Tom. Tom was running down the
street. Ned called to him but he did not hear. Ned wanted to show Tom
his new wagon. So he ran after Tom as fast as he could go, calling,
"Tom! Tom!" and never thinking of poor little Rover. He was barking with
all his might, "Bow! wow! Bow-wow! bow-wow-wow-wow!" which means "Oh,
stop! stop! I'm going to fall out!" And the next minute Rover went
"bumpity-bump!" out into the road, and ran off home, crying,
"Ow-wow-wow!" He was not hurt much, but he was badly frightened. But he
soon forgot his ride, and he grew and he grew and he grew, till, by and
by, he was a big dog. And then, Ned's little brother, Jack, had a little
wagon. But now Rover was too big to ride in it. So Jack said he would
make Rover pull it and _he_ would ride.

Ned helped him to harness Rover in it like a horse, and Jack climbed in
and took the reins. "Get up!" said Jack, and away they went out into the
yard and on into a big field. But just then a little rabbit started up
in front of them, and the minute Rover saw it, he began to race after
the rabbit. Poor Jack couldn't hold him at all. Round and round they
went, and they ran, and they ran, and they ran! Jack called out, "Whoa,
Rover! Stop, Rover!" But Rover didn't stop. He wanted to catch the
rabbit and he forgot about Jack.

At last the rabbit ran toward a hole under the wall, where Rover could
not get him. But Rover dashed after him as fast as he could go.
"Bumpity-bump" went the little wagon, and just as Rover missed the
rabbit, the wheel struck a big stone and poor _Jack_ tumbled out on the
ground. But he didn't cry. He was not hurt much, and he wasn't
frightened at all. He ran and caught Rover, and said, "Oho! Who cares
for a little bump like that? You're a funny horse, Rover. But you didn't
catch your rabbit, you old runaway--did you?"

     I had a little Kitten,
     His name was Pussy Grey--
     I lent him to a Lady
     While I was far away--
     She petted him, she fed him
     On things to make him fat--
     And now I have him back again
     My Kitten is a Cat!



It was a bright spring morning, and all the animals on the Meadowbrook
Farm had been given their breakfast, and the Piggy-wig family had
settled down to a cozy nap. Suddenly there was heard a great noise and
rushing out in the apple orchard. Old Mother Piggy-wig jumped up on her
hind legs and looked over the fence of her sty to see what it was all
about. The little pig that went to market, and the little pig that
stayed at home, also jumped up, quite as excited as their mother. Then
the little pig that had roast beef, and the little pig that had none,
woke up, and they, too, scampered about, wishing to know what was going
on down under the apple-trees. But before old Mother Piggy-wig could
tell them, the little pig, who, one day, could not find his way home,
found a big hole in the lower board of the sty, and at once shouted:

"Oh, I see what it is! It is little Polly going to have her picture

And, sure enough, there was Polly's brother Ned with his camera; and
after him came Polly, and after Polly came--guess what!

Well, first there came Blackie, the cat, then came Banty, the hen; and
then came Gyp, the dog. And such a mew-mewing, and cluck-clucking, and
bow-wowing you never heard!

Polly had often had her picture taken, but it was always with her papa
or her mamma, and she had never had her picture taken with her pets. So
brother Ned had promised that on her birthday he would take her picture
with all of her pets--if they would only keep still. This day was
Polly's birthday, and, as the weather was fine, her brother had told her
to follow him out to the orchard.

Ned fastened his camera on its three sprawling legs, while Polly tried
to gather her pets around her. But by this time Blackie, the cat, was
chasing a squirrel (though he did not catch him), and Banty, the hen,
was away off scratching for worms; and Gyp, the dog, was barking at a
bossy calf down by the brook, for, of course, Polly's pets did not know
it was her birthday and that they were to have their pictures taken with

Polly called, as loud as she could, "Here, Blackie, Blackie; here,
Banty, Banty; here, Gyp, Gyp," and as quick as a wink the animals came
running up to her.

At first she sat down, but all three of her pets got in her lap until
you could scarcely see Polly behind them. That would not do, of course,
because it was Polly's picture that was the most important.

Finally, she stood up and made her pets stand up, too. Then she had more
trouble, for Gyp wanted to stand next to her, and so did Banty, and so
did Blackie, but she told them if they were not good and did not stand
just where she put them, they could not have their pictures taken at
all. She even said she would get the little pig that could not find his
way home, and would have her picture taken with _him_. They did not like
that, so they promised to be good. She stood Banty on one side of her,
and Gyp on the other side, and then she put Blackie on one end next to
Banty. But Gyp and Blackie jumped around so lively that Brother Ned ran
into the house and brought out Polly's toy cow, and stood her next to
Blackie, and that kept _him_ quiet, because he was afraid the cow would
hook him with her horns--he did not know it was not a _real_ cow. Then
Ned brought out Polly's toy lion and put him next to Gyp, and that kept
_him_ quiet, because he thought the lion would eat him up,--he did not
know it was not a _real_ lion.

So, after they were all nice and quiet, Ned called out:

"Ready! Look pleasant! One, two, three--all over!"

And here is the way they looked in the picture that Ned took that



     Idle Ben was a naughty boy
       (If you please, this story's true),
     He caused his teachers great annoy,
       And his worthy parents, too.

     Idle Ben, in a boastful way
       To his anxious parents told
     That while he was young he thought he'd play,
       And he'd learn when he grew old.

     "Ah, Ben," said his mother, and dropped a tear,
       "You'll be sorry for this, by-and-by"
     Says Ben, "To me that's not very clear,
       But at any rate I'll try."

     So idle Ben, he refused to learn,
       Thinking that he could wait;
     But when he had his living to earn,
       He found it was just too late.

     Little girls, little boys, don't delay your work,
       Some day you'll be women and men.
     Whenever your task you're inclined to shirk,
       Take warning by idle Ben.



One evening in May, Chuckie Wuckie's papa finished setting out the
plants in the front yard. Into one large bed he put a dozen fine cannas.
They looked like fresh young shoots of corn. He told Chuckie Wuckie that
when summer came they would grow tall, with great spreading leaves and
beautiful red-and-yellow blossoms.

"Taller than me, papa?" asked the little girl, trying to imagine what
they would look like.

"Much taller; as tall as I am."

Chuckie Wuckie listened gravely while papa told her she must be very
careful about the canna-bed. She must not throw her ball into it, or dig
there, or set a foot in the black, smooth earth. She nodded her head
solemnly, and made a faithful promise. Then she gathered up her tiny
rake and hoe and spade, and carried them to the vine-covered shed to put
beside her father's tools.

Next morning, when papa went to look at the canna-bed, he discovered
close beside one of the largest plants a snug, round hole. It looked
like a little nest. He found Chuckie Wuckie digging with an iron spoon
in the ground beside the fence.


"Dearie," he said, "do you remember I told you, last night, that you
must not dig in the canna-bed?"

"Yes," said the little girl.

"Come and see the hole I found there."

So Chuckie Wuckie trotted along at her father's heels. She stood
watching him as he filled in the hole and smoothed down the earth.

"I did not dig it," said Chuckie Wuckie. "I just came and looked to see
if the canna had grown any through the night, but I did not dig it."

"Really?" asked her papa, very gravely.

"Really and truly, I did not put my foot on there," said Chuckie Wuckie.

Papa did not say another word. But he could not help thinking that the
hole looked as if the iron spoon had neatly scooped it out.

Next morning he found the hole dug there again, and Chuckie Wuckie was
still busy in her corner by the fence. He did not speak of it, however.
There were prints of small feet on the edge. He only smoothed down the
earth and raked the bed. He did this for three mornings, then he led
Chuckie Wuckie again to the canna-bed.

"Papa," she said earnestly, "I did not dig there. Truly, I didn't. The
hole is there every morning. I found it to-day before you came out, but
I did not dig it." There were tears in her brown eyes.

"I believe you, Chuckie Wuckie dear," said her father, earnestly.

That night the little girl stood at the gate, watching for her father to
jump off the car. She could hardly wait for him to kiss her. She took
his hand and led him to the canna-bed.

"Look!" she cried eagerly.

She was pointing excitedly to a hole beside the roots of a fresh, green
canna plant.

"That hole again," said her father. "There's a stone in it now, isn't

"No, that's what I thought; stoop down and look close, papa!" cried
Chuckie Wuckie.

It was the head of a fat hop-toad, but all that could be seen was its
mouth and bright eyes. It was staring at them. Papa poked it with the
point of his umbrella. It scrambled deeper into the hole, until there
was nothing to be seen but the dirt. It was slowly changing to the color
of the black earth.

"I watched him," cried Chuckie Wuckie, excitedly--"oh, for an hour! When
I found him he was just hopping on the canna-bed. He was looking for his
house. He acted as if the door had been shut in his face. Then he began
to open it. He crawled and scrambled round and round, and threw up the
dirt, and poked and pushed. At last he had the hole made, just as it is
every morning, and he crawled in. Then he lay and blinked at me."

"Clever fellow," said papa. "Well, we won't grudge him a home, and we
won't shut the door again in his face, will we, Chuckie Wuckie?"

The cannas have grown very tall now--almost as tall as Chuckie Wuckie's
papa--and so thick that you cannot see where the roots are; but a fat,
brown hop-toad has a snug, cool, safe little nest there, and he
gratefully crawls into it when the sun grows very hot.

The Conceited Mouse


Once upon a time there was a very small mouse with a very, very large
opinion of himself. What he didn't know his own grandmother couldn't
tell him.

"You'd better keep a bright eye in your head, these days," said she, one
chilly afternoon. "Your gran'ther has smelled a trap."

"Scat!" answered the small mouse--"'s if I don't know a trap when I see
it!" And that was all the thanks she got for her good advice.

"Go your own way, for you will go no other," the wise old mouse said to
herself; and she scratched her nose slowly and sadly as she watched her
grandson scamper up the cellar stairs.

"Ah!" sniffed he, poking his whiskers into a crack of the dining-room
cupboard, "cheese--as I'm alive!" Scuttle--scuttle. "I'll be squizzled,
if it isn't in that cunning little house; I know what that is--a
cheese-house, of course. What a very snug hall! That's the way with
cheese-houses. I know, 'cause I've heard the dairymaid talk about 'em.
It must be rather inconvenient, though, to carry milk up that step and
through an iron door. I know why it's so open--to let in fresh air. I
tell you, that cheese is good! Kind of a reception-room in there--guess
I know a reception-room from a hole in the wall. No trouble at all about
getting in, either. Wouldn't grandmother open her eyes to see me here!
Guess I'll take another nibble at that cheese, and go out. What's that
noise? What in squeaks is the matter with the door? This is a
cheese-house, I know it is--but what if it should turn out to be
a--O-o-o-eeee!" And that's just what it did turn out to be.

  [Illustration: End of ye Tale]




     My mother she's so good to me,
     Ef I was good as I could be,
     I couldn't be as good--no, sir!--
     Can't any boy be good as her.

     She loves me when I'm glad er sad;
     She loves me when I'm good er bad;
     An', what's a funniest thing, she says
     She loves me when she punishes.

     I don't like her to punish me--
     That don't hurt--but it hurts to see
     Her cryin'.--Nen _I_ cry; an' nen
     We both cry an' be good again.

     She loves me when she cuts an' sews
     My little cloak an' Sund'y clothes;
     An' when my Pa comes home to tea,
     She loves him 'most as much as me.

     She laughs an' tells him all I said,
     An' grabs me up an' pats my head;
     An' I hug _her_, an' hug my Pa,
     An' love him purt' nigh much as Ma.

  [O] From "Rhymes of Childhood," by James Whitcomb Riley. Used by special
  permission of the publishers. The Bobbs-Merrill Company.



     When mother comes each morning
       She wears her oldest things,
     She doesn't make a rustle,
       She hasn't any rings;
     She says, "Good-morning, chickies,
       It's such a lovely day,
     Let's go into the garden
       And have a game of play!"

     When mother comes at tea-time
       Her dress goes shoo-shoo-shoo,
     She always has a little bag,
       Sometimes a sunshade too;
     She says, "I am so hoping
       There's something left for me;
     Please hurry up, dear Nanna,
       I'm dying for my tea."

     When mother comes at bed-time
       Her evening dress she wears,
     She tells us each a story
       When we have said our prayers;
     And if there is a party
       She looks so shiny bright
     It's like a lovely fairy
       Dropped in to say good-night.


     Evening was falling, cold and dark,
       And people hurried along the way
     As if they were longing soon to mark
       Their own home candle's cheering ray.

     Before me toiled in the whirling wind
       A woman with bundles great and small,
     And after her tugged, a step behind,
       The Bundle she loved the best of all.

     A dear little roly-poly boy
       With rosy cheeks, and a jacket blue,
     Laughing and chattering full of joy,
       And here's what he said--I tell you true:

     "You're the goodest mother that ever was."
       A voice as clear as a forest bird's;
     And I'm sure the glad young heart had cause
       To utter the sweet of the lovely words.

     Perhaps the woman had worked all day
       Washing or scrubbing; perhaps she sewed;
     I knew, by her weary footfall's way
       That life for her was an uphill road.

     But here was a comfort. Children dear,
       Think what a comfort you might give
     To the very best friend you can have here,
       The lady fair in whose house you live,

     If once in a while you'd stop and say,--
       In task or play for a moment pause,
     And tell her in sweet and winning way,
       "You're the GOODEST mother that ever was."



     Nowadays girls go to cooking-school
     And learn to cook just so by rule;
     But all I know, I'm glad to say,
     My mother taught me day by day.

     She did not need a great cook-book;
     She knew how much and what it took
     To make things good and sweet and light.
     What Mother does is always right.



     Whose hair is all curly, an' eyes "baby-blue"?
     Who wakes up too early 'fore night-time is fru?
     Who dresses her pillow all up in the clo'es,
     An' counts all her piggies when nobody knows?
     An' who's des' as _quiet_ as _quiet_ can be?
         Muvver says--_me_.

     Who w'ites wif a pencil all over a book?
     An' who gets the ink when nobody does look?
     An' who gets her fingies all blacker than black?
     An' who gets 'em spatted when Muvver comes back?
     An' who's des' as _sorry_ as _sorry_ can be?
         Muvver says--_me_.

     Who goes down to dinner on Sundays at two,
     All dressed in w'ite frillies, an' tied up in blue?
     An' who waits for Father to cut up her meat,
     When she is _so_ hungry an' nuffin' to eat?
     An' who's des' as "_patient_" as "_patient_" can be?
         Muvver says--_me_.

     Who gets on her nightie an' says all her prayers?
     An' then comes a-stealin' an' creepin' down-stairs?
     Who cuddles up comfy an' teases to stay?
     An' who is so spoiled 'at she _won't_ go away,
     Even when she's as _sleepy_ as _sleepy_ can be?
         Muvver says--_me_.



     My dearest is a lady, she wears a gown of blue,
     She sits beside the window where the yellow sun comes through;
     The light is shining on her hair, and all the time she sews,
     She sings a song about a knight, a dear, brave knight she knows.

     My dearest is a lady--and oh, I love her well!
     Full five and twenty times a day this very tale I tell;
     For I'm the knight in armor, a shield and sword I wear,
     And Mother is my lady, with the light upon her hair.


     How many lumps of sugar
       Ought a little girl to use
     To sweeten a cup of chocolate?
       I can take just what I choose.

     Five make it just like candy,
       And four are most as good--
     There's no one to say I mustn't,
       Now I wonder if I should.

     Three is what Nurse allows me,
       So that would be surely right.
     Uncle Jack takes two lumps always
       And says it is "out of sight."

     Five, four, three, two--I wonder--
       Or none, just like Papa?
     Well, after all, I'll take but one
       And copy my dear Mama.

  [Illustration: From the painting by H. Morisset.
  By permission of the artist.]

When Mother Goes Away


     Says Bobby to Mother:
       "I'll be good as I can."
     "I _know_ you will, Bobby;
       You're Mother's little man."


     His mother then takes every match from the box;
     The door of the pantry securely she locks;
     Puts the hammer and tacks, and the scissors and ink
     In the best hiding places of which she can think
     And wonders at last, as her hat she pins on,
     What mischief her Bobby will do while she's gone!


     When people ask me where I live,
     I hate to have to go and give
         A name like Smithville, plain.
     I'd rather say:--"Sir, if you please,
     My home is in the Hebrides,"
     Or, "High up in the Pyrenees,"
         Or, "At Gibraltar, Spain."

     "Constantinople," too, sounds fine,
     And "Drachenfels-upon-the-Rhine,"
         And "Madagascar," too;
     And "Yokohama" sounds so great,
     And "Hindustan" is just first-rate;
     I rather like even "Bering Strait,"
         And "Cuzco" in Peru.

     And yet, I would not be at night,
     Alone upon the "Isle of Wight,"
         Or on the "Zuyder Zee."
     At "Nova Zembla," in a gale,
     I know that I should just turn pale;
     For fear of earthquakes, I should quail
         In "sunny Italy."

     A place that sounds nice on the map,
     May have a little too much snap
         To keep within its wall,
     And so, though many names I see,
     That sound as stylish as can be,
     There's no place quite so good for me,
         As Smithville, after all!

                              _Blanche Elizabeth Wade._





     Grandmother sits in her easy-chair,
       In the ruddy sunlight's glow;
     Her thoughts are wandering far away
       In the land of Long Ago.
     Again she dwells in her father's home,
       And before her loving eyes
     In the light of a glorious summer day
       The gray old farm-house lies.

     She hears the hum of the spinning-wheel
       And the spinner's happy song;
     She sees the bundles of flax that hang
       From the rafters, dark and long;
     She sees the sunbeams glide and dance
       Across the sanded floor;
     And feels on her cheek the wandering breeze
       That steals through the open door.

     Beyond, the flowers nod sleepily
       At the well-sweep, gaunt and tall;
     And up from the glen comes the musical roar
       Of the distant waterfall.
     The cows roam lazily to and fro
       Along the shady lane;
     The shouts of the reapers sound faint and far
       From the fields of golden grain.

     And grandma herself, a happy girl,
       Stands watching the setting sun,
     While the spinner rests, and the reapers cease,
       And the long day's work is done;
     Then something wakes her--the room is dark,
       And vanished the sunset glow,
     And grandmother wakes, with a sad surprise,
       From the dreams of long ago.

Great-Aunt Lucy Lee

By Cora Walker Hayes

     Sometimes when I am tired of play
       My mother says to me,
     "Come, daughter, we will call to-day
       On Great-aunt Lucy Lee."

     And soon, by mother's side, I skip
       Along the quiet street,
     Where tall old trees, on either side,
       Throw shadows at my feet.

     The houses stand in solemn rows,
       And not a child is seen;
     The blinds are drawn, the doors are shut,
       The walks are span and clean.

     Then when we come to number three,
       I stretch my hand up--so!
     And find the old brass knocker's ring;
       I rap, and in we go.

     There Great-aunt Lucy, small and prim,
       Sits by the chimney-piece;
     Her knitting-needles clicking go,
       And never seem to cease.

     Aunt Lucy's eyes are blue and kind,
       Her wrinkled face is fair;
     She hides with cap or snowy lace
       Her pretty silver hair.

     Aunt Lucy's voice is sweet and low,
       Her smile is quick and bright;
     She wears a gown of lavender,
       And kerchief soft and white.

     I fold my hands in front of me
       And sit quite still and staid,
     Till Great-aunt Lucy, smiling, says,
       "Come hither, little maid!"

     There Great-aunt Lucy small and prim
       Sits by the chimney-piece
     Her knitting needles clicking go
       And never seem to cease]

     Pale roses of a hundred leaves
       Sweet-William, Four-o'clocks
     Pinks, daisies, bleeding-hearts and things
       All bordered round with box]

     And from her silken bag she takes
       A peppermint or two,
     And questions me about my play,
       My school, my dolls, the Zoo.

     And then she rings for Hannah, who
       Comes hobbling stiffly in,
     With sugared cakes and jelly-tarts
       Upon a shining tin.

     When I have eaten all I can,
       Aunt Lucy bids me go
     Into the garden, where all kinds
       Of lovely flowers grow.

     Pale roses of a hundred leaves,
       Sweet-william, four-o'clocks,
     Pinks, daisies, bleeding-hearts and things
       All bordered 'round with box.

     And there's an arbor, where the grapes
       Hang low enough to reach;
     A plum-tree just across the path,
       And by the wall a peach.

     And oh! I think it very nice
       To come and visit here;
     The house, the garden and the folks
       All seem so very queer!

     And though I am well satisfied
       A while to romp and play,--
     A wee old lady, kind and dear,
       _I_ want to be some day;

     And so I hope that when I, too,
       Have grown to eighty-three,
     I'll be a lovely lady like
       My Great-aunt Lucy Lee.

Our Visitors

By Isabel Lyndall

     When grandma comes to visit,
       She very often brings
     Her satchel full of cookies,
       And ginger cakes and things.

     Grandpa carries in his grip
       For Dorothy and me,
     One of the newest toys that moves,
       When wound up with a key.

     Aunt Sarah says there is no need
       To have so many toys!
     She seems to think that useful things
       Are best for girls and boys.

     Uncle Jack we're glad to see
       Although he is a tease.
     He gives us each a quarter
       To spend just as we please!


     Grandmamma sits in her quaint arm-chair--
     Never was lady more sweet and fair!
     Her gray locks ripple like silver shells,
     And her brow its own calm story tells
     Of a gentle life and a peaceful even,
     A trust in God and a hope in heaven!

     Little girl Mary sits rocking away
     In her own low seat, like some winsome fay;
     Two dolly babies her kisses share,
     And another one lies by the side of her chair.
     Mary is fair as the morning dew--
     Cheeks of roses and ribbons of blue!

     "Say, grandmamma," says the pretty elf,
     "Tell me a story about yourself.
     When you were little, what did you play?
     Was you good or naughty, the whole long day?
     Was it hundreds and hundreds of years ago?
     And what makes your soft hair as white as snow?

     "Did you have a mamma to hug and kiss?
     And a dolly like this, and this, and this?
     Did you have a pussy like my little Kate?
     Did you go to bed when the clock struck eight?
     Did you have long curls and beads like mine?
     And a new silk apron, with ribbons fine?"

     Grandmamma smiled at the little maid,
     And laying aside her knitting, she said:
     "Go to my desk and a red box you'll see;
     Carefully lift it and bring it to me."
     So Mary put her dollies away and ran,
     Saying, "I'll be as careful as ever I can."

     Then grandmamma opened the box: and lo!
     A beautiful child with a throat like snow,
     Lips just tinted like pink shells rare,
     Eyes of hazel and golden hair,
     Hands all dimpled, and teeth like pearls--
     Fairest and sweetest of little girls!

     "Oh, who is it?" cried winsome May;
     "How I wish she was here to-day!
     Wouldn't I love her like everything,
     And give her my new carnelian ring!
     Say, dear grandmamma, who can she be?"
     "Darling," said grandmamma, "that child was me!"


     May looked along at the dimpled grace,
     And then at the saint-like, fair old face,
     "How funny!" she cried, with a smile and a kiss,
     "To have such a dear little grandma as this!
     Still," she added, with a smiling zest,
     "I think, dear grandma, I like you best!"

     So May climbed on the silken knee,
     And grandma told her her history--
     What plays she played, what toys she had,
     How at times she was naughty, or good, or sad.
     "But the best thing you did," said May, "don't you see?
     Was to grow a beautiful grandma for me!"



     Over the river and through the wood,
       To grandfather's house we go;
         The horse knows the way
         To carry the sleigh
       Through the white and drifted snow.

     Over the river and through the wood--
       Oh, how the wind does blow!
         It stings the toes
         And bites the nose,
       As over the ground we go.

     Over the river and through the wood,
       To have a first-rate play;
         Hear the bells ring,
       Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

     Over the river and through the wood,
       Trot fast, my dapple-gray!
         Spring over the ground,
         Like a hunting hound!
       For this is Thanksgiving Day.

     Over the river and through the wood,
       And straight through the barn-yard gate.
         We seem to go
         Extremely slow--
       It is so hard to wait!

     Over the river and through the wood--
       Now grandmother's cap I spy!
         Hurrah for the fun!
         Is the pudding done?
       Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!


     Grandma told me all about it;
     Told me so I couldn't doubt it;
     How she danced--my grandma danced,
               Long ago.
     How she held her pretty head,
     How her dainty skirt she spread,
     How she turned her little toes,
     Smiling little human rose!
               Long ago.

     Grandma's hair was bright and sunny,
     Dimpled cheeks, too--ah, how funny!
     Really, quite a pretty girl,
               Long ago.
     Bless her! Why, she wears a cap,
     Grandma, does, and takes a nap,
     Every single day, and yet,
     Grandma danced a minuet,
               Long ago.

     No--they moved with stately grace,
     Everything in proper place;
     Gliding slowly forward, then
     Slowly courtesying back again,
               Long ago.
     Modern ways are quite alarming,
     Grandma says; but boys were charming--
     Girls and boys, I mean, of course--
               Long ago.

     Bravely modest, grandly shy--
     Now she sits there rocking, rocking,
     Always knitting grandpa's stocking,
     Every girl was taught to knit,
               Long ago.
     Yet her figure is so neat,
     And her smile so staid and sweet,
     I can almost see her now
     Bending to her partner's bow,
               Long ago.

     Grandma says our modern jumping,
     Hopping, rushing, whirling, bumping
     Would have shocked the gentlefolk,
               Long ago.
     What if all of us should try
     Just to feel like those who met
     In the graceful minuet,
               Long ago?

     With the minuet in fashion,
     Who could fly into a passion?
     All would wear the calm they wore,
               Long ago.
     In time to come, if I perchance
     Should tell my grandchild of our dance
     I should really like to say:
     "We did, dear, in some such way,
               Long ago."



     When Aunt Jan's coming there's such romping in the house,
     She's sweeter than a daffodil and softer than a mouse!
     She sings about the passages, and never wants to rest,
     And father says it's all because a bird is in her breast.

     When Aunt Jan's kissing there's such a crowding round her knees,
     Such clambers to her bosom, and such battles for a squeeze!
     We dirty both her snowy cuffs, we trample on her gown,
     And sometimes all her yellow hair comes tumbling, tumbling down.

     When Aunt Jan's dancing we all watch her as she goes,
     With in-and-out and round-about upon her shiny toes;
     And when her merry breath is tired she stops the fun and stands
     To curtsy saucily to us, or kiss her pretty hands.

     When Aunt Jan's playing, the piano seems alive,
     With all the notes as busy as the bees are in a hive;
     And when it's time for Bedfordshire, as sweetly as a lark
     She sings that God is waiting to protect us in the dark.

     When Aunt Jan's leaving we are not ashamed to cry,
     A-kissing at the station and a-waving her good-by;
     But springtime brings the crocus after winter, rain and frost
     So dear Aunt Jan will come again. She isn't really lost.


     Very often in the evening,
       Shortly after tea,
     Father, when he's read the paper,
       Takes me on his knee.

     There I fix myself "quite comfy,"
       In his arms so strong,
     While he makes up lovely stories
       As he goes along.

     Mother near us with her sewing,
       Rocking to and fro,
     Smiles and listens to the stories,
       Likes them too, I know.

     And I'm sure that she is thinking,
       What perhaps you've guessed,
     That the stories Father tells us
       Are the very best.



     "Come hither, little puppy-dog,
       I'll give you a new collar,
     If you will learn to read your book,
       And be a clever scholar."

     "No! no!" replied the puppy-dog,
       "I've other fish to fry;
     For I must learn to guard your house,
       And bark when thieves come nigh."

         With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
           Robin knows great A,
         And B, and C, and D, and E,
           F, G, H, I, J, K.

     "Come hither, pretty cockatoo,
       Come and learn your letters;
     And you shall have a knife and fork
       To eat with, like your betters."

     "No! no!" the cockatoo replied,
       "My beak will do as well;
     I'd rather eat my victuals thus
       Than go and learn to spell."

        With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
           Robin knows great A,
         And B, and C, and D, and E,
           F, G, H, I, J, K.

     "Come hither, little pussy-cat,
       If you'll your grammar study,
     I'll give you silver clogs to wear,
       Whene'er the gutter's muddy."

     "No! whilst I grammar learn," says puss,
       "Your house will in a trice
     Be overrun from top to toe
       With flocks of rats and mice."

         With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
           Robin knows great A,
         And B, and C, and D, and E,
           F, G, H, I, J, K.

     "Come hither, then, good little boy,
       And learn your alphabet,
     And you a pair of boots and spurs,
       Like your papa's, shall get."

     "Oh, yes! I'll learn my alphabet,
       And when I've learned to read,
     Perhaps papa will give me, too,
       A pretty, long-tailed steed."

         With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
           Robin knows great A,
         And B, and C, and D, and E,
           F, G, H, I, J, K.


A is for   Apple,
           and Ann;

           Brown Bear,
B is for   Black Bear,
           and Bran;

C is for   Clay,
           Coke, and

D is for   Dray,
           Duck, and

E is for   Eagle,
           East, and

F is for   Feather,
           Fox, and

G is for   Gander,
           Grub, and

H is for   Hound,
           Haw, and

I is for   Idler,
           If, and

J is for   Jane, for
           Jack, and

K is for   Kitten,
           and Kite;

L is for   Lady,
           Luck, and

M is for   Mitten,
           Moth, and

N is for   Nurse, for
           Nut, and

O is for   Order,

P is for   Pan, and
           Pig in a

Q is for   Question,
           Quarter, and

R is for   Radish,
           Reeve, and

S is for   Salmon,
           Saw, and

T is for   Teapot,
           Torch, and

U is for   Usher,
           Umpire, and

V is for   Varnish,
           and Views;

W is for   War,
           Water, and

X is for   and
           the King;

Y is for   Yacht,
           Yellow, and

Z is for   Zebra,

That's all!



     A was an ant
       Who seldom stood still,
     And who made a nice house
       In the side of a hill.
             Nice little ant!

     B was a book
       With a binding of blue,
     And pictures and stories
       For me and for you.
            Nice little book!

     C was a camel;
       You rode on his hump;
     And if you fell off,
       You came down such a bump!
            What a high camel!

     D was a duck
       With spots on his back,
     Who lived in the water,
       And always said "Quack!"
            Dear little duck!

     E was an elephant,
       Stately and wise:
     He had tusks and a trunk,
       And two queer little eyes.
         Oh, what funny small eyes!

     F was a fish
       Who was caught in a net;
     But he got out again,
       And is quite alive yet.
             Lively young fish!

     G was a goat
       Who was spotted with brown;
     When he did not lie still
       He walked up and down.
             Good little goat!

     H was a hat
       Which was all on one side;
     Its crown was too high,
       And its brim was too wide.
             Oh, what a hat!

     I was some ice
     So white and so nice,
       But which nobody tasted;
       And so it was wasted.
             All that good ice!

     J was a jackdaw
       Who hopped up and down
     In the principal street
       Of a neighboring town.
            All through the town!

     K was a kite
     Which flew out of sight,
       Above houses so high,
       Quite into the sky.
             Fly away, kite!

     L was a light
     Which burned all the night,
       And lighted the gloom
       Of a very dark room.
             Useful nice light!

     M was a man,
       Who walked round and round;
     And he wore a long coat
       That came down to the ground.
              Funny old man!

     N was a net
       Which was thrown in the sea
     To catch fish for dinner
       For you and for me.
             Nice little net!

     O was an orange
       So yellow and round;
     When it fell off the tree,
       It fell down to the ground.
           Down to the ground!

     P was a pig,
     Who was not very big,
       But his tail was too curly,
       And that made him surly.
             Cross little pig!

     Q was a quail
     With a very short tail;
       And he fed upon corn
       In the evening and morn.
            Quaint little quail!

     R was a rabbit,
     Who had a bad habit
      Of eating the flowers
      In gardens and bowers.
            Naughty fat rabbit!

     S was the sugar-tongs,
     To take up the sugar
       To put in our tea.

     T was a tortoise,
       All yellow and black:
     He walked slowly away,
       And he never came back.
          Torty never came back!

     U was an urn
       All polished and bright,
     And full of hot water
       At noon and at night.
              Useful old urn!

     V was a veil
       With a border upon it,
     And a ribbon to tie it
       All round a pink bonnet.
            Pretty green veil!

     W was a whale
     With a very long tail,
       Whose movements were frantic
       Across the Atlantic.
            Monstrous old whale!

     X was King Xerxes,
     Who, more than all Turks, is
       Renowned for his fashion
       Of fury and passion.
             Angry old Xerxes.

     Y was a yew,
     Which flourished and grew
       By a quiet abode
       Near the side of a road.
             Dark little yew!

     Z was a zebra,
       All striped white and black;
     And if he were tame,
       You might ride on his back.
           Pretty striped zebra!



     A was once an apple-pie,
       Nice insidy,

     B was once a little bear,
       Take cary,
       Little bear!

     C was once a little cake,
       Taky caky,
       Little cake!

     D was once a little doll,
       Nursy dolly,
       Little doll!

     E was once a little eel,
       Twirly, tweely,
       Little eel!

     F was once a little fish,
       In a dishy,
       Little fish!

     G was once a little goose,
       Little goose!

     H was once a little hen,
       Little hen?

     I was once a bottle of ink,
       Black minky,
       Bottle of ink!

     J was once a jar of jam,
       Sweety, swammy,
       Jar of jam!

     K was once a little kite,
       Out of sighty,
       Little kite!

     L was once a little lark,
       In the parky,
       Little lark!

     M was once a little mouse,
       In the housy,
       Little mouse!

     N was once a little needle,
       Wisky, wheedly,
       Little needle!

     O was once a little owl,
       Browny fowly,
       Little owl!

     P was once a little pump,
       Dumpy, thumpy,
       Little pump!

     Q was once a little quail,
       Little quail!

     R was once a little rose,
       Blows-y, grows-y,
       Little rose!

     S was once a little shrimp,
       Jumpy, jimpy,
       Little shrimp!

     T was once a little thrush,
       Flitty, flushy,
       Little thrush!

     U was once a little urn,
       Bubbly, burny,
       Little urn!

     V was once a little vine,
       Little vine!

     W was once a whale,
       Mighty whale!

     X was once a great king Xerxes,
       Linxy, lurxy,
       Great King Xerxes!

     Y was once a little yew
       Growdy, grewdy,
       Little yew!

     Z was once a piece of zinc,
       Tinkly minky,
       Piece of zinc!


     A was an apple pie,
     B bit it;
     C cut it;
     D dealt it;
     E ate it;
     F fought for it;
     G got it;
     H had it;
     I inquired about it;
     J joined it;
     K kept it;
     L longed for it;
     M mourned for it;
     N nodded at it;
     O opened it;
     P peeped in it;
     Q quartered it;
     R ran for it;
     S stole it;
     T took it;
     U upset it;
     V viewed it;
     W wanted it;
     X, Y, Z, and amper-sand,
     All hoped for a piece in hand.



     A is for the Antelope,
       A beast that I have never met;
     They say he jumps the skipping-rope
       And makes a charming household pet.

         Well, as to that I cannot say;
         But A is for him, anyway.

     B stands for Bajjerkeit; maybe
     You've never chanced this beast to see;
     So I'll describe him to you. Well,
     There isn't very much to tell.
     One day I idly chanced to look
     Within a Natural History book,
     And there I saw his funny name,
     And thought I'd hand him down to fame.

     C is for Codfish. He must be
     The saltest fish that swims the sea.
            And, oh!
         He has a secret woe!
     You see, he thinks it's all his fault
     The ocean is so very salt!
                 And so,
         In hopeless grief and woe,
     The Codfish has, for many years,
     Shed quarts of salty, briny tears!
                 And, oh!
         His tears still flow--
         So great his grief and woe!

     D stands for Dodo. He's a bird
       That isn't known to many;
     And this the reason, I have heard--
       Because there aren't any!
     The Dodo, who once blithely blinked,
     Is now exceedingly extinct,
     And doesn't it seem rather nice
     To think that D stands for him twice?

     [Illustration: MARY MARY! QUITE CONTRARY.]

     E is for Elephant. I know
       He isn't natty, trim, or trig;
     His eyes are rather small, and, oh,
       I fear his ears are far too big!
     But there's a well-attested rumor
     That he has quite a sense of humor;
     So crack a joke whene'er you meet
     An Elephant upon the street.

     F is Flamingo. All please note
       His wondrous height and girth;
     He has the longest legs and throat
       Of anything on earth.
     Such throats are trying, are they not?
       In case one catches cold;
     Ah, yes! but just think what a lot
       His Christmas stockings hold!

     G stands for Gnu. Of course that's right, but then,
     It seems as if it _should_ begin with N.
     I could select some other beast as well--
     Say, Goose or Grampus, Gadfly or Gazelle;
     But seems to me the Gnu is more attractive,
     He is so merry, frivolous, and active.

     H is for Hippopotamus.
       If you desire a pet,
     He is, it really seems to us,
       The best that you can get.
     Train him to follow at your heels
       Whene'er you walk abroad,
     And note with what delighted squeals
       The lookers-on applaud!

     I is for Ibex. This fine creature
     Is favored well in form and feature.
     And I is for Ichneumon, too--
     But what is that to me or you?
     But Ibex answers just as well,
     And isn't near so hard to spell.

     J stands for Jay. This little fellow
       Is blue. Sometimes I think
     I'd like him better were he yellow,
       Or even reddish pink.
     I know, of course, it is absurd
     To mind the color of a bird;
     And, now I think of it, I've seen
     Some Jays that were exceeding green.

     K stands for Kangaroo. I've looked all round:
     A better beast for K cannot be found.
     The Kangaroo can hop and hop and hop;
     Somehow he never seems to want to stop.
     What more could one desire of him, I pray,
     Than just to hop around and stand for K?

     L is for Leopard. Do you know
       He's very, very vain?
     And sometimes quite dejectedly
       He mopes along the plain.
     At these sad times the Leopard's heart
       Is filled with angry passion,
     Because his spots are out of date,
       And Zebra stripes in fashion!
     But other years, when fashion-books
       Say spots are all the style,
     The Leopard proudly stalks abroad
       With most complacent smile.

     M is for Microbe. This bad beast
       Is very, very small;
     Some people say--or think, at least--
       He isn't there at all!
     He's smaller than the mitiest mite;
     The only way he comes in sight
     Is when he's pictured in a book,
     Or through a microbescope you look.

     N is for Nautilus, and he's
       A pirate, bold and gay;
     He dashes madly through the seas,
       A-searching of his prey.
     He's just a sort of silvery mass,
       All spotted blue and pink;
     And with his eye, which looks like glass,
       He winks a wicked wink.

     O stands for the obsequious Ounce,
       Who weighs full many a pound;
     At you he playfully would bounce,
       If you were walking round.
     Approach him and the Ounce you'll see
       Spring like a catapult;
     Just try it once, and you will be
       Surprised at the result.

     P stands for Puma. His sleek paws
       Go softly pit-a-pat;
     His teeth are sharp, and sharp his claws;
       He's just a great big cat.
     There were some Pumas in the ark;
     There are some also in the park:
     But, strange to say, in Montezuma
     They do not raise a single Puma!

     Q stands for Quagga. We've been taught
       Nothing was ever made in vain;
     But even after serious thought
       The Quagga's use is not quite plain.
     Though, stay!--ah, yes! at last I see
     Why the queer Quagga has to be:
     Were there no Quaggas, how would you
     Find any beast to stand for Q?

     R's for Rhinoceros. You see
       His clothing does not fit;
     Yet so indifferent is he,
       He doesn't care a bit.
     Although it does not seem to us
     The unconcerned Rhinoceros
     Has any claim to wit or grace,
     We must admire his earnest face.

     S stands for Sponge. You'd scarce suppose
       This could be called a creature;
     It hasn't any eyes or nose--
       Indeed, it has no feature.
     And, though this may cause some surprise,
       The mermaids, I dare say,
     Will set a Sponge at night to rise,
       And make sponge-cake next day.

     T stands for Tiger. In the south
       He roams his native heath.
     He has a wide, capacious mouth,
       And long and glistening teeth.
     'Tis not worth while your time to spend
     To cultivate him as a friend;
     But to your house, so warm and snug,
     Invite the Tiger as a rug.

     U is for the Unicorn,
       The dearest little thing;
     Though he has but a single horn,
       And not a single wing.
     A Unicorn of any age
       Is nicer, so I've heard,
     To keep within a gilded cage
       Than a canary-bird.

     V is for Vervet. From his name
       You'd be inclined to think
     This creature rather mild and tame,
       In color somewhat pink.
     But not at all; the Vervet's green,
       And very cross and spunky;
     In fact, it's plainly to be seen
       The Vervet's just a monkey!

     W is for Whale. He's in
       The oceans, north and south.
     He doesn't have a dimpled chin,
       Nor yet a rosebud mouth.
     Yet he is very fond of fun,
     And has wide smiles for every one.

     X stands for Xiphias; he's a fish.
     If you a Xiphias should wish,
     Don't let him roam around the grass,
     But keep him in a globe of glass.
     His name, as everybody knows,
     Is _Xiphias Gladius_. I suppose
     That means the Xiphias is glad
     Because he wasn't born a Shad.

     Y is for Yak,
       Who is not very tidy;
     And he's lazy, alack!
       He sleeps all day Friday.
     About a yard wide
       The Yak is, precisely;
     With fringe on each side
       He's trimmed very nicely.

     Z stands for Zibet. I've been told
     This beast was much esteemed of old;
     But, latterly, most people think
     They'd rather have a moose or mink.
     In a museum that's in Tibet
     They have one stuffed--he's an Ex-Zibet!


     A was an Archer, who shot at a frog;
     B was a Butcher, and had a great dog.

     C was a Captain, all covered with lace;
     D was a drunkard, and had a red face.

     E was an Esquire, with pride on his brow;
     F was a Farmer, and followed the plough.

     G was a gamester, who had but ill-luck;
     H was a Hunter, who hunted a buck.

     I was an Innkeeper, who loved to carouse;
     J was a Joiner, and built up a house.

     K is the King, who governs England;
     L was a Lady, who had a white hand.

     M was a Miser, and hoarded up gold;
     N was a Nobleman, gallant and bold.

     O was an Oyster-Girl, who went about town;
     P was a Parson, and wore a black gown.

     Q was a Queen, who wore a silk slip;
     R was a Robber, and wanted a whip.

     S was a Sailor, and spent all he got;
     T was a Tinker, and mended a pot.

     U was an Usurer, a miserable elf;
     V was a Vintner, who drank all himself.

     W was a Watchman, and guarded the door;
     X was expensive, and so became poor.

     Y was a Youth, that did not love school;
     Z was a Zany, a poor harmless fool.



     Affable Andy
     Ate sugar candy.

     Boisterous Ben
     Shot at a hen.

     Careless Corinne
     Lost her gold pin.

     Dear little Davy
     Liked chicken gravy.

     Elegant Ed
     Had a new sled.

     Fair little Fanny
     Wrote to her Granny.

     Gay little Guy
     Thought he could fly.

     Helen and Hugh
     Called the sky blue.

     Ignorant Ike
     Fell off his bike.

     Jaunty young Jack
     Stepped on a tack.

     Kind little Kay
     Gave things away.

     Lovable Lenny
     Lost his new penny.

     Merry young Mac
     Rode in a hack.

     Nice little Nettie
     Never was fretty.

     Opulent Ollie
     Rode on the trolley.

     Popular Polly
     Made pies so jolly.

     Queer little Queen
     Always wore green.

     Rollicking Rory
     Read a long story.

     Sturdy St. Clair
     Marched everywhere.

     Tommy and Teddy
     Climbed straight and steady.

     Unsocial Una
     Gazed up at Luna.

     Vigorous Vinton
     Always was "sprintin'."

     Whimsical Winnie
     Started for Guinea.

     Xenophon Bump
     Tried a high jump.

     Yellow-haired Yorick
     Made leaps historic.

     Zealous young Zed
     Stood on his head.

     Ampersand held a book in his hand.



     A is for _Apples_
       and also for _Air_;
     Children need both
       and we have them to spare.

     B is for _Butter_ spread
       thick on _Brown Bread_,
     Also for _Baths_
       before Breakfast or Bed.

     C is for _Cereals_
       and _Cocoa_ too;
     Consider the _Calories_
       coming to You.

     D is for _Dates_,
       the kind that You eat,
     Deliciously sweet
       and far cheaper than Meat.

     E is the Excellent
       Edible _Egg_,
     One daily at least,
       dear Children, we beg.

     F is for _Fruits_, whether
       fresh, dried or stewed;
     Dried, at the Grocer's,
       you'll buy them, if shrewd.

     G is for _Gaining_,
       as every Child could,
     A half pound a Month
       is the least that he should.

     H is for _Height_,
       be as tall as you can,
     Weight up to _Height_
       makes a healthy strong Man.

     I is for _Iron_
       in Spinach and Eggs,
     Builds Red Blood and Sinews
       for strong Arms and Legs.

     J is for _Jam_
       and also for _Joy_,
     Which spread on his Bread
       it brings to a Boy.

     K is for _Kitchen_
      so spick and so span,
     We all like our Food
      from a shining clean Pan.

     L is for _Luncheon_
       served hot in the School;
     We wish all the Teachers
       could follow this Rule.

     M is for _Milk_ which
      makes _Muscle_ and Bone;
     One pint a day
       would be best till you're grown.

     N is for _News_
       of habits you need,
     To grow up so healthy
       you're bound to succeed.

     O is for _Oatmeal_,
       the finest of Food;
     With Milk for your Breakfast
       there's nothing so good.

     P is for _Prunes_,
       _Potatoes_ and _Peas_,
     And _Patriots_ who will
       be glad to eat these.

     Q is for _Quiet_,
       we frequently need;
     After Meals don't run
       at the top of your speed.

     R is for _Rest_
       and _Round Rosy Faces_;
     _Rest_ is a thing
       which nothing replaces.

     S is important
       and therefore I hope
     You'll pardon my specially
       mentioning _Soap_.

     T is a _Topic_
       which _Trouble_ begins;
     Both _Tea_ and Coffee
       for Children are Sins.

     U _Understanding_
       the best way to live,
     _United_ for Service
       our Country to give.

     V is for _Vegetables_;
       if you're too slim,
     These _Victuals_ are full
       of _Vigor_ and _Vim_.

     W is for _Water_,
       the best thing to drink
     Between Meals
       as often as ever we think.

     X is for _Xtras_
       of Soup or of Milk
     For a thin little Girl
       till she's finer than Silk.

     Y is for _You_,
       and I tell you the Truth,
     Learn to be Healthy
       and Strong in your _Youth_.

     Now march for it, Children,
       with Drum and with Fife.
     Z is the _Zest_
       which Health gives to Life.

  [P] Used by permission of the author and of the publishers, The Child
  Health Organization.


     Here's A, B, C, D,
     E, F and G,
     H, I, J, K,
     L, M, N, O, P,
     Q, R, S, T,
     U, V, W,
     X, Y, and Z,
     And oh, dear me,
     When shall I learn
     My A, B, C.


     A is Aladdin
     B is Little Boy Blue
     C is Cinderella
     D is A Year with Dolly
     E is Echo and Narcissus
     F is The Fisherman and his Wife
     G is The Gingerbread Boy
     H is The House that Jack Built
     I is Indian Legends
     J is The Jackal and the Lion
     K is The King of the Golden River
     L is The Lion and the Mouse
     M is Mary and her Lamb
     N is Naughty Peter
     O is Old Mother Hubbard
     P is Prince Cherry
     Q is Quaint Stories for Children
     R is Little Red Hen
     S is Simple Simon
     T is Tiny Hare and the Red Fire
     U is Una and the Lion
     V is Viggo and Beate
     W is The Wake-up Story
       At the last you will see
     X, Y and Z.

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Corporation's ISYS search for use by individuals, and we request that you
use these files for personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort
to Doctrine Publishing's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a
large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the use of
public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Keep it legal -  Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for
ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just because
we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States,
that the work is also in the public domain for users in other countries.
Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we
can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of any specific book is
allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Doctrine Publishing
ISYS search  means it can be used in any manner anywhere in the world.
Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe.

About ISYS® Search Software
Established in 1988, ISYS Search Software is a global supplier of enterprise
search solutions for business and government.  The company's award-winning
software suite offers a broad range of search, navigation and discovery
solutions for desktop search, intranet search, SharePoint search and embedded
search applications.  ISYS has been deployed by thousands of organizations
operating in a variety of industries, including government, legal, law
enforcement, financial services, healthcare and recruitment.