Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories The Young Folks Treasury, Volume 1
Volume One
NEW YORK
THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY
INCORPORATED
1927
COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY INC.
COPYRIGHT, 1909, 1917, BY THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY INC.
EDITORS
HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE, L.H.D., LL.D. EDWARD EVERETT HALE, D.D., LL.D. WILLIAM BYRON FORBUSH, Ph.D., Litt.D.
ASSISTANT EDITOR
JENNIE ELLIS BURDICK
_Partial List of Authors and Editors Represented in The Young Folks Treasury by Selections from Their Writings:_
WOODROW WILSON, Twenty-eighth President of the United States. THEODORE ROOSEVELT, Twenty-sixth President of the United States. HENRY VAN DYKE, poet, essayist, and diplomatist. LYMAN ABBOTT, editor of "The Outlook." RUDYARD KIPLING, poet and story-teller. GENERAL SIR R. S. BADEN-POWELL, founder of the Boy Scouts. BECKLES WILLSON, author of "The Romance of Canada." IDA PRENTICE WHITCOMB, author of "Young People's Story of Art." ELLEN VELVIN, writer of animal stories. MARY MACGREGOR, author of "King Arthur's Knights," etc. RALPH HENRY BARBOUR, author of boys' stories. T. GILBERT PEARSON, executive secretary, National Association of Audubon Societies. JOSEPH JACOBS, authority upon folklore. THEODORE WOOD, writer on natural history. ERNEST THOMPSON SETON, writer of stories about natural history and founder of the Woodcraft League. AMY STEEDMAN, writer on biography. EVERETT T. TOMLINSON, author of boys' stories. RALPH D. PAINE, author of boys' stories. A. FREDERICK COLLINS, author of boys' books. DON C. BLISS, educator. BLISS CARMAN, poet and essayist. SIR JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE, novelist. WILLIAM CANTON, story-teller. HERMANN HAGEDORN, poet. ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS, writer of boys' stories. ALFRED G. GARDINER, editor of "The London News." FRANKLIN K. LANE, United States Secretary of the Interior. JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS, creator of "Uncle Remus." ERNEST INGERSOLL, naturalist. WILLIAM L. FINLEY, State biologist, Oregon. CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS, writer of animal stories. E. NESBIT, novelist and poet. ARCHIBALD WILLIAMS, author of "How It Is Done," etc. IRA REMSEN, former president of Johns Hopkins University. GIFFORD PINCHOT, professor of forestry, Yale University. GUSTAVE KOBBÉ, writer of biographies. JACOB A. RIIS, philanthropist and author. EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER, story-writer and poet. JOHN LANG, writer of children's books. JEANIE LANG, writer of children's books. JOHN H. CLIFFORD, editor and writer. HERBERT T. WADE, editor and writer on physics. CHARLES R. GIBSON, writer on electricity. LILIAN CASK, writer on natural history. BLANCHE MARCHESI, opera singer and teacher. JOHN FINNEMORE, traveler and writer of boys' stories. ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL, inventor of the telephone. JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY, poet. CHARLES H. CAFFIN, author of "A Guide to Pictures." JAMES CARDINAL GIBBONS. ANDREW F. CURRIER, M.D., popular medical writer. HELEN KELLER, the blind and deaf writer. OLIVER HERFORD, humorist and illustrator.
GENERAL INTRODUCTION
* * * * *
Books are as much a part of the furnishing of a house as tables and chairs, and in the making of a home they belong, not with the luxuries but with the necessities. A bookless house is not a home; for a home affords food and shelter for the mind as well as for the body. It is as great an offence against a child to starve his mind as to starve his body, and there is as much danger of reducing his vitality and putting him at a disadvantage in his lifework in the one as in the other form of deprivation. There was a time when it was felt that shelter, clothing, food and physical oversight comprised the whole duty of a charitable institution to dependent children; to-day no community would permit such an institution to exist unless it provided school privileges. An acute sense of responsibility toward children is one of the prime characteristics of American society, shown in the vast expenditures for public education in all forms, in the increasing attention paid to light, ventilation, and safety in school buildings, in the opening of play grounds in large cities, in physical supervision of children in schools, and the agitation against the employment of children in factories, and in other and less obvious ways.
Children are helpless to protect themselves and secure what they need for health of body and mind; they are exceedingly impressionable; and the future is always in their hands. The first and most imperative duty of parents is to give their children the best attainable preparation for life, no matter at what sacrifice to themselves. There are hosts of fathers and mothers who recognize this obligation but do not know how to discharge it; who are eager to give their children the most wholesome conditions, but do not know how to secure them; who are especially anxious that their children should start early and start right on that highway of education which is the open road to honorable success. There are many homes in which books would find abundant room if the heads of the families knew what books to buy, or had the means to put into the hands of the growing child the reading matter it needs in the successive periods of its growth.
This condition of eagerness to give the best, and of ignorance of how or where to find the best is the justification for the publication of this set of books. The attempt has been made in a series of twelve volumes to bring together in convenient form the fairy stories, myths, and legends which have fed the children of many generations in the years when the imagination is awakening and craving stimulus and material to work upon;--that age of myth-making which is a prelude to the more scientific uses of the mind and of immense importance in an intensely practical age;--a group of tales of standard quality and an interest and value which have placed them among the permanent possessions of English literature; a careful selection of stories of animal life; a natural history, familiar in style and thoroughly trustworthy in fact; an account of those travels and adventures which have opened up the earth and made its resources available, and which constitute one of the most heroic chapters in the history of the long struggle of men to possess the earth and make it a home for the highest kind of civilization; a record of heroism taken from the annals of the patriots and of those brave men who, in all ages, ranks of society and occupations, have dared to face great dangers in the path of duty and science, with special attention to that everyday heroism in which the age is specially rich and of which so many good people are grossly ignorant; a survey of scientific achievement, with reports of recent discoveries in knowledge and adaptation of knowledge to human need; a group of biographies of the men and women--mostly Americans--who are the most stimulating companions for boys and girls; a volume on the Fine Arts dealing with music, painting, sculpture, architecture, in a way to instruct young readers and making accessible a large number of those songs which appeal in the best way to children in schools and homes; a collection of the best poetry for the youngest and oldest readers, chosen not only for excellence from the standpoint of art, but deep and abiding human interest; and a volume devoted to the occupations and resources of the home, addressed to parents no less than to children, with practical suggestions about books and reading, games and amusements, exercise and health, and those kindred topics which have to do with making the home wholesome and attractive.
These twelve volumes aim, in brief, to make the home the most inspiring school and the most attractive place for pleasure, and to bring the best the world has to offer of adventure, heroism, achievement and beauty within its four walls.
Special attention has been given to the youngest children whose interests are often neglected because they are thought to be too immature to receive serious impressions from what is read to them. Psychology is beginning to make us understand that no greater mistake can be made in the education of children than underrating the importance of the years when the soil receives the seed most quickly. For education of the deepest sort--the planting of those formative ideas which give final direction and quality to the intellectual life--there is no period so important as the years between three and six, and none so fruitful. To put in the seed at that time is, as a rule, to decide the kind of harvest the child will reap later; whether he shall be a shrewd, keen, clever, ambitious man, with a hard, mechanical mind, bent on getting the best of the world; or a generous, fruitful, open-minded man, intent on living the fullest life in mind and heart. No apology is offered for giving large space to myths, legends, fairy stories, tales of all sorts, and to poetry; for in these expressions of the creative mind is to be found the material on which the imagination has fed in every age and which is, for the most part, conspicuously absent from our educational programmes.
America has at present greater facility in producing "smart" men than in producing able men; the alert, quick-witted, money-maker abounds, but the men who live with ideas, who care for the principles of things, and who make life rich in resource and interest are comparatively few. America needs poetry more than it needs industrial training; though the two ought never to be separated. The time to awaken the imagination, which is the creative faculty, is early childhood; and the most accessible material for this education is the literature which the race created in its childhood. The creative man, whether in the arts or in practical affairs, in poetry, in engineering or in business, is always the man of imagination.
In this library for young people the attempt has been made not only to give the child what it needs but in the form which is most easily understood. For this reason some well-known stories have been retold in simpler English than their classic forms present. This is especially true of many tales for any young children reprinted by special arrangement from recent English sources. In some cases, where the substance has seemed of more importance to the child than the form, simpler words and forms of expression have been substituted for more complex or abstract phrases, and passages of minor importance have been condensed or omitted.
The aim in making the selections in this set of books has been to interest the child and give it what it needs for normal growth; the material has been taken from many sources old and new; much of the reading matter presented has been familiar in one form or another, to generations of children; much has appeared for the first time within the last ten years; a considerable part has been prepared especially for the Treasury and a large part has been selected from the best writing in the various fields.
It is the hope of the Editor that this "Treasury" or "Library" will justify its title by its real and fundamental service to children and parents alike.
HAMILTON W. MABIE
INTRODUCTION
Since this series of books is intended for all young people from one to one hundred, it opens with about eighty of the old MOTHER GOOSE RHYMES. Nothing better was ever invented to tell to little folks who are young enough for lullabies. Their rhythm, their humor, and their pith will always cause us to prize them as the Babies' Classics.
Next come a score of the most famous NURSERY TALES, the kind that children cry for and love to hear fifty times over. And since, just as soon as little folks like stories they love to hear them in rhyme, here are forty CHILDREN'S FAVORITE POEMS.
What would young life be without "Puss in Boots" and "Little Red Riding Hood" and "The Sleeping Beauty"? Our TREASURY would indeed be poor without them, so these FAVORITE STORIES come next, yoked with some OLD-FASHIONED POEMS in story-form, as "The Night before Christmas," "The Wonderful World," and "Little Orphant Annie." All who love pets and animals have always liked FABLES, so here are the noted parables of Æsop, and the lesser-known but even more jolly tales from East Indian sources.
The fairy-tale age is supposed to come from four to nine, but the editors are sure it lasts much longer than that. However this may be, the better half of our first volume is given up to FAIRY TALES AND LAUGHTER STORIES from all over the world.
It ends with TALES FOR TINY TOTS, the kind that mother reads beside the fire at bedtime, some of them old, like the "Little Red Hen" and "Peter Rabbit," and some of them newer, like "The Greedy Brownie" and "The Birthday Honors of the Fairy Queen."
WILLIAM BYRON FORBUSH.
CONTENTS
General Introduction to Young Folks' Treasury vii Introduction xi
NURSERY RHYMES
Hush-a-bye, Baby, on the Tree-top; Rock-a-bye, Baby thy Cradle is Green; Bye, Baby Bunting; Hush Thee, my Babby; Sleep, Baby, Sleep; This Little Pig Went to Market; etc., etc. 1-31
NURSERY TALES
The Three Bears 32 Cinderella 35 The Three Brothers 41 The Wren and the Bear 42 Chicken-Licken 45 The Fox and the Cat 47 The Rats and their Son-in-Law 48 The Mouse and the Sausage 50 Johnny and the Golden Goose 51 Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse 56 Teeny Tiny 58 The Spider and the Flea 60 The Little Shepherd Boy 61 The Three Spinners 62 The Cat and the Mouse in Partnership 65 The Sweet Soup 68 The Straw, the Coal, and the Bean 68 Why the Bear Has a Stumpy Tail 70 The Three Little Pigs 71
CHILDREN'S FAVORITE POEMS
The Three Children 75 The Owl and the Pussy-Cat--_Edward Lear_ 75 Kindness to Animals 77 How Doth the Little Busy Bee--_Isaac Watts_ 77 Suppose--_Phoebe Cary_ 78 Twinkle, Twinkle 79 Pretty Cow--_Jane Taylor_ 80 The Three Little Kittens--_Eliza Lee Follen_ 80 The Land of Counterpane--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 82 There was a Little Girl--_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 82 The Boy who never Told a Lie 83 Foreign Children--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 84 The Unseen Playmate--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 84 I saw Three Ships 85 A Was an Ant--_Edward Lear_ 86 The Table and the Chair--_Edward Lear_ 91 Precocious Piggy--_Thomas Hood_ 93 A Boy's Song--_James Hogg_ 94 Buttercups and Daisies--_Mary Howitt_ 95 The Violet--_Jane Taylor_ 96 If ever I See--_Lydia Maria Child_ 97 The Little Land--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 97 A Lobster Quadrille--_Lewis Carroll_ 99 Where Go the Boats--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 100 The Wind and the Moon--_George Macdonald_ 101 Where are you Going my Pretty Maid 103 The Lost Doll--_Charles Kingsley_ 104 Foreign Lands--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 104 Bed in Summer--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 105 Try Again 106 A Good Play--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 106 Good Night and Good Morning--_Richard Monckton Milnes_ 107 The Wind--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 108 The Spider and the Fly--_Mary Howitt_ 109 Let Dogs Delight to Bark and Bite--_Isaac Watts_ 110 Child's Evening Hymn--_Sabine Baring-Gould_ 111
CHILDREN'S FAVORITE STORIES
Hansel and Gretel 113 The Fair Catherine and Pif-Paf Poltrie 120 The Wolf and the Fox 122 Descreet Hans 123 Puss in Boots 126 The Elves and the Shoemaker 131 Hans in Luck 133 Master of All Masters 138 Belling the Cat 139 Little Red Riding-Hood 140 The Nail 144 Jack and the Beanstalk 145 How to Tell a True Princess 149 The Sleeping Beauty 150
OLD FASHIONED POEMS
The Man in the Moon--_James Whitcombe Riley_ 158 Sage Counsel--_Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch_ 160 Limericks--_Edward Lear_ 161 More Limericks--_Rudyard Kipling_ and _Anonymous_ 162 The Dead Doll--_Margaret Vandergrift_ 163 Little Things--_Ascribed to Julia A. F. Carney_ 165 The Golden Rule--_Unknown_ 165 Do the Best You Can--_Unknown_ 165 The Voice of Spring 166 The Lark and the Rook--_Unknown_ 166 Thanksgiving Day--_Lydia Maria Child_ 168 The Magpie's Nest--_Unknown_ 169 The Fairies of Caldon Low--_Mary Howitt_ 169 The Land of Story Books--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 172 A Visit From St. Nicholas--_Clement Clarke Moore_ 173 Little Orphant Annie--_James Whitcombe Riley_ 175 The Chatterbox--_Ann Taylor_ 177 The Voice of Spring--_Felicia Dorothea Hemans_ 178 The History Lesson--_Anonymous_ 179 Song of Life--_Charles Mackay_ 180 The Good Time Coming--_Charles Mackay_ 181 Windy Nights--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 183 The Wonderful World--_William Brighty Rands_ 184 Hark! Hark! The Lark--_William Shakespeare_ 185 Jog On, Jog On--_William Shakespeare_ 185 Sweet Story of Old--_Jemima Luke_ 186 My Shadow--_Robert Louis Stevenson_ 186 By Cool Siloam's Shady Rill--_Reginald Heber_ 187 The Wind in a Frolic--_William Howitt_ 188 The Graves of a Household--_Felicia Dorothea Hemans_ 189 We Are Seven--_William Wordsworth_ 190 The Better Land--_Felicia Dorothea Hemans_ 193 The Juvenile Orator--_David Everett_ 194 The Fox and the Crow--_Little B. (Taylor?)_ 195 The Use of Flowers--_Mary Howitt_ 196 Contented John--_Jane Taylor_ 197 The Old Man's Comforts, and How He Gained Them--_Robert Southey_ 198 The Frost--_Hannah Flagg Gould_ 199 The Battle of Blenheim--_Robert Southey_ 200 The Chameleon--_James Merrick_ (_from M. de Lamotte_) 202 The Blackberry Girl--_Unknown_ 205 Mabel on Midsummer Day--_Mary Howitt_ 207 Llewellyn and his Dog--_Willim Robert Spencer_ 214 The Snowbird's Song--_Francis C. Woodworth_ 217 For A' That and A' That--_Robert Burns_ 218
FABLES
FABLES FROM ÆSOP
The Goose that Laid Golden Eggs 220 The Boys and the Frogs 220 The Lion and the Mouse 220 The Fox and the Grapes 221 The Frog and the Ox 221 The Cat, the Monkey, and the Chestnuts 221 The Country Maid and Her Milkpail 222 The Ass in the Lion's Skin 222 The Tortoise and the Hare 223 The Vain Jackdaw 223 The Fox Without a Tail 224 The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing 224 The Crow and the Pitcher 225 The Man, his Son, and his Ass 225
FABLES OF INDIA
_Adapted by P. V. Ramaswami Raju_
The Camel and the Pig 226 The Man and his Piece of Cloth 227 The Sea, the Fox, and the Wolf 227 The Birds and the Lime 228 The Raven and the Cattle 228 Tinsel and Lightning 229 The Ass and the Watchdog 229 The Lark and its Young Ones 230 The Two Gems 230
FAIRY TALES AND LAUGHTER STORIES
SCANDINAVIAN STORIES
The Hardy Tin Soldier--_Hans Christian Andersen_ 232 The Fir Tree--_Hans Christian Andersen_ 236 The Darning-Needle--_Hans Christian Andersen_ 245 Thumbelina--_Hans Christian Andersen_ 248 The Tinder-Box--_Hans Christian Andersen_ 258 Boots and his Brothers--_George Webbe Dasent_ 268 The Husband who was to Mind the House _George Webbe Dasent_ 273 Buttercup--_George Webbe Dasent_ 275
GERMAN STORIES
Seven at One Blow--_Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm_ 279 One Eye, Two Eyes, Three Eyes--_Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm_ 286 The Musicians of Bremen--_Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm_ 293 The Fisherman and his Wife--_Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm_ 296 Little Snow-White--_Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm_ 304 The Goose Girl--_Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm_ 313 The Golden Bird--_Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm_ 318
FRENCH STORIES
Beauty and the Beast--_Adapted by E. Nesbit_ 326 The White Cat--_The Comtesse d'Aulnoy_ 335 The Story of Pretty Goldilocks 341 Toads and Diamonds 346
ENGLISH STORIES
The History of Tom-Thumb--_Adapted by Ernest Rhys_ 349 Jack the Giant Killer--_Adapted by Joseph Jacobs_ 356 The Three Sillies--_Adapted by Joseph Jacobs_ 366
CELTIC STORIES
King O'Toole and his Goose--_Adapted by Joseph Jacobs_ 370 The Haughty Princess--_Adapted by Patrick Kennedy_ 373 Jack and his Master--_Adapted by Joseph Jacobs_ 376 Hudden and Dudden and Donald O'Neary _Adapted by Joseph Jacobs_ 383 Connla of the Golden Hair and the Fairy Maiden _Adapted by Patrick Weston Joyce_ 389
ITALIAN STORIES
Pinocchio's Adventures in Wonderland--_Carlo Lorenzini_ 394
JAPANESE STORIES
The Story of the Man who did not wish to Die _Adapted by Yei Theodora Ozaki_ 420 The Accomplished and Lucky Teakettle _Adapted by A. B. Mitford_ 427 The Tongue-cut Sparrow 428 Battle of the Monkey and the Crab 429 Momotaro, or Little Peachling 431 Uraschina Taro and the Turtle 432
EAST INDIAN STORIES
The Son of Seven Queens--_Adapted by Joseph Jacobs_ 436 Who Killed the Otter's Babies--_Adapted by Walter Skeat_ 444 The Alligator and the Jackal--_Adapted by M. Frere_ 446 The Farmer and the Money Lender 450 Tit for Tat--_Adapted by M. Frere_ 452 Singh Rajah and the Cunning Little Jackals _Adapted by M. Frere_ 454
AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES
The White Stone Canoe--_Adapted by H. R. Schoolcraft_ 456 The Maiden who Loved a Fish 459 The Star Wife 462
ARABIAN STORIES
The Story of Caliph Stork 468 Persevere and Prosper--_Adapted by A. R. Montalba_ 473
CHINESE STORIES
The Most Frugal of Men 476 The Moon-Cake 477 The Ladle that Fell from the Moon 478 The Young Head of the Family 480 A Dreadful Boar 484
RUSSIAN STORIES
King Kojata 487 The Story of King Frost 492
TALES FOR TINY TOTS
Tell Us a Tale--_Edward Shirley_ 496 Little Red Hen 497 In Search of a Baby--_F. Tapsell_ 498 Jock and I and the Others 500 Dolly Dimple--_F. Tapsell_ 502 The Tale of Peter Rabbit--_Beatrix Potter_ 503 The Miller, His Son, and Their Ass 506 The Visit to Santa Claus Land 507 The Greedy Brownie 511 The Fairies' Passage--_James Clarence Mangan_ 513 The World 515
FANCIFUL STORIES
White Magic 516 The Brownies--_Juliana Horatia Ewing_ 517 The Story of Peter Pan 522 Sir Lark and King Sun--_George MacDonald_ 525 The Imps in the Heavenly Meadow--_Kate E. Bunce_ 526 The Birthday Honors of the Fairy Queen--_Hapgood Moore_ 531
ILLUSTRATIONS
Thumbelina Came to Live with the Field-Mouse (_color_) Frontispiece Simple Simon Went a-Fishing Facing Page 6 There Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe 8 Little Miss Muffet 8 Old Mother Hubbard 18 The Death of Cock-Robin 26 "Who Has Been Tasting My Soup?" 34 It Was Her Fairy Godmother! 38 I Was the Giant Great and Still, that Sits Upon the Pillow Hill 82 I Found My Poor Little Doll 104 A Fair Little Girl Sat Under a Tree 108 Hansel and Gretel 118 Do Not Grieve, Dear Master 126 Little Red Riding-Hood 140 Red Riding-Hood and the Wolf 142 Prince Florimond Finds the Sleeping Beauty 150 The Tortoise and the Hare 222 The Fox without a Tail 222 A Voice Said Aloud, "The Tin Soldier!" 234 Two-Eyes, the Goat, and the 'Magic Table 286 Little Snow-White and the Peddler-Woman 306 The Prince Starts Homeward with His Treasure 322 The Castle of the White Cat 336 She Was Happy All Day Long in Fairyland 340 This is the Valiant Cornishman Who Slew the Giant Cormoran 358 Connla and the Fairy Maiden 390 A Pheasant Also Came Flying and Said: "Give Me a Dumpling" 434
_(Many of the illustrations in this volume are reproduced by special permission of E. P. Dutton & Company, owners of the American rights.)_
CHILDHOOD'S FAVORITES
AND
FAIRY STORIES
* * * * *
NURSERY RHYMES
Hush-a-bye, baby, on the tree-top, When the wind blows the cradle will rock; When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, Down will come baby, bough, cradle, and all.
* * * * *
Rock-a-bye, baby, thy cradle is green; Father's a nobleman, mother's a Queen; Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring; And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the King.
* * * * *
Bye, baby bunting, Daddy's gone a-hunting, To get a little rabbit-skin, To wrap his baby bunting in.
* * * * *
Hush thee, my babby, Lie still with thy daddy, Thy mammy has gone to the mill, To grind thee some wheat To make thee some meat, And so, my dear babby, lie still.
* * * * *
Sleep, baby, sleep! Thy father watches the sheep; Thy mother is shaking the dream-land tree, And down falls a little dream on thee: Sleep, baby, sleep!
Sleep, baby, sleep. The large stars are the sheep, The wee stars are the lambs, I guess, The fair moon is the shepherdess: Sleep, baby, sleep!
* * * * *
This little pig went to market; This little pig stayed at home; This little pig had roast beef; This little pig had none; This little pig said, "Wee, wee! I can't find my way home."
* * * * *
Brow bender, Eye peeper, Nose smeller, Mouth eater, Chin chopper. Knock at the door--peep in Lift up the latch--walk in
Eye winker, Tom Tinker, Nose smeller, Mouth eater, Chin chopper. Chin chopper.
* * * * *
Here sits the Lord Mayor, Here sit his two men, Here sits the cock, And here sits the hen; Here sit the chickens, And here they go in, Chippety, chippety, chippety chin.
* * * * *
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man! So I do, master, as fast as I can: Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T, Put it in the oven for Tommy and me.
* * * * *
Pat it, kiss it, Stroke it, bless it; Three days' sunshine, three days' rain, Little hand all well again.
* * * * *
Baa, baa, black sheep, Have you any wool? Yes, marry, have I, Three bags full:
One for my master, One for my dame, And one for the little boy Who lives in the lane.
* * * * *
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, Where have you been? I've been to London To look at the Queen
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, What did you there? I frightened a little mouse Under her chair.
* * * * *
Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross, To see an old lady upon a white horse, Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes, She shall have music wherever she goes.
* * * * *
Bobby Shaftoe's gone to sea, Silver buckles on his knee; He'll come back and marry me, Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.
Bobby Shaftoe's fat and fair, Combing down his yellow hair; He's my love for evermair, Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.
* * * * *
Tom, he was a piper's son, He learned to play when he was young, And all the tune that he could play Was, "Over the hills and far away," Over the hills, and a great way off, The wind will blow my top-knot off.
Now, Tom with his pipe made such a noise That he well pleased both the girls and boys, And they always stopped to hear him play "Over the hills and far away."
* * * * *
Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home, Thy house is on fire, thy children all gone: All but one whose name is Ann, And she crept under the pudding-pan.
* * * * *
The north wind doth blow, And we shall have snow, And what will the robin do then, Poor thing?
He'll sit in a barn, And keep himself warm, And hide his head under his wing, Poor thing!
* * * * *
I had a little pony, His name was Dapple-gray, I lent him to a lady, To ride a mile away; She whipped him, she lashed him, She rode him through the mire; I would not lend my pony now For all the lady's hire.
* * * * *
I had a little doggy that used to sit and beg; But Doggy tumbled down the stairs and broke his little leg. Oh! Doggy, I will nurse you, and try to make you well, And you shall have a collar with a little silver bell.
* * * * *
Simple Simon met a pieman, Going to the fair; Says Simple Simon to the pieman, "Let me taste your ware."
Says the pieman to Simple Simon, "Show me first your penny." Says Simple Simon to the pieman, "Indeed I have not any."
Simple Simon went a-fishing For to catch a whale; But all the water he could find Was in his mother's pail!
* * * * *
Jack and Jill went up the hill, To fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down, and broke his crown And Jill came tumbling after.
Up Jack got and home did trot As fast as he could caper; Went to bed to mend his head With vinegar and brown paper.
Jill came in and she did grin, To see his paper plaster, Mother, vexed, did whip her next, For causing Jack's disaster.
* * * * *
Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn, The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn, Where's the boy that looks after the sheep? He's under the haycock, fast asleep.
* * * * *
Old Mother Goose, when She wanted to wander, Would ride through the air On a very fine gander.
Mother Goose had a house, 'T was built in a wood, Where an owl at the door For sentinel stood.
She had a son Jack, A plain-looking lad; He was not very good, Nor yet very bad.
She sent him to market, A live goose he bought: "Here! mother," says he, "It will not go for nought."
Jack's goose and her gander Grew very fond; They'd both eat together, Or swim in one pond.
Jack found one morning, As I have been told, His goose had laid him An egg of pure gold.
Jack rode to his mother, The news for to tell. She called him a good boy, And said it was well.
* * * * *
Goosey, goosey, gander, Where shall I wander? Upstairs, downstairs, And in my lady's chamber. There I met an old man Who would not say his prayers; I took him by the left leg, And threw him downstairs.
* * * * *
I'll tell you a story About Mary Morey, And now my story's begun, I'll tell you another About her brother, And now my story's done.
* * * * *
Three wise men of Gotham, Went to sea in a bowl; If the bowl had been stronger, My song had been longer.
* * * * *
There was a crooked man, And he went a crooked mile, He found a crooked sixpence Upon a crooked stile: He bought a crooked cat, That caught a crooked mouse-- And they all lived together In a little crooked house.
* * * * *
There was a man in our town, And he was wondrous wise, He jumped into a bramble bush, And scratched out both his eyes; But when he saw his eyes were out, With all his might and main, He jumped into another bush, And scratched 'em in again.
* * * * *
Hey! diddle diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon; The little dog laughed To see such sport, While the dish ran away with the spoon.
* * * * *
Hickory, dickory, dock, The mouse ran up the clock; The clock struck one, The mouse ran down, Hickory, dickory, dock.
* * * * *
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, She had so many children she didn't know what to do; She gave them some broth without any bread, She whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.
* * * * *
Little Miss Muffet Sat on a tuffet, Eating her curds and whey; There came a great spider, And sat down beside her, And frightened Miss Muffet away.
* * * * *
If all the seas were one sea, What a _great_ sea that would be! And if all the trees were one tree, What a _great_ tree that would be! And if all the axes were one axe, What a _great_ axe that would be! And if all the men were one man, What a _great_ man he would be! And if the _great_ man took the _great_ axe, And cut down the _great_ tree, And let it fall into the _great_ sea, What a splish splash _that_ would be!
* * * * *
There was an old man, And he had a calf, And that's half;
He took him out of the stall, And tied him to the wall, And that's all.
* * * * *
The man in the wilderness asked me, How many strawberries grew in the sea? I answered him as I thought good, As many as red herrings grew in the wood
* * * * *
If all the world were apple-pie, And all the sea were ink, And all the trees were bread and cheese, What should we have for drink?
* * * * *
I saw a ship a-sailing, A-sailing on the sea; And it was full of pretty things For baby and for me.
There were sweetmeats in the cabin, And apples in the hold; The sails were made of silk, And the masts were made of gold.
The four-and-twenty sailors That stood between the decks, Were four-and-twenty white mice. With chains about their necks.
The captain was a duck, With a packet on his back; And when the ship began to move, The captain cried, "Quack, quack!"
* * * * *
My dear, do you know, How a long time ago, Two poor little children, Whose names I don't know, Were stolen away on a fine summer's day, And left in a wood, as I've heard people say.
And when it was night, So sad was their plight! The sun it went down, And the moon gave no light! They sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried And the poor little things, they lay down and died.
And when they were dead, The robins so red, Brought strawberry-leaves And over them spread; And all the day long, They sung them this song: "Poor babes in the wood! Poor babes in the wood! Oh don't you remember the babes in the wood?"
* * * * *
The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts All on a summer's day; The Knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts, And took them clean away.
The King of Hearts called for the tarts, And beat the Knave full sore; The Knave of Hearts brought back the tarts, And vowed he'd steal no more.
* * * * *
I had a little husband, No bigger than my thumb; I put him in a pint-pot, And there I bade him drum.
I bought a little horse, That galloped up and down; I bridled him, and saddled And sent him out of town.
I gave him little garters, To garter up his hose, And a little handkerchief, To wipe his little nose.
* * * * *
Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye; Four-and-twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie;
When the pie was opened The birds began to sing; Was not that a dainty dish To set before the King?
The King was in his counting-house, Counting out his money; The Queen was in the parlor, Eating bread and honey;
The maid was in the garden Hanging out the clothes; When up came a blackbird, And nipped off her nose.
* * * * *
Little Bo-peep, she lost her sheep, And can't tell where to find them; Leave them alone, and they'll come home, And bring their tails behind them.
Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep, And dreamed she heard them bleating; When she awoke she found it a joke, For they still were all fleeting.
Then up she took her little crook, Determined for to find them; She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed, For they'd left their tails behind them!
It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray, Unto a meadow hard by-- There she espied their tails side by side, All hung on a tree to dry.
She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye, And over the hillocks she raced; And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should, That each tail should be properly placed.
* * * * *
What are little boys made of, made of? What are little boys made of? Snips and snails, and puppy-dogs' tails; And that's what little boys are made of, made of.
What are little girls made of, made of? What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice, and all that's nice; And that's what little girls are made of, made of.
* * * * *
A farmer went trotting Upon his gray mare; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! With his daughter behind him, So rosy and fair; Lumpety, lumpety, lump!
A raven cried "Croak"; And they all tumbled down; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! The mare broke her knees, And the farmer his crown; Lumpety, lumpety, lump.
The mischievous raven Flew laughing away; Bumpety, bumpety, bump! And vowed he would serve them The same the next day; Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
* * * * *
This is the way the ladies ride-- Saddle-a-side, saddle-a-side!
This is the way the gentlemen ride-- Sitting astride, sitting astride!
This is the way the grandmothers ride-- Bundled and tied, bundled and tied!
This is the way the babykins ride-- Snuggled inside, snuggled inside!
* * * * *
WHAT DOES LITTLE BIRDIE SAY?
What does little birdie say, In her nest at peep of day? "Let me fly," says little birdie, "Mother, let me fly away."
Birdie, rest a little longer, Till the little wings are stronger. So she rests a little longer, Then she flies away.
What does little baby say, In her bed at peep of day? Baby says, like little birdie, "Let me rise and fly away."
Baby, sleep a little longer, Till the little limbs are stronger. If she sleeps a little longer, Baby, too, shall fly away.
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON
* * * * *
GOOD NIGHT
Little baby, lay your head On your pretty cradle-bed; Shut your eye-peeps, now the day And the light are gone away; All the clothes are tucked in tight; Little baby dear, good night.
Yes, my darling, well I know How the bitter wind doth blow; And the winter's snow and rain Patter on the window-pane: But they cannot come in here, To my little baby dear;
For the window shutteth fast, Till the stormy night is past; And the curtains warm are spread Round about her cradle-bed: So till morning shineth bright, Little baby dear, good night.
JANE TAYLOR
* * * * *
SWEET AND LOW
Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me: While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON
* * * * *
BABY-LAND
Which is the way to Baby-Land? Any one can tell; Up one flight, To your right; Please to ring the bell.
What can you see in Baby-Land? Little folks in white, Downy heads, Cradle-beds, Faces pure and bright.
What do they do in Baby-Land? Dream and wake and play, Laugh and crow, Shout and grow, Jolly times have they.
What do they say in Baby-Land? Why, the oddest things; Might as well Try to tell What a birdie sings.
Who is the Queen of Baby-Land? Mother kind and sweet; And her love, Born above, Guides the little feet.
GEORGE COOPER
* * * * *
Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cupboard, To get her poor dog a bone. When she got there, the cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none.
She went to the baker's to buy him some bread, But when she came back the poor dog was dead.
She went to the undertaker's to buy him a coffin, And when she came back the dog was laughing.
She went to the draper's to buy him some linen, And when she came back the good dog was spinning.
She went to the hosier's to buy him some hose, And when she came back he was dressed in his clothes.
The dame made a curtsy, the dog made a bow, The dame said "your servant," the dog said "Bow-wow."
She went to the hatter's to buy him a hat, And when she came back he was feeding the cat.
She went to the tailor's to buy him a coat, And when she came back he was riding the goat.
She went to the barber's to buy him a wig, And when she came back he was dancing a jig.
She went to the butcher's to get him some tripe, And when she came back he was smoking a pipe.
She went to the fish-shop to buy him some fish, And when she came back he was washing the dish.
She went to the tavern for white wine and red, And when she came back the dog stood on his head.
* * * * *
As I was going to St. Ives I met a man with seven wives; Every wife had seven sacks, Every sack had seven cats, Every cat had seven kits. Kits, cats, sacks, and wives, How many were going to St. Ives?
* * * * *
POLLY
Brown eyes, straight nose; Dirt pies, rumpled clothes.
Torn books, spoilt toys: Arch looks, unlike a boy's;
Little rages, obvious arts; (Three her age is), cakes, tarts;
Falling down off chairs; Breaking crown down stairs;
Catching flies on the pane; Deep sighs--cause not plain;
Bribing you with kisses For a few farthing blisses.
Wide-a-wake; as you hear, "Mercy's sake, quiet, dear!"
New shoes, new frock; Vague views of what's o'clock
When it's time to go to bed, And scorn sublime for what is said
Folded hands, saying prayers, Understands not nor cares--
Thinks it odd, smiles away; Yet may God hear her pray!
Bed gown white, kiss Dolly; Good night!--that's Polly,
Fast asleep, as you see, Heaven keep my girl for me!
WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS
* * * * *
CRADLE HYMN
Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber; Holy angels guard thy bed; Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head.
Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide; All without thy care, or payment, All thy wants are well supplied.
How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be, When from heaven He descended, And became a child like thee!
Soft and easy is thy cradle; Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable, And His softest bed was hay.
See the kindly shepherds round him, Telling wonders from the sky! When they sought Him, there they found Him, With his Virgin-Mother by.
See the lovely babe a-dressing; Lovely infant, how He smiled! When He wept, the mother's blessing Soothed and hushed the holy child.
Lo, He slumbers in His manger, Where the honest oxen fed; --Peace, my darling! here's no danger! Here's no ox a-near thy bed!
Mayst thou live to know and fear Him, Trust and love Him all thy days; Then go dwell forever near Him, See His face, and sing His praise!
I could give thee thousand kisses, Hoping what I most desire; Not a mother's fondest wishes Can to greater joys aspire.
ISAAC WATTS
* * * * *
I LIKE LITTLE PUSSY
I like little Pussy, Her coat is so warm; And if I don't hurt her She'll do me no harm. So I'll not pull her tail, Nor drive her away, But Pussy and I Very gently will play; She shall sit by my side, And I'll give her some food; And she'll love me because I am gentle and good.
I'll pat little Pussy, And then she will purr, And thus show her thanks For my kindness to her; I'll not pinch her ears, Nor tread on her paw, Lest I should provoke her To use her sharp claw; I never will vex her, Nor make her displeased, For Pussy can't bear To be worried or teased.
JANE TAYLOR
* * * * *
THE GRAVEL PATH
Baby mustn't frown, When she tumbles down; If the wind should change--Ah me, What a face her face would be!
Rub away the dirt, Say she wasn't hurt; What a world 'twould be--O my, If all who fell began to cry!
LAURENCE ALMA TADEMA
* * * * *
Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree, Up went pussy-cat, and down went he; Down came pussy-cat, and away Robin ran; Said little Robin Redbreast, "Catch me if you can."
Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a wall, Pussy-cat jumped after him, and almost got a fall; Little Robin chirped and sang, and what did pussy say? Pussy-cat said naught but "Mew," and Robin flew away.
* * * * *
SLEEP, MY TREASURE
Sleep, sleep, my treasure, The long day's pleasure Has tired the birds, to their nests they creep; The garden still is Alight with lilies, But all the daisies are fast asleep.
Sleep, sleep, my darling, Dawn wakes the starling, The sparrow stirs when he sees day break; But all the meadow Is wrapped in shadow, And you must sleep till the daisies wake!
E. NESBIT
* * * * *
LULLABY OF AN INFANT CHIEF
Oh, hush thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight, Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright; The woods and the glens from the tower which we see, They all are belonging, dear babie, to thee.
Oh, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, It calls but the warders that guard thy repose; Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red, Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.
Oh, hush thee, my babie, the time will soon come, When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum; Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may, For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day.
SIR WALTER SCOTT
* * * * *
THE ORPHAN'S SONG
I had a little bird, I took it from the nest; I prest it and blest it, And nurst it in my breast.
I set it on the ground, Danced round and round, And sang about it so cheerly, With "Hey, my little bird, And ho! my little bird, And oh! but I love thee dearly!"
I make a little feast Of food soft and sweet, I hold it in my breast, And coax it to eat;
I pit, and I pat, I call this and that, And I sing about so cheerly, With "Hey, my little bird, And ho! my little bird, And oh! but I love thee dearly!"
SYDNEY DOBELL
* * * * *
THE DEATH AND BURIAL OF COCK ROBIN
Who killed Cock Robin? "I," said the Sparrow, "With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin."
Who saw him die? "I," said the Fly, "With my little eye, I saw him die."
Who caught his blood? "I," said the Fish, "With my little dish, I caught his blood."
Who'll make his shroud? "I," said the Beetle, "With my thread and needle, I'll make his shroud."
Who'll bear the torch? "I," said the Linnet, "I'll come in a minute, I'll bear the torch."
Who'll be the clerk? "I," said the Lark, "I'll say Amen in the dark; I'll be the clerk."
Who'll dig his grave? "I," said the Owl, "With my spade and trowel, I'll dig his grave."
Who'll be the parson? "I," said the Rook, "With my little book, I'll be the parson."
Who'll be chief mourner? "I," said the Dove, "I mourn for my love; I'll be chief mourner."
Who'll sing his dirge? "I," said the Thrush, "As I sing in a bush, I'll sing his dirge."
* * * * *
DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY STARS?
Do you know how many stars There are shining in the skies? Do you know how many clouds Ev'ry day go floating by? God in heaven has counted all, He would miss one should it fall.
Do you know how many children Go to little beds at night, And without a care or sorrow, Wake up in the morning light? God in heaven each name can tell, Loves you, too, and loves you well.
* * * * *
WHERE DO ALL THE DAISIES GO?
Where do all the daisies go? I know, I know! Underneath the snow they creep, Nod their little heads and sleep, In the springtime out they peep; That is where they go!
Where do all the birdies go? I know, I know! Far away from winter snow To the fair, warm South they go; There they stay till daisies blow, That is where they go!
Where do all the babies go? I know, I know! In the glancing firelight warm, Safely sheltered from all harm, Soft they lie on mother's arm, That is where they go!
UNKNOWN
* * * * *
Cock crows in the morn, To tell us to rise, And he who lies late Will never be wise. For early to bed, And early to rise, Is the way to be healthy And wealthy and wise.
* * * * *
THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT
This is the house that Jack built.
This is the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the rat That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cow with the crumpled horn That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cock that crowed in the morn, That waked the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the farmer sowing his corn, That kept the cock that crowed in the morn, That waked the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built.
* * * * *
TREE ON THE HILL
On yonder hill there stands a tree; Tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.
And on the tree there was a branch; Branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.
And on the branch there was a nest; Nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.
And in the nest there was an egg; Egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.
And in the egg there was a bird; Bird in the egg, egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.
And on the bird there was a feather; Feather on the bird, bird in the egg, egg in the nest, nest on the branch, branch on the tree, tree on the hill, and the hill stood still.
* * * * *
A LITTLE BOY'S POCKET
Do you know what's in my pottet? Such a lot of treasures in it! Listen now while I bedin it: Such a lot of sings it holds, And everysin dats in my pottet, And when, and where, and how I dot it. First of all, here's in my pottet A beauty shell, I pit'd it up: And here's the handle of a tup That somebody has broked at tea; The shell's a hole in it, you see: Nobody knows dat I dot it, I teep it safe here in my pottet. And here's my ball too in my pottet, And here's my pennies, one, two, free, That Aunty Mary dave to me, To-morrow day I'll buy a spade, When I'm out walking with the maid; I tant put that in here my pottet! But I can use it when I've dot it. Here's some more sings in my pottet, Here's my lead, and here's my string; And once I had an iron ring, But through a hole it lost one day, And this is what I always say-- A hole's the worst sing in a pottet, Be sure and mend it when you've dot it.
UNKNOWN
* * * * *
NURSERY TALES
* * * * *
THE THREE BEARS
Little Goldilocks was a pretty girl who lived once upon a time in a far-off country.
One day she was sitting on the hearthrug playing with her two kittens, and you would have thought she was as happy as a queen, and quite contented to stay where she was instead of wanting to run about the world meddling with other people's property. But it happened that she was rather a mischievous little maid, and could not resist teasing her pets, so one of them scratched her, and then she would play with them no longer.
She got up and trotted away into the wood behind her mother's house, and it was such a warm, pleasant day that she wandered on and on until she came into a part of the wood where she had never been before.
Now, in this wood there lived a family of three Bears. The first was a GREAT BIG BEAR, the second was a MIDDLING-SIZED BEAR, and the third was a LITTLE TEENY TINY BEAR, and they all lived together in a funny little house, and very happy they were.
Goldilocks stopped when she came to the Bears' house, and began to wonder who lived there.
"I'll just look in and see," she said, and so she did; but there was no one there, for the Bears had all gone out for a morning walk, whilst the soup they were going to have for dinner cooled upon the table.
Goldilocks was rather hungry after her walk, and the soup smelt so good that she began to wish the people of the house would come home and invite her to have some. But although she looked everywhere, under the table and into the cupboards, she could find no one, and at last she could resist no longer, but made up her mind to take just a little sip to see how the soup tasted. The soup had been put into three bowls--a Great Big Bowl for the Great Big Bear, a Middling-sized Bowl for the Middling-sized Bear, and a Teeny Tiny Bowl for the Teeny Tiny Bear; beside each bowl lay a spoon, and Goldilocks took one and helped herself to a spoonful of soup from the Great Big Bowl.
Ugh! how it burnt her mouth; it was so hot with pepper that she did not like it at all; still, she was very hungry, so she thought she would try again.
This time she took a sip of the Middling-sized Bear's soup, but she liked that no better, for it was too salt. But when she tasted the Teeny Tiny Bear's soup it was just as she liked it; so she ate it up every drop, without thinking twice about it.
When she had finished her dinner she noticed three chairs standing by the wall. One was a Great Big Chair, and she climbed upon that and sat down. Oh, dear! how hard it was! She was sure she could not sit there for long, so she climbed up on the next, which was only a Middling-sized Chair, but that was too soft for her taste; so she went on to the last, which was a Teeny Tiny Chair and suited her exactly.
It was so comfortable that she sat on and on until, if you'll believe it, she actually sat the bottom out. Then, of course, she was comfortable no longer, so she got up and began to wonder what she should do next.
There was a staircase in the Bears' house, and Goldilocks thought she would go up it and see where it led to. So up she went, and when she reached the top she laughed outright, for the Bears' bedroom was the funniest she had ever seen. In the middle of the room stood a Great Big Bed, on one side of it there was a Middling-sized Bed, and on the other side there was a Teeny Tiny Bed.
Goldilocks was sleepy, so she thought she would lie down and have a little nap. First she got upon the Great Big Bed, but it was just as hard as the Great Big Chair had been; so she jumped off and tried the Middling-sized Bed, but it was so soft that she sank right down into the feather cushions and was nearly smothered.
"I will try the Teeny Tiny Bed," she said, and so she did, and it was so comfortable that she soon fell fast asleep.
Whilst she lay there, dreaming of all sorts of pleasant things, the three Bears came home from their walk very hungry and quite ready for their dinners.
But, oh! dear me! how cross the Great Big Bear looked when he saw his spoon had been used and thrown under the table.
"WHO HAS BEEN TASTING MY SOUP?" he cried, in a Great Big Voice.
"AND WHO HAS BEEN TASTING MINE?" cried the Middling-sized Bear, in a Middling-sized Voice.
"BUT WHO HAS BEEN TASTING MINE AND TASTED IT ALL UP?" cried the poor little Teeny Tiny Bear in a Teeny Tiny Voice, with the tears running down his Teeny Tiny Face.
When the Great Big Bear went to sit down in his Great Big Chair, he cried out in his Great Big Voice:
"WHO HAS BEEN SITTING ON MY CHAIR?"
And the Middling-sized Bear cried, in a Middling-sized Voice:
"WHO HAS BEEN SITTING ON MY CHAIR?"
But the Teeny Tiny Bear cried out in a Teeny Tiny Voice of anger:
"WHO HAS BEEN SITTING ON MY CHAIR, AND SAT THE BOTTOM OUT?"
By this time the Bears were sure that someone had been in their house quite lately; so they looked about to see if someone were not there still.
There was certainly no one downstairs, so they went up the staircase to their bedroom.
As soon as the Great Big Bear looked at his bed, he cried out, in his Great Big Voice:
"WHO HAS BEEN LYING ON MY BED?"
And the Middling-sized Bear, seeing that the coverlet was all rumpled, cried out, in a Middling-sized Voice:
"WHO HAS BEEN LYING ON MY BED?"
But the Teeny Tiny Bear cried out, in a Teeny Tiny Voice of astonishment:
"WHO HAS BEEN LYING ON MY BED AND LIES THERE STILL?"
Now, when the Great Big Bear began to speak, Goldilocks dreamt that there was a bee buzzing in the room, and when the Middling-sized Bear began to speak, she dreamt that it was flying out of the window; but when the Teeny Tiny Bear began to speak, she dreamt that the bee had come back and stung her on the ear, and up she jumped. Oh! how frightened she was when she saw the three Bears standing beside her.
She hopped out of bed and in a second was out through the open window. Never stopping to wonder if the fall had hurt her, she got up and ran and ran and ran until she could go no farther, always thinking that the Bears were close behind her. And when at length she fell down in a heap on the ground, because she was too tired to run any more, it was her own mother who picked her up, because in her fright she had run straight home without knowing it.
* * * * *
CINDERELLA
Once upon a time there lived a noble gentleman who had one dear little daughter. Poor child! her own kind mother was dead, and her father, who loved her very dearly, was afraid that his little girl was sometimes lonely. So he married a grand lady who had two daughters of her own, and who, he thought, would be kind and good to his little one. But no sooner did the stepmother enter her new home than she began to show her true character. Her stepdaughter was so much prettier and sweeter than her own children, that she was jealous of her, and gave her all the hard work of the house to do, whilst the two proud sisters spent their time at pleasant parties and entertainments.
The only pleasure the poor child had was to spend her evenings sitting in the chimney-corner, resting her weary limbs, and for this reason her sisters mockingly nicknamed her "Cinderella." The sisters' fine clothes made Cinderella feel very shabby; but, in her little torn frock and ragged shoes, she was a thousand times more lovely than they.
Now, it chanced that the King's son gave a grand ball, to which he invited all the lords and ladies in the country, and, amongst the rest, Cinderella's two sisters were asked. How pleased and excited they were when the invitation arrived! For days they could talk of nothing but the clothes they should wear and the grand folk they hoped to meet.
When at last the great day arrived, Cinderella was kept running about from early till late, decking the sisters, and dressing their hair.
"Don't you wish you were going to the ball?" said one of them.
"Indeed I do," sighed the poor little maid. The sisters burst out laughing. "A pretty spectacle _you_ would be," they said rudely. "Go back to your cinders--they are fit company for rags." Then, stepping carefully into their carriage so that they might not crush their fine clothes, they drove away to the ball.
Cinderella went back to her chimney-corner, and tried not to feel envious, but the tears _would_ gather in the pretty eyes, and trickle down the sorrowful little face.
"What are you crying for, child?" cried a silvery voice.
Cinderella started, and raised her eyes. Who could it be? Then in a moment she knew--it was her fairy Godmother!
"I do so want----" began Cinderella; then her sobs stopped her.
"To go to the ball," finished the Godmother. Cinderella nodded. "Well, leave off crying--be a good girl, and you shall go. Run quickly into the garden, and bring the largest pumpkin you can find."
Cinderella could not imagine how a pumpkin could help her to go to the ball, but her only thought was to obey her Godmother. In a few moments she was back again, with a splendid pumpkin. Her Godmother scooped out the inside--one touch of the wand, and the pumpkin was a golden coach, lined with white satin.
"Now, godchild, quick--the mouse-trap from the pantry!"
"Here it is, Godmother," said Cinderella breathlessly.
One by one six fat sleek mice passed through the trap door. As each appeared, a touch of the wand transformed it into a cream-colored horse, fit for a queen.
"Now, Cinderella, can you find a coachman?"
"There is a large gray rat in the rat-trap--would he do, Godmother?"
"Run and fetch him, child, and then I can judge," So Cinderella ran to fetch the rat, and her Godmother said he was just made for a coachman; and I think you would have agreed with her had you seen him a moment later, with his powdered wig and silk stockings.
Six lizards from behind the pumpkin-frame became six footmen in splendid liveries--you would have thought they had been footmen all their lives. Cinderella was so excited that she could scarcely speak.
"Oh! Godmother," she cried, "it is all so lovely!" Then suddenly she thought of her shabby frock. "There is my white muslin," she said wistfully, "if--do you think----"
But before Cinderella could realize what was happening, her Godmother's wand tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and in place of the shabby frock, there was a gleam of satin, silver, and pearls.
Ah! who can describe a robe made by the fairies? It was white as snow, and as dazzling; round the hem hung a fringe of diamonds, sparkling like dew-drops in the sunshine. The lace about the throat and arms could only have been spun by fairy spiders. Surely it was a dream! Cinderella put her daintily-gloved hand to her throat, and softly touched the pearls that encircled her neck.
"Come, child," said the Godmother, "or you will be late."
As Cinderella moved, the firelight shone upon her dainty shoes.
"They are of diamonds," she said.
"No," answered her Godmother, smiling; "they are better than that--they are of glass, made by the fairies. And now, child, go, and enjoy yourself to your heart's content. Only remember, if you stay at the palace one instant after midnight, your coach and servants will vanish, and you will be the little gray Cinderella once more!"
A few moments later, the coach dashed into the royal courtyard, the door was flung open, and Cinderella alighted. As she walked slowly up the richly-carpeted staircase, there was a murmur of admiration, and the King's son hastened to meet her. "Never," said he to himself, "have I seen anyone so lovely!" He led her into the ball-room, where the King, who was much taken with her sweet face and pretty, modest manners, whispered to the Queen that she must surely be a foreign Princess.
The evening passed away in a dream of delight, Cinderella dancing with no one but the handsome young Prince, and being waited on by his own hands at supper-time. The two sisters could not recognize their ragged little sister in the beautiful and graceful lady to whom the Prince paid so much attention, and felt quite pleased and flattered when she addressed a few words to them.
Presently a clock chimed the three quarters past eleven, and, remembering her Godmother's warning, Cinderella at once took leave of the Prince, and, jumping into her coach, was driven rapidly home. Here she found her Godmother waiting to hear all about the ball. "It was _lovely_," said Cinderella; "and oh! Godmother, there is to be another to-morrow night, and I _should_ so much like to go to it!"
"Then you shall," replied the kind fairy, and, kissing her godchild tenderly, she vanished. When the sisters returned from the ball, they found a sleepy little maiden sitting in the chimney-corner, waiting for them.
"How late you are!" cried Cinderella, yawning. "Are you not very tired?"
"Not in the least," they answered, and then they told her what a delightful ball it had been, and how the loveliest Princess in the world had been there, and had spoken to them, and admired their pretty dresses.
"Who was she?" asked Cinderella slyly.
"That we cannot say," answered the sisters. "She would not tell her name, though the Prince begged her to do so on bended knee."
"Dear sister," said Cinderella, "I, too, should like to see the beautiful Princess. Will you not lend me your old yellow gown, that I may go to the ball to-morrow with you?"
"What!" cried her sister angrily; "lend one of my dresses to a little cinder-maid? Don't talk nonsense, child!"
The next night, the sisters were more particular than ever about their attire, but at last they were dressed, and as soon as their carriage had driven away, the Godmother appeared. Once more she touched her godchild with her wand, and in a moment she was arrayed in a beautiful dress that seemed as though it had been woven of moon-beams and sunshine, so radiantly did it gleam and shimmer. She put her arms round her Godmother's neck and kissed and thanked her. "Goodbye, childie; enjoy yourself, but whatever you do, remember to leave the ball before the clock strikes twelve," the Godmother said, and Cinderella promised.
But the hours flew by so happily and so swiftly that Cinderella forgot her promise, until she happened to look at a clock and saw that it was on the stroke of twelve. With a cry of alarm she fled from the room, dropping, in her haste, one of the little glass slippers; but, with the sound of the clock strokes in her ears, she dared not wait to pick it up. The Prince hurried after her in alarm, but when he reached the entrance hall, the beautiful Princess had vanished, and there was no one to be seen but a forlorn little beggar-maid creeping away into the darkness.
Poor little Cinderella!--she hurried home through the dark streets, weary, and overwhelmed with shame.
The fire was out when she reached her home, and there was no Godmother waiting to receive her; but she sat down in the chimney-corner to wait her sisters' return. When they came in they could speak of nothing but the wonderful things that had happened at the ball.
The beautiful Princess had been there again, they said, but had disappeared just as the clock struck twelve, and though the Prince had searched everywhere for her, he had been unable to find her. "He was quite beside himself with grief," said the elder sister, "for there is no doubt he hoped to make her his bride."
Cinderella listened in silence to all they had to say, and, slipping her hand into her pocket, felt that the one remaining glass slipper was safe, for it was the only thing of all her grand apparel that remained to her.
On the following morning there was a great noise of trumpets and drums, and a procession passed through the town, at the head of which rode the King's son. Behind him came a herald, bearing a velvet cushion, upon which rested a little glass slipper. The herald blew a blast upon the trumpet, and then read a proclamation saying that the King's son would wed any lady in the land who could fit the slipper upon her foot, if she could produce another to match it.
Of course, the sisters tried to squeeze their feet into the slipper, but it was of no use--they were much too large. Then Cinderella shyly begged that she might try. How the sisters laughed with scorn when the Prince knelt to fit the slipper on the cinder-maid's foot; but what was their surprise when it slipped on with the greatest ease, and the next moment Cinderella produced the other from her pocket. Once more she stood in the slippers, and once more the sisters saw before them the lovely Princess who was to be the Prince's bride. For at the touch of the magic shoes, the little gray frock disappeared for ever, and in place of it she wore the beautiful robe the fairy Godmother had given to her.
The sisters hung their heads with sorrow and vexation; but kind little Cinderella put her arms round their necks, kissed them, and forgave them for all their unkindness, so that they could not help but love her.
The Prince could not bear to part from his little love again, so he carried her back to the palace in his grand coach, and they were married that very day. Cinderella's stepsisters were present at the feast, but in the place of honor sat the fairy Godmother.
So the poor little cinder-maid married the Prince, and in time they came to be King and Queen, and lived happily ever after.
* * * * *
THE THREE BROTHERS
There was once a man who had three sons, but no fortune except the house he lived in. Now, each of them wanted to have the house after his death; but their father was just as fond of one as of the other, and did not know how to treat them all fairly. He did not want to sell the house, because it had belonged to his forefathers, or he might have divided the money between them.
At last an idea came into his head, and he said to his sons: "Go out into the world, and each learn a trade, and when you come home, the one who makes best use of his handicraft shall have the house."
The sons were quite content with this plan, and the eldest decided to be a farrier, the second a barber, and the third a fencing master. They fixed a time when they would all meet at home again, and then they set off.
It so happened that they each found a clever master with whom they learned their business thoroughly. The farrier shod the King's horses, and he thought, "I shall certainly be the one to have the house."
The barber shaved nobody but grand gentlemen, so he thought it would fall to him.
The fencing master got many blows, but he set his teeth, and would not let himself be put out, because he thought, "If I am afraid of a blow, I shall never get the house."
Now, when the given time had passed, they all went home together to their father; but they did not know how to get a good opportunity of showing off their powers, and sat down to discuss the matter.
Suddenly a hare came running over the field.
"Ah!" cried the barber, "she comes just in the nick of time."
He took up his bowl and his soap, and got his lather by the time the hare came quite close, then he soaped her and shaved her as she raced along, without giving her a cut or missing a single hair. His father, astonished, said: "If the others don't look out, the house will be yours."
Before long a gentleman came along in his carriage at full gallop.
"Now, father, you shall see what I can do," said the farrier and he ran after the carriage and tore the four shoes off the horse as he galloped along, then, without stopping a second, shod him with new ones.
"You are a fine fellow, indeed," said his father. "You know your business as well as your brother. I don't know which I shall give the house to at this rate."
Then the third one said: "Let me have a chance, too, father."
As it was beginning to rain, he drew his sword and swirled it round and round his head, so that not a drop fell on him. Even when the rain grew heavier, so heavy that it seemed as if it were being poured from the sky out of buckets, he swung the sword faster and faster, and remained as dry as if he had been under a roof.
His father was amazed, and said: "You have done the best; the house is yours."
Both the other brothers were quite satisfied with this decision, and as they were all so devoted to one another, they lived together in the house, and carried on their trades, by which they made plenty of money, since they were so perfect in them.
They lived happily together to a good old age, and when one fell ill and died, the others grieved so much over him that they pined away and soon after departed this life.
Then, as they had been so fond of one another, they were all buried in one grave.
* * * * *
THE WREN AND THE BEAR
One summer's day the bear and the wolf were walking in the forest, and the bear heard a bird singing very sweetly, and said: "Brother Wolf, what kind of bird is that which is singing so delightfully?"
"That is the King of the birds, before whom we must do reverence," replied the wolf; but it was only the wren.
"If that be so," said the bear, "I should like to see his royal palace; come, lead me to it." "That cannot be as you like," replied the wolf. "You must wait till the Queen returns." Soon afterward the Queen arrived with some food in her bill, and the King, too, to feed their young ones, and the bear would have gone off to see them, but the wolf, pulling his ear, said: "No, you must wait till the Queen and the King are both off again."
So, after observing well the situation of the nest, the two tramped off, but the bear had no rest, for he wished still to see the royal palace, and after a short delay he set off to it again. He found the King and Queen absent, and, peeping into the nest, he saw five or six young birds lying in it. "Is this the royal palace?" exclaimed the bear; "this miserable place! You are no King's children, but wretched young vagabonds." "No, no, that we are not!" burst out the little wrens together in a great passion, for to them this speech was addressed. "No, no, we are born of honorable parents, and you, Mr. Bear, shall make your words good!" At this speech the bear and the wolf were much frightened, and ran back to their holes; but the little wrens kept up an unceasing, clamor till their parents' return. As soon as they came back with food in their mouths the little birds began, "We will none of us touch a fly's leg, but will starve rather, until you decide whether we are fine and handsome children or not, for the bear has been here and insulted us!"
"Be quiet," replied the King, "and that shall soon be settled." And thereupon he flew with his Queen to the residence of the bear, and called to him from the entrance, "Old grumbler, why have you insulted my children? That shall cost you dear, for we will decide the matter by a pitched battle."
War having thus been declared against the bear, all the four-footed beasts were summoned: the ox, the ass, the cow, the goat, the stag, and every animal on the face of the earth. The wren, on the other hand, summoned every flying thing; not only the birds, great and small, but also the gnat, the hornet, the bee, and the flies.
When the time arrived for the commencement of the war, the wren King sent out spies to see who was appointed commander-in-chief of the enemy. The gnat was the most cunning of all the army, and he, therefore, buzzed away into the forest where the enemy was encamped, and alighted on a leaf of the tree beneath which the watchword was given out. There stood the bear and called the fox to him, and said: "You are the most crafty of animals, so you must be general, and lead us on." "Well," said the fox, "but what sign shall we appoint?" Nobody answered. Then the fox said: "I have a fine long bushy tail, which looks like a red feather at a distance; if I hold this tail straight up, all is going well and you must march after me; but if I suffer it to hang down, run away as fast as you can." As soon as the gnat heard all this she flew home and told the wren King everything to a hair.
When the day arrived for the battle to begin, the four-footed beasts all came running along to the field, shaking the earth with their roaring and bellowing. The wren King also came with his army, whirring and buzzing and humming enough to terrify any one out of his senses. Then the wren King sent the hornet forward to settle upon the fox's tail and sting it with all his power. As soon as the fox felt the first sting he drew up his hind leg with the pain, still carrying, however, his tail as high in the air as before; at the second sting he was obliged to drop it a little bit; but at the third he could no longer bear the pain, but was forced to drop his tail between his legs. As soon as the other beasts saw this, they thought all was lost, and began to run each one to his own hole; so the birds won the battle without difficulty.
When all was over the wren King and his Queen flew home to their children, and cried out: "Rejoice! rejoice! we have won the battle; now eat and drink as much as you please."
The young wrens, however, said: "Still we will not eat till the bear has come to our nest and begged pardon, and admitted that we are fine and handsome children."
So the wren King flew back to the cave of the bear, and called out, "Old grumbler, you must come to the nest and beg pardon of my children for calling them wretched young brats, else your ribs shall be crushed in your body!"
In great terror the bear crept out and begged pardon; and afterward the young wrens, being now made happy in their minds, settled down to eating and drinking, and I am afraid they were over-excited and kept up their merriment far too late.
* * * * *
CHICKEN-LICKEN
As Chicken-licken was going one day to the wood, whack! an acorn fell from a tree on to his head.
"Gracious goodness me!" said Chicken-licken, "the sky must have fallen; I must go and tell the King."
So Chicken-licken turned back, and met Hen-len.
"Well, Hen-len, where are you going?" said he.
"I'm going to the wood," said she.
"Oh, Hen-len, don't go!" said he, "for as I was going the sky fell on to my head, and I'm going to tell the King."
So Hen-len turned back with Chicken-licken, and met Cock-lock.
"I'm going to the wood," said he.
Then Hen-len said: "Oh Cock-lock, don't go, for I was going, and I met Chicken-licken, and Chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on to his head, and we are going to tell the King."
So Cock-lock turned back, and they met Duck-luck.
"Well, Duck-luck, where are you going?"
And Duck-luck said: "I'm going to the wood."
Then Cock-lock said: "Oh! Duck-luck, don't go, for I was going, and I met Hen-len, and Hen-len met Chicken-licken, and Chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on to his head, and we are going to tell the King."
So Duck-luck turned back, and met Drake-lake.
"Well, Drake-lake, where are you going?"
And Drake-lake said: "I'm going to the wood."
Then Duck-luck said: "Oh! Drake-lake, don't go, for I was going, and I met Cock-lock, and Cock-lock met Hen-len, and Hen-len met Chicken-licken, and Chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on to his head, and we are going to tell the King."
So Drake-lake turned back, and met Goose-loose.
"Well, Goose-loose, where are you going?"
And Goose-loose said: "I'm going to the wood."
Then Drake-lake said: "Oh, Goose-loose, don't go, for I was going, and I met Duck-luck, and Duck-luck met Cock-lock, and Cock-lock met Hen-len, and Hen-len met Chicken-licken, and Chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on to his head, and we are going to tell the King."
So Goose-loose turned back, and met Gander-lander.
"Well, Gander-lander, where are you going?"
And Gander-lander said: "I'm going to the wood."
Then Goose-loose said: "Oh! Gander-lander, don't go, for I was going, and I met Drake-lake, and Drake-lake met Duck-luck, and Duck-luck met Cock-lock, and Cock-lock met Hen-len, and Hen-len met Chicken-licken, and Chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on to his head, and we are going to tell the King."
So Gander-lander turned back, and met Turkey-lurkey.
"Well, Turkey-lurkey, where are you going?"
And Turkey-lurkey said: "I'm going to the wood."
Then Gander-lander said: "Oh! Turkey-lurkey, don't go, for I was going, and I met Goose-loose, and Goose-loose met Drake-lake, and Drake-lake met Duck-luck, and Duck-luck met Cock-lock, and Cock-lock met Hen-len, and Hen-len met Chicken-licken, and Chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on to his head, and we are going to tell the King."
So Turkey-lurkey turned back, and walked with Gander-lander, Goose-loose, Drake-lake, Duck-luck, Cock-lock, Hen-len, and Chicken-licken.
And as they were going along, they met Fox-lox. And Fox-lox said:
"Where are you going?"
And they said: "Chicken-licken went to the wood, and the sky fell on to his head, and we are going to tell the King."
And Fox-lox said: "Come along with me, and I will show you the way."
But Fox-lox took them into the fox's hole, and he and his young ones soon ate up poor Chicken-licken, Hen-len, Cock-lock, Duck-luck, Drake-lake, Goose-loose, Gander-lander, and Turkey-lurkey; and they never saw the King to tell him that the sky had fallen.
* * * * *
THE FOX AND THE CAT
It happened once that the cat met Mr. Fox in the wood, and because she thought he was clever and experienced in all the ways of the world, she addressed him in a friendly manner.
"Good-morning, dear Mr. Fox! how are you, and how do you get along in these hard times?"
The fox, full of pride, looked at the cat from head to foot for some time, hardly knowing whether he would deign to answer or not. At last he said:
"Oh, you poor whisker-wiper, you silly piebald, you starveling mouse-hunter! what has come into your head? How dare you ask me how I am getting on? What sort of education have you had? How many arts are you master of?"
"Only one," said the cat meekly.
"And what might that one be?" asked the fox.
"When the dogs run after me, I can jump into a tree and save myself."
"Is that all?" said the fox. "I am master of a hundred arts, and I have a sackful of cunning tricks in addition. But I pity you. Come with me, and I will teach you how to escape from the dogs."
Just then a huntsman came along with four hounds. The cat sprang trembling into a tree, and crept stealthily up to the topmost branch, where she was entirely hidden by twigs and leaves.
"Open your sack, Mr. Fox! open your sack!" cried the cat, but the dogs had gripped him, and held him fast.
"Oh, Mr. Fox!" cried the cat, "you with your hundred arts, and your sackful of tricks, are held fast, while I, with my one, am safe. Had you been able to creep up here, you would not have lost you life."
* * * * *
THE RATS AND THEIR SON-IN-LAW
There once lived in Japan a rat and his wife, folk of noble race, who had one beautiful daughter. They were exceedingly proud of her charms, and dreamed, as parents will, of the grand marriage she was sure to make in time. Proud of his pure rodent blood, the father saw no son-in-law more to be desired than a young rat of ancient lineage, whose attentions to his daughter were very marked. This match, however, brilliant as it was, seemed not to the mother's taste. Like many people who think themselves made out of special clay, she had a very poor opinion of her own kind, and was ambitious for an alliance with the highest circles. To the stars! was her motto, she always said, and really, when one has a daughter of incomparable beauty, one may well hope for an equally incomparable son-in-law.
"Address yourself to the sun at once, then," cried the impatient father one day; "there is nothing above him, surely."
"Quite so; I had already thought of it," she answered, "and since you, too, are in sympathy with the idea, we will make our call to-morrow."
So, on the following morning the proud father and the haughty mother-rat went together to present their lovely daughter to the orb of day.
"Lord Sun," said the mother, "let me present our only daughter, who is so beautiful that there is nothing like her in the whole world. Naturally we desire a son-in-law as wonderful as she, and, as you see, we have come to you first of all."
"Really," said the sun, "I am extremely flattered by your proposal, but you do me too much honor; there is some one greater than I; it is the cloud. Look, if you do not believe."... And at that moment the cloud arrived, and with one waft of his folds extinguished the sun with all his golden rays.
"Very well; let us speak to the cloud, then," said the mother-rat, not in the least disconcerted.
"Immensely honored, I am sure," replied the cloud in his turn, "but you are again mistaken; there is some one greater than I; it is the wind. You shall see."
At the same moment along came the wind, and with one blow swept the cloud out of sight, after which, overturning father, mother, and daughter, he tumbled with them, pell-mell, at the foot of an old wall.
"Quick, quick," cried the mother-rat, struggling to her feet, "and let us repeat our compliments to the wind."
"You'd better address yourself to the wall," growled the wind roughly. "You see very well he is greater than I, for he stops me and makes me draw back."
No sooner had she heard these words than mother-rat faced about and presented her daughter to the wall. Ah, but now the fair rat-maiden imitated the wind; she drew back also. He whom she really adored in her heart of hearts was the fascinating young rat who had paid his court to her so well. However, to please her mother, she had consented to wed the Sun, in spite of his blinding rays, or the cloud, in spite of his sulky look, even the wind, in spite of his brusque manner; but an old, broken wall!... No! death would be better a thousand times.
Fortunately the wall excused himself, like all the rest. "Certainly," he said, "I can stop the wind, who can sweep away the cloud, who can cover up the Sun, but there is some one greater than I: it is the rat, who can pass through my body, and can even, if he chooses, reduce me to powder with his teeth. Believe me, you need seek no better son-in-law; greater than the rat, there is nothing in the world."
"Do you hear that, wife, do you hear it?" cried father-rat in triumph. "Didn't I always say so?"
"Quite true! you always did," returned the mother-rat in wonder, and suddenly glowed with pride in her ancient name and lineage.
So they all three went home, very happy and contented, and on the morrow the lovely rat-maiden married her faithful rat-lover.
* * * * *
THE MOUSE AND THE SAUSAGE
Once upon a time a little mouse and a little sausage, who loved each other like sisters, decided to live together, and made their arrangements in such a way that every day one would go to walk in the fields, or make purchases in town, while the other remained at home to keep the house.
One day, when the little sausage had prepared cabbage for dinner, the little mouse, who had come back from town with a fine appetite, enjoyed it so greatly that she exclaimed: "How delicious the cabbage is to-day, my dear!"
"Ah!" answered the little sausage, "that is because I popped myself into the pot while it was cooking."
On the next day, as it was her turn to prepare the meals, the little mouse said to herself: "Now I will do as much for my friend as she did for me; we will have lentils for dinner, and I will jump into the pot while they are boiling," and she let the action follow the word, without reflecting that a simple sausage can do some things which are out of the reach of even the wisest mouse.
When the sausage came home, she found the house lonely and silent. She called again and again, "My little mouse! Mouse of my heart!" but no one answered. Then she went to look at the lentils boiling on the stove, and, alas! found within the pot her good little friend, who had perished at the post of duty.
Poor mousie, with the best intentions in the world, had stayed too long at her cookery, and when she desired to climb out of the pot, had no longer the strength to do so.
And the poor sausage could never be consoled! That is why to-day, when you put one in the pan or on the gridiron, you will hear her weep and sigh, "M-my p-poor m-mouse! Ah, m-my p-poor m-mouse!"
* * * * *
JOHNNY AND THE GOLDEN GOOSE
There was once a man who had three sons. Johnny, the youngest, was always looked upon as the simpleton of the family, and had very little consideration or kindness shown him.
It happened one day that the eldest son was going out into the wood to cut fuel; and before he started, his mother gave him a slice of rich plum-cake and a flask of wine, so that he might not suffer from hunger or thirst.
Just as he reached the wood, he met a queer old man, dressed in gray, who wished him "Good day," and begged for a piece of the young man's cake and a drink of wine.
But the greedy youth replied: "If I were to give you cake and wine, I should not have enough left for myself; so be off with you, and leave me in peace."
Then he pushed the little man rudely on one side and went his way. He soon came to a likely-looking tree, and began to hew it down, but he made a false stroke, and instead of striking the tree he buried his axe in his own arm, and was obliged to hurry home as fast as he could to have the wound dressed.
And this was what came of offending the little gray man!
The following day the second son set out to the wood, and his mother treated him just as she had done her eldest son--gave him a slice of cake and a flask of wine, in case he should feel hungry. The little gray man met him at the entrance to the wood, and begged for a share of his food, but the young man answered:
"The more I give to you, the less I have for myself. Be off with you."
Then he left the little gray man standing in the road, and went on his way. But it was not long before he, too, was punished; for the first stroke he aimed at a tree glanced aside and wounded his leg, so that he was obliged to be carried home.
Then said the Simpleton: "Father, let me go to the wood for once. _I_ will bring you home plenty of fuel."
"Nonsense," answered the father. "Both your brothers have got into trouble, and it is not likely that I am going to trust you."
But Johnny would not give up the idea, and worried his father, till at last he said:
"Very well, my son, have your own way. You shall learn by experience that I know better than you."
There was no rich cake for the simpleton of the family. His mother just gave him a little loaf of dough and a bottle of sour beer.
No sooner did he reach the wood than the little gray man appeared.
"Give me a piece of your cake and a drink of your wine?" said he.
But the young man told him he had only a dough loaf and a bottle of sour beer.
"Still," said he, "you are welcome to a share of the food, such as it is."
So the two sat down together; but when Johnny took his humble fare from his pocket, what was his surprise to find it changed into the most delicious cake and wine. Then the young man and his guest made a hearty meal, and when it was ended the little gray man said:
"Because you have such a kind heart, and have willingly shared your food with me, I am going to reward you. Yonder stands an old tree: hew it down, and deep in the heart of the roots you will find something."
The old man then nodded kindly, and disappeared in a moment.
Johnny at once did as he had been told, and as soon as the tree fell he saw, sitting in the midst of the roots, a goose with feathers of purest gold. He lifted it carefully out, and carried it with him to the inn, where he meant to spend the night.
Now, the landlord had three daughters, and no sooner did they see the goose than they wanted to know what curious kind of bird it might be, for never before had they seen a fowl of any kind with feathers of pure gold. The eldest made up her mind to wait for a good opportunity and then pluck a feather for herself. So as soon as Johnny went out of the room she put out her hand and seized the wing of the goose, but what was her horror to find that she could not unclasp her fingers again, nor even move her hand from the golden goose!
Very soon the second sister came creeping into the room, meaning also to steal a feather; but no sooner did she touch her sister than she, too, was unable to draw her hand away.
Lastly came the third, anxious to secure a feather before the goose's master returned.
"Go away! go away!" screamed her two sisters, but she could not understand why she should not help herself as well as the others.
So she paid no heed to their cries, but came toward them and stretched out her hand to the goose.
In doing so she touched her second sister, and then, alas! she too, was held fast.
They pulled and tugged with might and main, but it was all of no use; they could not get away, and there they had to remain the whole night.
The next morning Johnny tucked the goose under his arm, and went on his way, never troubling himself about the three girls hanging on behind.
Then what a dance he led them: over hedges and ditches, highways and byways! Wherever he led they were bound to follow. Half way across a sunny meadow, they met the parson, who was terribly shocked to see the three girls running after a young man.
"For shame!" he cried angrily, and seized the youngest by the hand to drag her away.
But no sooner did he touch her than the poor parson was made fast too, and had to run behind the girls, whether he would or no.
They had scarcely gone half a dozen paces before they met the sexton, who stared with astonishment to see his master running at the heels of the three girls.
"Hi! stop, your reverence," he cried. "You will be late for the christening."
He seized the parson's sleeve as he ran past him, but the poor sexton had to join the procession too.
So now there were five of them, and just as they turned a corner the parson saw two peasants, and called to them to set him and his sexton free.
They threw down their spades at once and tried to do so, but they too, stuck fast, and so Johnny had a fine string of seven folk hanging on to the wing of his golden goose.
On and on they ran, until at length they came into the country of a powerful King.
This King had an only daughter, who all her life had been so sad that no one had ever been able to make her laugh. So the King made a decree that the man who could bring a smile to his daughter's face should have her for his bride.
When Johnny heard what the King had promised, he at once made his way into the Princess's presence, and when she saw the goose, with the seven queer-looking companions hanging on behind, she burst into such a hearty fit of laughter that it was thought she would never be able to stop again.
Of course, the Simpleton claimed her as his bride, but the King did not fancy him for a son-in-law, so he made all sorts of excuses.
"You shall have her," said he, "if you can first bring me a man who can drink up a whole cellarful of wine."
Johnny at once remembered the little gray man, and, feeling sure that he would help him, he set out for the wood where he had first met him.
When he reached the stump of the old tree which he had himself hewn down, he noticed a man sitting beside it, with a face as gloomy as a rainy day.
Johnny asked politely what ailed him, and the man answered:
"I suffer from a thirst I cannot quench. Cold water disagrees with me, and though I have, it is true, emptied a barrel of wine, it was no more to me than a single drop of water upon a hot stone."
You can think how pleased Johnny was to hear these words. He took the man to the King's cellar, where he seated himself before the huge barrels, and drank and drank till, at the end of the day, not a drop of wine was left.
Then Johnny claimed his bride, but the King could not make up his mind to give his daughter to "a ne'er-do-weel" who went by such a name as "Simpleton."
So he made fresh excuses, and said that he would not give her up until the young man had found someone who could eat up a mountain of bread in a single day.
So the young man had no choice but to set out once more for the wood.
And again he found a man sitting beside the stump of the tree. He was very sad and hungry-looking, and sat tightening the belt round his waist.
"I have eaten a whole ovenful of bread," he said sadly, "but when one is as hungry as I am, such a meal only serves to make one more hungry still. I am so empty that if I did not tighten my belt I should die of hunger."
"You are the man for me!" said Johnny. "Follow me, and I will give you a meal that will satisfy even your hunger."
He led the man into the courtyard of the King's palace, where all the meal in the kingdom had been collected together and mixed into an enormous mountain of bread.
The man from the wood placed himself in front of it and began to eat, and before the day was over the mountain of bread had vanished.
A third time the Simpleton demanded his bride, but again the King found an excuse.
"First bring me a ship that can sail both on land and sea, and then you shall wed the Princess," he said.
Johnny went straightway to the wood, where he met the little gray man with whom he had once shared his food.
"Good day," he said, nodding his wise little head. "So you've come to visit me again, eh? It was I, you know, who drank the wine and ate the bread for you, and now I will finish by giving you the wonderful ship which is to sail on either land or sea. All this I do for you because you were kind and good to me."
Then he gave him the ship, and when the King saw it he could find no further excuse.
So he gave the young man his daughter, and the pair were married that very day.
When the old King died, the Simpleton became King in his stead, and he and his wife lived happily ever after.
* * * * *
TITTY MOUSE AND TATTY MOUSE
Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse both lived in a house, Titty Mouse went a-leasing and Tatty Mouse went a-leasing, So they both went a-leasing. Titty Mouse leased an ear of corn, and Tatty Mouse leased an ear of corn, So they both leased an ear of corn. Titty Mouse made a pudding, and Tatty Mouse made a pudding, So they both made a pudding. And Tatty Mouse put her pudding into the pot to boil, But, when Titty went to put hers in, the pot tumbled over, and scalded her to death.
Then Tatty sat down and wept, and a three-legged stool said: "Tatty, why do you weep?" "Titty's dead," said Tatty, "and so I weep." "Then," said the stool, "I'll hop." So the stool hopped.
Then a broom in the corner of the room said: "Stool, why do you hop?" "Oh!" said the stool, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and so I hop." "Then," said the broom, "I'll sweep." So the broom began to sweep.
"Then," said the door, "Broom, why do you sweep?" "Oh!" said the broom, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and so I sweep." "Then," said the door, "I'll jar." So the door jarred.
"Then," said the window, "Door, why do you jar?" "Oh!" said the door, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, and so I jar."
"Then," said the window, "I'll creak." So the window creaked. Now there was an old form outside the house, and when the window creaked, the form said: "Window, why do you creak?" "Oh!" said the window, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and so I creak."
"Then," said the old form, "I'll run round the house." Then the old form ran round the house. Now there was a fine large walnut-tree growing by the cottage, and the tree said to the form: "Form, why do you run round the house?" "Oh!" said the form, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, and so I run round the house."
"Then," said the walnut-tree, "I'll shed my leaves." So the walnut-tree shed all its beautiful green leaves. Now there was a little bird perched on one of the boughs of the tree, and when all the leaves fell, it said: "Walnut-tree, why do you shed your leaves?" "Oh!" said the tree, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, and so I shed my leaves."
"Then," said the little bird, "I'll moult all my feathers." So he moulted all his pretty feathers. Now there was a little girl walking below, carrying a jug of milk for her brothers' and sisters' supper, and when she saw the poor little bird moult all its feathers, she said: "Little bird, why do you moult all your feathers?" "Oh!" said the little bird, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, the walnut-tree sheds its leaves, and so I moult all my feathers."
"Then," said the little girl, "I'll spill the milk." So she dropped the pitcher and spilt the milk. Now there was an old man just by on the top of a ladder thatching a rick, and when he saw the little girl spill the milk, he said: "Little girl, what do you mean by spilling the milk? Your little brothers and sisters must go without their supper." Then said the little girl: "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, the walnut-tree sheds all its leaves, the little bird moults all its feathers, and so I spill the milk."
"Oh!" said the old man, "then I'll tumble off the ladder and break my neck." So he tumbled off the ladder and broke his neck; and when the old man broke his neck, the great walnut-tree fell down with a crash, and upset the old form and house, and the house falling knocked the window out, and the window knocked the door down, and the door upset the broom, and the broom upset the stool, and poor little Tatty Mouse was buried beneath the ruins.
* * * * *
TEENY TINY
There was once upon a time a teeny-tiny woman who lived in a teeny-tiny house in a teeny-tiny village. Now, one day this teeny-tiny woman put on her teeny-tiny bonnet, and went out of her teeny-tiny house to take a teeny-tiny walk. And when this teeny-tiny woman had gone a teeny-tiny way, she came to a teeny-tiny gate; so the teeny-tiny woman opened the teeny-tiny gate, and went into a teeny-tiny churchyard. And when this teeny-tiny woman had got into the teeny-tiny churchyard, she saw a teeny-tiny bone on a teeny-tiny grave, and the teeny-tiny woman said to her teeny-tiny self: "This teeny-tiny bone will make me some teeny-tiny soup for my teeny-tiny supper." So the teeny-tiny woman put the teeny-tiny bone into her teeny-tiny pocket, and went home to her teeny-tiny house.
Now, when the teeny-tiny woman got home to her teeny-tiny house, she was a teeny-tiny tired; so she went up her teeny-tiny stairs to her teeny-tiny bed, and put the teeny-tiny bone into a teeny-tiny cupboard. And when this teeny-tiny woman had been to sleep a teeny-tiny time, she was awakened by a teeny-tiny voice from the teeny-tiny cupboard, which said--
"GIVE ME MY BONE!"
And this teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny frightened, so she hid her teeny-tiny head under the teeny-tiny clothes, and went to sleep again. And when she had been asleep again a teeny-tiny time, the teeny-tiny voice cried out from the teeny-tiny cupboard a teeny-tiny louder--
"GIVE ME MY BONE!"
This made the teeny-tiny woman a teeny-tiny more frightened, so she hid her teeny-tiny head a teeny-tiny farther under the teeny-tiny clothes. And when the teeny-tiny woman had been asleep again a teeny-tiny time, the teeny-tiny voice from the teeny-tiny cupboard said again a teeny-tiny louder--
"GIVE ME MY BONE!"
At this the teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny bit more frightened; but she put her teeny-tiny head out of the teeny-tiny clothes, and said in her loudest teeny-tiny voice--
"TAKE IT!!"
* * * * *
THE SPIDER AND THE FLEA
A Spider and a Flea dwelt together in one house, and brewed their beer in an egg-shell. One day, when the Spider was stirring it up, she fell in and scalded herself. Thereupon the Flea began to scream. And then the door asked: "Why are you screaming, Flea?"
"Because little Spider has scalded herself in the beer-tub," replied she.
Thereupon the door began to creak as if it were in pain; and a broom, which stood in the corner, asked, "What are you creaking for, door?"
"May I not creak?" it replied:
"The little Spider's scalt herself, And the Flea weeps."
So the broom began to sweep industriously, and presently a little cart came by, and asked the reason. "May I not sweep?" replied the broom:
"The little Spider's scalt herself, And the Flea weeps; The little door creaks with the pain,"--
Thereupon the little cart said: "So will I run," and began to run very fast, past a heap of ashes, which cried out: "Why do you run, little cart?"
"Because," replied the cart:
"The little Spider's scalt herself, And the Flea weeps; The little door creaks with the pain, And the broom sweeps."
"Then," said the ashes, "I will burn furiously." Now, next the ashes there grew a tree, which asked: "Little heap, why do you burn?"
"Because," was the reply:
"The little Spider's scalt herself, And the Flea weeps; The little door creaks with the pain, And the broom sweeps; The little cart runs on so fast,"--
Thereupon the tree cried, "I will shake myself!" and went on shaking till all its leaves fell off.
A little girl passing by with a water-pitcher saw it shaking, and asked: "Why do you shake yourself, little tree?"
"Why may I not?" said the tree:
"The little Spider's scalt herself, And the Flea weeps; The little door creaks with the pain, And the broom sweeps; The little cart runs on so fast, And the ashes burn."
Then the maiden said: "If so, I will break my pitcher;" and she threw it down and broke it.
At this the streamlet, from which she drew the water, asked:
"Why do you break your pitcher, my little girl?"
"Why may I not?" she replied; for
"The little Spider's scalt herself, And the Flea weeps; The little door creaks with the pain, And the broom sweeps; The little cart runs on so fast, And the ashes burn; The little tree shakes down its leaves-- Now it is my turn!"
"Ah, then," said the streamlet, "now must I begin to flow." And it flowed and flowed along, in a great stream, which kept getting bigger and bigger, until at last it swallowed up the little girl, the little tree, the ashes, the cart, the broom, the door, the Flea, and, last of all, the Spider, all together.
* * * * *
THE LITTLE SHEPHERD BOY
Once upon a time there was a little shepherd boy who was famed far and wide for the wise answers which he gave to all questions. Now the King of the country heard of this lad, but he would not believe what was said about him, so the boy was ordered to come to court. When he arrived the King said to him: "If you can give me answers to each of the three questions which I will now put to you, I will bring you up as my own child, and you shall live here with me in my palace."
"What are these three questions?" asked the boy.
"The first is: How many drops of water are there in the sea?"
"My lord King," replied the shepherd boy, "let all the waters be stopped up on the earth, so that not one drop shall run into the sea before I count it, and then I will tell you how many drops there are in the sea!"
"The second question," said the King, "is: How many stars are there in the sky?"
"Give me a large sheet of paper," said the boy; and then he made in it with a pin so many minute holes that they were far too numerous to see or to count, and dazzled the eyes of whomsoever looked at them. This done, he said: "So many stars are there in the sky as there are holes in this paper; now count them." But nobody was able. Thereupon the King said: "The third question is: How many seconds are there in eternity?"
"In Lower Pomerania is situated the adamantine mountain, one mile in height, one mile in breadth, and one mile deep; and thither comes a bird once in every thousand years which rubs its beak against the hill, and, when the whole shall be rubbed away, then will the first second of eternity be gone by."
"You have answered the three questions like a sage," said the King, "and from henceforward you shall live with me in my palace, and I will treat you as my own child."
* * * * *
THE THREE SPINNERS
Once upon a time there was a lazy maiden who would not spin, and, let her mother say what she would, she could not make her do it. At last, the mother, in a fit of impatience, gave her a blow which made the girl cry out loudly.
At that very instant, the Queen drove by, and, hearing the screams, she stopped the carriage, came into the house, and asked the mother why she beat her daughter in such a way that people in passing could hear the cries.
Then the mother felt ashamed that her daughter's laziness should be known, so she said: "Oh, your Majesty, I cannot take her away from her spinning: she spins from morning till night, and I am so poor that I cannot afford to buy the flax."
"There is nothing I like better than to hear the sound of spinning," the Queen replied, "and nothing pleases me more than the whirl of spinning-wheels. Let me take your daughter home with me to the castle; I have flax enough, and she may spin there to her heart's content."
The mother rejoiced greatly in her heart, and the Queen took the maiden home with her. When they arrived in the castle, she led her up into three rooms, which were piled from top to bottom with the finest flax.
"Now spin me this flax," said the Queen, "and when thou has spun it all, thou shalt have my eldest son for a husband. Although thou art poor, yet I do not despise thee on that account, for thy untiring industry is dowry enough."
The maiden was filled with inward terror, for she could not have spun the flax had she sat there day and night until she was three hundred years old! When she was left alone, she began to weep, and thus she sat for three days without stirring a finger.
On the third day the Queen came, and when she saw that nothing was as yet spun, she wondered over it, but the maiden excused herself by saying that she could not begin in consequence of the great sorrow she felt in being separated from her mother.
This satisfied the Queen, who, on leaving her, said:
"Thou must begin to work for me to-morrow."
But when the maiden was once more alone, she did not know what to do, or how to help herself, and in her distress she went to the window and looked out. She saw three women passing by, the first of whom had a great broad foot, the second such a large under-lip that it hung down to her chin, and the third an enormous thumb.
They stopped under the window, and, looking up, asked the maiden what was the matter.
When she had told them of her trouble, they immediately offered her their help, and said:
"Wilt thou invite us to the wedding, and not be ashamed of us, but call us thy aunts, and let us sit at thy table? If thou wilt, we will spin all the flax, and do it in a very short time."
"With all my heart," answered the girl, "only come in, and begin at once."
Then she admitted the three strange women, and, making a clear space in the first room, they sat themselves down and began spinning.
One drew the thread and trod the wheel, the other moistened the thread, the third pressed it and beat it on the table, and every time she did so, a pile of thread fell on the ground spun in the finest way.
The maiden concealed the three spinners from the Queen, but showed her the heaps of spun yarn whenever she came, and received no end of praise for it.
When the first room was empty, the second was commenced, and when that was finished, the third was begun, and very soon cleared.
Then the three spinners took their leave, saying to the maiden:
"Forget not what thou hast promised us; it will make thy fortune."
When the girl showed the Queen the empty rooms and the great piles of thread, the wedding was announced. The bridegroom rejoiced that he had won so clever and industrious a wife, and he praised her exceedingly.
"I have three aunts," said the maiden, "and as they have done me many kindnesses, I could not forget them in my good fortune; permit me to invite them to our wedding and allow them to sit with me at table."
So the Queen and the bridegroom consented.
When the feast commenced, the three old women entered, clothed in the greatest splendor, and the bride said--
"Welcome, my dear aunts!"
"Alas!" exclaimed the bridegroom, "how is it you have such ugly relations?" and going up to the one with a broad foot, he asked:
"Why have you such a broad foot?"
"From threading, from threading," she answered.
Then he went to the second, and asked:
"Why have you such an overhanging lip?"
"From moistening the thread," she replied, "from moistening the thread."
Then he asked the third:
"Why have you such a big thumb?"
"From pressing the thread," answered she.
Then the Prince became frightened, and said:
"Then shall my lovely bride never more turn a spinning-wheel, as long as she lives!"
Thus was the maiden freed from the hated flax-spinning.
* * * * *
THE CAT AND THE MOUSE IN PARTNERSHIP
A cat having made the acquaintance of a mouse, told her so much of the great love and affection that he had for her, that the mouse at last consented to live in the same house with him, and to have their domestic affairs in common. "But we must provide for the winter," said the cat, "or we shall be starved; you, little mouse, cannot go everywhere looking for food, or you will meet with an accident."
This advice was followed, and a pot was brought with some grease in it. However, when they had got it, they could not imagine where it should be put; but at last, after a long consideration, the cat said: "I know no better place to put it than in the church, for there no one dares to steal anything; we will set it beneath the organ, and not touch it till we really want it."
So the pot was put away in safety; but not long afterward the cat began to wish for it again, so he spoke to the mouse and said: "I have to tell you that I am asked by my aunt to stand godfather to a little son, white with brown marks, whom she has just brought into the world, and so I must go to the christening. Let me go out to-day, and do you stop at home and keep house."
"Certainly," answered the mouse; "pray, go; and if you eat anything nice, think of me; I would also willingly drink a little of the sweet red christening-wine."
But, alas! it was all a story; for the cat had no aunt, and had not been asked to stand godfather to any one. He went straight to the church, crept up to the grease-pot, and licked it till he had eaten off the top; then he took a walk on the roofs of the houses in the town, thinking over his situation, and now and then stretching himself in the sun and stroking his whiskers as often as he thought of his meal. When it was evening he went home again, and the mouse said: "So you have come at last; what a charming day you must have had!"
"Yes," answered the cat; "it went off very well!"
"What have you named the kitten?" asked the mouse.
"_Top-off_," said the cat very quickly.
"_Top-off!_" replied the mouse; "that is a curious and remarkable name; is it common in your family?"
"What does that matter?" said the cat; "it is not worse than Crumb-stealer, as your children are called."
Not long afterward the cat felt the same longing as before, and said to the mouse: "You must oblige me by taking care of the house once more by yourself; I am again asked to stand godfather, and, since the youngster has a white ring round his neck, I cannot get off the invitation." So the good little mouse consented, and the cat crept away behind the wall to the church again, and ate half the contents of the grease-pot. "Nothing tastes better than what one eats by one's self," said he, quite contented with his day's work; and when he came home the mouse asked how this child was named.
"_Half-out_," answered the cat.
"_Half-out!_ What do you mean? I never heard such a name before in my life; I will wager anything it is not in the calendar," but the cat replied nothing.
Pussy's mouth soon began to water again at the recollection of the feasting. "All good things come in threes," said he to the mouse. "I am again required to be godfather; this child is quite black, and has little white claws, but not a single white hair on his body; such a thing only happens once in two years, so pray excuse me this time."
"_Top-off! Half-out!_" answered the mouse; "those are such curious names, they make me a bit suspicious."
"Ah!" replied the cat, "there you sit in your gray coat and long tail, thinking nonsense. That comes of never going out."
The mouse busied herself during the cat's absence in putting the house in order, but meanwhile greedy puss licked the grease-pot clean out. "When it is all done one will rest in peace," thought he to himself, and as soon as night came he went home fat and tired. The mouse, however, again asked what name the third child had received. "It will not please you any better," answered the cat, "for he is called _All-out_."
"_All-out!_" exclaimed the mouse; "well, that is certainly the most curious name by far. I have never yet seen it in print. _All-out!_ What can that mean?" and, shaking her head, she rolled herself up and went to sleep.
After that nobody else asked the cat to stand godfather; but the winter had arrived, and nothing more was to be picked up out of doors; so the mouse bethought herself of their store of provision, and said, "Come, friend cat, we will go to our grease-pot which we laid by; it will taste well now."
"Yes, indeed," replied the cat; "it will taste as well as if you stroked your tongue against the window."
So they set out on their journey, and when they arrived at the church the pot stood in its old place--but it was empty! "Ah," said the mouse, "I see what has happened; now I know you are indeed a faithful friend. You have eaten the whole as you stood godfather; first _Top-off_, then _Half-out_, then--"
"Will you be quiet?" cried the cat. "Not a word, or I'll eat you." But the poor mouse had "_All-out"_ at her tongue's end, and had scarcely uttered it when the cat made a spring, seized her in his mouth, and swallowed her.
This happens every day in the world.
* * * * *
THE SWEET SOUP
Once on a time there was a poor but very good little girl, who lived alone with her mother, and when my story begins, they had nothing in the house to eat. So the child went out into the forest, and there she met an old woman, who already knew her distress, and who presented her with a pot which had the following power. If one said to it, "Boil, little pot!" it would cook sweet soup; and when one said: "Stop, little pot!" it would immediately cease to boil. The little girl took the pot home to her mother, and now their poverty and distresses were at an end, for they could have sweet broth as often as they pleased.
One day, however, the little girl went out, and in her absence the mother said: "Boil, little pot!" So it began to cook, and she soon ate all she wished; but when the poor woman wanted to have the pot stop, she found she did not know the word. Away, therefore, the pot boiled, and very quickly was over the edge; and as it boiled and boiled the kitchen presently became full, then the house, and the next house, and soon the whole street. It seemed likely to satisfy all the world, for, though there was the greatest necessity to do so, nobody knew how to stop it. At last, when only a very small cottage of all the village was left unfilled with soup, the child returned and said at once: "Stop, little pot!"
Immediately it ceased to boil; but whoever wishes to enter the village now must eat his way through the soup!!!
* * * * *
THE STRAW THE COAL AND THE BEAN
All alone, in a quiet little village, lived a poor old woman. One day she had a dish of beans which she wanted to cook for dinner, so she made a fire on the hearth, and in order that it should burn up quickly she lighted it with a handful of straw.
She hung the pot over the fire, and poured in the beans; but one fell on to the floor without her noticing it, and rolled away beside a piece of straw. Soon afterwards a live coal flew out of the fire and joined their company. Then the straw began to speak.
"Dear friends," said he, "whence come you?"
"I was fortunate enough to spring out of the fire," answered the coal. "Had I not exerted myself to get out when I did, I should most certainly have been burnt to ashes."
"I have also just managed to save my skin," said the bean. "Had the old woman succeeded in putting me into the pot, I should have been stewed without mercy, just as my comrades are being served now."
"My fate might have been no better," the straw told them. "The old woman burnt sixty of my brothers at once, but fortunately I was able to slip through her fingers."
"What shall we do now?" said the coal.
"Well," answered the bean, "my opinion is that, as we have all been so fortunate as to escape death, we should leave this place before any new misfortune overtakes us. Let us all three become traveling companions and set out upon a journey to some unknown country."
This suggestion pleased both the straw and the coal, so away they all went at once. Before long they came to a brook, and as there was no bridge across it they did not know how to get to the other side; but the straw had a good idea: "I will lay myself over the water, and you can walk across me as though I were a bridge," he said. So he stretched himself from one bank to the other, and the coal, who was of a hasty disposition, at once tripped gaily on to the newly-built bridge. Half way across she hesitated, and began to feel afraid of the rushing water beneath her. She dared go no farther, but neither would she return; but she stood there so long that the straw caught fire, broke in two, and fell into the stream. Of course, the coal was bound to follow. No sooner did she touch the water than--hiss, zish! out she went, and never glowed again.
The bean, who was a careful fellow, had stayed on the bank, to watch how the coal got across, before trusting himself to such a slender bridge. But when he saw what very queer figures his friends cut, he could not help laughing. He laughed and laughed till he could not stop, and at length he split his side.
It would have gone badly with him then, had not a tailor happened to pass by. He was a kind-hearted fellow, and at once took out his needle and thread and began to repair the mischief.
The bean thanked him politely, for he knew that the tailor had saved his life, but unfortunately he had used black thread, and from that time till to-day every bean has a little black stitch in its side.
* * * * *
WHY THE BEAR HAS A STUMPY TAIL
One winter's day the bear met the fox, who came slinking along with a string of fish he had stolen.
"Hi! stop a minute! Where did you get those from?" demanded the bear.
"Oh, my Lord Bruin, I've been out fishing and caught them," said the fox.
So the bear had a mind to learn to fish, too, and bade the fox tell him how he was to set about it.
"Oh, it is quite easy," answered the fox, "and soon learned. You've only got to go upon the ice, and cut a hole and stick your tail down through it, and hold it there as long as you can. You're not to mind if it smarts a little; that's when the fish bite. The longer you hold it there, the more fish you'll get; and then all at once out with it, with a cross pull side ways and a strong pull, too."
Well, the bear did as the fox said, and though he felt very cold, and his tail smarted very much, he kept it a long, long time down in the hole, till at last it was frozen in, though of course he did not know that. Then he pulled it out with a strong pull, and it snapped short off, and that's why Bruin goes about with a stumpy tail to this day!
* * * * *
THE THREE LITTLE PIGS
Once upon a time, when pigs could talk and no one had ever heard of bacon, there lived an old piggy mother with her three little sons.
They had a very pleasant home in the middle of an oak forest, and were all just as happy as the day was long, until one sad year the acorn crop failed; then, indeed, poor Mrs. Piggy-wiggy often had hard work to make both ends meet.
One day she called her sons to her, and, with tears in her eyes, told them that she must send them out into the wide world to seek their fortune.
She kissed them all round, and the three little pigs set out upon their travels, each taking a different road, and carrying a bundle slung on a stick across his shoulder.
The first little pig had not gone far before he met a man carrying a bundle of straw; so he said to him: "Please, man, give me that straw to build me a house?" The man was very good-natured, so he gave him the bundle of straw, and the little pig built a pretty little house with it.
No sooner was it finished, and the little pig thinking of going to bed, than a wolf came along, knocked at the door, and said: "Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
But the little pig laughed softly, and answered: "No, no, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin."
Then said the wolf sternly: "I will _make_ you let me in; for I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!"
So he huffed and he puffed, and he blew his house in, because, you see, it was only of straw and too light; and when he had blown the house in, he ate up the little pig, and did not leave so much as the tip of his tail.
The second little pig also met a man, and _he_ was carrying a bundle of furze; so piggy said politely: "Please, kind man, will you give me that furze to build me a house?"
The man agreed, and piggy set to work to build himself a snug little house before the night came on. It was scarcely finished when the wolf came along, and said: "Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
"No, no, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin," answered the second little pig.
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!" said the wolf. So he huffed and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and at last he blew the house in, and gobbled the little pig up in a trice.
Now, the third little pig met a man with a load of bricks and mortar, and he said: "Please, man, will you give me those bricks to build a house with?"
So the man gave him the bricks and mortar, and a little trowel as well, and the little pig built himself a nice strong little house. As soon as it was finished the wolf came to call, just as he had done to the other little pigs, and said: "Little pig, little pig, let me in!"
But the little pig answered: "No, no, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin."
"Then," said the wolf, "I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."
Well, he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and he huffed, and he puffed; but he could _not_ get the house down. At last he had no breath left to huff and puff with, so he sat down outside the little pig's house and thought for awhile.
Presently he called out: "Little pig, I know where there is a nice field of turnips."
"Where?" said the little pig.
"Behind the farmer's house, three fields away, and if you will be ready to-morrow morning I will call for you, and we will go together and get some breakfast."
"Very well," said the little pig; "I will be sure to be ready. What time do you mean to start?"
"At six o'clock," replied the wolf.
Well, the wise little pig got up at five, scampered away to the field, and brought home a fine load of turnips before the wolf came. At six o'clock the wolf came to the little pig's house and said: "Little pig, are you ready?"
"Ready!" cried the little pig. "Why, I have been to the field and come back long ago, and now I am busy boiling a potful of turnips for breakfast."
The wolf was very angry indeed; but he made up his mind to catch the little pig somehow or other; so he told him that he knew where there was a nice apple-tree.
"Where?" said the little pig.
"Round the hill in the squire's orchard," the wolf said. "So if you will promise to play me no tricks, I will come for you tomorrow morning at five o'clock, and we will go there together and get some rosy-cheeked apples."
The next morning piggy got up at four o'clock and was off and away long before the wolf came.
But the orchard was a long way off, and besides, he had the tree to climb, which is a difficult matter for a little pig, so that before the sack he had brought with him was quite filled he saw the wolf coming towards him.
He was dreadfully frightened, but he thought it better to put a good face on the matter, so when the wolf said: "Little pig, why are you here before me? Are they nice apples?" he replied at once: "Yes, very; I will throw down one for you to taste." So he picked an apple and threw it so far that whilst the wolf was running to fetch it he had time to jump down and scamper away home.
The next day the wolf came again, and told the little pig that there was going to be a fair in the town that afternoon, and asked him if he would go with him.
"Oh! yes," said the pig, "I will go with pleasure. What time will you be ready to start?"
"At half-past three," said the wolf.
Of course, the little pig started long before the time, went to the fair, and bought a fine large butter-churn, and was trotting away with it on his back when he saw the wolf coming.
He did not know what to do, so he crept into the churn to hide, and by so doing started it rolling.
Down the hill it went, rolling over and over, with the little pig squeaking inside.
The wolf could not think what the strange thing rolling down the hill could be; so he turned tail and ran away home in a fright without ever going to the fair at all. He went to the little pig's house to tell him how frightened he had been by a large round thing which came rolling past him down the hill.
"Ha! ha!" laughed the little pig; "so I frightened you, eh? I had been to the fair and bought a butter-churn; when I saw you I got inside it and rolled down the hill."
This made the wolf so angry that he declared that he _would_ eat up the little pig, and that nothing should save him, for he would jump down the chimney.
But the clever little pig hung a pot full of water over the hearth and then made a blazing fire, and just as the wolf was coming down the chimney he took off the cover and in fell the wolf. In a second the little pig had popped the lid on again.
Then he boiled the wolf, and ate him for supper, and after that he lived quietly and comfortably all his days, and was never troubled by a wolf again.
* * * * *
CHILDREN'S FAVORITE POEMS
THE THREE CHILDREN
Three children sliding on the ice Upon a summer's day, As it fell out they all fell in, The rest they ran away.
Now, had these children been at home, Or sliding on dry ground, Ten thousand pounds to one penny They had not all been drowned.
You parents all that children have, And you too that have none, If you would have them safe abroad Pray keep them safe at home.
ANONYMOUS
* * * * *
THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT
I
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat: They took some honey, and plenty of money Wrapped up in a five-pound note. The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar, "Oh lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!"
II
Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl, How charmingly sweet you sing! Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried; But what shall we do for a ring?" They sailed away, for a year and a day, To the land where the bong-tree grows; And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood, With a ring at the end of his nose, His nose, His nose, With a ring at the end of his nose.
III
"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will." So they took it away, and were married next day By the turkey who lives on the hill. They dined on mince and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon, The moon, The moon, They danced by the light of the moon.
EDWARD LEAR
* * * * *
KINDNESS TO ANIMALS
Little children, never give Pain to things that feel and live: Let the gentle robin come For the crumbs you save at home,-- As his meat you throw along He'll repay you with a song; Never hurt the timid hare Peeping from her green grass lair, Let her come and sport and play On the lawn at close of day; The little lark goes soaring high To the bright windows of the sky, Singing as if 'twere always spring, And fluttering on an untired wing,-- Oh! let him sing his happy song, Nor do these gentle creatures wrong.
UNKNOWN
* * * * *
HOW DOTH THE LITTLE BUSY BEE
How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flow'r!
How skilfully she builds her cell! How neat she spreads the wax! And labors hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labor or of skill, I would be busy too; For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play, Let my first years be past, That I may give for ev'ry day Some good account at last.
ISAAC WATTS
* * * * *
SUPPOSE!
Suppose, my little lady, Your doll should break her head, Could you make it whole by crying Till your eyes and nose are red? And wouldn't it be pleasanter To treat it as a joke, And say you're glad 'twas Dolly's, And not your head that broke?
Suppose you're dressed for walking, And the rain comes pouring down, Will it clear off any sooner Because you scold and frown? And wouldn't it be nicer For you to smile than pout, And so make sunshine in the house When there is none without?
Suppose your task, my little man, Is very hard to get, Will it make it any easier For you to sit and fret? And wouldn't it be wiser Than waiting, like a dunce, To go to work in earnest And learn the thing at once?
Suppose that some boys have a horse, And some a coach and pair, Will it tire you less while walking To say, "It is n't fair?" And would n't it be nobler To keep your temper sweet, And in your heart be thankful You can walk upon your feet?
And suppose the world don't please you, Nor the way some people do, Do you think the whole creation Will be altered just for you? And isn't it, my boy or girl, The wisest, bravest plan, Whatever comes, or does n't come, To do the best you can?
PHOEBE CARY
* * * * *
TWINKLE, TWINKLE
Twinkle, twinkle, little star; How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.
When the glorious sun is set, When the grass with dew is wet, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
When the blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
In the dark-blue sky you keep, And often through my curtains peep; For you never shut your eye Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark Lights the traveler in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star!
ANONYMOUS
* * * * *
PRETTY COW
Thank you, pretty cow, that made Pleasant milk to soak my bread, Every day and every night, Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white
Do not chew the hemlock rank, Growing on the weedy bank; But the yellow cowslips eat, That will make it very sweet.
Where the purple violet grows, Where the bubbling water flows, Where the grass is fresh and fine, Pretty cow, go there and dine.
JANE TAYLOR
* * * * *
THE THREE LITTLE KITTENS
(A CAT'S TALE, WITH ADDITIONS)
Three little kittens lost their mittens; And they began to cry, O mother dear, We very much fear That we have lost our mittens.
Lost your mittens! You naughty kittens! Then you shall have no pie. Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow. No, you shall have no pie. Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.
The three little kittens found their mittens, And they began to cry, O mother dear, See here, see here; See, we have found our mittens.
Put on your mittens, You silly kittens, And you may have some pie. Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r, O let us have the pie. Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r.
The three little kittens put on their mittens, And soon ate up the pie; O mother dear, We greatly fear That we have soiled our mittens.
Soiled your mittens! You naughty kittens! Then they began to sigh, Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow, Then they began to sigh. Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.
The three little kittens washed their mittens, And hung them out to dry; O mother dear, Do not you hear, That we have washed our mittens?
Washed your mittens! O, you're good kittens. But I smell a rat close by; Hush! hush! mee-ow, mee-ow. We smell a rat close by, Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.
ELIZA LEE FOLLEN
* * * * *
THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE
When I was sick and lay a-bed, I had two pillows at my head, And all my toys beside me lay To keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes for an hour or so I watched my leaden soldiers go, With different uniforms and drills, Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets All up and down among the sheets; Or brought my trees and houses out, And planted cities all about.
I was the giant great and still That sits upon the pillow-hill, And sees before him, dale and plain, The pleasant land of counterpane.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
* * * * *
THERE WAS A LITTLE GIRL
There was a little girl, And she had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead. When she was good She was very, very good, And when she was bad she was horrid.
One day she went upstairs, When her parents, unawares, In the kitchen were occupied with meals, And she stood upon her head In her little trundle-bed, And then began hooraying with her heels.
Her mother heard the noise, And she thought it was the boys A-playing at a combat in the attic; But when she climbed the stair, And found Jemima there, She took and she did spank her most emphatic.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
* * * * *
THE BOY WHO NEVER TOLD A LIE
Once there was a little boy, With curly hair and pleasant eye-- A boy who always told the truth, And never, never told a lie.
And when he trotted off to school, The children all about would cry, "There goes the curly-headed boy-- The boy that never tells a lie."
And everybody loved him so, Because he always told the truth, That every day, as he grew up, 'Twas said, "There goes the honest youth."
And when the people that stood near Would turn to ask the reason why, The answer would be always this: "Because he never tells a lie."
* * * * *
FOREIGN CHILDREN
Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, O! don't you wish that you were me?
You have seen the scarlet trees And the lions over seas; You have eaten ostrich eggs, And turned the turtles off their legs.
Such a life is very fine, But it's not so nice as mine: You must often, as you trod, Have wearied _not_ to be abroad.
You have curious things to eat, I am fed on proper meat; You must dwell beyond the foam, But I am safe and live at home. Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, O! don't you wish that you were me?
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
* * * * *
THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE
When children are playing alone on the green, In comes the playmate that never was seen. When children are happy and lonely and good, The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood.
Nobody heard him and nobody saw, His is a picture you never could draw, But he's sure to be present, abroad or at home, When children are happy, and playing alone.
He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass, He sings when you tinkle the musical glass; Whene'er you are happy and cannot tell why, The Friend of the Children is sure to be by!
He loves to be little, he hates to be big, 'Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig; 'Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win.
'Tis he when at night; you go off to your bed, Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your head; For wherever they're lying, in cupboard or shelf, 'Tis he will take care of your playthings himself!
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
* * * * *
I SAW THREE SHIPS
I saw three ships come sailing in, On Christmas day, on Christmas day; I saw three ships come sailing in, On Christmas day in the morning.
Pray whither sailed those ships all three On Christmas day, on Christmas day? Pray whither sailed those ships all three On Christmas day in the morning?
Oh, they sailed into Bethlehem On Christmas day, on Christmas day; Oh, they sailed into Bethlehem On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the bells on earth shall ring On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the bells on earth shall ring On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the angels in heaven shall sing On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the angels in heaven shall sing On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the souls on earth shall sing On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the souls on earth shall sing On Christmas day in the morning.
OLD CAROL
* * * * *
A WAS AN ANT
A was an ant Who seldom stood still, And who made a nice house In the side of a hill. a Nice little ant!
B was a book With a binding of blue, And pictures and stories For me and for you. b Nice little book!
C was a cat Who ran after a rat; But his courage did fail When she seized on his tail. c Crafty old cat!
D was a duck With spots on his back, Who lived in the water, And always said "Quack!" d Dear little duck!
E was an elephant, Stately and wise: He had tusks and a trunk, And two queer little eyes, e Oh, what funny small eyes!
F was a fish Who was caught in a net; But he got out again, And is quite alive yet. f Lively young fish!
G was a goat Who was spotted with brown: When he did not lie still He walked up and down. g Good little goat!
H was a hat Which was all on one side; Its crown was too high, And its brim was too wide. h Oh, what a hat!
I was some ice So white and so nice, But which nobody tasted; And so it was wasted. i All that good ice!
J was a jackdaw Who hopped up and down In the principal street Of a neighboring town. j All through the town!
K was a kite Which flew out of sight, Above houses so high, Quite into the sky. k Fly away, kite!
L was a light Which burned all the night, And lighted the gloom Of a very dark room. l Useful nice light!
M was a mill Which stood on a hill, And turned round and round With a loud hummy sound. m Useful old mill!
N was a net Which was thrown in the sea To catch fish for dinner For you and for me. n Nice little net!
O was an orange So yellow and round: When it fell off the tree, It fell down to the ground; o Down to the ground!
P was a pig, Who was not very big; But his tail was too curly, And that made him surly. p Cross little pig!
Q was a quail With a very short tail; And he fed upon corn In the evening and morn. q Quaint little quail!
R was a rabbit, Who had a bad habit Of eating the flowers In gardens and bowers. r Naughty fat rabbit!
S was the sugar-tongs, Nippity-nee, To take up the sugar To put in our tea. s Nippity-nee!
T was a tortoise, All yellow and black: He walked slowly away, And he never came back. t Torty never came back!
U was an urn All polished and bright, And full of hot water At noon and at night. u Useful old urn!
V was a villa Which stood on a hill, By the side of a river, And close to a mill. v Nice little villa!
W was a whale With a very long tail, Whose movements were frantic Across the Atlantic. w Monstrous old whale!
X was King Xerxes, Who, more than all Turks is, Renowned for his fashion Of fury and passion. x Angry old Xerxes!
Y was a yew, Which flourished and grew By a quiet abode Near the side of a road. y Dark little yew!
Z was some zinc, So shiny and bright, Which caused you to wink In the sun's merry light. z Beautiful zinc!
EDWARD LEAR
* * * * *
THE TABLE AND THE CHAIR
I
Said the Table to the Chair, "You can hardly be aware How I suffer from the heat And from chilblains on my feet.
If we took a little walk, We might have a little talk; Pray let us take the air," Said the Table to the Chair.
II
Said the Chair unto the Table, "Now, you _know_ we are not able: How foolishly you talk, When you know we _cannot_ walk!" Said the Table with a sigh, "It can do no harm to try. I've as many legs as you: Why can't we walk on two?"
III
So they both went slowly down, And walked about the town With a cheerful bumpy sound As they toddled round and round; And everybody cried, As they hastened to their side, "See! the Table and the Chair Have come out to take the air!"
IV
But in going down an alley, To a castle in a valley, They completely lost their way, And wandered all the day; Till, to see them safely back, They paid a Ducky-quack, And a Beetle, and a Mouse, Who took them to their house.
V
Then they whispered to each other, "O delightful little brother, What a lovely walk we've taken! Let us dine on beans and bacon." So the Ducky and the leetle Browny-Mousy and the Beetle Dined, and danced upon their heads Till they toddled to their beds.
EDWARD LEAR
* * * * *
PRECOCIOUS PIGGY
Where are you going to, you little pig? "I'm leaving my Mother, I'm growing so big!" So big, young pig, So young, so big! What, leaving your Mother, you foolish young pig?
Where are you going to, you little pig? "I've got a new spade, and I'm going to dig!" To dig, little pig! A little pig dig! Well, I never saw a pig with a spade that could dig!
Where are you going to, you little pig? "Why, I'm going to have a nice ride in a gig!" In a gig, little pig! What, a pig in a gig! Well, I never yet saw a pig ride in a gig!
Where are you going to, you little pig? "Well, I'm going to the Queen's Head to have a nice swig!" A swig, little pig! A pig have a swig! What, a pig at the Queen's Head having a swig!
Where are you going to, you little pig? "Why, I'm going to the Ball to dance a fine jig!" A jig, little pig! A pig dance a jig! Well, I never before saw a pig dance a jig!
Where are you going to, you little pig? "I'm going to the fair to run a fine rig!" A rig, little pig! A pig run a rig! Well, I never before saw a pig run a rig!
Where are you going to, you little pig? "I'm going to the Barber's to buy me a wig!" A wig, little pig! A pig in a wig! Why, whoever before saw a pig in a wig!
. . . . . . . . . .
THOMAS HOOD
* * * * *
A BOY'S SONG
Where the pools are bright and deep, Where the gray trout lies asleep, Up the river and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me.
Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That's the way for Billy and me.
Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hay lies thick and greenest, There to trace the homeward bee, That's the way for Billy and me.
Where the hazel bank is steepest, Where the shadow falls the deepest, Where the clustering nuts fall free, That's the way for Billy and me.
Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from the play, Or love to banter and fight so well, That's the thing I never could tell.
But this I know, I love to play, Through the meadow, among the hay; Up the water and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me.
JAMES HOGG
* * * * *
BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES
Buttercups and daisies, Oh, the pretty flowers; Coming ere the spring time, To tell of sunny hours. While the trees are leafless, While the fields are bare, Buttercups and daisies Spring up here and there.
Ere the snowdrop peepeth, Ere the crocus bold, Ere the early primrose Opes its paly gold, Somewhere on the sunny bank Buttercups are bright; Somewhere 'mong the frozen grass Peeps the daisy white.
Little hardy flowers, Like to children poor, Playing in their sturdy health By their mother's door, Purple with the north wind, Yet alert and bold; Fearing not, and caring not, Though they be a-cold!
What to them is winter! What are stormy showers! Buttercups and daisies Are these human flowers! He who gave them hardships And a life of care, Gave them likewise hardy strength And patient hearts to bear.
MARY HOWITT
* * * * *
THE VIOLET
Down in a green and shady bed A modest violet grew; Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view.
And yet it was a lovely flower, Its color bright and fair; It might have graced a rosy bower Instead of hiding there.
Yet there it was content to bloom, In modest tints arrayed; And there diffused its sweet perfume Within the silent shade.
Then let me to the valley go, This pretty flower to see, That I may also learn to grow In sweet humility.
JANE TAYLOR
* * * * *
IF EVER I SEE
If ever I see, On bush or tree, Young birds in their pretty nest, I must not in play, Steal the birds away, To grieve their mother's breast.
My mother, I know, Would sorrow so, Should I be stolen away; So I'll speak to the birds In my softest words, Nor hurt them in my play.
And when they can fly In the bright blue sky, They'll warble a song to me; And then if I'm sad It will make me glad To think they are happy and free.
LYDIA MARIA CHILD
* * * * *
THE LITTLE LAND
When at home alone I sit And am very tired of it, I have just to shut my eyes To go sailing through the skies--
To go sailing far away To the pleasant Land of Play; To the fairy land afar Where the Little People are; Where the clover-tops are trees, And the rain-pools are the seas, And the leaves like little ships Sail about on tiny trips; And above the daisy tree Through the grasses, High o'erhead the Bumble Bee Hums and passes. In that forest to and fro I can wander, I can go; See the spider and the fly, And the ants go marching by Carrying parcels with their feet Down the green and grassy street I can in the sorrel sit Where the ladybird alit. I can climb the jointed grass; And on high See the greater swallows pass In the sky, And the round sun rolling by Heeding no such thing as I.
Through the forest I can pass Till, as in a looking-glass, Humming fly and daisy tree And my tiny self I see, Painted very clear and neat On the rain-pool at my feet. Should a leaflet come to land Drifting near to where I stand, Straight I'll board that tiny boat Round the rain-pool sea to float.
Little thoughtful creatures sit On the grassy coasts of it; Little things with lovely eyes See me sailing with surprise. Some are clad in armor green-- (These have sure to battle been!) Some are pied with ev'ry hue, Black and crimson, gold and blue; Some have wings and swift are gone;-- But they all look kindly on.
When my eyes I once again Open and see all things plain; High bare walls, great bare floor; Great big knobs on drawer and door; Great big people perched on chairs, Stitching tucks and mending tears, Each a hill that I could climb, And talking nonsense all the time-- O dear me, That I could be A sailor on the rain-pool sea, A climber in the clover-tree, And just come back, a sleepy-head, Late at night to go to bed.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
* * * * *
A LOBSTER QUADRILLE
"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail, "There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail. See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! They are waiting on the shingle--will you come and join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?
"You can really have no notion how delightful it will be When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!" But the snail replied, "Too far, too far!" and gave a look askance-- Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance, Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.
"What matters it how far we go?" his scaly friend replied, "There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. The further off from England the nearer is to France-- Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance. Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?"
LEWIS CARROLL
* * * * *
WHERE GO THE BOATS?
Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand. It flows along forever With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating, Castles of the foam, Boats of mine a-boating-- Where will all come home?
On goes the river And out past the mill, Away down the valley, Away down the hill.
Away down the river, A hundred miles or more, Other little children Shall bring my boats ashore.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
* * * * *
THE WIND AND THE MOON
Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out; You stare In the air Like a ghost in a chair, Always looking what I am about-- I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."
The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon. So, deep On a heap Of clouds to sleep, Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon, Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."
He turned in his bed; she was there again! On high In the sky, With her one ghost eye, The Moon shone white and alive and plain. Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again."
The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim. "With my sledge, And my wedge, I have knocked off her edge! If only I blow right fierce and grim, The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."
He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread, "One puff More's enough To blow her to snuff! One good puff more where the last was bred, And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread."
He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone. In the air Nowhere Was a moonbeam bare; Far off and harmless the shy stars shone-- Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
The Wind he took to his revels once more; On down, In town, Like a merry-mad clown, He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar-- "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!
He flew in a rage--he danced and blew; But in vain Was the pain Of his bursting brain; For still the broader the Moon-scrap grew, The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew.
Slowly she grew--till she filled the night, And shone On her throne In the sky alone, A matchless, wonderful silvery light, Radiant and lovely, the queen of the night.
Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I! With my breath, Good faith! I blew her to death-- First blew her away right out of the sky-- Then blew her in; what strength have I!"
But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair; For high In the sky, With her one white eye, Motionless, miles above the air, She had never heard the great Wind blare.
GEORGE MACDONALD
* * * * *
WHERE ARE YOU GOING, MY PRETTY MAID?
"Where are you going, my pretty maid?" "I am going a-milking, sir," she said. "May I go with you, my pretty maid?" "You're kindly welcome, sir," she said. "What is your father, my pretty maid?" "My father's a farmer, sir," she said. "What is your fortune, my pretty maid?" "My face is my fortune, sir," she said. "Then I won't marry your my pretty maid." "Nobody asked you, sir," she said.
ANONYMOUS
* * * * *
THE LOST DOLL
I once had a sweet little doll, dears, The prettiest doll in the world; Her cheeks were so red and white, dears, And her hair was so charmingly curled. But I lost my poor little doll, dears, As I played on the heath one day; And I cried for her more than a week, dears, But I never could find where she lay.
I found my poor little doll, dears, As I played on the heath one day; Folks say she is terribly changed, dears, For her paint is all washed away, And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears, And her hair not the least bit curled; Yet for old sake's sake, she is still, dears, The prettiest doll in the world.
CHARLES KINGSLEY
* * * * *
FOREIGN LANDS
Up into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the trunk with both my hands And looked abroad on foreign lands.
I saw the next-door garden lie, Adorned with flowers, before my eye, And many pleasant faces more That I had never seen before.
I saw the dimpling river pass And be the sky's blue looking-glass; The dusty roads go up and down With people tramping in to town.
If I could find a higher tree Farther and farther I should see, To where the grown-up river slips Into the sea among the ships,
To where the roads on either hand Lead onward into fairy land, Where all the children dine at five, And all the playthings come alive.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
* * * * *
BED IN SUMMER
In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer, quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day?
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
* * * * *
TRY AGAIN
'Tis a lesson you should heed, Try, try, try again; If at first you don't succeed, Try, try, try again.
Once or twice though you should fail Try again; If you would at last prevail, Try again. If we strive, 'tis no disgrace Though we may not win the race; What should you do in that case? Try again.
If you find your task is hard, Try again; Time will bring you your reward, Try again. All that other folks can do, With your patience should not you? Only keep this rule in view-- Try again.
ANONYMOUS
* * * * *
A GOOD PLAY
We built a ship upon the stairs All made of the back-bedroom chairs, And filled it full of sofa pillows To go a-sailing on the billows.
We took a saw and several nails, And water in the nursery pails; And Tom said, "Let us also take An apple and a slice of cake;"-- Which was enough for Tom and me To go a-sailing on, till tea.
We sailed along for days and days, And had the very best of plays; But Tom fell out and hurt his knee, So there was no one left but me.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
* * * * *
GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD MORNING
A fair little girl sat under a tree Sewing as long as her eyes could see; Then smoothed her work and folded it right, And said, "Dear work, good night, good night!"
Such a number of rooks came over her head, Crying, "Caw, caw!" on their way to bed, She said, as she watched their curious flight, "Little black things, good night, good night!"
The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed, The sheep's "Bleat! bleat!" came over the road; All seeming to say, with a quiet delight, "Good little girl, good night, good night!"
She did not say to the sun, "Good night!" Though she saw him there like a ball of light; For she knew he had God's time to keep All over the world and never could sleep.
The tall pink foxglove bowed his head; The violets courtesied, and went to bed; And good little Lucy tied up her hair, And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer.
And, while on her pillow she softly lay, She knew nothing more till again it was day; And all things said to the beautiful sun, "Good morning, good morning! our work is begun."
RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES (LORD HOUGHTON)
* * * * *
THE WIND
I saw you toss the kites on high And blow the birds about the sky; And all around I heard you pass, Like ladies' skirts across the grass-- O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!
I saw the different things you did, But always you yourself you hid. I felt you push, I heard you call, I could not see yourself at all-- O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!
O you that are so strong and cold, O blower, are you young or old? Are you a beast of field and tree, Or just a stronger child than me? O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
* * * * *
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY
"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly; "'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy. The way into my parlor is up a winding stair, And I have many curious things to show when you are there." "Oh no, no," said the little fly; "to ask me is in vain, For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."
"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high. Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly. "There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin, And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!" "Oh no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said, They never, never wake again who sleep upon your bed!"
Said the cunning spider to the fly: "Dear friend, what can I do To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you? I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice; I'm sure you're very welcome--will you please to take a slice?" "Oh no, no," said the little fly; "kind sir, that cannot be: I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"
"Sweet creature!" said the spider, "you're witty and you're wise; How handsome are your gauzy wings; how brilliant are your eyes! I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf; If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself." "I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say, And, bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."
The spider turned him round about, and went into his den, For well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again: So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly, And set his table ready to dine upon the fly; Then came out to his door again, and merrily did sing: "Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with pearl and silver wing; Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head; Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly, Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by; With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew, Thinking only of her brilliant eyes and green and purple hue, Thinking only of her crested head. Poor, foolish thing! at last Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast; He dragged her up his winding stair, into the dismal den-- Within his little parlor--but she ne'er came out again!
And now, dear little children, who may this story read, To idle, silly, flattering words I pray you ne'er give heed; Unto an evil counselor close heart and ear and eye, And take a lesson from this tale of the spider and the fly.
MARY HOWITT
* * * * *
LET DOGS DELIGHT TO BARK AND BITE
Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 'tis their nature to;
But, children, you should never let Your angry passions rise: Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.
Let love through all your actions run, And all your words be mild; Live like the blessèd Virgin's Son,-- That sweet and lovely child.
His soul was gentle as a lamb; And as his stature grew, He grew in favor both with man And God his father, too.
Now, Lord of all, he reigns above; And from his heavenly throne, He sees what children dwell in love, And marks them for his own.
ISAAC WATTS
* * * * *
CHILD'S EVENING HYMN
Now the day is over, Night is drawing nigh, Shadows of the evening Steal across the sky.
Now the darkness gathers, Stars begin to peep, Birds and beasts and flowers Soon will be asleep.
Jesu, give the weary Calm and sweet repose; With thy tenderest blessing May our eyelids close.
Grant to little children Visions bright of thee; Guard the sailors tossing On the deep blue sea.
Comfort every sufferer Watching late in pain; Those who plan some evil From their sin restrain.
Through the long night-watches May thine angels spread Their white wings above me, Watching round my bed.
When the morning wakens, Then may I arise Pure and fresh and sinless In thy holy eyes.
Glory to the Father, Glory to the Son, And to thee, blessed Spirit, Whilst all ages run. AMEN.
SABINE BARING-GOULD
* * * * *
CHILDREN'S FAVORITE STORIES
* * * * *
HANSEL AND GRETEL
Many years ago, a woodcutter and his wife, with their two children, Hansel and Gretel, lived upon the outskirts of a dense wood. They were very poor, so that when a famine fell upon the land, and bread became dear, they could no longer afford to buy sufficient food for the whole family.
One night, as the poor man lay tossing on his hard bed, he cried aloud in his grief and anguish:
"Alas! what will become of us? How can I feed my hungry little ones when we have no food for ourselves?"
"Listen to me, good-man," answered his wife, who was stepmother to the children. "As it is no longer possible for us to keep our children, we will take them into the wood with us tomorrow, light a fire for them, and give each a piece of bread and leave them. They will not easily find their way back, and so we shall be rid of the burden of them."
But the father said: "No, no! I could not find it in my heart to leave my darlings to perish. The wild beasts would tear them limb from limb."
"Then," answered the wife, "we must all four die of hunger." She gave her husband no peace until he promised to do as she wished, and at last, very unwillingly, he consented.
Now, the two children had been too hungry to go to sleep that night, and so it happened that they overheard all that their parents were saying. Gretel wept bitterly, but brave little Hansel did his best to comfort her. "Don't be afraid," he said; "I will take care of you."
As soon as his father and stepmother were asleep, he slipped on his coat, and-opening the door softly, went out into the garden. The moon was shining brightly, and by its light he could see the little white pebbles that lay scattered in front of the house, shining like little pieces of silver. He stooped and filled his pockets as full as he could, and then went back to Gretel, and once more bidding her be comforted, for God would be sure to watch over them, he jumped into bed, and they both fell fast asleep.
Early in the morning, before the sun had risen, the stepmother came and wakened the children. "Rise, little lie-a-beds," she said, "and come with us into the wood to gather fuel."
She gave them each a piece of bread for their dinner, and told them to be sure not to eat it too soon, for they would get nothing more.
Gretel carried the bread in her pinafore, because Hansel had his pockets full, and then they all set out upon their way to the wood.
As they trudged along, the father noticed that his little son kept turning back to look at the house. "Take care, my boy," he said, "or you will slip. What are you looking at so earnestly?"
"I am watching my kitten, father: she is sitting on the roof to bid me good-by."
"Silly little lad, that is not your cat," said the stepmother; "it is only the morning sun shining on the chimney."
But Hansel had not been watching his cat at all; he had stayed behind to drop the pebbles upon the path.
When they reached the thickest part of the forest, the father bade the children gather wood, that he might kindle a fire for them, so that they might rest beside it and warm themselves whilst he and his wife were cutting the fuel. So they gathered a pile of brushwood and twigs, and as soon as it was well alight, the parents left them, promising to return as soon as they had finished their work.
Hansel and Gretel sat down by the fire, and when midday came they ate their bread and sat listening to the strokes of their father's axe, thinking all the time that he was near to them. But what they heard was only a dry branch which the man had bound to a tree, so that the wind swung it hither and thither, and the noise it made deceived the children. At last the poor, tired, little eyelids closed, and, side by side, brother and sister fell asleep.
When they awoke, the night was very dark, and Gretel was frightened, and began to cry. Hansel put his arms around her and whispered. "Wait, dearie, till the moon rises; we shall soon find our way home then."
As soon as the bright moon rose, Hansel took his little sister by the hand, and all night long they followed the track of the little white pebbles, until at daybreak they came to their father's house.
They knocked at the door, and no sooner did the stepmother open it than she began to scold them for having stayed out so long in the wood; but the father greeted them kindly, for he had grieved sorely for his little ones.
In a short time they were as badly off as ever, and one night they again heard their mother trying to persuade her husband to take them out into the wood and lose them. "There is nothing left in the house but half a loaf of bread," she said; "for our own sakes it is better to get rid of the children; but this time we will lead them farther away, so that they will not be able to find their way home."
But the man would not agree. "Better to divide our last morsel with them," he said, "and then die together."
His wife would not listen to what he said, but scolded him for his want of thought for her; and at last the poor man gave way a second time, just as he had done at first.
But the children had overheard all that was said, and as soon as the mother and father were asleep, Hansel stole down to the door, meaning to go and collect pebbles as he had done before; but the door was locked and bolted, and he could not get out. "Never mind, Gretel," he said consolingly, "the good God will surely help us."
Early in the morning the woman wakened the children, and, giving them a small piece of bread, bade them follow her and their father into the wood. As they went, Hansel crumbled his morsel of bread in his pocket and strewed the crumbs upon the path.
"Come, Hansel," said the father, "don't loiter so, sonny. What can you see to stare at so often?"
"My little dove, father. It is sitting on the housetop, bidding me good-by."
"Nonsense," said the woman, "it is not your dove; it is only the rising sun shining upon the chimney."
Hansel did not answer, but he went on strewing his crumbs carefully until the last morsel of bread was gone.
Deeper and deeper into the wood they went, where the children had never been before. There a great fire was kindled, and the mother said: "Stay here, children, whilst your father and I go to cut wood. If you are tired you may sleep a while, and we will fetch you when it is time to go home."
When dinner-time came, Gretel divided her piece of bread with Hansel, because he had scattered all his share upon the road; and then they went to sleep. The evening shadows fell, but still no one came to fetch the poor children, and it was not until midnight that they awakened.
Hansel put his arms round his sister and told her not to fear, for when the moon rose they would easily be able to see the crumbs, and so find their way home again.
So when the moon rose they set out upon their way; but alas! there were no crumbs to be seen, for the little birds that lived in the green wood were as hungry as the children, and had eaten them all up.
"We will find the way somehow," cried cheerful little Hansel; but though they traveled all night long, and the next day too, they could not find it. Poor little mites, how tired and hungry they were, for they had nothing to eat but the berries that grew by the roadside!
When at length the weary little feet could go no farther, the children lay down beneath a tree and slept.
On the third day they were still as far away as ever, and it seemed to them that the longer they walked the deeper they got into the wood, and they began to be afraid that they would die of cold and hunger.
But presently, when the midday sun was shining brightly, they noticed a little snow-white bird singing so sweetly that they could not help but stay to listen. When the birdie's song was ended, he spread his wings and flew away.
The children followed him until they reached a little house, on the roof of which he perched. Then the children saw with surprise that the strange little house was built entirely of bread, roofed with cakes, and with windows of barley sugar.
"See, Gretel," cried Hansel joyfully, "there is food for us in plenty. I will take a piece of the roof, and you shall have one of the windows."
He stretched out his hand to help himself, and Gretel had already begun to nibble one of the window-panes, when suddenly they heard a voice call from within:--
"Nibbly, nibbly, mouse! Who's nibbling at my house?"
The children answered quickly:--
"'Tis my Lady Wind that blows, As round about the house she goes."
And then they went on eating as though nothing had happened for the cake of which the roof was made just suited Hansel's taste, whilst the barley-sugar window-panes were better than any sweetmeat Gretel had ever tasted before.
All at once the door of the cottage flew wide open, and out came an old, old woman, leaning upon a crutch. The children were so frightened that they dropped their food and clung to each other.
The old woman nodded her head to them, and said: "Who brought you here, my pets? Come inside, come inside; no one will hurt you."
She took their hands and led them into the house, and set before them all kinds of delicious foods, milk, sugared pancakes, apples, and nuts. When they had finished their meal she showed them two cosy little white beds, and as Hansel and Gretel lay snugly tucked up in them, they thought to themselves that surely they had now found the most delightful place in the whole wide world.
But the old woman had only pretended to be friendly and kind, for she was really a wicked old witch, who was always lying in wait to catch little children, indeed, she had built the little house of bread and cakes especially to entice them in. Whenever anyone came into her power, she cooked and ate him, and thought what a fine feast she had had.
Witches have red eyes and cannot see far, but they have keen scent, like animals, and can tell at once when a human being is near to them.
As soon as Hansel and Gretel came into her neighborhood she laughed to herself and said mockingly: "Ha, ha! they are mine already; they will not easily escape me."
Early in the morning, before the children were awake, she stood beside them and admired their rosy cheeks and soft round limbs.
"What nice tit-bits for me," murmured she. Then, seizing Hansel by the hand, she led him to a little stable, and, in spite of his cries and screams, shut him up and left him. Then she shook Gretel until she was awake, and bade her get up at once and carry food and drink to her brother, and it must be of the best too, for she wished to fatten him.
"When he is nice and plump, I shall eat him," said the cruel old witch. Gretel wept bitterly, but it was quite in vain, for she was obliged to do the witch's bidding; and every day she cooked the choicest food for her brother, while she herself lived upon nothing but oyster-shells.
Day by day the old woman visited the stable and called to Hansel to put his finger through the window bars, that she might see if he were getting fat; but the little fellow held out a bone instead, and as her eyes were dim with age, she mistook the bone for the boy's finger, and thought how thin and lean he was. When a whole month had passed without Hansel becoming the least bit fatter, the old witch lost patience and declared she would wait no longer. "Hurry, Gretel," she said to the little girl, "fill the pot with water, for to-morrow, be he lean or fat, Hansel shall be cooked for my dinner."
The tears chased each other down Gretel's cheeks as she carried in the water, and she sobbed aloud in her grief. "Dear God," she cried, "we have no one to help us but Thou. Alas! if only the wild beasts in the wood had devoured us, at least we should have died together."
"Cease your chattering," cried the old witch angrily. "It will not help you, so you may as well be still."
The next morning poor Gretel was forced to light the fire and hang the great pot of water over it, and then the witch said: "First we will bake. I have kneaded the dough, and heated the oven; you shall creep inside it to see if it is hot enough to bake the bread."
But Gretel guessed that the old witch meant to shut the door upon her and roast her, so she pretended that she did not know how to get in.
"Silly goose," said the witch. "The door is wide enough, to be sure. Why, even I could get inside it." As she spoke, she popped her head into the oven. In a moment Gretel sprang towards her, pushed her inside, shut the iron door, and shot the bolt. Oh! how she squealed and shrieked, but Gretel ran off as fast as she could, and so there was an end of the cruel old witch.
Quick as thought, Gretel ran to her brother. "We are saved, Hansel," she cried, opening the door of the stable, "the wicked old witch is dead."
Hansel flew from his prison as a bird from its cage, and the two happy little children kissed each other and jumped for joy. No longer afraid of the old witch, they entered the house, hand in hand, and then they saw that in every corner of the room were boxes of pearls and diamonds, and all kinds of precious gems.
"Ah!" said Hansel merrily, "these are better than pebbles, Gretel," and he stuffed his pockets with the jewels, whilst Gretel filled her pinafore. "Now," said Hansel, "we will leave the witch's wood behind us as fast as we can."
So off they ran, and never stopped until they came to a lake, upon which swam a large white duck.
"How can we cross," said Hansel, "for there is no bridge anywhere?"
"And no ship either," Gretel answered; "but we will ask the pretty white duck to carry us over." So they cried aloud:--
"Little duck, little duck, With wings so white, Carry us over The waters bright."
The duck came at once, and, taking Hansel upon her back, carried him over to the other side, and then did the same for Gretel. They went merrily on their way, and very soon they found themselves in a part of the wood they knew quite well.
When they saw the roof of their father's house in the distance they began to run, and, breathless with haste, half laughing and half crying, they rushed into the cottage and flung themselves into their father's arms.
Oh! how pleased he was to see them once again, for he had not known a happy hour since he had left them alone in the wood. Gretel shook out her pinafore, and Hansel emptied his pockets, and the floor of the little room was quite covered with glittering precious stones.
So now their troubles were at an end, for the cruel stepmother was dead, and Hansel and Gretel and their father lived together happily ever after.
My story is ended, and see, there runs a little mouse, and the first who catches him shall have a fur cap made from his skin.
* * * * *
THE FAIR CATHERINE AND PIF-PAF POLTRIE
"Good day, Father Hollenthe. How do you do?" "Very well, I thank you, Pif-paf Poltrie." "May I marry your daughter?" "Oh, yes! if the mother Malcho (_Milk-Cow_), the brother Hohenstolz (_High and Mighty_), the sister Kâsetraut (_Cheese-maker_), and the fair Catherine are willing, it may be so."
"Where is, then, the mother Malcho?"
"In the stable, milking the cow."
"Good day, mother Malcho. How do you do?" "Very well, I thank you, Pif-paf Poltrie." "May I marry your daughter?" "Oh, yes! if the father Hollenthe, the brother Hohenstolz, the sister Kâsetraut, and the fair Catherine are willing, it may be so."
"Where is, then, the brother Hohenstolz?"
"In the yard, chopping up the wood."
"Good day, brother Hohenstolz. How are you?" "Very well, I thank you, Pif-paf Poltrie." "May I marry your sister?" "Oh, yes! if the father Hollenthe, the mother Malcho, the sister Kâsetraut, and the fair Catherine are willing, it may be so.
"Where is, then, the sister Kâsetraut?"
"In the garden, cutting the cabbages."
"Good day, sister Kâsetraut. How do you do?" "Very well, I thank you, Pif-paf Poltrie." "May I marry your sister?" "Oh, yes! if the father Hollenthe, the mother Malcho, the brother Hohenstolz, and the fair Catherine are willing, it may be so."
"Where is, then, the fair Catherine?"
"In her chamber, counting out her pennies."
"Good day, fair Catherine. How do you do?" "Very well, I thank you, Pif-paf Poltrie." "Will you be my bride?" "Oh, yes! if the father Hollenthe, the mother Malcho, the brother Hohenstolz, and the sister Kâsetraut are willing, so am I."
"How much money have you, fair Catherine?"
"Fourteen pennies in bare money, two and a half farthings owing to me, half a pound of dried apples, a handful of prunes, and a handful of roots; and don't you call that a capital dowry? Pif-paf Poltrie, what trade are you? Are you a tailor?"
"Better than that."
"A shoemaker?"
"Better still!"
"A plowman?"
"Better still!"
"A joiner?"
"Better still!"
"A smith?"
"Better still!"
"A miller?"
"Better still!"
"Perhaps a broom-binder?"
"Yes, so I am; now, is not that a pretty trade?"
* * * * *
THE WOLF AND THE FOX
A wolf, once upon a time, caught a fox. It happened one day that they were both going through the forest, and the wolf said to his companion: "Get me some food, or I will eat you up."
The fox replied: "I know a farmyard where there are a couple of young lambs, which, if you wish, we will fetch."
This proposal pleased the wolf, so they went, and the fox, stealing first one of the lambs, brought it to the wolf, and then ran away. The wolf devoured it quickly, but was not contented, and went to fetch the other lamb by himself, but he did it so awkwardly that he aroused the attention of the mother, who began to cry and bleat loudly, so that the peasants ran up. There they found the wolf, and beat him so unmercifully that he ran, howling and limping, to the fox, and said: "You have led me to a nice place, for, when I went to fetch the other lamb, the peasants came and beat me terribly!"
"Why are you such a glutton, then?" asked the fox.
The next day they went again into the fields, and the covetous wolf said to the fox: "Get me something to eat now, or I will devour you!"
The fox said he knew a country house where the cook was going that evening to make some pancakes, and thither they went. When they arrived, the fox sneaked and crept around round the house, until he at last discovered where the dish was standing, out of which he stole six pancakes, and took them to the wolf, saying, "There is something for you to eat!" and then ran away. The wolf dispatched these in a minute or two, and, wishing to taste some more, he went and seized the dish, but took it away so hurriedly that it broke in pieces. The noise of its fall brought out the woman, who, as soon as she saw the wolf, called her people, who, hastening up, beat him with such a good will that he ran home to the fox, howling, with two lame legs! "What a horrid place you have drawn me into now," cried he; "the peasants have caught me, and dressed my skin finely!"
"Why, then, are you such a glutton?" said the fox.
When they went out again the third day, the wolf limping along with weariness, he said to the fox: "Get me something to eat now, or I will devour you!"
The fox said he knew a man who had just killed a pig, and salted the meat down in a cask in his cellar, and that they could get at it. The wolf replied that he would go with him on condition that he helped him if he could not escape. "Oh, of course I will, on mine own account!" said the fox, and showed him the tricks and ways by which they could get into the cellar. When they went in there was meat in abundance, and the wolf was enraptured at the sight. The fox, too, had a taste, but kept looking round while eating, and ran frequently to the hole by which they had entered, to see if his body would slip through it easily. Presently the wolf asked: "Why are you running about so, you fox, jumping in and out?" "I want to see if any one is coming," replied the fox cunningly; "but mind you do not eat too much!"
The wolf said he would not leave till the cask was quite empty; and meanwhile the peasant, who had heard the noise made by the fox, entered the cellar. The fox, as soon as he saw him, made a spring, and was through the hole in a jiffy; and the wolf tried to follow his example, but he had eaten so much that his body was too big for the opening, and he stuck fast. Then came the peasant with a cudgel, and beat him sorely; but the fox leaped away into the forest, very glad to get rid of the old glutton.
* * * * *
DISCREET HANS
Hans's mother asked: "Whither are you going, Hans?" "To Grethel's," replied he. "Behave well, Hans." "I will take care; good-by, mother." "Good-by, Hans."
Hans came to Grethel. "Good day," said he. "Good day," replied Grethel, "what treasure do you bring to-day?" "I bring nothing. Have you anything to give?" Grethel presented Hans with a needle. "Good-by," said he. "Good-by, Hans." Hans took the needle, stuck it in a load of hay, and walked home behind the wagon.
"Good evening, mother." "Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?" "To Grethel's." "And what have you given her?" "Nothing; she has given me something." "What has Grethel given you?" "A needle," said Hans. "And where have you put it?" "In the load of hay." "Then you have behaved stupidly, Hans; you should put needles on your coat-sleeve." "To behave better, do nothing at all," thought Hans.
"Whither are you going, Hans?" "To Grethel's, mother." "Behave well, Hans." "I will take care; good-by, mother." "Good-by, Hans."
Hans came to Grethel. "Good day," said he. "Good day, Hans. What treasure do you bring?" "I bring nothing. Have you anything to give?" Grethel gave Hans a knife. "Good-by, Grethel." "Good-by, Hans." Hans took the knife, put it in his sleeve, and went home.
"Good evening, mother." "Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?" "To Grethel's." "And what did you take to her?" "I took nothing; she has given to me." "And what did she give you?" "A knife," said Hans. "And where have you put it?" "In my sleeve." "Then you have behaved foolishly again, Hans; you should put knives in your pocket." "To behave better, do nothing at all," thought Hans.
"Whither are you going, Hans?" "To Grethel's, mother." "Behave well, Hans." "I will take care; good-by, mother." "Good-by, Hans."
Hans came to Grethel. "Good day, Grethel." "Good day, Hans. What treasure do you bring?" "I bring nothing. Have you anything to give?" Grethel gave Hans a young goat. "Good-by, Grethel." "Good-by, Hans." Hans took the goat, tied its legs, and put it in his pocket.
Just as he reached home it was suffocated. "Good evening, mother." "Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?" "To Grethel's." "And what did you take to her?" "I took nothing; she gave to me." "And what did Grethel give you?" "A goat." "Where did you put it, Hans?" "In my pocket." "There you acted stupidly, Hans; you should have tied the goat with a rope." "To behave better, do nothing," thought Hans.
"Whither away, Hans?" "To Grethel's, mother." "Behave well, Hans." "I'll take care; good-by, mother." "Good-by, Hans."
Hans came to Grethel. "Good day," said he. "Good day, Hans. What treasure do you bring?" "I bring nothing. Have you anything to give?" Grethel gave Hans a piece of bacon. "Good-by, Grethel." "Good-by, Hans." Hans took the bacon, tied it with a rope, and swung it to and fro so that the dogs came and ate it up. When he reached home he held the rope in his hand, but there was nothing on it.
"Good evening, mother," said he. "Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?" "To Grethel's, mother." "What did you take there?" "I took nothing; she gave to me." "And what did Grethel give you?" "A piece of bacon," said Hans. "And where have you put it?" "I tied it with a rope, swung it about, and the dogs came and ate it up." "There you acted stupidly, Hans; you should have carried the bacon on your head." "To behave better, do nothing," thought Hans.
"Whither away, Hans?" "To Grethel's, mother." "Behave well, Hans." "I'll take care; good-by, mother." "Good-by, Hans."
Hans came to Grethel. "Good day," said he. "Good day, Hans. What treasure do you bring?" "I bring nothing. Have you anything to give?" Grethel gave Hans a calf. "Good-by," said Hans. "Good-by." Hans took the calf, set it on his head, and the calf scratched his face.
"Good evening, mother." "Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?" "To Grethel's." "What did you take her?" "I took nothing; she gave to me." "And what did Grethel give you?" "A calf," said Hans. "And what did you do with it?" "I set it on my head, and it kicked my face." "Then you acted stupidly, Hans; you should have led the calf home, and put it in the stall." "To behave better, do nothing," thought Hans.
"Whither away, Hans?" "To Grethel's, mother." "Behave well, Hans." "I'll take care; good-by, mother." "Good by, Hans."
Hans came to Grethel. "Good day," said he. "Good day, Hans. What treasure do you bring?" "I bring nothing. Have you anything to give?" Grethel said: "I will go with you, Hans." Hans tied a rope round Grethel, led her home, put her in the stall, and made the rope fast; and then he went to his mother.
"Good evening, mother." "Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?" "To Grethel's." "What did you take her?" "I took nothing." "What did Grethel give you?" "She gave nothing; she came with me." "And where have you left her, then?" "I tied her with a rope, put her in the stall, and threw in some grass." "Then you acted stupidly, Hans; you should have looked at her with friendly eyes." "To behave better, do nothing," thought Hans; and then he went into the stall, and made sheep's eyes at Grethel.
And after that Grethel became Hans's wife.
* * * * *
PUSS IN BOOTS
Once upon a time there was a miller, who was so poor that at his death he had nothing to leave to his three children but his mill, his ass, and his cat. The eldest son took the mill, and the second the ass, so there was nothing left for poor Jack but to take Puss.
Jack could not help thinking that he had been treated shabbily. "My brothers will be able to earn an honest livelihood," he sighed, "but as for me, though Puss may feed himself by catching mice, I shall certainly die of hunger."
The cat, who had overheard his young master, jumped upon his shoulder, and, rubbing himself gently against his cheek, began to speak. "Dear master," said he, "do not grieve. I am not as useless as you think me, and will undertake to make your fortune for you, if only you will buy me a pair of boots, and give me that old bag."
Now, Jack had very little money to spare, but, knowing Puss to be a faithful old friend, he made up his mind to trust him, and so spent all he possessed upon a smart pair of boots made of buff-colored leather. They fitted perfectly, so Puss put them on, took the old bag which his master gave him, and trotted off to a neighboring warren in which he knew there was a great number of rabbits.
Having put some bran and fresh parsley into the bag, he laid it upon the ground, hid himself, and waited. Presently two foolish little rabbits, sniffing the food, ran straight into the bag, when the clever cat drew the strings and caught them.
Then, slinging the bag over his shoulder, he hastened off to the palace, where he asked to speak to the King. Having been shown into the royal presence, he bowed and said:
"Sire, my Lord the Marquis of Carabas has commanded me to present these rabbits to your Majesty, with his respects."
The monarch having desired his thanks to be given to the Marquis (who, as you will guess, was really our poor Jack), then ordered his head cook to dress the rabbits for dinner, and he and his daughter partook of them with great enjoyment.
Day by day Puss brought home stores of good food, so that he and his master lived in plenty, and besides that, he did not fail to keep the King and his courtiers well supplied with game.
Sometimes he would lay a brace of partridges at the royal feet, sometimes a fine large hare, but whatever it was, it always came with the same message: "From my Lord the Marquis of Carabas"; so that everyone at Court was talking of this strange nobleman, whom no one had ever seen, but who sent such generous presents to his Majesty.
At length Puss decided that it was time for his master to be introduced at Court. So one day he persuaded him to go and bathe in a river near, having heard that the King would soon pass that way.
Jack stood shivering up to his neck in water, wondering what was to happen next, when suddenly the King's carriage appeared in sight. At once Puss began to call out as loudly as he could:
"Help, help! My Lord the Marquis of Carabas is drowning!"
The King put his head out of the carriage window and, recognizing the cat, ordered his attendants to go to the assistance of the Marquis. While Jack was being taken out of the water, Puss ran to the King and told him that some robbers had run off with his master's clothes whilst he was bathing, the truth of the matter being that the cunning cat had hidden them under a stone.
On hearing this story the King instantly despatched one of his grooms to fetch a handsome suit of purple and gold from the royal wardrobe, and arrayed in this, Jack, who was a fine, handsome fellow, looked so well that no one for a moment supposed but that he was some noble foreign lord.
The King and his daughter were so pleased with his appearance that they invited him into their carriage. At first Jack hesitated, for he felt a little shy about sitting next to a Princess, but she smiled at him so sweetly, and was so kind and gentle, that he soon forgot his fears and fell in love with her there and then.
As soon as Puss had seen his master seated in the royal carriage, he whispered directions to the coachman, and then ran on ahead as fast as he could trot, until he came to a field of corn, where the reapers were busy.
"Reapers," said he fiercely, "the King will shortly pass this way. If he should ask you to whom this field belongs, remember that you say, 'To the Marquis of Carabas.' If you dare to disobey me, I will have you all chopped up as fine as mincemeat." The reapers were so afraid the cat would keep his word that they promised to obey. Puss then ran on and told all the other laborers whom he met to give the same answer, threatening them with terrible punishments if they disobeyed.
Now, the King was in a very good humor, for the day was fine, and he found the Marquis a very pleasant companion, so he told the coachman to drive slowly, in order that he might admire the beautiful country. "What a fine field of wheat!" he said presently. "To whom does it belong?" Then the men answered as they had been told: "To our Lord the Marquis of Carabas." Next they met a herd of cattle, and again to the King's question, "To whom do they belong?" they were told, "To the Marquis of Carabas." And it was the same with everything they passed.
The Marquis listened with the greatest astonishment, and thought what a very wonderful cat his dear Puss was; and the King was delighted to find that his new friend was as wealthy as he was charming.
Meanwhile Puss, who was well in advance of the Royal party, had arrived at a stately castle, which belonged to a cruel Ogre, the richest ever known, for all the lands the King had admired so much belonged to him. Puss knocked at the door and asked to see the Ogre, who received him quite civilly, for he had never seen a cat in boots before, and the sight amused him.
So he and Puss were soon chatting away together.
The Ogre, who was very conceited, began to boast of what clever tricks he could play, and Puss sat and listened, with a smile on his face.
"I once heard, great Ogre," he said at last, "that you possessed the power of changing yourself into any kind of animal you chose--a lion or an elephant, for instance."
"Well, so I can," replied the Ogre.
"Dear me! how much I should like to see you do it now," said Puss sweetly.
The Ogre was only too pleased to find a chance of showing how very clever he was, so he promised to transform himself into any animal Puss might mention.
"Oh! I will leave the choice to you," said the cat politely.
Immediately there appeared where the Ogre had been seated, an enormous lion, roaring, and lashing with its tail, and looking as though it meant to gobble the cat up in a trice.
Puss was really very much frightened, and, jumping out of the window, managed to scramble on to the roof, though he could scarcely hold on to the tiles on account of his high-heeled boots.
There he sat, refusing to come down, until the Ogre changed himself into his natural form, and laughingly called to him that he would not hurt him.
Then Puss ventured back into the room, and began to compliment the Ogre on his cleverness.
"Of course, it was all very wonderful," he said, "but it would be more wonderful still if you, who are so great and fierce, could transform yourself into some timid little creature, such as a mouse. That, I suppose, would be quite impossible?"
"Not at all," said the vain Ogre; "one is quite as easy to me as the other, as I will show you." And in a moment a little brown mouse was frisking about all over the floor, whilst the Ogre had vanished.
"Now or never," said Puss, and with a spring he seized the mouse and gobbled it up as fast as he could.
At the same moment all the gentlemen and ladies whom the wicked Ogre had held in his castle under a spell, became disenchanted. They were so grateful to their deliverer that they would have done anything to please him, and readily agreed to enter into the service of the Marquis of Carabas when Puss asked them to do so.
So now the cat had a splendid castle, which he knew to be full of heaped-up treasures, at his command, and ordering a magnificent feast to be prepared, he took up his station at the castle gates to welcome his master and the royal party.
As soon as the castle appeared in sight, the King enquired whose it was, "For," said he, "I have never seen a finer."
Then Puss, bowing low, threw open the castle gates, and cried:
"May it please your Majesty to alight and enter the home of the most noble the Marquis of Carabas."
Full of surprise, the King turned to the Marquis. "Is this splendid castle indeed yours?" he asked. "Not even our own palace is more beautiful, and doubtless it is as splendid within as without."
Puss then helped his Majesty to alight, and conducted him into the castle, where a group of noble gentlemen and fair ladies were waiting to receive them. Jack, or the Marquis as he was now called, gave his hand to the young Princess, and led her to the banquet. Long and merrily they feasted, and when at length the guests rose to depart, the King embraced the Marquis, and called him his dear son; and the Princess blushed so charmingly and looked so shy and sweet, that Jack ventured to lay his heart and fortune at her feet.
And so the miller's son married the King's daughter, and there were great rejoicings throughout the land.
On the evening of the wedding-day a great ball was given, to which princes and noblemen from far and near were invited. Puss opened the ball, wearing for the occasion a pair of boots made of the finest leather, with gold tassels and scarlet heels. I only wish you could have seen him.
When the old King died, the Princess and her husband reigned in his stead, and their most honored and faithful friend at Court was Puss himself, for his master never forgot to whom he owed all his good fortune. He lived upon the daintiest meat and most delicious cream, and was petted and made much of all the days of his life, and never again ran after mice and rats, except for exercise and amusement.
* * * * *
THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER
There was once a shoemaker who, through no fault of his own, had become so poor that at last he had only leather enough left for one pair of shoes. At evening he cut out the shoes which he intended to begin upon the next morning, and since he had a good conscience, he lay down quietly, said his prayers, and fell asleep.
In the morning when he had prayed, as usual, and was preparing to sit down to work, he found the pair of shoes standing finished on his table. He was amazed, and could not understand it in the least.
He took the shoes in his hand to examine them more closely. They were so neatly sewn that not a stitch was out of place, and were as good as the work of a master-hand.
Soon after a purchaser came in, and as he was much pleased with the shoes, he paid more than the ordinary price for them, so that the shoemaker was able to buy leather for two pairs with the money.
He cut them out in the evening, and next day, with fresh courage was about to go to work; but he had no need to, for when he got up, the shoes were finished, and buyers were not lacking. These gave him so much money that he was able to buy leather for four pairs of shoes.
Early next morning he found the four pairs finished, and so it went on; what he cut out at evening was finished in the morning, so that he was soon again in comfortable circumstances, and became a well-to-do man.
Now it happened one evening, not long before Christmas, when he had cut out shoes as usual, that he said to his wife: "How would it be if we were to sit up to-night to see who it is that lends us such a helping hand?"
The wife agreed, lighted a candle, and they hid themselves in the corner of the room behind the clothes which were hanging there.
At midnight came two little naked men, who sat down at the shoemaker's table, took up the cut-out work, and began with their tiny fingers to stitch, sew, and hammer so neatly and quickly, that the shoemaker could not believe his eyes. They did not stop till everything was quite finished, and stood complete on the table; then they ran swiftly away.
The next day the wife said: "The little men have made us rich, and we ought to show our gratitude. They run about with nothing on, and must freeze with cold. Now I will make them little shirts, coats, waistcoats, and hose, and will even knit them stout stockings, and you shall make them each a pair of shoes."
The husband agreed, and at evening, when they had everything ready, they laid out the presents on the table, and hid themselves to see how the little men would behave.
At midnight they came skipping in, and were about to set to work; but, instead of the leather ready cut out, they found the charming little clothes.
At first they were surprised, then excessively delighted. With the greatest speed they put on and smoothed down the pretty clothes, singing:
"Now we're dressed so fine and neat, Why cobble more for others' feet?"
Then they hopped and danced about, and leaped over chairs and tables and out at the door. Henceforward, they came back no more, but the shoemaker fared well as long as he lived, and had good luck in all his undertakings.
* * * * *
HANS IN LUCK
Hans had served his master seven long years; so he said to him: "Master, my time is out, and my wish is to return home to my mother: give me, if you please, my reward."
The master answered: "Thou hast truly and faithfully served me; as the service was, so shall the reward be." And he gave Hans a piece of gold as big as his head.
Hans pulled out his handkerchief, wrapped up the lump of gold in it, and, throwing it over his shoulder, made his way home. As he went on his way, always putting one foot before the other, he met a man galloping briskly along on a fine horse.
"Ah!" said Hans, quite aloud, "what a capital thing it is to ride! There you sit as comfortably as in a chair, kicking against no stones, saving your shoe-leather, and getting to your journey's end almost without knowing it!"
The horseman, who heard this, pulled up and cried, "Hullo, Hans why do you trudge on foot?"
"Because I must," answered he; "for I have this big lump to carry home. It is real gold, you know; but, all the same, I can scarcely hold up my head, it weighs so terribly on my shoulders."
"I'll tell you what," said the horseman: "we'll just exchange. I'll give you my horse and you give me your lump of gold."
"With all my heart!" said Hans. "But I warn you, you'll have a job to carry it."
The horseman dismounted, took the gold, and helped Hans up; and, giving the bridle into his hand, said: "If you want him to go at full speed, you must cluck with your tongue and cry 'C'ck! c'ck!'"
Hans was heartily delighted, as he sat on his horse and rode gaily along.
After a while he fancied he would like to go faster, so he began to cluck with his tongue and cry "C'ck! c'ck!" The horse broke into a smart trot, and before Hans was aware he was thrown off--splash!--into a ditch which divided the highway from the fields, and there he lay. The horse, too, would have run away had it not been stopped by a peasant, as he came along the road, driving his cow before him.
Hans pulled himself together and got upon his legs again. He felt very downcast, and said to the peasant: "It's a poor joke, that riding, especially when one lights upon such a brute as this, which kicks and throws one off so that one comes near to breaking one's neck. You don't catch me on his back again. Now, there's more sense in a cow like yours, behind which you can walk in peace and quietness, besides having your butter, milk, and cheese every morning for certain. What would I not give for such a cow!"
"Well," said the peasant, "if it would give you so much pleasure, I will exchange my cow for your horse."
Hans gladly consented, and the peasant flung himself on the horse and rode quickly off.
Hans drove the cow peacefully along, thinking: "What a lucky fellow I am! I have just to get a bit of bread (and that isn't a difficult matter) and then, as often as I like, I can eat my butter and cheese with it. If I am thirsty, I just milk my cow and drink. What more could I desire?"
When he came to an inn, he made a stop, and in his great joy ate all the food he had with him right up, both dinner and supper.
With his two last farthings, he bought himself half a glass of beer. Then he drove his cow towards his mother's village.
As the morning went on, the more oppressive the heat became, and Hans found himself in a field some three miles long.
Then he felt so hot that his tongue was parched with thirst. "This is soon cured," thought Hans. "I have only to milk my cow, drink, and refresh myself."
He tied the cow to a withered tree, and as he had no pitcher he placed his leathern cap underneath her; but in spite of all his trouble not a drop of milk could be got.
And he went to work so clumsily that the impatient brute gave him such a kick with her hind leg that he was knocked over and quite dazed, and for a long time did not know where he was.
Luckily a butcher came by just then, wheeling a young pig in a barrow.
"What kind of joke is this?" cried he, helping our friend Hans to rise.
Hans told him what had happened. The butcher passed him his bottle and said:
"There, drink and revive yourself. That cow will never give any milk; she is an old animal and, at the best, is only fit for the plow or the butcher."
"Oho!" said Hans, running his fingers through his hair. "Who would have thought it? It is all right indeed when you can slaughter such a beast in your own house. But I don't think much of cow's flesh; it is not tender enough. Now, if one had a young pig! That would taste far different, to say nothing of the sausages!"
"Listen, Hans," said the butcher. "For your sake, I will exchange, and let you have my pig for your cow."
"May Heaven reward your friendship!" said Hans, and at once gave him the cow.
The man untied the pig from the wheelbarrow, and gave the rope with which it was bound into Hans's hand.
Hans marched on, thinking: "What a lucky fellow I am. As soon as anything goes wrong, something turns up and all's right again."
Just then, up came a youth, carrying a fine white goose under his arm. They were friends, and Hans began to talk about his luck and how he always came off best in his exchanges. The youth told him he was taking the goose to a christening feast.
"Just hold it," he continued, seizing it by the wings, "and feel how heavy it is: yet it was only fattened for eight weeks. It will be a rich morsel when roasted."
"Yes," said Hans, weighing it with his hand, "it is certainly heavy, but my pig is by no means to be despised."
Meanwhile the lad was looking thoughtfully around, shaking his head. "Listen," he said, "I don't think it's all right about your pig. In the village I have just come through, one has lately been stolen from the magistrate's own sty. I fear it is the one you have. They have sent people out, and it would be a bad business if they found you with the pig. The least they would do would be to throw you into jail."
Our friend Hans was downcast. "Alas," he cried, "help me in my need! You know your way here better than I. Take my pig then, and give me your goose."
"I shall be running great risks," said the youth, "but at least I will prevent your getting into trouble."
He took the rope in his hand and drove the pig quickly away down a by-path, and Hans went on relieved of his sorrow, towards home, with the goose under his arm.
"What a lucky fellow I am!" he said to himself. "First, I shall have a good roast; then there is the quantity of dripping that will fall out, which will keep me in bread-and-dripping for a quarter of a year; and lastly, the splendid white feathers, with which I will have my pillow stuffed; then I shall fall asleep without rocking. How glad my mother will be!"
When he was at length come to the village, there stood in the street a scissors-grinder with his truck. His wheel hummed, and he sang the while:
"My wheel I turn, and the scissors I grind, And my cloak hangs flowing free in the wind."
Hans remained standing, and watched him; at length he spoke to him, and said:
"You must be doing well since you are so merry over your grinding."
"Yes," said the scissors-grinder; "the work has gold at the bottom of it. A proper scissors-grinder is the sort of man who, whenever he puts his hand in his pocket, finds money there. But where have you bought that fine goose?"
"I did not buy it, but exchanged it for my pig."
"And the pig?"
"I obtained him for a cow."
"And the cow?"
"I had her for a horse."
"And the horse?"
"For him I gave a lump of gold as big as my head."
"And the gold?"
"Why, that was my reward for seven years of service."
"You have certainly done well for yourself each time," said the scissors-grinder. "If you could only hear money rattling in your pocket every time you got up, your fortune would be made."
"How shall I set about it?" said Hans.
"You must become a grinder, like me. All you want is a grindstone: the rest comes of itself. I have one which is a little damaged indeed, but for which I would ask nothing more than your goose; would that suit you?"
"How can you ask me?" answered Hans. "I shall be the luckiest fellow on earth. If I have money as often as I feel in my pocket, what else shall I have to care about?" And he handed over the goose, and took the grindstone in receipt.
"Now," said the grinder, lifting up an ordinary heavy field-stone, which lay beside him. "There you have a capital stone, which will be just the thing to hammer your old nails straight upon. Take it and lift it up carefully."
Hans raised the stone and marched on with a joyful heart, his eyes shining with pleasure.
"I must have been born lucky," he cried out. "All that I desire comes to me, as to a Sunday-child."
Meanwhile, having been on his legs since daybreak, he began to feel tired; besides which, he was tormented by hunger, for he had eaten up all his provision in his joy over the exchange of the cow.
At length he could only proceed with great trouble and must needs stop every minute; the stones, too, crushed him terribly. Then he could not conceal the thought: "How nice it would be now to have nothing to carry!"
Like a snail he crept up to a well, wishing to rest himself and enjoy a refreshing drink.
In order not to spoil the stones in setting them down, he laid them carefully on the ground one beside the other, and bent himself down to drink, but by an accident he gave them a little push, and both stones went splashing down.
Hans, when he saw them sinking in the depths of the well, jumped up with joy, kneeled down and thanked God, with tears in his eyes, that He had shown him this grace and, without troubling him to think what to do with them, had relieved him of the heavy stones which would have been such a hindrance to him.
"There is no man under the sun," he cried out, "so lucky as I."
With a bright heart and free from all care, he sprang upon his way, until he was home at his mother's.
* * * * *
MASTER OF ALL MASTERS
A girl once went to the fair to hire herself for a servant. At last a funny-looking old gentleman engaged her, and took her home to his house. When she got there, he told her that he had something to teach her, for that in his house he had his own names for things.
He said to her: "What will you call me?"
"Master or mister, or whatever you please, sir," says she.
He said: "You must call me 'Master of all Masters.' And what would you call this?" pointing to his bed.
"Bed or couch, or whatever you please, sir."
"No, that's my 'barnacle.' And what do you call these?" said he, pointing to his pantaloons.
"Breeches or trousers, or whatever you please, sir."
"You must call them 'squibs and crackers,' And what would you call her?" pointing to the cat.
"Cat or kit, or whatever you please, sir."
"You must call her 'white-faced simminy.' And this, now," showing the fire, "what would you call this?"
"Fire or flame, or whatever you please, sir."
"You must call it 'hot cockalorum.' And what, this?" he went on, pointing to the water.
"Water or wet, or whatever you please, sir."
"No, 'pondalorum' is its name. And what do you call all this?" asked he, as he pointed to the house.
"House or cottage, or whatever you please, sir."
"You must call it 'high topper mountain.'"
That very night the servant woke her master up in a fright and said: "Master of all Masters, get out of your barnacle and put on your squibs and crackers. For white-faced simminy has got a spark of hot cockalorum on its tail, and unless you get some pondalorum, high topper mountain will be all on hot cockalorum."... That's all.
* * * * *
BELLING THE CAT
Once upon a time the mice sat in council and talked of how they might outwit their enemy, the Cat. But good advice was scarce, and in vain the president called upon all the most experienced mice present to find a way.
At last a very young mouse held up two fingers and asked to be allowed to speak, and as soon as he could get permission he said:
"I've been thinking for a long time why the Cat is such a dangerous enemy. Now, it's not so much because of her quickness, though people make so much fuss about that. If we could only _notice_ her in time, I've no doubt we're nimble enough to jump into our holes before she could do us any harm. It's in her velvet paws, there's where she hides her cruel claws till she gets us in her clutches--that's where her power lies. With those paws she can tread so lightly that we can't hear her coming. And so, while _we_ are still dancing heedlessly about the place, she creeps close up, and before we know where we are she pounces down on us and has us in her clutches. Well, then, it's my opinion we ought to hang a bell round her neck to warn us of her coming while there's yet time."
Every one applauded this proposal, and the council decided that it should be carried out.
Now the question to be settled was, who should undertake to fasten the bell round the Cat's neck?
The president declared that no one could be better fitted for the task than he who had given such excellent advice.
But at that the young mouse became quite confused and stammered an excuse. He was too young for the deed, he said. He didn't know the Cat well enough. His grandfather, who knew her better, would be more suited to the job.
But the grandfather declared that just because he knew the Cat very well he would take good care not to attempt such a task.
And the long and the short of it was that no other mouse would undertake the duty; and so this clever proposal was never carried out, and the Cat remained mistress of the situation.
* * * * *
LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD
In a great wide forest, full of beautiful trees, and green glades, and thorny thickets, there lived a long time ago a wood-cutter and his wife, who had only one child, a little girl. She was so pretty, and so good, that the sun seemed to shine more brightly when its light fell upon her rosy little face, and the birds would seem to sing more sweetly when she was passing by.
Her real name was Maisie; but the neighbors round about all called her "Little Red Riding-Hood," because of a scarlet riding-hood and cloak that her kind old grandmother had made for her, and which she nearly always wore.
She was a happy, merry little child, with a smile and a gentle word for everybody, and so you may easily believe that everybody loved her, and was glad to catch a glimpse of her golden curls and her scarlet cloak as she tripped along, singing, under the green boughs.
Now, this, let me tell you before I forget, was at the time when all the birds and beasts, or very nearly all, could speak just as well as you or I; and nobody was surprised to hear them talk, as I suppose one would be nowadays.
Well, as I was saying, Little Red Riding-Hood lived with her parents in a little white cottage with a green door and a thatched roof, and red and white roses climbing all over the walls, and even putting their pretty heads in at the latticed windows, to peep at the child who was so like them.
It was on a bright spring morning early in May, when little Red Riding-Hood had just finished putting away the breakfast-cups that her mother came bustling in from the dairy.
"Here's a to-do," she said. "Farmer Hodge has this very minute told me that he hears your Grannie isn't quite well, and I can't leave the cheese-making this morning for love or money! Do you go, my dear, and find out how she is--and--stay--take her this little pot of sweet fresh butter, and these two new-laid eggs, and these nice tasty little pasties. Maybe they'll tempt her to eat a bit. Here's your basket, and don't be too long away, honey."
So little Red Riding-Hood pulled her hood over her curls, and set off down the sunny green slope, with her basket in her hand, at a brisk pace. But as she got deeper into the forest, she walked more slowly. Everything was so beautiful; the great trees waved their huge arms over her, the birds were calling to one another from the thorns all white with blossom, and the child began singing as she went, she could not have told why, but I think it was because the beautiful world made her feel glad.
The path wound along through the trees, and, as it grew wider after turning a corner, Red Riding-saw that she was likely to have company on her walk; for, where two cross-paths divided, there sat a big gray wolf licking his long paws, and looking sharply about him. And "Good morning, Red Riding-Hood," said he.
"Good morning, Mr. Wolf," she answered.
"And where may you be going, sweet lass?" said the Wolf, as he walked beside her.
"Oh, Grannie isn't very well, and mother cannot leave the cheese-making this morning, and so I'm taking her some little dainties in my basket, and I am to see how she is, and tell mother when I get back," said the child with a smile.
"And," said the wolf, "where does your good Grannie live, little lady?"
"Through the copse, and down the hollow, and over the bridge, and three meadows after the mill."
"Does she indeed?" cried he. "Why, then, I do believe she is a very dear old friend of mine, whom I have not seen for years and years. Now, I'll tell you what we'll do, you and I: I will go by this way, and you shall take that, and whoever gets there first shall be the winner of the game."
So the Wolf trotted off one way, and Red Riding-Hood went the other; and I am sorry to say that she lingered and loitered more than she ought to have done on the road.
Well, what with one thing and another, the sun was right up in the very mid-most middle of the sky when she crossed the last meadow from the mill and came in sight of her grandmother's cottage, and the big lilac-bushes that grew by the garden gate.
"Oh! dear, how I must have lingered!" said the child, when she saw how high the sun had climbed since she set out on her journey; and, pattering up the garden-path, she tapped at the cottage door.
"Who's there?" said a very gruff kind of voice from inside.
"It's only I, Grannie dear, your little Red Riding-Hood with some goodies for you in my basket," answered the child.
"Then pull the bobbin," cried the voice, "and the latch will go up."
"What a dreadful cold poor Grannie must have, to be sure, to make her so hoarse," thought the child. Then she pulled the bobbin, and the latch went up, and Red Riding-Hood pushed open the door, and stepped inside the cottage.
It seemed very dark in there after the bright sunlight outside, and all Red Riding-Hood could see was that the window-curtains and the bed-curtains were still drawn, and her grandmother seemed to be lying in bed with the bed-clothes pulled almost over her head, and her great white-frilled nightcap nearly hiding her face.
Now, you and I have guessed by this time, although poor Red Riding-Hood never even thought of such a thing, that it was not her Grannie at all, but the wicked Wolf, who had hurried to the cottage and put on Grannie's nightcap and popped into her bed, to pretend that he was Grannie herself.
And where was Grannie all this time, you will say? Well, we shall see presently.
"Come and sit down beside my bed, dearie," wheezed the Wolf, "and let us have a little chat." Then the Wolf stretched out his large hairy paws and began to unfasten the basket.
"Oh!" said Red Riding-Hood, "what great arms you have, Grannie!"
"All the better to hug you with," said the Wolf.
"And what great rough ears you have, Grannie!"
"All the better to hear you with, my little dear."
"And your eyes, Grannie; what great yellow eyes you have!"
"All the better to see you with, my pet," grinned the Wolf.
"And oh! oh! Grannie," cried the child, in a sad fright, "what great sharp teeth you have!"
"All the better to eat you with!" growled the Wolf, springing up suddenly at Red Riding-Hood. But just at that very moment the door flew open, and two tall wood-cutters rushed in with their heavy axes, and killed the wicked Wolf in far less time than it takes me to tell you about it.
"But where is Grannie?" asked Little Red Riding-Hood, when she had thanked the brave wood-cutters. "Oh! where can poor Grannie be? Can the cruel Wolf have eaten her up?"
And she began to cry and sob bitterly--when, who should walk in but Grannie herself, as large as life, and as hearty as ever, with her marketing-basket on her arm! For it was another old dame in the village who was not very well, and Grannie had been down to visit her and give her some of her own famous herb-tea.
So everything turned out right in the end, and all lived happily ever after; but I promise you that little Red Riding-Hood never made friends with a Wolf again!
* * * * *
THE NAIL
A tradesman had once transacted a good day's business at a fair, disposed of all his goods, and filled his purse with gold and silver. He prepared afterward to return, in order to reach home by the evening, so he strapped his portmanteau, with the money in it, upon his horse's back, and rode off. At noon he halted in a small town, and as he was about to set out again, the stable-boy who brought his horse said to him: "Sir, a nail is wanting in the shoe on the left hind foot of your animal."
"Let it be wanting," replied the tradesman; "I am in a hurry and the iron will doubtless hold the six hours I have yet to travel."
Late in the afternoon he had to dismount again, and feed his horse, and at this place also the boy came and told him that a nail was wanting in one of the shoes, and asked him whether he should take the horse to a farrier. "No, no, let it be!" replied the master; "it will last out the couple of hours that I have now to travel; I am in haste." So saying he rode off; but his horse soon began to limp, and from limping it came to stumbling, and presently the beast fell down and broke its leg. Thereupon the tradesman had to leave his unfortunate horse lying on the road, to unbuckle the portmanteau, and to walk home with it upon his shoulder, where he arrived at last late at night.
"And all this misfortune," said he to himself, "is owing to the want of a nail. More haste, the less speed!"
* * * * *
JACK AND THE BEANSTALK
Once upon a time there lived a poor widow who had an only son named Jack. She was very poor, for times had been hard, and Jack was too young to work. Almost all the furniture of the little cottage had been sold to buy bread, until at last there was nothing left worth selling. Only the good cow, Milky White, remained, and she gave milk every morning, which they took to market and sold. But one sad day Milky White gave no milk, and then things looked bad indeed.
"Never mind, mother," said Jack. "We must sell Milky White. Trust me to make a good bargain," and away he went to the market.
For some time he went along very sadly, but after a little he quite recovered his spirits. "I may as well ride as walk," said he; so instead of leading the cow by the halter, he jumped on her back, and so he went whistling along until he met a butcher.
"Good morning," said the butcher.
"Good morning, sir," answered Jack.
"Where are you going?" said the butcher.
"I am going to market to sell the cow."
"It's lucky I met you," said the butcher. "You may save yourself the trouble of going so far."
With this, he put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out five curious-looking beans. "What do you call these?" he said.
"Beans," said Jack.
"Yes," said he, "beans, but they're the most wonderful beans that ever were known. If you plant them overnight, by the next morning they'll grow up and reach the sky. But to save you the trouble of going all the way to market, I don't mind exchanging them for that cow of yours."
"Done!" cried Jack, who was so delighted with the bargain that he ran all the way home to tell his mother how lucky he had been.
But oh! how disappointed the poor widow was.
"Off to bed with you!" she cried; and she was so angry that she threw the beans out of the window into the garden. So poor Jack went to bed without any supper, and cried himself to sleep.
When he woke up the next morning, the room was almost dark; and Jack jumped out of bed and ran to the window to see what was the matter. The sun was shining brightly outside, but from the ground right up beside his window there was growing a great beanstalk, which stretched up and up as far as he could see, into the sky.
"I'll just see where it leads to," thought Jack, and with that he stepped out of the window on to the beanstalk, and began to climb upwards. He climbed up and up, till after a time his mother's cottage looked a mere speck below, but at last the stalk ended, and he found himself in a new and beautiful country. A little way off there was a great castle, with a broad road leading straight up to the front gate. But what most surprised Jack was to find a beautiful maiden suddenly standing beside him.
"Good morning, ma'am," said he, very politely.
"Good morning, Jack," said she; and Jack was more surprised than ever, for he could not imagine how she had learned his name. But he soon found that she knew a great deal more about him than his name; for she told him how, when he was quite a little baby, his father, a gallant knight, had been slain by the giant who lived in yonder castle, and how his mother, in order to save Jack, had been obliged to promise never to tell the secret.
"All that the giant has is yours," she said, and then disappeared quite as suddenly as she came.
"She must be a fairy," thought Jack.
As he drew near to the castle, he saw the giant's wife standing at the door.
"If you please, ma'am," said he, "would you kindly give me some breakfast? I have had nothing to eat since yesterday."
Now, the giant's wife, although very big and very ugly, had a kind heart, so she said: "Very well, little man, come in; but you must be quick about it, for if my husband, the giant, finds you here, he will eat you up, bones and all."
So in Jack went, and the giant's wife gave him a good breakfast, but before he had half finished it there came a terrible knock at the front door, which seemed to shake even the thick walls of the castle.
"Dearie me, that is my husband!" said the giantess, in a terrible fright; "we must hide you somehow," and she lifted Jack up and popped him into the empty kettle.
No sooner had the giant's wife opened the door than her husband roared out:
"Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman; Be he alive, or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread!"
"It's a boy, I'm sure it is," he continued. "Where is he? I'll have him for my breakfast."
"Nonsense!" said his wife; "you must be mistaken. It's the ox's hide you smell." So he sat down, and ate up the greater part of the ox. When he had finished he said: "Wife, bring me my money-bags." So his wife brought him two full bags of gold, and the giant began to count his money. But he was so sleepy that his head soon began to nod, and then he began to snore, like the rumbling of thunder. Then Jack crept out, snatched up the two bags, and though the giant's dog barked loudly, he made his way down the beanstalk back to the cottage before the giant awoke.
Jack and his mother were now quite rich; but it occurred to him one day that he would like to see how matters were going on at the giant's castle. So while his mother was away at market, he climbed up, and up, and up, and up, until he got to the top of the beanstalk again.
The giantess was standing at the door, just as before, but she did not know Jack, who, of course, was more finely dressed than on his first visit. "If you please, ma'am," said he, "will you give me some breakfast?"
"Run away," said she, "or my husband the giant will eat you up, bones and all. The last boy who came here stole two bags of gold--off with you!" But the giantess had a kind heart, and after a time she allowed Jack to come into the kitchen, where she set before him enough breakfast to last him a week. Scarcely had he begun to eat than there was a great rumbling like an earthquake, and the giantess had only time to bundle Jack into the oven when in came the giant. No sooner was he inside the room than he roared:
"Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman; Be he alive, or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread!"
But his wife told him he was mistaken, and after breakfasting off a roasted bullock, just as if it were a lark, he called out: "Wife, bring the little brown hen!" The giantess went out and brought in a little brown hen, which she placed on the table.
"Lay!" said the giant; and the hen at once laid a golden egg. "Lay!" said the giant a second time; and she laid another golden egg. "Lay!" said the giant a third time; and she laid a third golden egg.
"That will do for to-day," said he, and stretched himself out to go to sleep. As soon as he began to snore, Jack crept out of the oven, went on tiptoe to the table, and, snatching up the little brown hen, made a dash for the door. Then the hen began to cackle, and the giant began to wake up; but before he was quite awake, Jack had escaped from the castle, and, climbing as fast as he could down the beanstalk, got safe home to his mother's cottage.
The little brown hen laid so many golden eggs that Jack and his mother had now more money than they could spend. But Jack was always thinking about the beanstalk; and one day he crept out of the window again, and climbed up, and up, and up, and up, until he reached the top.
This time, you may be sure, he was careful not to be seen; so he crept round to the back of the castle, and when the giant's wife went out he slipped into the kitchen and hid himself in the oven. In came the giant, roaring louder than ever:
"Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman; Be he alive; or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread!"
But the giantess was quite sure that she had seen no little boys that morning; and after grumbling a great deal, the giant sat down to breakfast. Even then he was not quite satisfied, for every now and again he would say:
"Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman;"
and once he got up and looked in the kettle. But, of course, Jack was in the oven all the time!
When the giant had finished, he called out: "Wife, bring me the golden harp!" So she brought in the golden harp, and placed it on the table. "Sing!" said the giant; and the harp at once began to sing the most beautiful songs that ever were heard. It sang so sweetly that the giant soon fell fast asleep; and then Jack crept quietly out of the oven, and going on tiptoe to the table, seized hold of the golden harp. But the harp at once called out: "Master! master!" and the giant woke up just in time to catch sight of Jack running out of the kitchen-door.
With a fearful roar, he seized his oak-tree club, and dashed after Jack, who held the harp tight, and ran faster than he had ever run before. The giant, brandishing his club, and taking terribly long strides, gained on Jack at every instant, and he would have been caught if the giant hadn't slipped over a boulder. Before he could pick himself up, Jack began to climb down the beanstalk, and when the giant arrived at the edge he was nearly half-way to the cottage. The giant began to climb down too; but as soon as Jack saw him coming, he called out: "Mother, bring me an axe!" and the widow hurried out with a chopper. Jack had no sooner reached the ground than he cut the beanstalk right in two. Down came the giant with a terrible crash, and that, you may be sure, was the end of him. What became of the giantess and the castle nobody knows. But Jack and his mother grew very rich, and lived happy ever after.
* * * * *
HOW TO TELL A TRUE PRINCESS
There was once upon a time a Prince who wanted to marry a Princess, but she must be a true Princess. So he traveled through the whole world to find one, but there was always something against each. There were plenty of Princesses, but he could not find out if they were true Princesses. In every case there was some little defect, which showed the genuine article was not yet found. So he came home again in very low spirits, for he had wanted very much to have a true Princess. One night there was a dreadful storm; it thundered and lightened and the rain streamed down in torrents. It was fearful! There was a knocking heard at the palace gate, and the old King went to open it.
There stood a Princess outside the gate; but oh, in what a sad plight she was from the rain and the storm! The water was running down from her hair and her dress into the points of her shoes and out at the heels again. And yet she said she was a true Princess!
"Well, we shall soon find out!" thought the old Queen. But she said nothing and went into the sleeping-room, took off all the bedclothes, and laid a pea on the bottom of the bed. Then she put twenty mattresses on top of the pea and twenty eider-down quilts on the top of the mattresses. And this was the bed in which the princess was to sleep.
The next morning she was asked how she had slept.
"Oh, very badly!" said the Princess. "I scarcely closed my eyes all night! I am sure I don't know what was in the bed. I lay on something so hard that my whole body is black and blue. It is dreadful!"
Now they perceived that she was a true Princess, because she had felt the pea through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down quilts.
No one but a true Princess could be so sensitive.
So the Prince married her, for now he knew that at last he had got hold of a true Princess. And the pea was put into the Royal Museum, where it is still to be seen if no one has stolen it. Now, this is a true story.
* * * * *
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY
Once upon a time long ago--so long, indeed, that even the very oldest people now alive could not remember it--there lived a King and Queen in a beautiful palace, a great white marble palace, with wide halls and high towers, and a golden roof that flashed in the sun.
And all round the palace, for miles and miles, there were lovely gardens and pleasure-grounds, with terraces and green lawns, and ancient trees where the birds would sit and sing all day and all night long, and more flowers than you could ever think of if you were to think a whole summer through. There were peacocks and birds of paradise on the broad lawns, and pretty slender brown deer in the shady glades, and gold and silver fishes in the ponds and fountains, and great red and yellow fruits ripened in the orchards.
There was everything there that heart could wish--except just one, and that was the one thing in all the world that this King and Queen wanted to make them perfectly happy. For there was no little child to run and play about the sunny gardens and pick the flowers, and pet the birds and beasts that wandered there. And this would often make them very sad.
But at last, after many years, they had their wish, and a little baby daughter was born to them--a tiny child with a face like a blush rosebud, eyes like violets, and a little red mouth like the pimpernel flowers that grow in the cornfields and by the wayside in summer-time.
Now, you can easily think how glad this King and Queen were, and what great rejoicings were made over all the country.
Bonfires as big as haystacks were kept burning all night, fat oxen were roasted whole in the market-place of every town, the church-bells were rung and rung again until the ringers were out of breath and their arms were aching, and every little child in the kingdom was given a beautiful present for the baby Princess's sake.
In the palace, of course, all was bustle and hurry to make ready for the christening-feast; the maids were busy putting flowers all about the halls and chambers, and sprinkling the shining floors with sweet-smelling leaves and petals.
For the most important guests invited to this christening were seven very powerful fairies, and you know, I am sure, how particular fairies are about what they eat and drink. Not that they are greedy; but they are used to such delicate food that even the very best of ours seems strange to them. So the Queen was very anxious that they should be pleased; for they had been asked to be godmothers to the baby Princess, and she wanted them to be in a good humor so that they should be kind to her little one.
It was a beautiful summer afternoon, and the roses on the palace terrace were nodding their heads sleepily in the warm breeze, when the fairies' chariots came into sight, sailing through the blue sky like a flight of bright-winged butterflies.
They were all good fairies, and had known the King and Queen all their lives long, and as they had not seen them for some time there was a great deal to talk about and much news to tell. And, dear me! how pleased they were with the baby! They all agreed that she was the prettiest little darling they had ever seen--almost as pretty as a real fairy baby--and _that_ was a compliment indeed, I can tell you.
And when they went in to the great banqueting-hall and sat down to table, they were even more delighted than at first. For each one of them there was a set of six golden dinner things--knife, spoon, fork, cup, dish, and plate--made on purpose as a present for each, and all different. One was set with pearls, another with diamonds, the third with rubies, the fourth with opals, the fifth with amethysts, the sixth with emeralds, the seventh with sapphires; and nobody could tell which was the most beautiful.
They were just going to begin, and everybody was as happy as happy could be, when, all of a sudden, there was a clashing of brazen claws and a rushing of wings, and something like a black cloud seemed to pass before the tall windows and darken all the room, so that the guests could hardly see their plates. Then the great doors burst open with a terrible bang, and an old fairy in a long trailing black gown, with her face almost hidden in a black hood, jumped out of a black chariot drawn by fierce griffins, and stalked up to the table.
The King turned pale, and the Queen nearly fainted away, for this was the spiteful fairy Tormentilla, who lived all alone, an immense distance away from everywhere and everyone, in a dismal black stone castle in the middle of a desert. The poor Queen had been so happy and so busy that she had forgotten all about her, and never sent her an invitation.
However, they all tried to make the best of it, and another chair was brought, and another place laid for Tormentilla; and both the King and Queen told her over and over again how very, very sorry they were not to have asked her.
It was all in vain. Nothing could please her; she would eat and drink nothing, and she sat, scowling and looking angrily at the other fairies' jeweled cups and dishes, until the feast was over, and it was time to give the presents.
Then they all went into the great tapestried room where the tiny Princess lay sleeping in her mother-o'-pearl cradle, and the seven fairies began to say what they would each give her.
The first stepped forward and said: "She shall always be as good as gold"; the second: "She shall be the cleverest Princess in the world"; the third: "She shall be the most beautiful"; the fourth: "She shall be the happiest"; the fifth: "She shall have the sweetest voice that was ever heard"; the sixth: "Everyone shall love her." And then the wicked old cross fairy strode over to the cradle with long quick steps, and said, shaking her black crooked stick at the King and Queen: "_And I say that she shall prick her hand with a spindle and die of the wound_!"
At this the Queen fell on her knees and begged and prayed Tormentilla to call back her cruel words; but suddenly the seventh fairy, the youngest of all, who knew Tormentilla well, and had hidden herself behind the curtains for fear that some such thing might happen, came out and said:
"Do not cry so, dear Queen; I cannot quite undo my cousin's wicked enchantment, but I can promise you that your daughter shall not die, but only fall asleep for a hundred years. And, when these are past and gone, a Prince shall come and awaken her with a kiss."
So the King and Queen dried their tears and thanked the kind fairy Heartsease for her goodness; and all the fairies went back to their homes, and things went on much as usual in the palace. But you can imagine how careful the Queen was of her little girl; and the King made a law that every spindle in the country must be destroyed, and that no more should be made, and that anyone who had a spindle should be heavily punished if not executed at once.
Well, the years went by happily enough until the Princess Miranda was almost eighteen years old, and all that the six fairies had promised came true, for she was the best and the prettiest and the cleverest Princess in all the world, and everybody loved her. And, indeed, by this time Tormentilla's spiteful words were almost forgotten.
"Poor old thing," the Queen would sometimes say, "she was so angry at having been left out that she did not know what she was saying. Of course, she did not really mean it."
Now, the King and Queen had to go away for a few days to a great entertainment that one of their richest nobles was giving at his country house; and, as the Princess did not wish to go, they left her behind with her ladies-in-waiting in the beautiful old palace. For the first two days she amused herself very well, but on the third she missed her father and mother so much that, to pass the time till they came back, she began exploring all the old lumber-rooms and out-of-the-way attics in the palace, and laughing at the dusty furniture and queer curiosities she found there.
At last she found herself at the top of a narrow winding stairway in a tall turret that seemed even older than all the rest of the palace. And when she lifted the latch of the door in front of her she saw a little low chamber with curiously painted walls, and there sat a little old, old woman in a high white cap, spinning at a wheel.
For some time she stood at the door, watching the old woman curiously; she could not imagine what she was doing, for the Princess had never seen a spinning-wheel in her life before, because, as I told you, the King had ordered them all to be destroyed.
Now, it happened that the poor old woman who lived in this tower had never heard the King's command, for she was so deaf that if you shouted until you were hoarse she would never have been able to understand you.
"What pretty work you are doing there, Goody? And why does that wheel go whirr, whirr, whirr?" said the Princess. The old woman neither answered nor looked up, for, of course, she did not hear.
So the Princess stepped into the room and laid her hand upon the old woman's shoulder.
Goody started then, looked up, and rubbed her eyes.
"Deary, deary me!" cried she, in a high, cracked voice. "And who may you be, my pretty darling?"
"I'm the Princess Miranda," screamed the maiden in her ear, but the old woman only shook her head--she could hear nothing.
Then the Princess pointed to the spindle, and made the old woman understand that she wanted to try if she could work it.
So Goody nodded, and laughed, and got up from her seat, and the Princess sat down and took the spindle in her hand. But no sooner did she touch it than she pricked the palm of her hand with the point, and sank down in a swoon.
Immediately a deep silence fell on all around. The little bird that only a moment before had been singing so sweetly upon the window-sill hushed his song. The distant hum of voices from the courtyard beneath ceased; even Goody stopped short in the directions she was giving the Princess, and neither moved hand nor foot towards the poor little maid, and all because she had fallen fast asleep as she stood.
Below in the castle it was just the same. The King and Queen, who had that moment returned from their journey and were enquiring for their daughter, fell asleep before the lady-in-waiting could answer them, and as to the lady herself she had begun to snore--in a ladylike manner, of course--before you could have winked your eye.
The soldiers and men-at-arms slumbered as they stood. The page-boy fell asleep with his mouth wide open, and a fly that had just been going to settle on his nose fell asleep too in mid-air.
Although the sun had been shining brightly when the Princess took the spindle in her hand, no sooner did she prick herself with the point than deep shadows darkened the sunny rooms and gardens.
It was just as though night had overtaken them, but there was no one in or near the palace to heed whether it were dark or light.
This sudden darkness had been caused by a magic wood which had sprung up all around the palace and its grounds. It was at least half a mile thick, and was composed of thorns and prickly plants, through which it seemed impossible for anyone to penetrate. It was so thick and high that it hid even the topmost towers of the enchanted castle, and no one outside could have dreamed that such a castle lay behind it.
Well, and so the years went on, and on, and on, until a hundred years had passed, and the palace and the story of it were all but forgotten. And it happened that a King's son from a neighboring country came hunting that way with his men, and horses, and dogs. And in the excitement of the chase he rode on and on until he became separated from his servants and attendants, and found himself in a part of the country where he had never been before. In vain he tried to retrace his steps; he only seemed to wander farther away in the wrong direction.
Presently he came to a woodcutter's cottage, and dismounted to ask his way. An old, old man lived in this hut, and after he had directed the Prince as to the best way back, the young man pointed to a thick wood ahead, and asked what lay beyond it. Then the old man told him that there was a legend that beyond the wood was an enchanted palace where a beautiful Princess had lain sleeping for a hundred years, and whom a Prince was to awaken with a kiss.
Directly the Prince Florimond heard this, nothing would serve but he must go there and see for himself if the tale were true. So he rode and he rode until he came to the edge of the wood, and there he got off his horse and began to push his way through the thorny thicket. It was hard work indeed, for the briars were so strong and so sharp that you would never believe that anyone could get past them, and they closed up behind him as he went.
But he was strong and brave, and after a time the way became easier, until at last he came to the palace.
There everyone was sleeping--the sentinels and soldiers in the court-yard, the cooks in the kitchen, and pages and lords and ladies-in-waiting in the corridors and chambers; and, in the great throne-room the King and Queen on their golden and ivory thrones.
Prince Florimond passed on, wondering more and more, till he came at length to the narrow staircase which led to the little tower in which the Princess had fallen asleep. He mounted this, and then came the greatest wonder of all--the beautiful sleeping lady, in her glistening white robes. She was so beautiful that to see her almost took away his breath; and, falling on his knees, he bent to kiss her cheek. And as he kissed her, she opened her lovely blue eyes and said, smiling: "Oh! Prince, have you come at last? I have had such pleasant dreams."
Then she sat up laughing and rubbing her eyes, and gave him her hand, and they went hand in hand together down the stairs and along the corridors, till they came to the throne-room. And there were the King and Queen rubbing their eyes too, and they kissed their daughter and welcomed the Prince most gladly.
And, all at the same time, the whole palace was awake. Cocks crowed, dogs barked, the cats began to mew, the spits to turn, the clocks to strike, the soldiers presented arms, the heralds blew their trumpets, the head cook boxed a little scullion's ears, the butler went on drinking his half-finished tankard of wine, the first lady-in-waiting finished winding her skein of silk.
Everything, in short, went on exactly as though the spell had lasted a hundred seconds instead of years. To be sure, Princess Miranda's pretty white dress was just such a one as Prince Florimond's great-grandmother might have worn. But that gave them something to laugh at.
And now my story is done, for I need hardly tell you that the Prince and Princess were married amid great rejoicings, and lived happily ever after; and that the seven fairy godmothers danced at the wedding. So all ended well, and what more could anyone wish?
* * * * *
OLD-FASHIONED POEMS
* * * * *
THE MAN IN THE MOON
Said the Raggedy Man on a hot afternoon, "My! Sakes! What a lot o' mistakes Some little folks makes on the Man in the Moon! But people that's been up to see him like Me, And calls on him frequent and intimutly, Might drop a few hints that would interest you Clean! Through! If you wanted 'em to-- Some actual facts that might interest you!
"O the Man in the Moon has a crick in his back; Whee! Whimm! Ain't you sorry for him? And a mole on his nose that is purple and black; And his eyes are so weak that they water and run If he dares to _dream_ even he looks at the sun,-- So he jes' dreams of stars, as the doctors advise-- My! Eyes! But isn't he wise-- To jes' dream of stars, as the doctors advise?
"And the Man in the Moon has a boil on his ear-- Whee! Whing! What a singular thing! I know! but these facts are authentic, my dear,-- There's a boil on his ear; and a corn on his chin,-- He calls it a dimple--but dimples stick in-- Yet it might be a dimple turned over, you know! Whang! Ho! Why certainly so!-- It might be a dimple turned over, you know:
"And the Man in the Moon has a rheumatic knee, Gee! Whizz! What a pity that is! And his toes have worked round where his heels ought to be. So whenever he wants to go North he goes South, And comes back with the porridge crumbs all round his mouth, And he brushes them off with a Japanese fan, Whing! Whann! What a marvelous man! What a very remarkably marvelous man!
"And the Man in the Moon," sighed the Raggedy Man, "Gits! So! Sullonesome, you know! Up there by himself since creation began!-- That when I call on him and then come away, He grabs me and holds me and begs me to stay,-- Till--well, if it wasn't for _Jimmy-cum-Jim_, Dadd! Limb! I'd go pardners with him! Jes' jump my bob here and be pardners with him!"
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
(_From "The Raggedy Man," copyright 1907. Used by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company._)
* * * * *
SAGE COUNSEL
The lion is the beast to fight, He leaps along the plain, And if you run with all your might, He runs with all his mane. I'm glad I'm not a Hottentot, But if I were, with outward cal-lum I'd either faint upon the spot Or hie me up a leafy pal-lum.
The chamois is the beast to hunt; He's fleeter than the wind, And when the chamois is in front, The hunter is behind. The Tyrolese make famous cheese And hunt the chamois o'er the chaz-zums: I'd choose the former if you please, For precipices give me spaz-zums.
The polar bear will make a rug Almost as white as snow; But if he gets you in his hug, He rarely lets you go. And Polar ice looks very nice, With all the colors of a pris-sum; But, if you'll follow my advice, Stay home and learn your catechis-sum.
ARTHUR THOMAS QUILLER-COUCH
* * * * *
LIMERICKS
There was an Old Man in a tree, Who was horribly bored by a Bee; When they said, "Does it buzz?" he replied, "Yes, it does! It's a regular brute of a Bee."
There was an Old Man on some rocks, Who shut his Wife up in a box: When she said, "Let me out," he exclaimed, "Without doubt You will pass all your life in that box."
There was an Old Man who said "How Shall I flee from this horrible Cow? I will sit on this stile, and continue to smile, Which may soften the heart of that Cow."
There was an Old Man who said, "Hush! I perceive a young bird in this bush!" When they said, "Is it small?" he replied, "Not at all; It is four times as big as the bush!"
There was once an Old Man with a beard, Who said, "It is just as I feared!-- Two Owls and a Hen, Four Larks and a Wren Have all built their nests in my beard."
There was an old person of Ware Who rode on the back of a bear; When they said, "Does it trot?" He said, "Certainly not, It's a Moppsikon Floppsikon bear."
There was a young lady in blue, Who said, "Is it you? Is it you?" When they said, "Yes, it is," she replied only, "Whizz!" That ungracious young lady in blue.
EDWARD LEAR
* * * * *
MORE LIMERICKS
There was a small boy of Quebec, Who was buried in snow to his neck; When they said. "Are you friz?" He replied, "Yes, I is-- But we don't call this cold in Quebec."
RUDYARD KIPLING
* * * * *
There was a young lady of Niger Who smiled as she rode on a Tiger; They came back from the ride With the lady inside, And the smile on the face of the Tiger.
There was a young maid who said, "Why Can't I look in my ear with my eye? If I give my mind to it, I'm sure I can do it-- You never can tell till you try."
ANONYMOUS
* * * * *
THE DEAD DOLL
You needn't be trying to comfort me--I tell you my dolly is dead! There's no use in saying she isn't, with a crack like that in her head. It's just like you said it wouldn't hurt much to have my tooth out, that day; And then, when the man 'most pulled my head off, you hadn't a word to say.
And I guess you must think I'm a baby, when you say you can mend it with glue: As if I didn't know better than that! Why, just suppose it was you? You might make her look all mended--but what do I care for looks? Why, glue's for chairs and tables, and toys and the backs of books!
My dolly! my own little daughter! Oh, but it's the awfullest crack! It just makes me sick to think of the sound when her poor head went whack Against that horrible brass thing that holds up the little shelf. Now, Nursey, what makes you remind me? I know that I did it myself!
I think you must be crazy--you'll get her another head! What good would forty heads do her? I tell you my dolly is dead! And to think I hadn't quite finished her elegant new spring hat! And I took a sweet ribbon of hers last night to tie on that horrid cat!
When my mamma gave me that ribbon--I was playing out in the yard-- She said to me, most expressly, "Here's a ribbon for Hildegarde." And I went and put it on Tabby, and Hildegarde saw me do it; But I said to myself, "Oh, never mind, I don't believe she knew it!"
But I know that she knew it now, and I just believe, I do, That her poor little heart was broken, and so her head broke too. Oh, my baby! my little baby! I wish my head had been hit! For I've hit it over and over, and it hasn't cracked a bit.
But since the darling is dead, she'll want to be buried, of course: We will take my little wagon, Nurse, and you shall be the horse; And I'll walk behind and cry, and we'll put her in this, you see-- This dear little box--and we'll bury her there out under the maple-tree.
And papa will make me a tombstone, like the one he made for my bird; And he'll put what I tell him on it--yes, every single word! I shall say: "Here lies Hildegarde, a beautiful doll, who is dead; She died of a broken heart, and a dreadful crack in her head."
MARGARET VANDERGRIFT
* * * * *
LITTLE THINGS
Little drops of water Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean, And the pleasant land.
Thus the little moments, Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of eternity.
Thus our little errors Lead the soul away From the path of virtue, Off in sin to stray.
Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love, Make our earth an Eden, Like the heaven above.
Ascribed to JULIA A. F. CARNEY
* * * * *
THE GOLDEN RULE
To do to others as I would That they should do to me, Will make me gentle, kind, and good, As children ought to be.
UNKNOWN
* * * * *
DO THE BEST YOU CAN
If I was a cobbler it should be my pride The best of all cobblers to be; If I was a tinker, no tinker beside Should mend an old kettle like me.
UNKNOWN
* * * * *
THE VOICE OF SPRING
I am coming, I am coming! Hark! the little bee is humming; See, the lark is soaring high In the blue and sunny sky; And the gnats are on the wing, Wheeling round in airy ring.
See, the yellow catkins cover All the slender willows over! And on the banks of mossy green Star-like primroses are seen; And, their clustering leaves below, White and purple violets grow.
Hark! the new-born lambs are bleating And the cawing rooks are meeting In the elms,--a noisy crowd; All the birds are singing loud; And the first white butterfly In the sunshine dances by.
Look around thee, look around! Flowers in all the fields abound; Every running stream is bright; All the orchard trees are white; And each small and waving shoot Promises sweet flowers and fruit.
* * * * *
THE LARK AND THE ROOK
"Good night, Sir Rook!" said a little lark. "The daylight fades; it will soon be dark; I've bathed my wings in the sun's last ray; I've sung my hymn to the parting day; So now I haste to my quiet nook In yon dewy meadow--good night, Sir Rook!"
"Good night, poor Lark," said his titled friend With a haughty toss and a distant bend; "I also go to my rest profound, But not to sleep on the cold, damp ground. The fittest place for a bird like me Is the topmost bough of yon tall pine-tree.
"I opened my eyes at peep of day And saw you taking your upward way, Dreaming your fond romantic dreams, An ugly speck in the sun's bright beams; Soaring too high to be seen or heard; And I said to myself: 'What a foolish bird!'
"I trod the park with a princely air, I filled my crop with the richest fare; I cawed all day 'mid a lordly crew, And I made more noise in the world than you! The sun shone forth on my ebon wing; I looked and wondered--good night, poor thing!"
"Good night, once more," said the lark's sweet voice. "I see no cause to repent my choice; You build your nest in the lofty pine, But is your slumber more sweet than mine? You make more noise in the world than I, But whose is the sweeter minstrelsy?"
UNKNOWN
* * * * *
THANKSGIVING DAY
Over the river and through the wood, To grandfather's house we go; The horse knows the way To carry the sleigh Through the white and drifted snow.
Over the river and through the wood-- Oh, how the wind does blow! It stings the toes And bites the nose, As over the ground we go.
Over the river and through the wood, To have a first-rate play. Hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ding!" Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river and through the wood Trot fast, my dapple-gray! Spring over the ground, Like a hunting-hound! For this is Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river and through the wood, And straight through the barn-yard gate We seem to go Extremely slow,-- It is so hard to wait!
Over the river and through the wood-- Now grandmother's cap I spy! Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done? Hurrah for the pumpkin-pie?
LYDIA MARIA CHILD
* * * * *
THE MAGPIE'S NEST
A FABLE
When the Arts in their infancy were, In a fable of old 'tis express'd A wise magpie constructed that rare Little house for young birds, call'd a nest.
This was talk'd of the whole country round; You might hear it on every bough sung, "Now no longer upon the rough ground Will fond mothers brood over their young:"
"For the magpie with exquisite skill Has invented a moss-cover'd cell Within which a whole family will In the utmost security dwell."
UNKNOWN
* * * * *
THE FAIRIES OF THE CALDON LOW
A MIDSUMMER LEGEND
"And where have you been, my Mary, And where have you been from me?" "I've been to the top of the Caldon Low, The midsummer-night to see."
"And what did you see, my Mary, All up on the Caldon Low?" "I saw the glad sunshine come down, And I saw the merry winds blow."
"And what did you hear, my Mary, All up on the Caldon hill?" "I heard the drops of the water made. And the ears of the green corn fill."
"Oh! tell me all, my Mary-- All, all that ever you know; For you must have seen the fairies, Last night on the Caldon Low."
"Then take me on your knee, mother; And listen, mother of mine: A hundred fairies danced last night, And the harpers they were nine;"
"And their harp-strings rung so merrily To their dancing feet so small; But oh! the words of their talking Were merrier far than all."
"And what were the words, my Mary, That then you heard them say?" "I'll tell you all, my mother; But let me have my way.
"Some of them played with the water, And rolled it down the hill; 'And this,' they said, 'shall speedily turn The poor old miller's mill;
"'For there has been no water Ever since the first of May; And a busy man will the miller be At dawning of the day.
"'Oh! the miller, how he will laugh When he sees the mill-dam rise! The jolly old miller, how he will laugh Till the tears fill both his eyes!'
"And some they seized the little winds That sounded over the hill; And each put a horn unto his mouth, And blew both loud and shrill;
"'And there,' they said, 'the merry winds go Away from every horn; And they shall clear the mildew dank From the blind old widow's corn.
"'Oh! the poor, blind widow, Though she has been blind so long, She'll be blithe enough when the mildew's gone, And the corn stands tall and strong.'
"And some they brought the brown lint-seed, And flung it down from the Low; 'And this,' they said, 'by sunrise, In the weaver's croft shall grow.
"'Oh! the poor, lame weaver, How will he laugh outright When he sees his dwindling flax-field All full of flowers by night!'
"And then outspoke a brownie, With a long beard on his chin; 'I have spun up all the tow,' said he, 'And I want some more to spin.
"'I've spun a piece of hempen cloth, And I want to spin another; A little sheet for Mary's bed, And an apron for her mother.
"With that I could not help but laugh, And I laughed out loud and free; And then on the top of the Caldon Low There was no one left but me.
"And on the top of the Caldon Low The mists were cold and gray, And nothing I saw but the mossy stones That round about me lay.
"But, coming down from the hill-top, I heard afar below, How busy the jolly miller was, And how the wheel did go.
"And I peeped into the widow's field, And, sure enough, were seen The yellow ears of the mildewed corn, All standing stout and green.
"And down by the weaver's croft I stole, To see if the flax were sprung; And I met the weaver at his gate, With the good news on his tongue.
"Now this is all I heard, mother, And all that I did see; So, pr'ythee, make my bed, mother, For I'm tired as I can be."
MARY HOWITT * * * * *
THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS
At evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing. And do not play at anything.
Now, with my little gun, I crawl All in the dark along the wall, And follow round the forest track Away behind the sofa back.
There, in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter's camp I lie, And play at books that I have read Till it is time to go to bed.
These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes; And there the river by whose brink The roaring lions come to drink.
I see the others far away As if in firelit camp they lay, And I, like to an Indian scout, Around their party prowled about.
So, when my nurse comes in for me, Home I return across the sea, And go to bed with backward looks At my dear land of Story-books.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON * * * * *
A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS
'T was the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,-- When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave a lustre of midday to objects below; When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid, on, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall! Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!" As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys,--and St. Nicholas too. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack. His eyes how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump--a right jolly old elf; And I laughed, when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle; But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
CLEMENT CLARKE MOORE
* * * * *
LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE
Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay, An' wash the cups and saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away, An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep, An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep; An' all us other children, when the supper things is done, We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about. An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you Ef you Don't Watch Out!
Onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,-- So when he went to bed at night, away up stairs, His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl, An' when they turn't the kivers down, he wasn't there at all! An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubbyhole, an press, An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess; But all they ever found was thist his pants an' roundabout! An' the Gobble-uns git you Ef you Don't Watch Out!
An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin, An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood an' kin; An' onc't when they was "company," an' ole folks was there, She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care! An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide, They was two great big black Things a-standin' by her side, An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about! An' the Gobble-uns'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out!
An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue, An' the lampwick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo! An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray, An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,-- You better mind yer parents, and yer teachers fond and dear, An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear, An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about, Er the Gobble-uns'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out!
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
(_From "Riley Child Rhymes," copyright, 1899. Used by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company._)
* * * * *
THE CHATTERBOX
From morning to night 't was Lucy's delight To chatter and talk without stopping; There was not a day but she rattled away, Like water forever a-dropping!
As soon as she rose, while she put on her clothes, 'Twas vain to endeavor to still her; Nor once did she lack to continue her clack, Till again she lay down on her pillow.
You'll think now, perhaps, there would have been gaps, If she hadn't been wonderful clever; That her sense was so great, and so witty her pate That it would be forthcoming forever.
But that's quite absurd; for have you not heard, Much tongue and few brains are connected, That they are supposed to think least who talk most, And their wisdom is always suspected?
While Lucy was young, had she bridled her tongue With a little good sense and exertion, Who knows but she might have been our delight, Instead of our jest and aversion?
ANN TAYLOR
* * * * *
THE VOICE OF SPRING
I come, I come! ye have called me long; I come o'er the mountains, with light and song. Ye may trace my step o'er the waking earth By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass.
I have breathed on the South, and the chestnut-flowers By thousands have burst from the forest bowers, And the ancient graves and the fallen fanes Are veiled with wreathes on Italian plains; But it is not for me, in my hour of bloom, To speak of the ruin or the tomb!
I have looked o'er the hills of the stormy North, And the larch has hung all his tassels forth; The fisher is out on the sunny sea, And the reindeer bounds o'er the pastures free, And the pine has a fringe of softer green, And the moss looks bright, where my step has been.
I have sent through the wood-paths a glowing sigh, And called out each voice of the deep blue sky, From the night-bird's lay through the starry time, In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime, To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes, When the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks.
From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain; They are sweeping on to the silvery main. They are flashing down from the mountain brows, They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs, They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves, And the earth resounds with the joy of waves.
FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS
* * * * *
THE HISTORY LESSON
There was a monkey climbed up a tree, When he fell down, then down fell he.
There was a crow sat on a stone, When he was gone, then there was none.
There was an old wife did eat an apple, When she had eat two, she had eat a couple.
There was a horse going to the mill, When he went on, he stood not still.
There was a butcher cut his thumb, When it did bleed, then blood did come.
There was a lackey ran a race, When he ran fast, he ran apace.
There was a cobbler clouting shoon, When they were mended, they were done.
There was a chandler making candle, When he them strip, he did them handle.
There was a navy went into Spain, When it returned, it came again.
ANONYMOUS
* * * * *
SONG OF LIFE
A traveller on a dusty road Strewed acorns on the lea; And one took root and sprouted up, And grew into a tree. Love sought its shade at evening-time, To breathe its early vows; And Age was pleased, in heights of noon, To bask beneath its boughs. The dormouse loved its dangling twigs, The birds sweet music bore-- It stood a glory in its place, A blessing evermore.
A little spring had lost its way Amid the grass and fern; A passing stranger scooped a well Where weary men might turn, He walled it in, and hung with care A ladle on the brink; He thought not of the deed he did, But judged that Toil might drink. He passed again; and lo! the well, By summer never dried, Had cooled ten thousand parchéd tongues, And saved a life beside.
A nameless man, amid the crowd That thronged the daily mart, Let fall a word of hope and love, Unstudied from the heart, A whisper on the tumult thrown, A transitory breath, It raised a brother from the dust, It saved a soul from death. O germ! O fount! O word of love! O thought at random cast! Ye were but little at the first, But mighty at the last.
CHARLES MACKAY
* * * * *
THE GOOD TIME COMING
There's a good time coming, boys. A good time coming: We may not live to see the day, But earth shall glisten in the ray Of the good time coming. Cannon-balls may aid the truth, But thought's a weapon stronger; We'll win our battle by its aid;-- Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming: The pen shall supersede the sword, And Right, not Might, shall be the lord In the good time coming. Worth, not Birth, shall rule mankind, And be acknowledged stronger; The proper impulse has been given;-- Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys A good time coming: War in all men's eyes shall be A monster of iniquity In the good time coming. Nations shall not quarrel then, To prove which is the stronger; Nor slaughter men for glory's sake;-- Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming: Hateful rivalries of creed Shall not make their martyrs bleed In the good time coming. Religion shall be shorn of pride, And flourish all the stronger; And Charity shall trim her lamp;-- Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming: And a poor man's family Shall not be his misery In the good time coming. Every child shall be a help To make his right arm stronger; The happier he, the more he has:-- Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming: Little children shall not toil Under, or above, the soil In the good time coming; But shall play in healthful fields, Till limbs and mind grow stronger; And every one shall read and write;-- Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming: The people shall be temperate, And shall love instead of hate, In the good time coming. They shall use, and not abuse, And make all virtue stronger; The reformation has begun;-- Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming: Let us aid it all we can, Every woman, every man, The good time coming: Smallest helps, if rightly given, Make the impulse stronger; 'T will be strong enough one day;-- Wait a little longer.
CHARLES MACKAY
* * * * *
WINDY NIGHTS
Whenever the moon and stars are set, Whenever the wind is high, All night long in the dark and wet. A man goes riding by, Late at night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Whenever the trees are crying aloud, And ships are tossed at sea, By, on the highway, low and loud, By at the gallop goes he. By at the gallop he goes, and then By he comes back at the gallop again.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
* * * * *
THE WONDERFUL WORLD
Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, With the wonderful water round you curled, And the wonderful grass upon your breast, World, you are beautifully drest.
The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree-- It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the top of the hills.
You friendly Earth, how far do you go, With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow, With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles, And people upon you for thousands of miles?
Ah! you are so great, and I am so small, I hardly can think of you, World, at all; And yet, when I said my prayers to-day, My mother kissed me, and said, quite gay,
"If the wonderful World is great to you, And great to father and mother, too, You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot! You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!"
WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS
* * * * *
HARK! HARK! THE LARK
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes; With every thing that pretty bin, My lady sweet, arise; Arise, arise.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
* * * * *
JOG ON, JOG ON
Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a; A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
* * * * *
SWEET STORY OF OLD
I think when I read that sweet story of old, When Jesus was here among men, How He call'd little children as lambs to His fold, I should like to have been with them then.
I wish that His hands had been placed on my head, That His arm had been thrown around me, And that I might have seen His kind look when He said, "Let the little ones come unto me."
Yet still to His footstool in prayer I may go, And ask for a share in His love; And if I thus earnestly seek Him below, I shall see Him and hear Him above;
In that beautiful place He has gone to prepare For all who are washed and forgiven; And many dear children shall be with Him there, For of such is the kingdom of heaven.
But thousands and thousands who wander and fall, Never heard of that heavenly home; I wish they could know there is room for them all, And that Jesus has bid them to come.
JEMIMA LUKE
* * * * *
MY SHADOW
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, And what can be the use of him is more than I can see, He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow-- Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball, And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.
He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play, And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see; I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up, I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed!
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
* * * * *
BY COOL SILOAM'S SHADY RILL
By cool Siloam's shady rill How sweet the lily grows! How sweet the breath beneath the hill Of Sharon's dewy rose!
Lo, such the child whose early feet The paths of peace have trod; Whose secret heart, with influence sweet, Is upward drawn to God.
By cool Siloam's shady rill The lily must decay; The rose that blooms beneath the hill Must shortly fade away.
And soon, too soon, the wintry hour Of man's maturer age Will shake the soul with sorrow's power, And stormy passion's rage.
O Thou, whose infant feet were found Within thy Father's shrine, Whose years, with changeless virtue crowned, Were all alike divine;
Dependent on thy bounteous breath, We seek thy grace alone, In childhood, manhood, age, and death, To keep us still thine own.
REGINALD HEBER
* * * * *
THE WIND IN A FROLIC
The wind one morning sprang up from sleep, Saying, "Now for a frolic! now for a leap! Now for a madcap galloping chase! I'll make a commotion in every place!" So it swept with a bustle right through a great town, Creaking the signs, and scattering down Shutters, and whisking, with merciless squalls, Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls. There never was heard a much lustier shout, As the apples and oranges tumbled about; And the urchins, that stand with their thievish eyes Forever on watch, ran off each with a prize. Then away to the fields it went blustering and humming, And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming. It plucked by their tails the grave, matronly cows, And tossed the colts' manes all about their brows, Till, offended at such a familiar salute, They all turned their backs and stood silently mute. So on it went, capering and playing its pranks; Whistling with reeds on the broad river banks; Puffing the birds, as they sat on the spray, Or the traveler grave on the King's highway. It was not too nice to bustle the bags Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags, 'T was so bold that it feared not to play its joke With the doctor's wig, and the gentleman's cloak. Through the forest it roared, and cried gayly, "Now, You sturdy old oaks, I'll make you bow!" And it made them bow without more ado, Or it cracked their great branches through and through. Then it rushed like a monster o'er cottage and farm, Striking their inmates with sudden alarm; And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm. There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps, To see if their poultry were free from mishaps; The turkeys, they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud, And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd; There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on, Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone. But the wind had passed on, and had met in a lane With a schoolboy, who panted and struggled in vain, For it tossed him, and twirled him, then passed, and he stood With his hat in a pool, and his shoe in the mud.
WILLIAM HOWITT
* * * * *
THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD
They grew in beauty, side by side, They filled one home with glee; Their graves are severed far and wide, By mount, and stream, and sea.
The same fond mother bent at night O'er each fair, sleeping brow; She had each folded flower in sight: Where are those sleepers now?
One, midst the forest of the West, By a dark stream is laid; The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade.
The sea, the blue, lone sea, hath one; He lies where pearls lie deep; He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep.
One sleeps where southern vines are dressed Above the noble slain; He wrapped the colors round his breast On a blood-red field of Spain.
And one--o'er her the myrtle showers Its leaves by soft winds fanned; She faded midst Italian flowers-- The last of that fair band.
And parted thus, they rest who played Beneath the same green tree; Whose voices mingled as they prayed Around one parent knee.
They that with smiles lit up the hall, And cheered with song the hearth; Alas for love! if thou wert all, And naught beyond, O earth!
FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS
* * * * *
WE ARE SEVEN
... A simple child That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage-girl: She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad; Her eyes were bright, and very fair-- Her beauty made me glad.
"Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wond'ring looked at me.
"And where are they? I pray you tell." She answered, "Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea.
"Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother."
"You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea, Yet ye are seven?--I pray you tell, Sweet maid, how this may be?"
Then did the little maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the churchyard lie, Beneath the churchyard tree."
"You run about, my little maid, Your limbs they are alive: If two are in the churchyard laid, Then ye are only five."
"Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied; "Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.
"My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem; And there upon the ground I sit-- I sit and sing to them.
"And often after sunset, sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there.
"The first that died was little Jane; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain, And then she went away.
"So in the churchyard she was laid; And when the grass was dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I.
"And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side."
"How many are you, then," said I, "If they two are in heaven?" The little maiden did reply, "O master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; these two are dead! Their spirits are in heaven!" 'T was throwing words away; for still The little maid would have her will, And said, "Nay, we are seven!"
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
* * * * *
THE BETTER LAND
"I hear thee speak of the better land; Thou call'st its children a happy band; Mother! oh, where is that radiant shore? Shall we not seek it and weep no more? Is it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fireflies dance through the myrtle boughs?"-- "Not there, not there my child!"
"Is it where the feathery palm trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies? Or midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange bright birds on their starry wings Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?"-- "Not there, not there, my child!"
"Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold? Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand? Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?"-- "Not there, not there, my child!"
"Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy; Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy; Dreams cannot picture a world so fair,-- Sorrow and death may not enter there; Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom; For beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb, It is there, it is there, my child!"
FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS
* * * * *
THE JUVENILE ORATOR
You'd scarce expect one of my age To speak in public, on the stage; And if I chance to fall below Demosthenes or Cicero, Don't view me with a critic's eye, But pass my imperfections by.
Large streams from little fountains flow; Tall oaks from little acorns grow; And though I now am small and young, Of judgment weak, and feeble tongue, Yet all great learned men--like me-- Once learned to read their A, B, C.
And why may not Columbia's soil Rear men as great as Britain's isle, Exceed what Greece and Rome have done, Or any land beneath the sun?
May n't Massachusetts prove as great As any other sister state? Or, where's the town, go far or near, That does not find a rival here? Or, where 's the boy but three feet high Who's made improvement more than I?
Those thoughts inspire my youthful mind To be the greatest of mankind; Great, not like Cæsar, stained with blood; But only great, as I am good.
DAVID EVERETT
* * * * *
THE FOX AND THE CROW
A FABLE
The fox and the crow, In prose, I well know, Many good little girls can rehearse: Perhaps it will tell Pretty nearly as well, If we try the same fable in verse.
In a dairy a crow, Having ventured to go, Some food for her young ones to seek, Flew up in the trees, With a fine piece of cheese, Which she joyfully held in her beak.
A fox, who lived by, To the tree saw her fly, And to share in the prize made a vow; For having just dined, He for cheese felt inclined, So he went and sat under the bough.
She was cunning, he knew, But so was he too, And with flattery adapted his plan; For he knew if she'd speak, It must fall from her beak, So, bowing politely, began.
"'T is a very fine day" (Not a word did she say): "The wind, I believe, ma'am, is south: A fine harvest for peas:" He then looked at the cheese, But the crow did not open her mouth.
Sly Reynard, not tired, Her plumage admired, "How charming! how brilliant its hue! The voice must be fine, Of a bird so divine, Ah, let me just hear it, pray do.
"Believe me, I long To hear a sweet song!" The silly crow foolishly tries: She scarce gave one squall, When the cheese she let fall, And the fox ran away with the prize.
MORAL
Ye innocent fair, Of coxcombs beware, To flattery never give ear; Try well each pretense, And keep to plain sense, And then you have little to fear.
LITTLE B. (TAYLOR?)
* * * * *
THE USE OF FLOWERS
God might have bade the earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak tree and the cedar tree, Without a flower at all.
We might have had enough, enough For every want of ours, For luxury, medicine, and toil, And yet have had no flowers.
The ore within the mountain mine Requireth none to grow; Nor doth it need the lotus flower To make the river flow.
The clouds might give abundant rain, The nightly dews might fall, And the herb that keepeth life in man Might yet have drunk them all.
Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, All dyed with rainbow light, All fashioned with supremest grace, Upspringing day and night,--
Springing in valleys green and low, And on the mountain high, And in the silent wilderness, Where no man passes by?
Our outward life requires them not, Then wherefore had they birth?-- To minister delight to man, To beautify the earth;
To comfort man, to whisper hope Whene'er his faith is dim; For Whoso careth for the flowers Will much more care for him.
MARY HOWITT
* * * * *
CONTENTED JOHN
One honest John Tomkins, a hedger and ditcher, Although he was poor, did not want to be richer; For all such vain wishes in him were prevented By a fortunate habit of being contented.
Though cold was the weather, or dear was the food, John never was found in a murmuring mood; For this he was constantly heard to declare,-- What he could not prevent he would cheerfully bear.
"For why should I grumble and murmur?" he said; "If I cannot get meat, I can surely get bread; And, though fretting may make my calamities deeper, It can never cause bread and cheese to be cheaper."
If John was afflicted with sickness or pain, He wished himself better, but did not complain, Nor lie down and fret in despondence and sorrow, But said that he hoped to be better to-morrow.
If any one wronged him or treated him ill, Why, John was good-natured and sociable still; For he said that revenging the injury done Would be making two rogues when there need be but one,
And thus honest John, though his station was humble, Passed through this sad world without even a grumble; And I wish that some folks, who are greater and richer, Would copy John Tomkins, the hedger and ditcher.
JANE TAYLOR
* * * * *
THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, AND HOW HE GAINED THEM
"You are old, Father William," the young man cried; "The few locks which are left you are gray; You are hale, Father William--a hearty old man: Now tell me the reason, I pray."
"In the days of my youth," Father William replied, "I remembered that youth would fly fast, And abused not my health and my vigor at first, That I never might need them at last."
"You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And pleasures with youth pass away; And yet you lament not the days that are gone: Now tell me the reason, I pray."
"In the days of my youth," Father William replied, "I remembered that youth could not last; I thought of the future, whatever I did, That I never might grieve for the past."
"You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And life must be hastening away; You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death: Now tell me the reason, I pray."
"I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied; "Let the cause thy attention engage: In the days of my youth I remembered my God; And he hath not forgotten my age."
ROBERT SOUTHEY
* * * * *
THE FROST
The frost looked forth on a still, clear night, And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight; So through the valley and over the height I'll silently take my way. I will not go on like that blustering train, The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, That make so much bustle and noise in vain, But I'll be as busy as they!"
He flew up, and powdered the mountain's crest; He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed With diamonds and pearls;--and over the breast Of the quivering lake he spread A bright coat of mail, that it need not fear The glittering point of many a spear That he hung on its margin, far and near, Where a rock was rearing its head.
He went to the windows of those who slept, And over each pane, like a fairy crept; Wherever he breathed--wherever he stepped-- Most beautiful things were seen By morning's first light! There were flowers and trees, With bevies of birds and swarms of bright bees; There were cities--temples, and towers; and these, All pictured in silvery sheen!
But one thing he did that was hardly fair-- He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there That none had remembered for him to prepare, "Now, just to set them a-thinking, I'll bite their rich basket of fruit," said he, "This burly old pitcher--I'll burst it in three! And the glass with the water they've left for me Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking!"
HANNAH FLAGG GOULD
* * * * *
THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM
It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun, And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round, Which he beside the rivulet In playing there had found; He came to ask what he had found, That was so large and smooth and round.
Old Kaspar took it from the boy, Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh, "'T is some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory.
"I find them in the garden, For there's many hereabout; And often, when I go to plow The plowshare turns them out! For many thousand men," said he, "Were slain in that great victory."
"Now tell us what 't was all about," Young Peterkin he cries; While little Wilhelmine looks up With wonder-waiting eyes; "Now tell us all about the war, And what they killed each other for."
"It was the English," Kaspar cried, "Who put the French to rout; But what they killed each other for I could not well make out. But everybody said," quoth he, "That 't was a famous victory.
"My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by; They burnt his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly: So with his wife and child he fled, Nor had he where to rest his head.
"With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide, And many a childing mother then And new-born baby died: But things like that, you know, must be At every famous victory.
"They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won; For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun: But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory.
"Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, And our good Prince Eugene." "Why 't was a very wicked thing!" Said little Wilhelmine. "Nay--nay--my little girl," quoth he, "It was a famous victory.
"And everybody praised the Duke Who this great fight did win." "And what good came of it at last?" Quoth little Peterkin. "Why, that I cannot tell," said he, "But 't was a famous victory."
ROBERT SOUTHEY
* * * * *
THE CHAMELEON
A FABLE
FROM M. DE LAMOTTE
Oft has it been my lot to mark A proud, conceited, talking spark, With eyes, that hardly served at most To guard their master 'gainst a post;
Yet round the world the blade has been To see whatever could be seen, Returning from his finished tour, Grown ten times perter than before; Whatever word you chance to drop, The traveled fool your mouth will stop: "Sir, if my judgment you'll allow, I've seen--and sure I ought to know," So begs you'd pay a due submission, And acquiesce in his decision.
Two travelers of such a cast, As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed And on their way in friendly chat, Now talked of this, and then of that, Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other matter. Of the chameleon's form and nature. "A stranger animal," cries one, "Sure never lived beneath the sun. A lizard's body, lean and long, A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, Its foot with triple claw disjoined; And what a length of tail behind! How slow its pace; and then its hue-- Who ever saw so fine a blue?"
"Hold, there," the other quick replies, "'T is _green_, I saw it with these eyes, As late with open mouth it lay, And warmed it in the sunny ray: Stretched at its ease, the beast I viewed And saw it eat the air for food." "I've seen it, sir, as well as you, And must again affirm it blue; At leisure I the beast surveyed, Extending in the cooling shade." "'T is green, 't is green, sir I assure ye!" "Green!" cries the other in a fury--
"Why, sir!--d'ye think I've lost my eyes?" "'T were no great loss," the friend replies, "For, if they always serve you thus, You'll find them of but little use."
So high at last the contest rose, From words they almost came to blows; When luckily came by a third-- To him the question they referred, And begged he'd tell 'em, if he knew, Whether the thing was green or blue. "Sirs," cries the umpire, "cease your pother! The creature's neither one nor t' other. I caught the animal last night, And viewed it o'er by candlelight: I marked it well--'t was black as jet-- You stare--but sirs, I've got it yet, And can produce it." "Pray, sir, do: I'll lay my life the thing is blue." "And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." "Well, then, at once to ease the doubt," Replies the man, "I'll turn him out: And when before your eyes I've set him, If you don't find him black, I'll eat him." He said: then full before their sight Produced the beast, and lo!--'t was white.
Both stared, the man looked wondrous wise-- "My children," the chameleon cries, (Then first the creature found a tongue,) "You are all right, and all are wrong: When next you talk of what you view, Think others see as well as you; Nor wonder, if you find that none Prefers your eyesight to his own."
JAMES MERRICK
* * * * *
THE BLACKBERRY GIRL
"Why, Phebe, are you come so soon? Where are your berries, child? You cannot, sure, have sold them all, You had a basket piled."
"No, mother, as I climbed the fence, The nearest way to town, My apron caught upon the stake, And so I tumbled down.
"I scratched my arm and tore my hair, But still did not complain; And had my blackberries been safe, Should not have cared a grain.
"But when I saw them on the ground. All scattered by my side, I picked my empty basket up, And down I sat and cried.
"Just then a pretty little Miss Chanced to be walking by; She stopped, and looking pitiful, She begged me not to cry.
"'Poor little girl, you fell,' said she, 'And must be sadly hurt;' 'Oh, no,' I cried; 'but see my fruit, All mixed with sand and dirt.'
"'Well, do not grieve for that,' she said; 'Go home, and get some more,' 'Ah, no, for I have stripped the vines, These were the last they bore.
"'My father, Miss, is very poor, And works in yonder stall; He has so many little ones, He cannot clothe us all.
"'I always longed to go to church, But never could I go; For when I asked him for a gown, He always answered, "No.
"'"There's not a father in the world That loves his children more; I'd get you one with all my heart, But, Phebe, I am poor."
"'But when the blackberries were ripe, He said to me one day, "Phebe, if you will take the time That's given you for play,
"'"And gather blackberries enough, And carry them to town, To buy your bonnet and your shoes, I'll try to get a gown."
"'Oh, Miss, I fairly jumped for joy, My spirits were so light; And so, when I had leave to play, I picked with all my might.
"'I sold enough to get my shoes, About a week ago; And these, if they had not been spilt, Would buy a bonnet, too.
"'But now they're gone, they all are gone, And I can get no more, And Sundays I must stay at home, Just as I did before.'
"And, mother, then I cried again As hard as I could cry; And looking up, I saw a tear Was standing in her eye.
"She caught her bonnet from her head, 'Here, here,' she cried, 'take this!' 'Oh, no, indeed--I fear your ma Would be offended, Miss.'
"'My ma! no, never; she delights All sorrow to beguile; And 't is the sweetest joy she feels, To make the wretched smile.
"'She taught me when I had enough, To share it with the poor; And never let a needy child, Go empty from the door.
"'So take it, for you need not fear Offending her, you see; I have another, too, at home, And one's enough for me,'
"So then I took it--here it is-- For pray what could I do? And, mother, I shall love that Miss As long as I love you."
UNKNOWN
* * * * *
MABEL ON MIDSUMMER DAY
A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME