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Title: Three Minute Stories
Author: Richards, Laura Elizabeth Howe
Language: English
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Three Minute Stories
[Illustration]
BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
BY
LAURA E. RICHARDS
STORIES FOR LITTLE FOLKS
Each, one volume, cloth decorative, illustrated
=Five Minute Stories= =$1.75=
=More Five Minute Stories= =1.75=
=Three Minute Stories= =1.75=
=A Happy Little Time= =1.75=
=Four Feet, Two Feet, No Feet= =2.75=
=When I Was Your Age= =1.75=
THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES
Each, one volume, illustrated, 90 cents
=Captain January=
=Melody=
=Marie=
=Rosin the Beau=
=Snow-white=
=Jim of Hellas=
=Narcissa=
=“Some Day”=
=Nautilus=
=Isla Heron=
=The Little Master=
HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES
Each, one volume, illustrated, $1.75
=Queen Hildegarde=
=Hildegarde’s Holiday=
=Hildegarde’s Home=
=Hildegarde’s Neighbors=
=Hildegarde’s Harvest=
=Three Margarets=
=Margaret Montfort=
=Peggy=
=Rita=
=Fernley House=
=The Merryweathers=
The above eleven volumes are also boxed as a set, $19.25
=Honor Bright= =$1.75=
=The Armstrongs= =1.50=
=The Green Satin Gown= =1.50=
THE PAGE COMPANY
53 Beacon Street Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: “IT IS A FINE BIG BOX, WITH THE SIDES RAISED SO THAT
JOHNNY AND THE SAND WILL NOT FALL OUT.” (_See page 1._)]
Three Minute
Stories
BY LAURA E. RICHARDS
Author of “Five Minute Stories,” “Five Mice in a Mouse
Trap,” “Captain January,” “The Hildegarde Series,”
“The Margaret Series,” etc., etc.
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATED BY JOSEPHINE H. BRUCE
THE PAGE COMPANY
BOSTON PUBLISHERS
[Illustration]
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY THE PAGE COMPANY
———
_All rights reserved_
———
First Impression, November, 1914
Second Impression, March, 1917
[Illustration]
TO
=My Grandchildren,=
WITH MUCH LOVE
[Illustration]
Author’s Note
[Illustration]
Many of these stories and rhymes appeared originally in the _Ladies’
Home Journal_, and were signed either with my initials, or with names
of characters in my books. Others were adapted by me from the Indian
“Hitopadesa,” or “Book of Good Counsel,” and from two anonymous
story-books of a bygone generation, long out of print. These are marked
“Adapted.”
L. E. R.
[Illustration]
Contents
[Illustration]
PAGE
JOHNNY AND HIS SAND BOX 1
MONOSYLLABICS 6
THE NEW LEAVES 10
GRANDMOTHER’S ALPHABET 14
THE NEW LEAF 20
MR. HOPPY FROG 26
NEW YEAR’S DAY IN THE WOOD 28
THE NEWS FROM ANGEL LAND 33
THE BOASTFUL DONKEY 37
THE CAT’S NAME 41
SUPPITY, SIPPITY! 44
JOHNNY’S RED SHOES AND WHITE STOCKINGS 46
THE FOOLISH TORTOISE 53
THE GARDEN GATE 56
LITTLE CAT’S VALENTINE 59
TO MY VALENTINE 65
MARCH 67
SOMETHING NEW 69
MR. SPARROW’S BATH 70
LITTLE GIRL 76
HOW MR. PEACOCK WENT TO THE FAIR 78
LITTLE BOY 83
FAITHFUL TRUSTY 85
THE GRATEFUL CRANE 88
THE KING OF THE FEN 92
THE SWING 98
THE TREES 100
THE LEPRECHAUN 104
THE DEER AND THE CROW 109
LITTLE GOLDSTAR 114
THE BROOM 119
THE CLEVER CROWS 121
THE JOHN-BETTY TABLE 125
THE LITTLE GRAY DOVES 135
MERRY CHRISTMAS 138
CHRISTMAS GIFTS 142
CHURCH-BELLS 148
THE BIRD OF LIGHT 151
THE BROTHERS AND SISTERS 153
THE PIGEONS 155
PUSSY AND DOGGY 157
DICK’S FAMILY 159
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
List of Colored Plates
PAGE
“IT IS A FINE BIG BOX, WITH THE SIDES RAISED SO THAT
JOHNNY AND THE SAND WILL NOT FALL OUT.”
(_See page 1_) _Frontispiece_
“THEY FOUND OLD CAT IN THE BARN SITTING ON A TRUSS OF
HAY, WASHING HERSELF” 22
“HE HELD THEM UP SO THAT THE BOY OVER THE FENCE COULD
SEE THEM” 48
“THEN SHE MADE TWO LITTLE STARS AND PASTED THEM ON THE
TIPS OF HIS EARS” 62
“NOW HE GAVE HER ONE IN THE ROSY-POSY DISH” 71
“THE BATTLE WAS LONG AND FIERCE ON BOTH SIDES” 96
“TWICE ONE IS TWO, WE MAKE OUR BOW TO YOU” 125
“NOW THE DOORS WIDE OPEN THROW, THAT WE INTO CHURCH MAY GO” 148
[Illustration]
Three Minute Stories
JOHNNY AND HIS SAND BOX
Johnny’s sand box is in the back yard. It is a fine big box, with the
sides raised so that Johnny and the sand will not fall out. The sand
is fine and dry, and almost white; it came from the seashore, and
sometimes you find a little shell in it.
The things that belong in the sand box (beside Johnny himself!) are the
blue tin pail to hold sand, and the red tin pail to hold water, and
the shovel, and the rake, and the old kitchen spoon. The things that
do _not_ belong there (some of them) are the woolly dog (because the
sand gets all into his wool, and then shakes out on the nursery floor,
and Maggie says it is a Sight!), and Johnny’s shoes and stockings (he
likes to take them off and sift the hot, clean sand between his bare
toes), and the neighbors’ cats.
This story is about the cats. There are five of them. One is black, and
has a red leather collar with a little silver bell; it belongs to the
deaf old lady next door, and its name is Jetty. Another is yellow, and
belongs to the lame girl in the white house with green blinds; its name
is Topaz. The third cat is gray, with white front and paws. This is a
lady cat, and her name is Malta; she belongs to the lady whom Johnny
calls Mrs. Nose. Mamma does not allow him to say this, and he tries to
remember, but sometimes he forgets; one day he said right out, “Good
morning, Mrs. Nose!” and she only laughed, and said her nose was just
the right size, and she needed it all to smell catnip with. She is a
funny lady, and Johnny likes her, and Malta too.
The fourth cat belongs to Mr. Chops the butcher, and is a big tabby,
with green eyes and fierce whiskers. Johnny does not like him at all.
But the fifth cat is Muffet, his own dear white kitten.
Now all these cats were friends except Bobs, the butcher’s cat. He
lives on meat, and Mamma says perhaps that makes him cross. Anyhow, he
is cross, and he growls and snarls and spits at Muffet and Jetty and
Topaz and Malta, and tries to steal their fishbones, and upsets their
milk, and is really a very horrid cat.
[Illustration]
The story happened one night last week. Johnny was asleep, and Maggie
was tidying up the nursery before going to bed, when suddenly she heard
a queer noise. It came from the yard, and she stepped to the window
and looked out. It was bright moonlight; and what do you think? The
cats were having a party in the sand box! the four friendly cats, that
is, Muffet and Topaz and Malta and Jetty. Maggie thought Muffet must
have invited the others, for she was sitting in the middle of the box
with her front paws tucked under her, looking so pleased and happy;
and the three others had their paws tucked in too, and they were all
four talking in little soft mews, and seemed to be having a very good
time. Then all of a sudden there was a snarl and a yowl, and that
horrid great Bobs sprang over the fence and into the sand box, and
began clawing and spitting and scratching right and left, just as hard
as he could. At first the four friendly cats were too startled to do
anything; but in another minute _they_ began to spit and scratch and
claw, and there were all five of them rolling over and over, scattering
the sand on every side, and making such a noise that it woke Johnny
out of his sound sleep. At first he was frightened, but Maggie told
him what it was, and said wait and see what she would do. She pushed
up the fly screen very softly, and then she brought the great big jug
full of water, and leaning out,—splash! she emptied it full on the
fighting, struggling cats. _Oh!_ how they yelled! One jumped this way,
and one jumped that; and the next moment not one was left except poor
little Muffet, sitting in the middle of the box and crying pitifully.
“Oh, _poor_ Muffy!” said Johnny. “Poor Muffy _all_ wet!” So then good
Maggie ran down and brought Muffet up, and dried her with a towel, and
comforted her till she purred. Johnny wanted to take her into bed with
him, but Maggie said that never would do; so,—what _do_ you think? She
put her in the doll’s cradle with Susan Dolly, and covered her up, and
told her to go to sleep, and she did!
MONOSYLLABICS
The black cat sat
In the fat man’s hat;
“Oh, dear!” the fat man said.
“May the great gray bat
Catch the bad black cat
Who has left me no hat
For my head!”
[Illustration]
The big brown bear
Tried to curl his hair
To go to the Fair so gay.
But he looked such a fright
That his aunt took flight,
And he cried till night, they say.
A pale pink pig,
In a large blond wig,
Danced a wild, wild jig
On the lea;
But a rude old goat,
In a sky-blue coat,
Said, “You’re nought but a shoat, tee hee!”
A poor old King
Sold his gay gold ring
For to buy his old wife some cream;
But the cat lapped it up
With a sip and a sup,
And his tears ran down in a stream.
A large red cow
Tried to make a bow,
But did not know how,
They say.
For her legs got mixed,
And her horns got fixed,
And her tail _would_ get
In her way.
A boy named Sam
Had a fat pet ram,
And gave him some jam
For his tea;
But the fat pet ram
Tried to butt poor Sam,
Till he had to turn
And flee.
A girl named Jane
Had a sad, bad pain
In the place where she wore
Her belt;
She mopped and she mowed,
And she screamed aloud,
Just to show the crowd
How she felt.
A sad, thin ape
Bought some wide white tape
To trim a new cape
For his niece;
But a bold buff calf,
With a loud, rude laugh,
Bit off one whole half
For his geese.
A pert, proud hen
Laid an egg, and then
Said “Cluck!” and “cluck!” and
“cluck!”
Said the cock, “Had I known
You would take that tone,
I would have wooed none
But a duck!”
THE NEW LEAVES
“Wake up!” said a clear little voice. Tommy woke, and sat up in bed.
At the foot of the bed stood a boy about his own age, all dressed in
white, like fresh snow. He had very bright eyes, and he looked straight
at Tommy.
“Who are you?” asked Tommy.
“I am the New Year!” said the boy. “This is my day, and I have brought
you your leaves.”
“What leaves?” asked Tommy.
“The new ones, to be sure!” said the New Year. “I hear bad accounts of
you from my Daddy—”
“Who is your Daddy?” asked Tommy.
“The Old Year, of course!” said the boy. “He said you asked too many
questions and I see he was right. He says you are greedy, too, and that
you sometimes pinch your little sister, and that one day you threw
your reader into the fire. Now, all this must stop.”
“Oh, must it?” said Tommy. He felt frightened, and did not know just
what to say.
The boy nodded. “If it does not stop,” he said, “you will grow worse
and worse every year, till you grow up into a Horrid Man. Do you want
to be a Horrid Man?”
“N-no!” said Tommy.
“Then you must stop being a horrid boy!” said the New Year. “Take your
leaves!” and he held out a packet of what looked like copy-book leaves,
all sparkling white, like his own clothes.
“Turn over one of these every day,” he said, “and soon you will be a
good boy instead of a horrid one.”
Tommy took the leaves and looked at them. On each leaf a few words
were written. On one it said, “Help your mother!” On another, “Don’t
pull the cat’s tail!” On another, “Don’t eat so much!” And on still
another, “Don’t fight Billy Jenkins!”
“Oh!” cried Tommy. “I _have_ to fight Billy Jenkins! He said—”
“Good-by!” said the New Year. “I shall come again when I am old to see
whether you have been a good boy or a horrid one. Remember,
“Horrid boy makes horrid man;
You alone can change the plan.”
[Illustration]
He turned away and opened the window. A cold wind blew in and swept the
leaves out of Tommy’s hand. “Stop! stop!” he cried. “Tell me—” But the
New Year was gone, and Tommy, staring after him, saw only his mother
coming into the room. “Dear child!” she said. “Why, the wind is blowing
everything about.”
“My leaves! My leaves!” cried Tommy; and jumping out of bed he looked
all over the room, but he could not find one.
“Never mind,” said Tommy. “I can turn them just the same, and I mean
to. I will not grow into a Horrid Man.” And he didn’t.
GRANDMOTHER’S ALPHABET
[Illustration]
The Ant is so busy
It makes her quite dizzy,
She says that her head
Goes whirl-around-whizzy.
The Bunny is funny;
He cannot make honey,
Nor write with a pen,
Nor shoot with a gunny.
The Cow is not able
To sit at the table,
And so we must send her
To eat in the stable.
The Duck goes a-quacking
And clicking and clacking,
And eats all she finds
From beeswax to blacking.
[Illustration]
The Elephant mighty
Can _not_ find his nighty!
It makes him feel nervous,
And fractious and flighty.
The Fish has no wish
To be put in a dish,
So he’s off like a flash
With a swishety-swish.
The Goose has no use
For an Indian pappoose,
So she looks at it sadly,
And says, “What’s the use?”
The Hen lays an egg,
And stands on one leg,
And says, “Cut-ker-dah-cut!
Observe me, I beg!”
[Illustration]
The Ibis is pretty,
But not very witty;
And when he is tired
He plays with the kitty.
The Jaguar so cruel
Was killed in a duel,
And left his poor wife
To eat nothing but gruel.
The kind Kangaroo
Has so little to do,
That he talks to the Moolly
And tries to say “Moo!”
The Lizard goes sighing,
And sobbing and crying,
Because his poor tail
Got shrunk in the dyeing.
The Moose is all humpy,
And grumpy and lumpy,
And if you say, “Boo!”
He is off with a thumpy.
[Illustration]
The Newt has a neighbor
Who fights with a sabre,
And when he has conquered
He beats on a tabor.
The Owl and the Oyster
Went off for a royster,
And when they came back
They were put in a cloister.
The Pig bought a carrot
To give to his parrot:
But Poll was so frightened
She hid in the garret.
The Queen in her crown
And velvety gown,
She went to the circus,
And laughed at the clown.
[Illustration]
The Ram and the Rattle-
Snake had a great battle:
For each called the other
A tittlety-tattle.
The Stork had a fancy
To go to a dancy,
But people said, “No!
You are rather too prancy!”
The timorous Tapir
Was reading the paper,
And found that his aunt
Had married a draper.
The Unicorn tried
On a camel to ride,
But there came a sad fall
To himself and his pride.
The Viper is vain,
And cannot explain
Why people persist so
In calling him plain.
[Illustration]
The Woodchuck is wealthy,
And hearty and healthy:
But sometimes his movements
Are snooping and stealthy.
The Xiphias perks his
Head up to see Xerxes:
And thinks him much finer
Than Tartars or Turkses.
The Yammering Yak
Has spots on his back:
He can’t get them off,
So he puts on a sacque.
The Zebra with zeal
Was cooking a meal:
But he found it was onions
And stopped with a squeal.
THE NEW LEAF
“Why are you crying, Little Cat?” asked Little Dog.
[Illustration]
“Because my paws are so cold!” said Little Cat. “I have been digging in
the snow and I cannot find one.”
“One what?” asked Little Dog.
“One new leaf.”
“What do you want of a new leaf?”
“I want to turn it over, but there just aren’t any to turn.”
“Of course there aren’t!” said Little Dog. “It is winter.”
“But Little Girl is going to find one,” said Little Cat. “I heard
her mother say to her, ‘You really must turn over a new leaf!’ and
she said, ‘I truthfully will, Mamma!’ and when Little Girl says she
truthfully will she always does. Then her mother kissed her, and said
everybody had to turn over new leaves now, and she had some of her own
to turn, so she knew just how it was. The door shut then—on the tip of
my tail, too—and I heard no more; but what do you suppose it means?”
Little Dog shook his head. “We must ask somebody,” he said. “Let me
see! Great Old Dog is out for a walk, and Crosspatch Parrot bit me the
last time I asked her a question.”
“I know,” said Little Cat. “We will ask Old Cat in the Barn. She knows
a good many things, and if she isn’t catching rats—but she generally
is—she will tell us.”
[Illustration: “THEY FOUND OLD CAT IN THE BARN SITTING ON A TRUSS OF
HAY, WASHING HERSELF.”]
They found Old Cat in the Barn sitting on a truss of hay, washing
herself. She listened to Little Cat’s story, and her green eyes
twinkled.
“So you have been looking for new leaves under the snow!” she said.
“Yes,” said Little Cat. “First I looked on the trees, and there weren’t
any there; so I thought it must be leaves of plants and things, so I
scratched and dug till my poor paws were almost quite frozen, but not
one single scrap of a leaf could I find.”
“Fffff!” said Old Cat in the Barn. “This barn is full of ’em!”
“Full of leaves!” cried Little Cat and Little Dog together. “What can
you mean, Old Cat? We don’t call hay leaves!”
“How many rats have you caught this week?” asked Old Cat, turning to
Little Dog.
“None!” said Little Dog. “The last rat I caught bit me horridly;
besides, they are odious, vulgar beasts, and I don’t care to have
anything to do with them.”
“Fffff!” said Old Cat. “Little Cat, how many mice have you caught in
the kitchen this week?”
Little Cat hung her head. “I haven’t caught any,” she said. “I don’t
care for mice, the flavor is too strong; I like cream better.”
“Ffffff! grrrr-yow!” said Old Cat; her green eyes shot out sparks,
and her fur began to stand up. “Now, you two, listen to me! Why do
you think the Big People keep you? Because you are soft and pretty
and foolish? Not at all! They keep you because you are supposed to be
useful. Your mother, Little Cat, was a hard-working, self-respecting
mouser, who caught her daily mouse as regularly as she ate her daily
bread and milk. Your father, Little Dog, hunted rats with me in this
barn as long as he had legs to stand upon, and between us we kept the
place in tolerable order. Great Old Dog cannot be expected to hunt at
his age, and besides, he is too big; one might as well hunt with an
ox. But since your parents died you two lazy children have done next to
nothing, and what is the consequence? I am worked to skin and bone, and
the mice are all over the house; I heard Cook say so. Mind what I say;
no creature, with four legs or two, is worth his salt unless he earns
it, in one way or another. Now, what have you to say for yourselves?”
“Miaouw!” said Little Cat. “I am very sorry, Old Cat.”
“Yap! Yap!” said Little Dog. “I am sorry too, Old Cat.”
“Very well!” said Old Cat in the Barn. “Then turn over a new leaf!”
“Miaouw!” “Yap!” “That is just what we want to do!” said Little Cat and
Little Dog together; “but we can’t find any.”
“The fact is,” said Old Cat in the Barn, “it is one of the foolish ways
of speaking that the Big People have. It just means, stop being bad and
begin to be good. Now do you see?”
“Prrr!” said Little Cat; “now I see. I will go and catch a mouse this
minute, Old Cat.”
“Wuff!” said Little Dog; “I see, too, and I will come and hunt rats
with you, Old Cat.”
“Prrrrrrr!” said Old Cat in the Barn. “That is right! Go to work, like
good children, and as I may have been rather short with you lately I
will turn over a new leaf, too, and ask you both to supper with me in
my hay-parlor. Cook gave me the bones of the Christmas goose, and we
will have a great feast.”
MR. HOPPY FROG
Mr. Hoppy Frog
Was very, very funny;
Mr. Hoppy Frog
He had not any money.
So he could not buy
A squeaky woolly dog;
It made him sigh and sob and cry,
Poor Mr. Hoppy Frog!
Going down the lane,
He met with Mistress Kitty;
When she saw his pain,
Her heart was filled with pity.
“Mr. Hoppy Frog,
Oh! do not weep for that!
To buy your woolly dog
I’ll sell my Sunday hat.”
[Illustration]
Bowing down before,
Said Mr. Hoppy Frog,
“I love you even more
Than squeaky woolly dog!
Come to church with me,
And wear your Sunday hat;
And we’ll through life be Frog and wife,
Sweet Mistress Kitty Cat!”
NEW YEAR’S DAY IN THE WOOD
“Do I look nice?” asked the Rabbit.
“Very nice!” said the Chipmunk; “that is, for a person who has no tail
to speak of. But, of course, you cannot help that.”
The Rabbit looked into the looking-glass pond and saw his little white
blob of a tail. “Don’t you want to lend me yours, just this once?” he
asked. “I would take great care of it!”
“No, I cannot do that,” said the Chipmunk, “but I can lend you the tail
of my late uncle. It is such a fine one that we have kept it to brush
out the nest with.”
“The very thing!” said the Rabbit.
So the Chipmunk brought the tail of his late uncle and tied it on to
the Rabbit’s stub.
“How does that look?” asked the Rabbit.
“Fine!” said the Chipmunk. “Now tell me how I look!”
“Well enough!” said the Rabbit. “Of course, you would look better if
you had long ears.”
“Dear me!” said the Chipmunk; and he, too, looked into the
looking-glass pond. “Haven’t you a spare pair that you could lend me?”
“Why, yes,” said the Rabbit. “There is a pair that belonged to my
grandfather, hanging on the wall at home. I will get those.”
[Illustration]
So the Rabbit got the ears and tied them on to the Chipmunk’s head.
“How do I look now?” asked the Chipmunk.
“Splendid!” said the Rabbit. “Now let us go and make our New Year’s
calls. Where shall we go first?”
“I wish to call on Miss Woodchuck!” said the Chipmunk.
“So do I,” said the Rabbit. “We will go there first.” And off they went.
They came to Miss Woodchuck’s door and knocked, and she opened the
door. “Mercy!” she cried. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“We are Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Chipmunk,” said the two friends, “and we
have come to make you a New Year’s call.”
“More likely you have come to steal the nuts!” said the lady angrily.
“I know Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Chipmunk well, and neither of you is either
of them. Who ever heard of a long-tailed rabbit or a long-eared
squirrel? Get along with you! You are frights, and probably thieves as
well.” And she shut the door in their faces.
The two friends walked a little way in silence; then they stopped and
looked at each other.
“You said I looked fine!” said the Rabbit.
“I—I meant the tail!” said the Chipmunk. “It is a fine tail. But you
said I looked splendid!”
“I was thinking of the ears!” said the Rabbit. “They are splendid ears.”
They walked on until they came once more to the looking-glass pond.
They looked at themselves; then they looked at each other; then, all in
a minute, off came the long ears and tail.
“There!” cried the Chipmunk. “Now we look as we were meant to look; and
I am bound to say, Rabbit, that it is much more becoming to you.”
“So it is to you!” replied the Rabbit. “Now shall we call on Miss
Woodchuck again?”
“Come on!” said the Chipmunk.
So they went to Miss Woodchuck’s house, and knocked once more at the
door, and Miss Woodchuck opened it. “Oh!” she cried. “Mr. Chipmunk and
Mr. Rabbit, how do you do? I am so glad to see you. A happy New Year to
you both!”
“The same to you, Ma’am!” said the Rabbit and the Chipmunk.
THE NEWS FROM ANGEL LAND
Oh! Harry Boy and Johnny Boy,
And little Libbety,
They were three happy children
As ever you did see:
One day there came another child;
Oh! he was sweet and small!
And round his cradle quickly came
The other children all.
“Oh! what’s the news from Angel Land,
Baby, Baby?
We think we still might understand,
Maybe, maybe!
Daddies and Mammies long ago
Forgot the things the babies know;
We hardly think we could forget,
And yet—and yet!”
[Illustration]
Now Harry’s eyes were diamond dark,
And John’s were starry blue,
And little Libbety was like
A rosebud dipped in dew.
They stood around the cradle white,
With rosy ribbons tied,
They looked into the baby’s face
And earnestly they cried:
“Oh! what’s the news from Angel Land,
Baby, Baby?
We think we still might understand,
Maybe, maybe!
Daddies and Mammies long ago
Forgot the things the babies know;
We hardly think we could forget,
And yet—and yet!”
The baby gravely met the look
Of brown eyes and of blue:
And gravely opened his baby mouth,
And gravely said, “_A-Goo!_”
Harry and Johnny shook their heads:
“That word’s too deep for me!”
“I think I used to know it, though!”
Said little Libbety.
“But what’s the news from Angel Land,
Baby, Baby?
We think we still might understand,
Maybe, maybe!
Daddies and Mammies long ago
Forgot the things the babies know;
We hardly think we could forget,
And yet—and yet!”
The baby said “_A-Goo!_” again
With meaning calm and deep:
And then he said, “Ba-be, ba-ba!”
And then he went to sleep.
The children sighed and turned away:
But none of all the three
Guessed, neither John nor Harry Boy,
Nor little Libbety,
_He had told_ the news from Angel Land,
Baby, baby,
He thought that they _might_ understand,
Maybe, maybe.
Daddies and Mammies long ago
Forgot the things the babies know:
The children _ought_ not to forget,
And yet—and yet!
THE BOASTFUL DONKEY
(Adapted)
Once upon a time there was a donkey who lived in a field where there
was no pond; so he had never seen his own image, and he thought he was
the biggest and strongest and handsomest creature in the world.
One day a lion came through the field, and, being a polite beast,
stopped to greet the donkey. “Good morning, friend!” he said. “What a
fine day this is!”
“Fine enough, I dare say!” said the donkey. “I never think about the
weather. I have other things to think about.”
“Indeed!” said the lion. “May I ask what things?”
“None of your business!” said the donkey rudely; and he set up a loud
braying, thinking to frighten the lion away.
“Why do you bray?” asked the lion.
“Bray!” cried the donkey. “That was not braying—it was roaring!”
“If you think I don’t know braying from roaring,” said the lion, still
politely, “you are mistaken. That was a bray.”
[Illustration]
“Very well!” shouted the donkey. “If that was, this shall not be!” and
he uttered a long and loud “Hee-haw!” and kicked up his heels in angry
pride. “What do you call that?” he asked proudly.
“I call it a bray,” replied the lion; “and a very ugly one. You see,
after all, you are a donkey; look at the length of your ears!”
“How dare you?” cried the donkey. “My ears are the finest in the world,
everybody says so. And as for roaring, if I have not scared you yet,
just listen to me now!” And flinging up his heels again he bellowed
till his own long ears tingled with the sound.
He expected the lion to be terrified, but the lion merely smiled.
“You certainly can make a most hideous noise,” he said; “but when all
is said and done, it is only a bray. If you really wish to know how a
roar sounds I shall be happy to oblige you.”
The King of Beasts then began to lash his tail and pretended to fall
into a great passion. His eyes flashed fire, his tawny mane bristled;
he opened his great mouth, and a roar like thunder filled the air. The
donkey, after one terrified look, took to his heels and scampered off
as fast as he could go, tumbled into a ditch, and lay there all day,
not daring to move for fear.
The lion went on his way smiling. “It is a pity,” he said, “for a
person to live in a place where he cannot see what he looks like.”
THE CAT’S NAME
Tom had a cat who was so white that he named her Snow. He loved Snow
and thought her the best cat in the world, but she would not come when
she was called.
One day Snow went and played in the coal-bin, and when she came out she
was quite black.
“See, Mother,” said Tom: “Snow cannot be Snow now, for she is black.
What shall I name her?”
“You might name her Soot!” said his mother.
So he named Snow Soot. Snow did not care, and Soot did not care, but
neither of them came when she was called.
One day Snow saw a tin pot on the shed floor, and Soot thought there
might be cream in it; and Snow went to see, and Soot fell in, and it
was green paint, and when she came out she was all green.
“See, Mother,” said Tom. “My cat is not white now, so she cannot be
Snow, and she is not black, so she cannot be Soot. What shall I name
her now?”
“You might name her Grass,” said his mother, “till you have washed her;
but I would wash her soon if I were you.”
[Illustration]
So, Tom named the cat Grass. Snow did not care, and Soot did not care,
and Grass did not care, but none of them came when they were called.
“How can I wash her,” asked Tom, “if she will not come when she is
called?”
“Let me try!” said his mother. So she called, “Puss! Puss! Puss!” and
the cat came running as fast as she could.
“Why-ee!” said Tom. “I think her name must be Puss.”
“I think so, too,” said his mother.
SUPPITY SIPPITY!
Suppity, sippity!
Milk for my Pippity,
Milk for my Pippity Poppity Boy:
From a big jug of it
Pour a full mug of it,
Sip it and sup it in comfort and joy.
[Illustration]
Sippity, soppity,
Bread for my Poppety,
Crusty and crumby and tender and white:
Now for a bowl of it!
Milk for the whole of it!
Sippity, suppity, morning and night.
JOHNNY’S RED SHOES AND WHITE STOCKINGS
For every day, Johnny always wears blue; blue rompers in the morning,
when he is playing in the sand box or helping Maggie make bread
in the kitchen, and a blue sailor suit in the afternoon, when he
goes “walk-a-walk-a” with Mamma. But on Sunday afternoon he goes
walk-a-walk-a with Daddy (but they take Mamma too!), and _then_ he has
on his white sailor suit, and his white stockings and red shoes. Aunt
Kitty brought him the shoes, and when they came there was a china cat
inside one, and a tin frog inside the other. They were surprises, the
cat and the frog; Aunt Kitty likes to give surprises.
Well! one Sunday morning Mamma and Daddy were going to church, and
Maggie was very busy, so she put Johnny in the sand box, and told him
to play like a good boy, and he did. He made two forts, one with the
red tin pail and one with the blue tin pail; and then he hammered on
them with the old kitchen spoon and said, “Bang! bang! bang!” and that
made a battle. While he was having the battle, the Boy Over the Fence
came and looked through the pickets, and said, “Hurnh! I’ve got new
shoes on!” Johnny looked, and he had; new brown shoes, that tied in
front. So Johnny said: “I have new shoes too, only they are not on;
they are up-stairs, and they are red.”
[Illustration]
“They ain’t!” said the Boy Over the Fence. He was not a very nice boy.
[Illustration: “HE HELD THEM UP SO THAT THE BOY OVER THE FENCE COULD
SEE THEM.”]
“They are!” said Johnny. “Bright red, with wankle buttons. Aunt Kitty
bringed them, and there was a cat in one, and a frog in the other,
and they were s’prises. And white stockings too, so there!” Then he
stopped, for he was out of breath.
“Hurnh!” said the Boy Over the Fence. “Let’s see ’em!”
Johnny trotted up the back stairs and brought down the white stockings
and the red shoes; they were laid out on the chair, with the white
suit, all ready for him to put on. He held them up so that the Boy Over
the Fence could see them, and said, “So there!” again; it was all he
could think of to say.
And the Boy Over the Fence said, “Hurnh!” again, as if that was all
_he_ could think of to say.
Just then Maggie opened the kitchen door and said: “Come in this minute
of time, Johnny boy, and get your luncheon! see the nice cracker and
the lovely mug of milk Maggie has for ye!”
Johnny was hungry, and he dropped the red shoes and white stockings
and ran in to have his luncheon. While he was eating it, Maggie told
him the story of the Little Rid Hin; (Mamma says it is “Red Hen,”
really, but Maggie always says it the other way, and Johnny likes it
better); and then she said it was time for his nap, and she whisked him
up-stairs and tucked him up in his crib and told him to go to sleep
like a good boy, and he went.
By and by he woke up, and Mamma came in to dress him for dinner. She
washed his face and hands, and brushed his hair, and put on his white
sailor suit; and then she said, “Why, where ever are the shoes and
stockings?”
She looked under the chair, and on the bureau, and under the bed.
“Johnny,” she said, “I cannot find your red shoes and white stockings.
I put them here with your suit, and now they are gone.”
“Oh!” said Johnny.
“Do you know where they are, dear?” asked Mamma.
“Oh!” said Johnny again. “I think—they are in—the sand box!”
“_In the sand box!_” said Mamma.
“The Boy Over the Fence said they wasn’t red,” said Johnny; “and they
was, and I gotted them and showed him, and then Maggie called me,
and—and—I think that is all I know.”
“My goodness!” said Mamma. And she ran down-stairs and out into the
yard to the sand box. But no red shoes or white stockings were there.
Mamma looked all about carefully. There was the red tin pail, and the
blue tin pail, both turned upside down, and the old kitchen spoon laid
across them. And there were the marks of Johnny’s moccasins, and—oh!
there were the marks of another pair of shoes, a little bigger than
Johnny’s, with heels to them.
“My goodness!” said Mamma. “You don’t suppose—” but she did not say
what you didn’t suppose.
She looked over toward the next yard. There was no one there, but there
were muddy footmarks leading from the fence to the sand box, and sandy
footmarks leading back from the sand box to the fence.
“Now,” said Mamma, “I am afraid—” but she did not say what she was
afraid of.
Just as she was stepping out of the sand box, her foot struck against
the red tin pail and knocked it over; and—what _do_ you think? Inside
of the pail was one red shoe and one white stocking.
“My goodness!” said Mamma again. Then she turned over the blue tin
pail, and there was the other red shoe and the other white stocking.
Mamma looked very severely over the fence, but no one was there; so she
took the shoes and stockings up-stairs and showed them to Johnny. “Oh!”
said Johnny.
She told him where she had found them; and then she put them away in
the drawer, and brought out Johnny’s old brown moccasins and a pair of
rather old brown stockings. “You shall wear these to-day!” said Mamma.
“But why?” said Johnny. “I like my red shoes and white stockings best.”
“But you took them out and left them in the sand box!” said Mamma.
“But I did forget!” said Johnny.
“But this will help you to remember!” said Mamma.
And it did.
THE FOOLISH TORTOISE
(Adapted)
Close beside the Pool of the Blue Lotus lived the two geese White-Wings
and Gray-Back, and in the pool lived the tortoise Shelly-Neck, and the
three were good friends. One night Shelly-Neck heard two fishermen
talking together beside the pool. “To-morrow morning,” they said, “we
will lay our nets and catch that old tortoise and cook him for our
dinner.”
Shelly-Neck was much frightened, and when the men were gone he called
his friends the geese, and begged them to save him.
“We will save you,” said White-Wings.
“But you must do just what we tell you to do!” said Gray-Back.
“I will! I will!” cried poor Shelly-Neck.
The two geese waddled about, looking till they found a stick. “Now,”
said White-Wings, “take this in your mouth and hold on tight!”
“And remember,” said Gray-Back, “that once you have taken hold you must
not let go till we bid you.”
[Illustration]
The tortoise promised and took hold on the middle of the stick with his
strong jaws. Then White-Wings took one end of the stick in his bill and
Gray-Back took the other, and they flew high up in the air over the
roofs of the houses.
All the people came running to see this strange sight. “Look! look!”
cried one. “See the flying tortoise!”
“Ho!” said another, who was one of the fishermen. “He has no wings;
soon he will forget and open his mouth, and then down he will come and
we shall have him for dinner.”
“I will not let go! You shall not have me for dinner!” cried
Shelly-Neck.
Crash! Down he fell on the hard ground. When the fishermen picked him
up he was dead and they did have him for dinner.
White-Wings and Gray-Back flew sadly away. “We did our best,” they
said; “but a fool cannot be saved from his folly.”
THE GARDEN GATE
Early and late, early and late,
Little Boy swings on the garden gate.
“It isn’t a gate; it’s a motor car!
I’m travelling fast and I’m travelling far.
I toot my horn and I turn my wheel,
And nobody knows how grand I feel!”
Early and late, early and late,
Little Boy swings on the garden gate.
“It isn’t a gate; it’s a great big ship!
I’m off to the Pole on a ’sploring trip.
I’ll ride a white bear, holding on by his hair,
And I’ll hurry him up with a whaleskin whip.”
Early and late, early and late,
Little Boy swings on the garden gate.
[Illustration]
“It isn’t a gate; it’s a big balloon!
I’m going to sail till I reach the moon.
I’ll play with the Man as hard as I can,
And I’ll stir up the stars with a great horn spoon.”
Early and late, early and late,
Little Boy swings on the garden gate.
“It _isn’t_ a gate; it’s—” off runs he,
His mother is calling, “Come in to tea!”
It’s a wonderful gate, but it just isn’t able
To turn itself into a supper-table.
LITTLE CAT’S VALENTINE
Great Old Dog was taking a nap before the parlor fire. He lay stretched
out on the white bear skin, and reached almost from end to end, for he
was a very great old dog indeed. By-and-by he woke up, and saw Little
Dog sitting in front of him looking very melancholy.
[Illustration]
“What’s the matter, young one?” asked Great Old Dog. “Where’s Little
Cat?”
“I don’t know!” said Little Dog dolefully. “We don’t speak to each
other any more.”
“Wuff!” said Great Old Dog. “Since when?”
“Since half an hour.”
“Wuff!” said Great Old Dog. “Why?”
“She was horrid to me,” said Little Dog, “about a bone; and—and then I
was horrid to her.”
“And you think two wrongs make a right?” said Great Old Dog. “They
don’t. That is monkey arithmetic, not fit for respectable dogs and
cats. My advice to you is to make it up as soon as you can.”
“But she says she will never speak to me again!” said Little Dog
piteously.
Great Old Dog yawned so wide that Little Dog could have got inside his
mouth and turned around.
“She will!” he said.
“How do you know, Great Old Dog?”
“Wuff! I know cats.”
“I think she has gone out to see Old Cat in the Barn,” Little Dog
continued. “Perhaps she may live out there and never come back.”
“She’ll come back,” said Great Old Dog. “She will miss you just as much
as you miss her. Make it up, I tell you! Quarrelling is the silliest
thing there is,” and he went to sleep again.
“Oh, dear!” said Little Dog. “I do miss Little Cat dreadfully, and the
door is shut. Oh, oh dear!”
Little Girl was sitting at the desk, doing things with gold and silver
paper. Little Dog went up to her and asked very prettily to be let out;
but Little Girl was not so clever as usual.
“What is the matter, Little Dog?” she asked. “Do you want a valentine?”
“Please let me out!” said Little Dog; but she thought he said “Yap!”
“Listen, Little Dog!” she said. “Will this do?” She took up a frilled
sheet with gold hearts on it and read:
“‘If your heart is true as mine,
Come and be my valentine.’”
[Illustration: “THEN SHE MADE TWO LITTLE STARS AND PASTED THEM ON THE
TIPS OF HIS EARS.”]
“_Please_ let me out!” said Little Dog; but she thought he said “Yap!”
“This is Valentine’s Day, Little Dog,” Little Girl went on. “You ought
to send a valentine to Little Cat.
“‘If your heart is true as mine,
Come and be my valentine.’
Why, Little Dog, you shall be her valentine. Come here, sir!”
Little Girl took a sheet of lace paper, crimped it into a frill, and
tucked it into Little Dog’s collar. It tickled him woefully, but he
said not a word, for he loved Little Girl almost next to Little Cat.
“You are lovely, Little Dog!” said Little Girl. “You are the best
valentine I have made yet. Wait now!” She made a big star of gold paper
and pinned it to his collar; then she made two little stars and pasted
them on the tips of his ears.
“You are a _lovely_ valentine!” she cried, clapping her hands. “And
there is Little Cat mewing to be let in this minute. Now when I open
the door, Little Dog, go straight up to her and say:
“‘If your heart is true as mine,
Let me be your valentine!’”
She opened the door and Little Cat started to come in, but when she saw
Little Dog she stopped and looked shy.
Little Dog went up to her and said:
“If your heart is true as mine, Little Cat, I am sorry I was horrid
about the bone; let me be your valentine and I want to make up.”
“Oh! Little Dog,” said Little Cat, “I was horrid first, and I was just
coming to say I was sorry. Let’s never quarrel again, Little Dog; it is
so lonely!”
“Dear little things!” said Little Girl. “They are rubbing noses and
telling each other something. Oh, dear! and I was cross to Brother this
morning; I’m going to find him this minute and say I am sorry and ask
him to be my valentine.”
TO MY VALENTINE
[Illustration]
Dear, will you be mine,
My little Valentine?
I’ll meet you, and greet you,
And dress you up so fine!
A cooky for your hat,
And a pancake for your coat;
We’ll hollow out a pumpkin shell
And use it for a boat.
Dear, will you be mine,
My little Valentine?
I’ll meet you, and treat you,
And take you out to dine.
We’ll have gold and silver fish
In a gold and silver dish.
We’ll serve them up with diamond sauce
And then how they will shine!
MARCH
Blow, March, blow!
Go, Winter, go!
Drive away,
Strive away,
Blow, March, blow!
[Illustration]
Blow, March, blow!
Grow, grass, grow!
Crocus-cup,
Twinkle up;
Blow, March, blow!
Blow, March, blow!
Flow, water, flow!
River, run,
Just for fun,
Blow, March, blow!
SOMETHING NEW
[Illustration]
There’s a new thing at our house:
It’s not a cat; it’s not a mouse;
It’s not a bird; it’s not a dog;
It’s not a monkey or a frog;
A sweeter thing than any other;
It’s just a little Baby Brother!
MR. SPARROW’S BATH
One day Johnny followed Mamma up into the attic, where there are all
kinds of pleasant things, and he saw a very pleasant thing indeed. It
was a small dish, white with pink roses all over it; really and truly,
it was the prettiest dish that ever was. Johnny said, “O-o-oh! may I
have that dish for mine?”
Mamma looked, and then she took the dish in her hand and thought a
minute. Mamma always likes to be sure about things before she says
“Yes!” for fear it might not really be “yes” after all. But now she
nodded her head, and said, “Yes, Johnny, you may have it.”
“O-oh!” said Johnny. “For my welly own?”
“For your very own. The rest of the set is broken, and I have just kept
this dish because it is so pretty. Now you may take it down into the
nursery, and have it for a bath for Flora.”
[Illustration: “NOW HE GAVE HER ONE IN THE ROSY-POSY DISH.”]
Flora was a small doll, all china, and her clothes came off, so she
could have a bath any time, and Johnny often gave her one. Now he gave
her one in the rosy-posy dish, and it was just exactly the right size,
and Johnny was so pleased, and said, “Oh, thank you, _dear_ Mamma!”
without having to be told. (Sometimes he forgets to say “thank you,”
but he is getting to be quite good about it.)
The next time Johnny went down-stairs, he took the doll’s bath to show
to Maggie, and she said ’twas the pick of the world for a dish, and
asked Johnny to lave her bake a cake in it; but Johnny said no, not
now, though perhaps by and by, for now he must take it out to show
to Muffy. Muffet was out in the sand-box, and when Johnny showed her
the dish she mewed and rubbed against his legs, and seemed to want
something very much.
“Maggie,” said Johnny, “Muffy wants something! What do you suppose it
is?”
“Sure she might be wanting a sup o’ milk!” said Maggie. “Bring me here
the grand dish and we’ll give the crature a sup in itself, and won’t
she be the proud kitty!” that is the way Maggie talks; it is a nice,
funny way, Johnny thinks.
Well! so Maggie filled the pretty dish with milk, and Johnny set it
down in the sand box before Muffet, and she lapped it up, every single
drop, purring all the time. Johnny was watching her when Mamma called
him in to take his nap. Muffet had not quite finished, so he left the
dish standing, and ran in to Mamma, and then he went for his nap. When
he woke up it was raining hard, and it rained all the afternoon, so he
did not go out again, but stayed in the nursery building a Choo Choo
House. The next morning was bright and clear, and the very first thing
Johnny thought of, when he had had his bath, and Mamma was dressing
him, was the rosy posy dish.
“I wants my diss,” said Johnny, “to give Flora her bath!”
So Mamma looked for the dish, all over the nursery, but it was not to
be found.
“Where did you leave it, Johnny Boy?” said Mamma. “Think a minute!”
So Johnny thought a minute, and then he remembered. “I left it in the
sand box,” he said. “Muffy was very thirsty, and she was drinking out
of it, and you called me, and she hadn’t finished, and so, you see—and
so, you see—”
And Mamma said she saw. Then she looked out of the window, and said
yes, there was the dish, right in the sand box, beside the red tin pail
and the blue tin pail and the old kitchen spoon. Then she said, “Oh!
oh, Johnny, come here and look!”
So Johnny went to the window, and stood on his tippy-toe-toes, and
looked; and what do you think he saw? A little brown sparrow had come
fluttering down, and was drinking out of the rosy posy dish. (You see,
it had rained all night, so the dish was full of water.) He perched on
the edge, and dipped his little beak in, and drank and drank; he must
have been very thirsty. And then—oh! oh! what did he do but hop down
_into_ the dish, and begin taking his bath! He splashed, and he shook
himself, and rustled his feathers, and then he splashed again. “Oh!”
said Johnny. “Oh! Mamma, he is doing it all himself. Nobody told him
to, not one bit.”
[Illustration]
“No, indeed!” said Mamma. “He likes to take his bath and be clean, just
as Johnny does. He knows it feels good to be clean.”
“Mamma!” said Johnny. “I want to tell you something. Shall we have
something else for Flora, and let the rosy posy dish be the sparrow’s
bath, his ownty donty?”
“Suppose we do!” said Mamma. And they did.
LITTLE GIRL
When Little Girl wakes in the morning gay
Then everybody is glad;
The cat in the kitchen sits purring away,
And the puppy dog barks like mad.
The bell in the steeple turns head over heels,
That’s _his_ way of showing how glad he feels;
And all the wide world seems to say,
“Our dear Little Girl is happy to-day!”
When Little Girl wakes in the morning sad,
Then everybody must mourn;
The little birds sigh, and the big birds cry,
And the scarecrow sobs in the corn.
The fishes all pull their hankies out,
And go and weep with the poor hornpout,
And the clock says, “Tock! I’m sorry to say
Our dear Little Girl is sad to-day!”
So, Little Girl, when you go beddy at night,
Put a smile right under your pillow,
And when you wake up, just slip it on tight,
And wear it all day with a will, oh!
Then the sun will shine and the wind will blow,
And the bells will ring, “Ho! ho! ho! ho!”
For in all the wide world there’s naught can be
So sweet as a happy child to see!
[Illustration]
HOW MR. PEACOCK WENT TO THE FAIR
(Adapted)
Mr. Peacock was proud. He had a fine long train, a splendid crest, and
the gayest blue-green coat that ever was seen; and all day long he
would strut up and down the barnyard and say: “See what a beauty I am!”
[Illustration]
The geese and ducks and turkeys were much displeased at this. “Beauty,
indeed!” they said. “Of what use is your beauty? Can it hatch eggs?
Tell us that!” and they turned their backs and walked away.
“These are stupid creatures!” said Mr. Peacock. “Why should I stay
among them? I will go to the Fair, for there people will see my beauty
and admire it.”
So he spread his tail like a fan, raised his crested head and strutted
off down the road to the Fair. Pretty soon he met some young men who
also were going to the Fair. “Aha!” said Mr. Peacock. “These people
will admire me!” and he strutted more than ever.
“Look!” said the young men. “What a fine peacock, and what splendid
feathers he has! They are just what we want for our hats.” They
surrounded Mr. Peacock, and, spite of his screams of rage and terror,
tore out three or four of his finest tail feathers and went away
laughing. Presently he fell in with a large flock of geese which a boy
was driving to the Fair to sell. He spread his tail and tried to push
his way to the head of the flock, but they took no notice of him and
waddled steadily on, keeping close together.
“Make way, you stupid creatures!” said Mr. Peacock. “Keep your dirty
feet off my fine train!”
“Quack!” said an old gray goose, the grandmother of the flock. “Keep
your train out from under our feet, Mr. Strut! Who asked you to join
our company?”
“Join your company, indeed!” cried Mr. Peacock. “Get out of my way, you
rude, clumsy thing, and learn how to treat your betters!” and he gave
the goose a hard peck.
When the other geese, who loved their grandmother, saw this, they all
fell upon Mr. Peacock and beat and pecked and hustled him till he ran
screaming away, dragging his tail behind him.
He was now in a sad way, covered with dust, and many of his finest
feathers were torn and broken; but still, when he came to the Fair he
spread his tail, reared his crest and made as much of himself as he
could.
“I am still handsomer than any one else!” he said, “and people will be
sure to admire me.”
“Look there!” said a man. “There is a peacock. Let us kill and stuff
him and add him to our show.” And he chased Mr. Peacock, who ran off
screaming with terror. Coming around a corner he ran into a large dog
who was coming the other way.
“Get out of my way!” screamed Mr. Peacock.
“Get out of mine!” growled Mr. Dog, and he grabbed Mr. Peacock by the
neck, shook him hard and tore out a great mouthful of feathers.
More dead than alive, the poor Peacock ran and ran and ran, and never
stopped till he got home.
The geese and turkeys looked at him in great surprise. “Who is this
wretched, shabby bird?” they asked each other. “It cannot possibly be
Mr. Peacock?”
“Yes,” sobbed the poor creature, “it is I; but I have left my pride
behind. If you will only let me stay with you I will do my best to
hatch eggs.”
But he never could.
LITTLE BOY
Mother, the hen is cackling;
What is she trying to say?
She says, “Cluck! cluck! I humbly beg
To tell you all I’ve laid an egg
For Little Boy to-day!”
Oh! oh! is it so?
Truly now, I did not know!
But in return what shall I give?
“Be kind, be kind, to all that live!”
Mother, the cow is lowing;
What is she trying to say?
“Milk and cream and butter and cheese,
Good people, I have brought you these
For Little Boy to-day.”
Oh! oh! is it so?
Truly now, I did not know!
But in return what shall I give?
“Be kind, be kind, to all that live.”
Mother, the sheep is bleating;
What is she trying to say?
She says “I’ll give my fleecy wool
To make warm clothes for play and school
For Little Boy to-day.”
Oh! oh! is it so?
Truly now, I did not know!
But in return what shall I give?
“Be kind, be kind, to all that live.”
[Illustration]
FAITHFUL TRUSTY
(Adapted)
“Where are you going in such haste, friend?” said Trusty, the
shepherd’s Dog, to a great wolf that was jogging along the same road.
“If I were sure you would not betray my secret,” said the Wolf, with a
sly leer, “I would let you know.”
“You need not fear me; I shall tell no one a word of the matter,” said
Trusty.
“Well, then,” said the Wolf, “you must know, as I was prowling around
yonder cottage I saw the farmer’s wife put a fine baby into the cradle,
and heard her say: ‘Lie still, my darling, and go to sleep, while I run
down to the village to buy bread for your father’s supper.’ As soon as
the babe is asleep I shall go and fetch it: it is fair and fat, and
will make a nice supper for me and my cubs.”
“Then,” said Trusty, “I would advise you to wait a little longer, for I
saw the baby’s mother step into the next house to speak to a neighbor:
take care lest you are seen.”
[Illustration]
The Wolf thanked the Dog for his good advice, for he did not know that
the baby belonged to Trusty’s master; and he said he would take heed
and keep close.
Then Trusty ran home with all the speed he could. The door was ajar,
and the innocent baby was fast asleep in the cradle; so he lay down
on the mat behind the door and listened for the coming of the Wolf.
It was not long before he heard the tread of the Wolf’s feet on the
gravel path, and in another minute the savage beast was in the room
and stealing with cautious steps to the cradle; but just as he was
preparing to seize the poor baby Trusty sprang upon him and after a
fierce struggle laid him dead on the floor.
The first thing the mother saw on her return was the Wolf dead at the
foot of the cradle, while the baby, unhurt, lay soundly sleeping on his
little pillow, and faithful Trusty watching beside him. She flew to
look the little one all over, to make sure that he was safe and sound,
and then, oh! how she patted and fondled the good Dog who had saved her
darling’s life! She called in all the neighbors, and told them what
Trusty had done, and from that time he became the pet of the whole
village, and all the mothers wished they had such a dog to watch over
their children.
THE GRATEFUL CRANE
(Adapted)
Once a poor Crane was caught in a net, and could not get out. She
fluttered and flapped her wings, but it was of no use, she was held
fast.
“Oh!” she cried, “what will become of me if I cannot break this net?
The hunter will come and kill me, or else I shall die of hunger, and
if I die who will care for my poor little young ones in the nest? They
must perish also if I do not come back to feed them.”
Now Trusty (the same Trusty who saved the baby’s life) was in the next
field and heard the poor Crane’s cries. He jumped over the fence, and
seizing the net in his teeth quickly tore it in pieces. “There!” he
said. “Now fly back to your young ones, ma’am, and good luck to you
all!”
The Crane thanked him a thousand times. “I wish all dogs were like
you!” she said. “And I wish I could do something to help you, as you
have helped me.”
“Who knows?” said Trusty. “Some day I may need help in my turn, and
then you may remember me. My old mother used to say to me:
“To do a kind deed wherever we can,
Is good for bird and beast and man.”
[Illustration]
Then Trusty went back to mind his master’s sheep, and Mrs. Crane flew
to her nest and fed and tended her crane babies.
Some time after this she was flying homeward and stopped at a clear
pool to drink. As she did so she heard a sad, moaning sound, and
looking about, whom should she see but good Trusty, lying on the
ground, almost at the point of death. She flew to him. “Oh, my good,
kind friend,” she cried, “what has happened to you?”
“A bone has stuck in my throat,” said the Dog, “and I am choking to
death.”
“Now, thank Heaven for my long bill!” said Mrs. Crane. “Open your
mouth, good friend, and let me see what I can do.”
Trusty opened his mouth wide; the Crane darted in her long, slender
bill, and with a few good tugs loosened the bone and finally got it out.
“Oh! you kind, friendly bird!” cried the Dog, as he sprang to his feet
and capered joyfully about. “How shall I ever reward you for saving my
life?”
“Did you not save mine first?” said Mrs. Crane. “Shake paws and claws,
friend Trusty! I have only learned your mother’s lesson, which you
taught me, that
“To do a kind deed wherever we can,
Is good for bird and beast and man.”
THE KING OF THE FEN
(Adapted)
“I will be King of the Fen!” said Croaker the Frog, leaping out of the
brook upon the dry land.
“You King, indeed!” said Slyboots, a fine, fat Field Mouse with a long
tail and bright eyes, jumping out of his hole at the foot of a hazel
bush which grew near. “I am larger than you, and I will be King, and
the frogs shall be my subjects and cut rushes and bring me dry moss to
line my nest.” And Slyboots strutted about and gave himself a great
many airs.
[Illustration]
“I will never consent to be ruled by a Mouse,” replied the Frog with a
disdainful air. “How finely King Slyboots would sound!”
“Quite as well as King Croaker!” retorted the Mouse.
Then the Frog flew into a great passion and hopped so high and croaked
so loud that the Mouse crept a little farther from him (for frogs, like
children, look very ugly when they are out of temper); and Slyboots did
not much like the idea of being touched by his cold paws, and he said
to himself: “In spite of this Frog’s looking so fierce and talking so
loud I should not wonder if he were a coward at heart.”
So he turned to the Frog and said: “As we both wish to be King of the
Fen I know of no way of ending the dispute but by fighting, and the one
that wins the fight shall be King over the other.”
Then the Frog said: “Very well! We will each bring a friend to see fair
play. To-morrow at twelve o’clock I shall be ready to take the field;
and if you fail to meet me here I shall be King of the Fen, and the
mice shall be my servants.” For Croaker thought Slyboots was braver
in word than in deed, as cowards are often the foremost to talk of
fighting.
Then the Frog retired among the bulrushes and the Mouse ran home to his
hole under the nut tree.
The two rivals awoke next morning by break of day to prepare for the
combat, which was to take place at noon. The Frog was very much afraid
of Slyboots’s sharp teeth and claws, so he fell to work and made a
shield from the bark of an old willow tree, and then he plucked a long
bulrush for a spear. “Now,” said he, “I am well armed: I have a shield
to defend myself and a spear to attack the enemy with. If I had but a
brave friend to be my second in the fight I should do very well.”
“I will be your second,” said a great Pike, raising his head above the
water; “I will lie close to the bank among these rushes, and if you
break your spear come to me and I will procure you another.”
The Frog was well pleased at this offer. “I shall beat Slyboots in a
little time,” said he, “with such weapons and so good a friend.”
Slyboots in the meantime was not idle; he sharpened his teeth and his
claws and chose a light twig from the hazel bush and said: “I only want
now a friend to be my second and see fair play.” A great Hawk, which
was hovering near, said: “Mr. Slyboots, you may command my services at
any hour you please to name.”
Now Slyboots was somewhat afraid of the Hawk, for he thought he had
rather a hungry look about the eyes and beak, but he dared not refuse
his offer lest he should give offence; so he thanked him for his
kindness, and at the appointed hour they went to the spot where the
Frog was waiting for them. The Pike lay in the hole among the rushes
and the Hawk sat on the bough of a tree close by.
[Illustration: “THE BATTLE WAS LONG AND FIERCE ON BOTH SIDES.”]
The Frog and the Mouse looked at one another for a few minutes and
shook their weapons. At last the Hawk and the Pike gave signal for the
fight to begin. The battle was long and fierce on both sides, and for
some time it was doubtful which would win. At last the Frog seemed to
gain ground, but at the very minute that he seemed to be winning his
spear broke in pieces.
“Alas!” croaked he in a tone of dismay, “what shall I do? Who will give
me another weapon?”
“Here is one,” cried his friend, the Pike, from among the rushes.
The Frog gave a leap of joy and sprang toward the Pike, who, opening
his mouth, quickly put an end to the battle by swallowing the hapless
Frog at one mouthful.
“I am King of the Fen now!” cried Slyboots with a joyful squeak. “Long
live your Majesty!” exclaimed the crafty Hawk. As he spoke he darted
from the tree and, pouncing upon the new monarch, bore him away in his
claws and put an end to his reign and his life at the same moment.
THE SWING
Hey, the old swing!
And ho! the old swing!
And hey, the old swing in the orchard!
It groans and it creaks,
It squawks and it squeaks,
You’d think ’twas most cruelly tortured.
[Illustration]
Hey! the old swing,
And ho! the old swing,
All under the apple trees swaying:
“Oh dear! how they shake me!
They surely will break me!”
It seems to be constantly saying.
Hey! the old swing,
And ho! the old swing;
For all its lamenting and sighing,
Just give it a push,
And it’s off with a rush,
Up into the apple-boughs flying.
Hey! the old swing,
And ho! the old swing;
It’s off and away with a will now;
Old swing, stop your moaning,
Your dreary o-honing!
I’m sure you’re enjoying it still, now!
THE TREES
“Summer is gone!” said the Trees. “The fall of the year is come, and it
is time for us to dress up and be gay.”
“I shall wear red!” said a Maple. “Sunset red is my color.”
“Yellow for me!” said another. “My dress shall be like pure gold.”
“I choose purple!” said the Ash. “It is the color of Kings, and suits
me very well.”
“What will you wear?” they all said to the little Fir.
“I have no other dress!” said the Fir sadly. “I must wear my plain
green frock.”
“Te hee!” laughed the Maples and Birches and Ash trees, rustling their
leaves and nodding their heads. “She has but one dress! What a poor
thing she is!”
But the old Pine waved his dark branches and said: “Hush! hush! I know
what I know!”
“We know, too,” cried the Maples. “We know that in snow-time Santa
Claus comes, and chooses the finest tree, and dresses it in gold and
silver and hangs stars all over it. That is why we wish to be fine and
gay.”
“Hush! hush!” said the old Pine. “I know what I know.”
So the trees put on their gay robes, gold and red and purple, and each
one was finer than the rest; only the little Fir and the great old Pine
stayed just as they were, in their plain green dresses.
Now it grew cold, and a bleak wind blew through the forest. The trees
shivered and drew their bright robes close around them. Colder still it
grew, and snow fell, and the wind moaned; one day Jack Frost came in
his silver coat and touched the bright leaves with his shining brush,
and they curled up and turned brown, and, one by one, fell rustling
to the ground. Soon the poor Maples and Birches and the purple Ash who
thought he looked like a King stood all bare, and the wind blew through
their branches, and they shook with the cold. They looked at the Fir
and wished that they had her warm, green dress. Now came Santa Claus,
driving his reindeer team through the forest, cracking his whip and
jingling his bells. He looked at the trees with his bright eyes.
[Illustration]
“Ho! ho!” he said as he saw the Maples and Birches. “What a beggarly
set! Why, they have not a cloak among them to keep them warm. These
will never do for me.”
But now he saw the little Fir, and a smile came over his face.
“This is the tree for me!” he cried. “Will you come with me, little
Fir, and be the children’s tree, and make many hearts glad?”
“That I will!” said the little Fir gladly.
So Santa Claus took her away and dressed her in gold and silver and
hung bright stars all over her; and she became the Christmas Tree, and
many hearts were glad because of her.
“Hush! hush!” said the old Pine. “I knew what I knew.”
THE LEPRECHAUN
“Come tell, Uncle Shaun,” says Rafferty’s Pat,
“On Patrick’s Day what would they be at
In Ireland, in Ireland,
In Ireland o’er the say?
Would they have the procession, as we do here,
Banners and shamrocks far and near,
Or would they do annything annyways queer,
In Ireland o’er the say?”
“Musha now! wisha now! mind what ye’re at!
Lind me the ears of ye, Rafferty’s Pat!
In Ireland, in Ireland,
In Ireland o’er the say,
One thing on St. Patrick’s Day does be,
If a boy should be havin’ the luck to see,
He’s safe to climb to the top of the tree,
In Ireland o’er the say.
“For my ould grandmother told me so,
And wisha! but she was the one to know,
In Ireland, in Ireland,
In Ireland o’er the say.
‘To make your fortune now, Nelligan’s Shaun,
There’s just one place where you must be gaun,
And that’s to the dance of the Leprechaun,
In Ireland o’er the say.
“‘The Leprechaun’s the height o’ me thumb;
He’s sharp as a pin and complate as a crumb;
In Ireland, in Ireland,
In Ireland o’er the say,
On Patrick’s Night he be givin’ a dance,
And oh! it’s the boy would be havin’ the chance
Could he hold him still wid the stren’th of his glance,
In Ireland o’er the say.
“‘He be askin’ all manner of beastie and bird,
And faix! they be comin’, I give ye me word;
In Ireland, in Ireland,
In Ireland o’er the say,
The rabbit would come wid his new shillelagh,
The fox and the goat would be footin’ it gaily,
The squirrel be there wid his bush for a taily,
In Ireland o’er the say.
[Illustration]
“‘The pig brought the music, and he for to play
On a fine concertina’ (my grandmother say),
‘In Ireland, in Ireland,
In Ireland o’er the say,
Himself would be dancin’ to bate all the rest,
For all the world knows how the pig do be blest
Wid St. Patrick, long life to him, likin’ him best,
In Ireland o’er the say.
“‘The Leprechaun he be judge of the dance,
And while he be watchin’ it, then is your chance,
In Ireland, in Ireland,
In Ireland o’er the say;
For fix him once wid the stren’th of your eye,
Ye can hold him there till he’s like to die,
And he’ll give ye gold for your life’s supply,
In Ireland o’er the say.’”
“And oh! Uncle Shaun,” says Rafferty’s Pat,
“And did ye be goin’ there? tell about that,
In Ireland, in Ireland,
In Ireland o’er the say!”
“Musha now! wisha now! sure but I tried,
And I lay all night on the cold hill-side,
But ’twas only mesilf that was like to have died,
In Ireland o’er the say.
“But mind what I’m tellin’ ye, Rafferty’s Pat!
Ye’d always be thinkin’ of what ye were at,
In Ireland, in Ireland,
In Ireland by the say.
And on Patrick’s Night if ye hear the pig play,
Or meet wid a rabbit a-dancin’ so gay,
Sure the Leprechaun is not far away,
In Ireland o’er the say.”
THE DEER AND THE CROW
(Adapted)
Once upon a time in a deep wood lived a Deer and a Crow, who were great
friends and loved each other dearly. One day, as the Deer was roaming
about alone, he met Small-Wit, the Jackal.
Small-Wit was hungry, and when he saw the fine fat Deer he said to
himself: “Oho! if only I could have this fat Deer for my supper!” So he
went up to the Deer, hanging his head and looking very sad.
“Who are you, Friend?” asked the Deer, “and why do you look so sad?”
“My name is Small-Wit,” said the Jackal; “and I am sad because I have
not a friend in the world. Ah! if I could win your friendship how happy
I should be!”
“Very well,” said the Deer, who was very good-natured. “Come with me,
and we will be friends.”
He led the way to his home, and the Jackal followed him. As they
drew near, Sharp-Sense, the Crow, called from the tree where he was
perching: “Who is this number two, Friend Deer?”
[Illustration]
“It is Small-Wit, the Jackal,” said the Deer. “He is lonely, and wishes
to be our friend.”
“Friendship with stranger,
Friendship with danger!”
said the Crow.
“Nay!” said the Deer. “I like this rhyme better:
“Foe is friend, and friend is foe,
As our actions make them so.”
“Very good,” said Sharp-Sense: “as you will.”
Next morning they went off hunting, and the Jackal said to the Deer: “I
know a field of sweet corn, and I will take you there.”
So the Deer followed Small-Wit, and, sure enough, they came to a field
of sweet young corn.
“You are a friend indeed!” cried the Deer, and he feasted till suddenly
he fell into a snare which the farmer had laid.
“Alas!” cried the Deer, “Friend Small-Wit, here am I caught by the
feet, and cannot move. Come, I pray you, and gnaw these cords with your
sharp teeth and set me free!”
The Jackal came and looked at the snare. “That will hold you fast
enough,” he said. “To-day is a fast day, but to-morrow I will have a
fine feast on your fat carcass, my foolish friend.” And off he went.
Presently came along Sharp-Sense, the Crow, who had been looking for
his friend. “Alas!” he cried, “how did this happen, Friend Deer?”
“Through not minding what you said,” replied the Deer.
“Well,” said the Crow, “we must do what we can. Here comes the farmer.
Do you lie still and pretend to be dead until I croak: then spring up
and be off.”
The farmer came along and saw our friend lying perfectly still. “Aha!”
he cried, “this fellow will eat no more of my corn.”
He stooped down and untied the cords of the snare, meaning to carry off
the dead Deer; but at that moment the Crow gave a loud “Caw!” Up sprang
the Deer and in a moment was safe in the forest. The farmer flung a
club after him; it hit Small-Wit, the Jackal, who was lurking near
by hoping to have a share of the spoil, and killed him; and the two
friends went home happy.
LITTLE GOLDSTAR
(Adapted)
In a southern garden lived a family of green lizards, under the roots
of a palm-tree. They were merry little creatures, and their parents
loved them dearly.
One day Father Lizard said to his children: “Your mother and I must go
away this morning; now be good children; stay close together, and be
sure that one of you keeps watch for fear of snakes and hawks!”
The little lizards promised; and for some time they were very careful;
first one kept watch, and then another; but at length Sprightly said:
“There is no danger near. Why should we not all play together, just for
a little while?”
Oh dear! they forgot their promise, and see what came of it! While they
were playing merrily, a great snake glided quietly out from the grass,
seized poor Sprightly, and carried her off to his den.
The other lizards fled in terror. Swiftfoot ran up the tree, Longtail
hid in the nest, and Goldstar ran away and away, to the farthest end
of the garden. She did not dare to go home again, but found a hole in
the bank near a summerhouse, and slipping into it, stayed all night,
weeping for the death of her dear Sprightly.
Next day she tried to find her way home, but the garden was large, and
she was too afraid of snakes to go far; so she decided to stay where
she was, and make her home in the hole by the summerhouse.
One day, as she was lying in the sun, Goldstar saw a boy standing near
her, with a cane in his hand. At first she was afraid to move, fearing
he might strike her; but Carlos (for that was the boy’s name) was fond
of lizards, and would not have hurt one for the world. He spoke softly
to Goldstar, and she soon saw that he was kind and good. He stroked
her gently, first with a green leaf, then with his hand, and Goldstar
lay still, and was not afraid any more.
They became great friends, and Carlos came every day to see his pretty
lizard and play with her. One day, as he was coming down the garden
walk, he saw a large hawk hovering in the air near the summerhouse,
just about to dart down on something. “Oh! my lizard! my lizard!” cried
Carlos; and he ran as fast as he could to the spot, shouting and waving
his arms. The hawk flew screaming away, and Goldstar ran to Carlos, and
crept inside his jacket. She could not speak, but he knew that she was
glad, and perhaps was trying to thank him in her own way.
One very hot day, Carlos was taking a nap in the summerhouse, when
he was waked by something running over his face. He brushed it away
without opening his eyes, but it came again, and still again. In fact,
he could not get rid of it. At last he sat up, wide awake and very
angry, and found that it was Goldstar. He tried to shake her off, but
she ran into his bosom. He was going to pull her out in a pet, when,
looking down, he saw a large snake, with head raised and glittering
eyes, gliding slowly toward him. He knew its bite was fatal, and he
sprang up with a loud cry. The snake stopped, and then turning, glided
away into the bushes.
[Illustration]
Very gently, Carlos drew his little pet from his bosom, and stroked her
green and golden back. “Dear Goldstar,” he said, “if I saved you from
the hawk, you have saved me from the serpent. I will love you and take
care of you as long as you live.” And so he did.
THE BROOM
Swish! swish! swish! swish!
A servant does my lady wish?
Here I hang against the wall,
Spruce and slender, straight and tall.
Take me down, and then, you know,
Swiftly to my work I’ll go.
[Illustration]
Steady, even strokes and strong!
So I sweep the dust along.
Throw the windows wide, that so
Out the dusky cloud may go.
Swish, and swish! now whirl away!
No more dust for us to-day!
In the corners now I rout,
Poking every atom out.
At the ceiling now I dash:
Lurking spiders feel my lash.
Cobweb, fly, and spider grey,
Out you come! away! away!
Swish, swee! swish, swee!
Sweeping is the game for me!
If, my little maid, you mean
Still to keep things neat and clean,
Trim and shining in your room,
Come to me, your friend the Broom!
THE CLEVER CROWS
(Adapted)
A pair of crows had their nest in a certain tree. It was a fine tree,
and suited them well, but they had a bad neighbor, a black snake, who
often stole and ate their young ones.
“Husband,” said Mrs. Crow, “we must leave this pleasant home of ours;
we shall never be able to rear our children while that bad snake is
there.”
“My dear,” replied Mr. Crow, “think no more about him. I have had
enough of Black Snake, and I am going to get rid of him.”
“What can you do against a huge snake like that?” asked Mrs. Crow.
“Listen!” said Mr. Crow. “As you know, the Prince comes every day to
bathe in the fountain under our tree. He has a fine gold chain, and he
takes it off before he goes into the water, and lays it on a stone.
To-morrow, when he does this, do you take the chain in your beak (for I
shall be away getting food for the babies), and drop it into the hollow
of the tree, taking care to give some good loud ‘Caws’ while you do so.
Then wait and see what happens!”
Sure enough, next morning the young Prince came as usual to bathe in
the clear fountain. He took off his gold chain and laid it on a stone,
just as Mr. Crow said he would; then he began to take off his robes.
Just then down flew Mrs. Crow, took the chain in her yellow bill, and
flew up into the branches with it. “Oh! my chain! my chain!” cried the
Prince. “That crow has flown away with it!”
“Have peace, your Highness!” replied his servant. “The bird has not
flown far; she has this instant dropped the chain into a hole in the
tree, and I will climb up and get it.”
Up climbed the servant, and looked down into the hole.
“Do you see my chain?” cried the Prince.
“Yes,” said the servant, “I see it, shining in the hole, but I see
something else that is not so pretty; the head of a great ugly black
snake. If your Highness will throw me up a stone, I will kill the
creature, for it is a poisonous snake.”
[Illustration]
So the Prince threw up a stone, and the servant caught it, and killed
the snake with it. Then he reached down into the hole, pulled out the
gold chain, and took it back to his master, who thanked him kindly.
“Ah!” said Mrs. Crow. “He is glad to get back his fine jewel; but I am
far happier, for I have my babies safe and sound. See what it is to
have a clever husband! I must be sure to have everything he likes best
for supper to-night.”
So she did! I do not know what crows like best for supper, so I cannot
tell you; but they had a wonderful feast, and the little ones picked
the bones, and there was no happier family in all the forest than the
Crow Family.
[Illustration:
“TWICE ONE IS TWO,
WE MAKE OUR BOW TO YOU.”
]
THE JOHN-BETTY TABLE
[Illustration]
Twice one is two,
We make our bow to you.
Twice two is four,
We dance upon the floor.
Twice three is six,
We build a house with bricks.
Twice four is eight,
We swing upon the gate.
Twice five is ten,
We chase the neighbor’s hen.
[Illustration]
Twice six is twelve,
In mud we dig and delve.
Twice seven is fourteen,
We hear old Piggy snorting.
Twice eight is sixteen,
We have some little chicks seen.
Twice nine is eighteen,
We see our nursie waiting.
Twice ten is twenty,
We’ve bread and jam in plenty.
Twice eleven is twenty-two,
I’m put to bed, and so are you.
Twice twelve is twenty-four,
Put out the light, and shut the door.
[Illustration]
Three times three is nine,
I’ll give you help of mine.
Three times four is twelve,
This axe has lost its helve.
Three times five is fifteen,
Ugh! Father’s pipe I’ve whiffed in.
Three times six is eighteen,
We think we’ll go a-skating.
Three times seven is twenty-one,
We buy ourselves a plummy bun.
Three times eight is twenty-four,
We eat it up, and ask for more.
Three times nine is twenty-seven,
John is a horse, and must be driven.
[Illustration]
Three times ten is thirty.
Dear Betty’s face is dirty.
Three times eleven is thirty-three,
We sing “high diddle, diddle dee!”
Three times twelve is thirty-six.
We play our nursie pleasant tricks.
Four times four is sixteen.
The dolly’s leg we’ve fixed in.
Four times five is twenty,
Miss Betty’s frock is dainty.
Four times six is twenty-four.
We like to thump upon the door.
Four times seven is twenty-eight.
We draw some beasts upon the slate.
[Illustration]
Four times eight is thirty-two.
We break the chair and tumble through.
Four times nine is thirty-six.
With milk and mud our dough we mix.
Four times ten is forty.
I _think_ dear John is naughty.
Four times eleven is forty-four.
He says he’ll do it never more.
Four times twelve is forty-eight,
And now we think it’s getting late.
Five times five is twenty-five.
We go with dear Papa to drive.
Five times six is thirty.
We see our Cousin Gerty.
[Illustration]
Five times seven is thirty-five.
We see some bees around the hive.
Five times eight is forty.
We want a little more tea.
Five times nine is forty-five.
We teach the puppy how to dive.
Five times ten is fifty.
The snow is very drifty.
Five times eleven is fifty-five,
When we are bad, we never thrive.
Five times twelve is sixty.
We feel a little mixed-y.
Six times six is thirty-six.
We must not touch the candle wicks.
[Illustration]
Six times seven is forty-two.
What do you think we’d better do?
Six times eight is forty-eight.
We’ll fish, and take the sponge for bait.
Six times nine is fifty-four.
We’ve caught a thousand whales and more.
Six times ten is sixty.
Nurse says we’ve made a pigsty.
Six times eleven is sixty-six,
We’re such unlucky little chicks.
Six times twelve is seventy-two.
Boo hoo! boo hoo! boo hoo! boo hoo!
Seven times seven is forty-nine.
Dear John, you _know_ this doll is mine.
[Illustration]
Seven times eight is fifty-six.
You might just give me half your bricks!
Seven times nine is sixty-three.
You’re just as cross as you can be.
Seven times ten is seventy.
Now kiss and be forgiven-ty.
Seven times eleven is seventy-seven.
Let’s play we are the fox and raven.
Seven times twelve is eighty-four.
No! let’s be lions. Roar! roar! roar!
Eight times eight is sixty-four.
Dear John now keeps a grocery store.
Eight times nine are seventy-two.
Dear Betty comes to buy some glue.
[Illustration]
Eight times ten is eighty.
My bundle’s very weighty.
Eight times eleven is eighty-eight.
Please pay me, quick! I cannot wait.
Eight times twelve is ninety-six.
Make out the change, and play no tricks!
Nine times nine is eighty-one.
A tea-party will be such fun!
Nine times ten is ninety.
Dear Betty makes such fine tea!
Nine times eleven is ninety-nine.
Will you have beer, dear John, or wine?
Nine times twelve is one hundred and eight.
Our table-cloth is far from straight.
[Illustration]
Ten times ten is one hundred.
Sure, one of us has blundered.
Ten times eleven is one hundred and ten.
We’ll try to mend it up again.
Ten times twelve is one hundred and twenty.
Let’s play we’re making some frumenty.
Eleven times eleven is one hundred and twenty-one.
We hang our washing in the sun.
Eleven times twelve is one hundred and thirty-two.
Our nursie says, “Be quiet, do!”
Twelve times twelve is one hundred and forty-four.
Dear John and Betty can do no more.
THE LITTLE GRAY DOVES
[Illustration]
There are many old, old stories about the dear Christ Child when he was
little. Not all of them are true, but all are sweet and lovely; listen
now, and you shall hear one.
It had been raining in Nazareth, and the ground, which had long been
parched and dry, was turned to wet clay. This was a wonderful thing
for the children, and they all ran to play with the clay, just as you
boys and girls do now. Some dug canals and wells, some built houses
and towers; while others took the soft clay in their hands and moulded
it into shapes of men and animals. The little Jesus joined this last
group, and while they made dogs and cats, horses and lions, he made
little gray doves, and set them one by one on the edge of the fountain.
Presently sweet Mary the Mother came to the door and looked out, to see
what the children were doing.
“See!” cried one little boy. “Mary Mother, see my dog! he can almost
wag his tail and bark.”
“Look at my lion!” cried another. “He is so big and strong, he could
eat up your dog in a minute.”
“Ho!” said a third. “My man here could whip your dog, and kill your
lion with his sword, so he is the best of all.”
Mary Mother smiled, and praised the dog, the lion, and the man. Then
she said, “And what has my little Jesus to show me?”
“I have made some little gray doves,” said Jesus. “See! here they are!”
“And what can they do, my little one?” asked sweet Mary, as she
stroked the boy’s curly head.
“I think they can fly!” said little Jesus. “Fly, pretty doves!”
He clapped his hands, and up flew the doves like a soft gray cloud.
Then fluttered round the child’s fair head, and lighted for a moment on
his shoulders and his hands; then they spread their gray wings and flew
up into the sky, and were seen no more.
MERRY CHRISTMAS
“What is going on to-day, Little Cat?” asked Little Dog. “Every one
seems so happy and merry. I had chicken-bones for breakfast, with ever
so much meat on them!”
“I had creamed fish,” said Little Cat; “and it was real cream. Look!
Little Girl tied a red ribbon round my neck, and said I was a beauty.
Am I, Little Dog?”
“Yes, for a cat!” said Little Dog. “Am I?”
“Yes, for a dog!” said Little Cat.
“I have a new collar, you see,” said Little Dog. “And your girl has on
a new blue dress, and my boy a velvet jacket. And they are not going to
say one cross word all day; I heard them tell their mother so.”
“I was in the nursery this morning,” said Little Cat. “The children’s
stockings were full of toys and sugar-plums, and they kissed each other
and said, ‘Merry’—something! What can it all mean?”
[Illustration]
“Let us ask Great Old Dog!” said Little Dog. “He knows almost
everything, and he can surely tell us.”
Great Old Dog was asleep, but he woke up and heard their story
patiently. “It was ‘Merry Christmas!’ that the children said,” he told
them. “This is Christmas Day.”
“What does it mean?” asked Little Cat.
“I don’t understand all about it,” said Great Old Dog; “but it is the
best day in the whole year, for everybody is happy and kind, and tries
to do pleasant things for everybody else. I think some one was born who
brought kindness into the world.”
“Well,” said Little Dog; “if everybody is going to be good we must be
good, too. Little Cat, I will not growl at you once to-day, even if
they put our dinner on the same plate!”
“Nor I at you,” said Little Cat, “even if there is only one cushion by
the fireside.”
“Nice Little Cat!” said Little Dog.
“Good Little Dog!” said Little Cat.
Just then in came Little Girl in her blue dress and Little Boy in his
velvet jacket. “Merry Christmas!” they cried: “Little Cat and Little
Dog, and dear, good Great Old Dog!”
“We wish you Merry Christmas,
And a happy New Year;
A pocket full of money,
And a heart full of cheer!”
“Merry Christmas!” said Little Dog (but it sounded like “Yap! yap!”).
“Merry Christmas!” said Little Cat (but it sounded like
“Purrrrrrrrrrr!”).
“Merry Christmas!” said Great Old Dog, deep down in his great old
throat (but it sounded like “Wuff! _Wuff!_ WUFF!”).
CHRISTMAS GIFTS
“Mother,” said Jack, “may I have some money to buy Christmas presents
with?”
“Dear,” said his mother, “I have no money. We are very poor, and I can
hardly buy food for us all.”
Jack hung his head; if he had not been ten the tears would have come to
his eyes, but he was ten.
“All the other boys give presents!” he said.
“So shall you!” said his mother. “All presents are not bought with
money. The best boy that ever lived was as poor as we are, and yet he
was always giving.”
“Who was he?” asked Jack; “and what did he give?”
“This is his birthday,” said the mother. “He was the good Jesus. He was
born in a stable, and he lived in a poor workingman’s house. He never
had a penny of his own, yet he gave twelve good gifts every day. Would
you like to try his way?”
“Yes!” cried Jack.
So his mother told him this and that; and soon after Jack started out,
dressed in his best suit, to give his presents.
First, he went to Aunt Jane’s house. She was old and lame and she did
not like boys.
“What do you want?” she asked as she opened the door.
“Merry Christmas!” said Jack. “May I stay for an hour and help you?”
“Humph!” said Aunt Jane. “Want to keep you out of mischief, do they?
Well! you may bring in some wood.”
“Shall I split some kindling, too?” asked Jack.
“If you know how!” said Aunt Jane. “I can’t have you cutting your foot
and messing my clean shed all up.”
Jack found some fresh pine wood and a bright hatchet, and he split up
a great pile of kindling and thought it fun. He stacked it neatly, and
then he brought in a pail of water and filled the kettle.
“What else can I do?” he asked. “There are twenty minutes more.”
[Illustration]
“Humph!” said Aunt Jane. “You might feed the pig.”
Jack fed the pig, who thanked him in his own way.
“Ten minutes more!” he said. “What shall I do now?”
“Humph!” said Aunt Jane. “You may sit down and tell me why you came.”
“It is a Christmas present!” said Jack. “I am giving hours for
presents. I had twelve, but I gave one to Mother, and another one was
gone before I knew I had it. This hour was your present.”
“Humph!” said Aunt Jane. She hobbled to the cupboard and took out a
small round pie that smelt very good. “Here!” she said. “This is _your_
present, and I thank you for mine. Come again, will you?”
“Indeed I will!” said Jack, “and thank you for the pie!”
Next Jack went and read for an hour to old Mr. Green, who was blind.
He read a book about the sea, and they both liked it very much, so the
hour went quickly. Then it was time to help Mother get dinner, and then
time to eat it; that took two hours, and Aunt Jane’s pie was wonderful.
Then Jack took the Smith baby for a ride in its carriage, as Mrs. Smith
was ill, and they met its grandfather, who filled Jack’s pockets with
candy and popcorn and invited him to a Christmas Tree that night.
Next Jack went to see Willy Brown, who had been ill for a long time and
could not leave his bed. Willy was very glad to see him; they played a
game, and then each told the other a story, and before Jack knew it the
clock struck six.
“Oh!” cried Jack. “You have had two!”
“Two what?” asked Willy.
“Two hours!” said Jack; and he told Willy about the presents he was
giving. “I am glad I gave you two,” he said, “and I would give you
three, but I must go and help Mother.”
“Oh, dear!” said Willy. “I thank you very much, Jack. I have had a
perfectly great time, and it has driven the pain away; but I have
nothing to give you.”
Jack laughed. “Why, don’t you see,” he cried, “you have given me just
the same thing? I have had a great time, too.”
“Mother,” said Jack as he was going to bed, “I have had a splendid
Christmas, but I wish I had had something to give you besides the
hours.”
“My darling,” said his mother, “you have given me the best gift of all,
yourself!”
[Illustration:
“NOW THE DOORS WIDE OPEN THROW,
THAT WE INTO CHURCH MAY GO.”
]
CHURCH-BELLS
(Adapted from the German of Froebel. Air: “The Bells of Aberdovey”)
Through the window, sunbeams bright
Fill the church with radiant light.
Now the doors wide open throw,
That we into church may go.
Chorus. Ding-dong! ding-dong! hark, the bell!
Oh, lovely things to us ’twill tell,
As we walk to church together.
In the church so calm, so still,
Gentlest thoughts our heart must fill.
Lifted high, our spirit learns
Why with holy love it burns.
Chorus. Ding-dong! ding-dong! hark, the bell!
etc.
And we learn of Him who gives
Light and joy to all that lives:
He whose tender love and mild
Watches over every child.
[Illustration]
Chorus. Ding-dong! ding-dong! hark, the bell!
etc.
He who made the forest fair,
And the flowers that blossom there,
Gave the bird its airy wings,
Gave the joyful song it sings.
Chorus. Ding-dong! ding-dong! hark, the bell!
etc.
And we learn of Jesus mild,
He the pure and sinless child,
Sent that children all may know
How a child in grace may grow.
Chorus. Ding-dong! ding-dong! hark, the bell!
etc.
Now the organ’s solemn voice
Joins the bell, and both rejoice.
Children, join the song of love!
Raise your hearts to Heaven above!
Chorus. Ding-dong! ding-dong! hark, the bell!
etc.
THE BIRD OF LIGHT
(Adapted from the German of Froebel)
A golden bird against the wall
Flutters and flits, and does not fall.
Birdie, let me hold you,
In my hands soft fold you!
No! the birdie flies away!
Will not, will not with me stay.
[Illustration]
’Tis the sunshine bright, dear,
Makes the bird of light, dear.
Sunbeams gay and golden
Not by hands are holden.
’Tis our eyes that they delight,
Dancing, dancing, glad and bright.
Many lovely things we see
Cannot be touched by you or me.
Sun and moon and sky, too,
Floating clouds so high, too,
Purple shadows on the grass,
Rainbow gleams that shine and pass.
Can you catch the lovely song
Robin trills the whole day long?
Can you catch my smile, dear?
No! yet all the while, dear,
These are yours, and in your heart
All your life they’ll play their part.
THE BROTHERS AND SISTERS
(Adapted from the German of Froebel)
[Illustration]
Five happy brothers and sisters here,
They love each other so dear, so dear!
The day’s work over, they seek their rest,
And sink to sleep like the birds in their nest.
Peaceful sleep, gentle sleep,
Mind and body strong will keep.
When the golden morn doth break,
Blithe and ready shall we wake.
But before they close their eyes,
Hear their evening prayer arise!
Praying God, their Father dear,
Still to watch their slumber here.
Peaceful sleep, gentle sleep,
Naught shall break thy calm so deep.
He who sends thee to our eyes,
Watches till the day shall rise.
Through the quiet starry night,
Through the day so long and bright,
God our Father’s tender care
Still is with us everywhere.
Peaceful sleep, gentle sleep!
Heavenly eyes their watch do keep.
Little child, so now shall you
Slumber, slumber softly too!
THE PIGEONS
(Adapted from the German of Froebel)
[Illustration]
“Curuck! Curuck!” the pigeons come flying,
Flying, fluttering, here and there.
“Welcome! welcome!” let us be crying.
“Come, pretty pigeons, our meal to share.
Have no fear,
Pigeons dear,
Corn and bread we’re throwing,
All for you,
Truly true,
Thus our love we’re showing.”
“Curuck! Curuck!” the pigeons are cooing.
“Thanks, little children, thanks to you!
From the good deed that now you’re doing,
Learn we that children are kind and true.
Free from fear,
See us here!
Each to each we call now,
‘Curuck! coo!
We and you,
Happy are we all now.’”
PUSSY AND DOGGY
Pussy White and Doggy Brown were in the yard one day. Doggy Brown
thought he would like to go into the house, so he went to the door, but
it was shut. He tried to open it by bumping against it, but in vain.
Then he barked, but no one heard him. Then he felt very sad, and sat
down by the door and howled.
[Illustration]
Pussy White had been watching him with one eye, while she dozed with
the other.
“Dogs are not very clever!” she said. Presently she went to the door
and jumped up and lifted the latch with her paw. The door swung open.
“There!” she said.
“Oh, Pussy!” said Doggy Brown. “Thank you; how clever you are!”
“That is one way of putting it,” said Pussy White; “but you are
welcome, all the same.”
DICK’S FAMILY
Now this is true, for we saw it with our eyes. Dick was a bachelor, or
so we had always supposed: a large black bachelor, with bright green
eyes, and a very fine tail. He lived in the kitchen, and managed things
pretty much as he pleased. When Peter, the new puppy, came he thought
it would be fun to tease Dick. Dick thought it would be fun to be
teased, and when he had sent Peter yelping and ki-yi-ing out into the
shed, he sat and purred and blinked his green eyes, and thought the
world a pleasant place.
Now one day we looked out of the south parlor window, and what do you
think we saw? Dick was coming across the lawn looking very proud and
very happy. Every now and then he stopped and looked over his shoulder
and mewed as if he were calling some one to follow him. And some one
was following him! Across the lawn after him came:
One very thin and wretched-looking tortoise-shell cat.
One Maltese kitten.
One yellow kitten.
All three looked half-starved, and all three were scared out of their
wits!
[Illustration]
“Come on!” said Dick, as plain as mew could speak. “They won’t hurt
you; those are my people: they belong to me. Come on, I tell you!”
They came on, though still very timidly, till they reached the barn.
Then Dick took them under the barn and there he made them comfortable,
we do not know just how, because we cannot get under the barn, and
there they stayed. And when Dick came for his supper he said to Maggie
as plain as mew could speak, “Please feed my family, too!” and Maggie
did.
That was a year ago. Now the tortoise-shell cat is dead, but the
Maltese kitten and the yellow kitten are large and handsome cats, and
Dick still sits by the fire and purrs, and blinks his large green eyes.
THE END.
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