Chapter 4

One day little Fred’s mother, who had been sick a long time, told him she was going out with a friend to take a drive. Fred wanted to go, too, but his mother said there would not be room in the buggy. Fred felt very cross and unhappy, and sat down on the front steps, ready to cry as soon as he should see his mother go away.

A buggy came to the gate, and the gentleman who was driving went into the house. Fred ran out and climbed into the buggy to sit there until his mother came out.

In looking around he saw there was a wide space under the seat, in which a boy might hide. He crawled in, thinking he would take a ride, and his mother would not know it.

He waited a long time, but no one came, and at last he grew tired and fell asleep.

He was waked by feeling a big jolt, as a wheel of the buggy struck a stone; but he kept still. After what seemed to him a long time the buggy stopped and he heard some one taking the horse from the shafts. He waited until all was quiet, and then crawled out from his hiding-place.

He found it was almost dark, and everything about him was strange. He was very much frightened, but he jumped down and went to a farm-house close by. A woman he had never seen before came to the door. When he told her where he lived she said he was fifteen miles from home, and he found that he had taken his stolen ride in the buggy of a man who had called to see his father on business.

It was too late for Fred to go home that night, and he had to stay at the farmer’s house until the next day. Then he was taken home, and I am very sure he never tried to steal another ride.

A VALENTINE PARTY.

The children had a valentine party, the very nicest party,--they all declared, that they had ever been to in their lives. All the cousins in the neighborhood--and there were a lot of them--were there.

What fun they had opening their valentines, which a “really” postman brought with his gray uniform and his whistle and his great leather pack.

“Dear me,” he said, pretending to groan, as he handed the missives, “if you had a party every day here I think I should be completely worn out!” But his eyes twinkled merrily.

Such shouts and exclamations as the valentines were opened and read! And such fun looking at everybody else’s. Here are two, Bessie’s and Fred’s:--

I’m for the boy Who can stand on his head, And who NEVER likes To go to bed. If there’s more than one of them,-- I’m for FRED!

I bring a kiss From far away; It’s travelled many Miles to-day.

Take it, my dear, And send one back To your old, loving Uncle Jack.

Don’t you think that the children OUGHT to have had a good time if all received as dear little valentines as these?

THE VENTURESOME RAT.

He was a fine young rat and lived with his father and mother, and brothers and sisters in a farm-cellar.

Now this young rat was not of a very quiet disposition. In fact he was quite gay, and thought the life in the farm-cellar was very dull and stupid and longed to see more of the world.

He sat near his father and mother one day when they were entertaining a caller, a stranger who seemed to have travelled all over the world, and told in a very interesting manner of the many wonderful things he had seen. “Why,” said the caller, “how you can be contented to live as you do I cannot imagine, and to bring up your children in such ignorance fills me with surprise. They would learn more in one night prowling through the big house to which this farm belongs than they will learn here for the rest of their lives.”

After this caller had taken his leave, the young rat decided that he would venture forth himself. He would that very night visit the big house and see what was to be seen there. He pretended to cuddle down on his own bed, and go sound asleep. He was really watching his parents out of the corners of his wicked eyes, and as soon as they were sound asleep, off he started. He found his way to the house much more easily than he had expected; in short, almost before he could believe it, he was in a fine great pantry. A pantry whose shelves were covered with such good things to eat as he had never seen. Rich cake, pies, cookies, and cheese such as he had heard the caller describe. The first nibble fairly melted in his mouth.

After he had eaten his fill he began looking about the pantry for other means of amusement. Suddenly he saw a curious thing; it seemed to be a little house or hut made of wire. Inside the hut was a piece of cheese. “I really think I have eaten enough,” said the young rat, “but if that cheese is so fine that it is kept in a house by itself it must be very fine indeed.” With these words he crawled into the hole in the side of the hut and ate the cheese, but when, later, he tried to get out he could not to save his life.

Hours and hours he remained there until the night passed, and the day came. Indeed he had fallen into a little nap when he was awakened by a loud cry. Some one was shouting, “we’ve caught the rascal at last, now we’ll drown him.”

The poor little fellow knew they were wrong; he could not be the rascal they meant, for this was the first time he had ever been in the house. At that moment a boy’s voice was heard to say. “Let me see him. No, you shall not drown him. I will tame him if I can.”

And so it came about that the young rat did see a good deal of the world, but how? THROUGH THE BARS OF A CAGE.

THE BEARS’ FEAST.

A man had come to town with two tame bears. They were very clever bears, and could climb posts and trees, dance and turn summersets and do a great many other tricks besides.

One day the man was taken ill and had to stay in the house all day. He thought the bears were locked up in the barn. But the bears decided they would go for a walk by themselves. They managed to get away without being seen and started in the direction of the schoolhouse.

The children were at recess when they suddenly saw the bears. They were frightened and ran screaming into the school-house.

The bears were very tame and kind and wanted to make friends with the children, so they followed them.

The children jumped on the desks screaming and crying and the teachers were frightened too.

When the bears saw that they could not make friends or play they began quietly walking about the school-room.

Finally they came to the dressing-room where all the dinner-pails and baskets were hanging.

Smelling the food, they managed to knock some of the baskets down and then such a feast as they had!

They sat on their haunches and ate sandwiches and fruit and drank milk out of the bottles just as the children would do. When they had eaten enough they quietly left the school-house and trotted down the road toward home.

After the bears were gone the children became calm again and returned to their lessons.

The man and the bears disappeared the next day and were never seen again.

PATTY-SAYINGS.

“I’ve been reading Bible stories,” Patty said, “and I believe That Adam’s name MEANT ‘Morning,’ Because his wife was ‘Eve.’”

BABIE’S CURLS.

Little Bessie Boothby Had a little sister Sue: And a baby brother, Whom she thought the world of, too.

Only one thing troubled These dear little girls; ‘Though baby Tom was pretty, He hadn’t any curls.

They found a box of vaseline And rubbed it on his head; But even then no hair would grow: It made his head quite red.

Bessie once was brushing Dollie’s golden hair, When off it fell, alas! and left Poor dollie’s head quite bare.

Little Sue was frightened, But to comfort, Bessie said, “Susie dear, do listen, ‘Tis just like babie’s head.

“Let’s put the wig on baby Tom, And then he’ll have some curls; I would not even be surprised If he looked just like us girls.”

When Mamma saw her baby boy With all this growth of hair, She laughed until she nearly cried, At the naughty little pair.

THE RED APPLES.

One windy day in March Kitty Miller was on her way to school, when she spied in a store window, a great pile of lovely red apples.

“Oh,” she said, “how lovely! if Mamma could only have one!”

Kittie’s mother was very poor. She had been a dress-maker ever since Mr. Miller died, and had worked so hard to earn a living for herself and Kitty that she had become sick. She was obliged to lie in bed all day, and when Kitty was away at school, the house was very lonesome to the invalid.

When Kitty reached the school that day her thoughts were full of her sick mother and the lovely apples.

She was usually a good scholar, but to-day she made so many blunders that the teacher looked at her in surprise. The little girl could only sit at her desk, with her book before her, and dream of those red apples. When school was dismissed, Kitty started slowly homeward. She had gone only a short distance when she saw a gentleman in front of her drop his purse. Running quickly forward she picked it up. It felt quite heavy in Kittie’s little hand.

“There must be a good deal of money in it,” thought Kitty. “How I wish I could keep it. Then I could buy Mamma a red apple and so many other things she needs.”

But she knew this would not be right, so she hurried after the gentleman. Touching him on the arm, she said, “Please, Sir, you dropped your purse.”

“Thank you, dear,” said the gentleman taking the purse.

Then noticing how poorly dressed she was, he said, “Why did you not keep the purse, my child?”

“Because that would be stealing,” replied Kitty. “But,” she continued honestly, “before I thought I must give it back to you, I did wish I could keep it, for then I could buy Mamma a red apple.”

The gentleman smiled kindly and said, “You are a good little girl to return my purse. I would like to give you a little present and then you can buy a red apple.”

He handed her a silver dollar and then bade her good-by.

Kitty was so surprised that she started hastily for home, forgetting all about the red apples until she stood in front of the store.

The store-keeper happened to look out and saw the same little girl who stood looking so longingly in at his window in the morning. He quickly picked out the biggest, roundest, reddest apple he could find and taking it out to Kitty said, “Would you like this, my dear?”

She took the apple, looking so pleased and thanking him so prettily, that the good man thought of it for many a day. When Kitty reached home with her treasures she found her mother fast asleep. So she put the apple and silver piece on a plate where her mother could see them when she awoke.

When Mrs. Miller was told the wonderful story, she kissed her little daughter and said, “You see, dear, it always pays to be honest and truthful.”

BUBBLES.

“Now, Tommie, what will you do while I write letters this morning?”

“Blow soap bubbles, Mamma, please,” and Tommie jumped up and down, clapping his hands for pleasure.

“Well, run and get me your pipe and bowl and I will mix you some suds.”

The soap-suds were soon ready, and Tommie took his favorite position on the broad window-sill with the bowl in his lap.

Mamma, writing in the next room, could hear the Oh’s and squeals of delight, as the bubbles grew larger and rounder.

“Why is Tommie in all the bubbles?” asked the little boy at last.

“Because,” said Mamma, “the bubbles are like a mirror, and when my little boy is near enough to look at them, he will be reflected in them, just the same as when he looks in Mamma’s long mirror.”

“But the mirror doesn’t break like the bubbles,” said Tommie. “Where do they go when they break, Mamma?”

“They evaporate, dear; that is a big word for my little boy. Spell it after Mamma and then perhaps you will remember. E-v-a-p-o-r-a-t-e evaporate.”

“What does evaporate mean,” asked Tommie bringing out the long word with a jerk.

“Do you remember, dear,” answered Mamma, “that early in the morning when the grass is all wet with dew, my little boy cannot run in it without his rubbers? But before long it is all dry and then my little boy takes off his rubbers and does not get his feet wet. The sun and the air absorb or suck up the water and carry it off to their homes. Now, the bubbles are made of a little water and a little air. The water is on the end of the pipe, and Tommie blows the air into the pipe, and the bubble grows big and round. When it breaks, the air sucks up the water, which was the outside of the bubble, and the air which was inside mixes with the air in the room.”

“Now do you suppose you can tell Papa all about it, when he comes home to dinner?” asked Mamma.

“Of course I can,” said Tommie, proudly. “Haven’t you just told me all about it?”

A HORSE WHO WORE SNOW SHOES.

Mr. Brown had to go to his camp at Pine Tree Valley, which is in the midst of the mountains in California.

His men were cutting down the giant trees, and piling them in readiness for the Spring freshet, or floods of the river, when the snows melted. Then they would slide them down the mountain sides to the little villages below.

There was a great deal of snow on the mountains, and Mr. Brown knew it would be hard work climbing to the camp, but Lady Gray was strong, and used to it.

Lady Gray was Mr. Brown’s pet horse, and carried him everywhere. She was always happy when her master was in the saddle.

But to-day the snow was very deep and soon Mr. Brown had to get off, throw away the saddle, and lead her. They had to stop very often, and lean against the trees and rocks for support, while they rested and regained their breath.

In places the snow was so deep and soft, that they sank above their knees. Late in the afternoon they reached the camp nearly exhausted, and it was several days before they were able to return.

The snow was still deep and Mr. Brown knew he must go back on snow-shoes, but he was afraid Lady Gray would have to be left behind.

Finally one of the men suggested making her some snow-shoes. They cut four round pieces of board, twelve inches across, and fastened them on with rope. Lady Gray seemed to understand what they were for and tried very hard to walk in them.

She was very awkward at first and could hardly stand up, but by practicing a little every day she was soon able to manage nicely.

So Mr. Brown and Lady Gray both returned on snow-shoes, and how every one did laugh when they saw them.

But Lady Gray never could have done it if she had not tried.

THE ANGRY BOBOLINK.

Pretty little bobolink In your satin coat, Trimmed with white across the neck Black about the throat, Why so angry do you seem? Why so fierce your mien? That you’re scolding somebody Plainly can be seen.

“Don’t you know,” says bobolink, As he shakes his head, That my nest is hidden in This soft grassy bed? Somebody has come too near, And I wish to say There is no admittance here Pass the other way.

“If my gentle little wife Sits so calm above, It’s because she knows I’ll guard This dear nest we love.” Fear not, pretty bobolink, Sing your joyous song, Never will I trouble you, Sing, the whole day long.

HOW HIRAM SPENT HIS SHRIMP MONEY.

“I wish my mother had a ring like those the ladies wear at the hotel,” said Hiram Green to himself one day. “There isn’t one of those ladies as pretty as my mother; she ought to wear rings too.”

Hiram was the son of a fisherman, but the fisherman had died when Hiram was a little boy. Hiram’s mother took in sewing and fancy work to earn money to support herself and her son. He helped her what he could out of school hours, and in vacation. He had two uncles who wad taught him how to catch shrimps. With the money he earned by selling them he could buy things for his own use or pleasure. He had a bank almost full of what he called his “shrimp-money.” He did not mean to count his money until the bank was full.

Now Hiram loved his mother more than anything else in the world. Whenever he dreamed of being rich some time, as boys often do, it was not for himself he wanted the money, but that his dear little mother might drive in a carriage, drawn by a pair of horses with clanking chains.

The sight of the flashing gems on the hands of some of the summer visitors at the fishing village in which he lived had added a new article to the list of beautiful things his mother was some day to own. He had heard that just one single diamond was sometimes worth five hundred dollars or more. This had discouraged him very much. But one day happening to pass a shop in the neighboring town he saw a number of rings displayed in the window. Diamond rings which flashed and sparkled, it seemed to him, just as those worn by the ladies in the hotels. He stopped fascinated, ana pressed his face against the glass eagerly to see if any prices were marked upon them. Imagine his surprise when he saw upon the largest one a tag marked $4.75. He looked again to see if he had not made a mistake. Perhaps it was $475.00. But no, he knew enough about figures to see that he was right the first time.

Home he went as fast as he could get there, and ran up into his bedroom. Then, for the first time since he had begun to save his “shrimp-money” he opened his bank and counted its contents. “Three dollars and twenty-two cents!” he cried, “almost enough. I was going to buy something for myself this time, but I’ll have that ring before another week.”

Hiram worked early and late for the next few days. He caught more shrimps than he had ever caught in the same length of time, and sold them readily.

“I think there must be something you are wanting, very much, my boy,” said his mother.

“Yes, there is,” replied Hiram.

At the end of the week he had the sum he desired. Hurrying to the shop where he had seen the ring, before going inside he gave one hasty, almost frightened look into the window. Could it be gone! No, there it was flashing and sparkling as before.

That evening, he placed it on his mother’s finger. She looked at it in surprise. “It is yours, mother,” he cried, proudly, “your very own, I bought it with my shrimp money. I was determined my mother should have a ring as handsome as those ladies wear.”

“My dear boy,” said his mother, while something as bright as the shining stone flashed in her eyes, “Not one of those ladies can value their rings as I shall value mine.”

Years afterwards Hiram learned that what he had bought for a diamond was only a bit of glass.

“Did you know it then, mother?” he asked.

His mother nodded. “And you never told me.”

“It was brighter to me than any real diamond,” she said, “the brightness I saw flash in it was the unselfish love of my boy.”

THE ANT’S HOUSE.

“What a curious picture that is at the head of this story.” That is what I think I hear some of the “Little Ones” say. “What does it mean?” some one asks. It looks like a procession of ants. That is just what it is. A procession of ants all marching off to find a new home. Some one has destroyed their old one. Let us hope no one did it on purpose.

The ants are very busy and very nice little creatures. If their houses are stepped upon, or injured so as to be useless the ants immediately go to work to repair damages. They do not sit down and fuss about it first, but I have no doubt they let each other know what they think. And how do you suppose they do this? By touching each other with their tiny feelers.

After they have talked in this way, and decided what is to be done some of them take the eggs from the ruins and carry them to a safe place. Look carefully at the pictures, and you will see that almost every ant is carrying an egg. They know that if they lose the eggs all the young ants inside the eggs will be lost too.

While ants do not seem to have a very keen sense of hearing, their sense of smell is very strong. And where do you think it lies? In the same little feelers with which they talk to each other. The first ant’s house seen in the round picture has been cut in two to show you how wonderfully these little creatures can build.

It was made by the ants that live in tropical countries. The house at the back of the picture has not been disturbed. Does it not look as if an architect had planned it? Ask some of the older people in your family to tell you something more about ants. There is much more of interest in regard to them than I have space to write you.

THE FOOLISH PUG.

A pompous pug once thought that he A dashing swell would try to be, And on his neighbors one and all, Sat out to make a stylish call.

He wore a glass upon one eye, And on his head a silk hat high; A wide, stiff collar around his throat, And last an English overcoat.

So fine and splendid was his air The very birds stood still to stare, As walking on his two hind feet He sauntered boldly down the street.

But oh, alas! it comes to all To learn that pride must have a fall, And e’er the corner he had turned Poor pug that bitter lesson learned.

A saucy maid with one great whack, Brought down her broom upon his back, And as he raised a frightened wail Another soused him from her pail.

Poor pug! that night he sat and thought Of all the trouble he had brought Upon himself, because that he A foolish dude had tried to be.

THE SILHOUETTE PARTY

“Children,” said Grandpa, one afternoon, “I am going to build a bonfire this evening, to burn up this rubbish, so you may have a silhouette party.”

“Why, what is a silhouette party?” asked Lucy, opening her eyes very wide.

“I know,” said Ralph, “it is funny black pictures on something white.”

“That’s right,” laughed Grandpa. “Now you fly round and write your friends and Grandma and I will get everything ready.”

When the young people arrived at half past seven, they found a blazing fire, and in front of it was stretched a sheet between two large apple trees.

Quite a distance in front of the sheet were some seats, where Grandpa told some of the children to sit, while the others took part in the pictures.

He then disappeared with them in a tent close by where Grandma was waiting to dress them in their different costumes. Shouts of laughter came from the tent as the children put on their odd dresses; indeed there was so much fun that it took quite some time.

When all was ready Grandpa came out and addressing the children who were waiting said, “These are to be Mother Goose pictures, which you will all know. You must guess whom they represent and the one who guesses correctly the largest number will receive a prize.”

He threw a large pine knot on the fire, which burned up brightly, and there the children saw a shadow on the sheet, a little bent figure with a broom over its shoulder.

“The old woman who swept the cob-webs out of the sky,” cried some one.

Following this, came a figure with a long cloak and tall peaked hat, leading a dog.

“Old Mother Hubbard,” guessed another.

Then came a boy and a girl carrying a pail.

“Jack and Jill,” chorused the children.

After this a girl with a shepherd’s crook.

“Little Bo-peep,” again was guessed.

“Now,” said Grandpa, “it is time the others had their turn at acting.”

So the exchange being made, the pictures continued.

“Jack Horner,” “Little Miss Muffet,” “Old King Cole,” and “Mary, who had a little lamb,” followed in quick succession.

Then Grandpa announced that the pictures were over.

“As we cannot decide who has guessed the largest number of pictures,” said he, “I will give you each a prize.” And he passed them each a card.

It proved to be a picture of Ralph and Lucy cut from black paper and pasted on a white card.

“These,” said Grandpa, “are silhouette pictures too. Will you always know what a silhouette picture is now?”

“Oh yes,” said the children.

THE SNOW BIRDS.

It had snowed very hard. Ralph and Edward, who were visiting Grandma in the country, had to stay in the house all day.