Chapter 7

"Oh, some one has probably cut them off. They make nice tippets in winter-time, you know;" and then she patted the child upon her head and walked away down the valley.

Bo-Peep was much grieved over the loss that had befallen her dear sheep, and so, driving them before her, she wandered around to see if by any chance she could find the lost tails.

But soon the sun began to sink over the hill-tops, and she knew she must take her sheep home before night overtook them.

She did not tell her mother of her misfortune, for she feared the old shepherdess would scold her, and Bo-Peep had fully decided to seek for the tails and find them before she related the story of their loss to any one.

Each day for many days after that Little Bo-Peep wandered about the hills seeking the tails of her sheep, and those who met her wondered what had happened to make the sweet little maid so anxious. But there is an end to all troubles, no matter how severe they may seem to be, and

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!

The little shepherdess was overjoyed at this discovery, and, reaching up her crook, she knocked the row of pretty white tails off the tree and gathered them up in her frock. But how to fasten them onto her sheep again was the question, and after pondering the matter for a time she became discouraged, and, thinking she was no better off than before the tails were found, she began to weep and to bewail her misfortune.

But amidst her tears she bethought herself of her needle and thread.

"Why," she exclaimed, smiling again, "I can sew them on, of course!" Then

She heaved a sigh and wiped her eye And ran o'er hill and dale, oh, And tried what she could As a shepherdess should, To tack to each sheep its tail, oh.

But the very first sheep she came to refused to allow her to sew on the tail, and ran away from her, and the others did the same, so that finally she was utterly discouraged.

She was beginning to cry again, when the same old woman she had before met came hobbling to her side and asked,

"What are you doing with my cat tails?"

"Your cat tails!" replied Bo-Peep, in surprise; "what do you mean?"

"Why, these tails are all cut from white pussy-cats, and I put them on the tree to dry. What are you doing with them?"

"I thought they belonged to my sheep," answered Bo-Peep, sorrowfully; "but if they are really your pussy-cat tails, I must hunt until I find those that belong to my sheep."

"My dear," said the old woman, "I have been deceiving you; you said you knew all about your sheep, and I wanted to teach you a lesson. For, however wise we may be, no one in this world knows _all_ about anything. Sheep do not have long tails--there is only a little stump to answer for a tail. Neither do rabbits have tails, nor bears, nor many other animals. And if you had been observing you would have known all this when I said the sheep would be wagging their tails behind them, and then you would not have passed all those days in searching for what is not to be found. So now, little one, run away home, and try to be more thoughtful in the future. Your sheep will never miss the tails, for they have never had them."

And now

Little Bo-Peep no more did weep; My tale of tails ends here. Each cat has one, But sheep have none; Which, after all, is queer!

The Story of Tommy Tucker

Little Tommy Tucker sang for his supper. What did he sing for? white bread and butter. How could he cut it, without any knife? How could he marry, without any wife?

LITTLE TOMMY TUCKER was a waif of the streets. He never remembered having a father or mother or any one to care for him, and so he learned to care for himself. He ate whatever he could get, and slept wherever night overtook him--in an old barrel, a cellar, or, when fortune favored him, he paid a penny for a cot in some rude lodging-house.

His life about the streets taught him early how to earn a living by doing odd jobs, and he learned to be sharp in his speech and wise beyond his years.

One morning Tommy crawled out from a box in which he had slept over night, and found that he was hungry. His last meal had consisted of a crust of bread, and he was a growing boy with an appetite.

He had been unable to earn any money for several days, and this morning life looked very gloomy to him. He started out to seek for work or to beg a breakfast; but luck was against him, and he was unsuccessful. By noon he had grown more hungry than before, and stood before a bake-shop for a long time, looking wistfully at the good things behind the window-panes, and wishing with all his heart he had a ha'penny to buy a bun.

And yet it was no new thing for Little Tommy Tucker to be hungry, and he never thought of despairing. He sat down upon a curb-stone, and thought what was best to be done. Then he remembered he had frequently begged a meal at one of the cottages that stood upon the outskirts of the city, and so he turned his steps in that direction.

"I have had neither breakfast nor dinner," he said to himself, "and I must surely find a supper somewhere, or I shall not sleep much to-night. It is no fun to be hungry."

So he walked on until he came to a dwelling-house where a goodly company sat upon a lawn and beneath a veranda. It was a pretty place, and was the home of a fat alderman who had been married that very day.

The alderman was in a merry mood, and seeing Tommy standing without the gate he cried to him,

"Come here, my lad, and sing us a song."

Tommy at once entered the grounds, and came to where the fat alderman was sitting beside his blushing bride.

"Can you sing?" enquired the alderman.

"No," answered Tommy, earnestly, "but I can eat."

"Ho, ho!" laughed the alderman, "that is a very ordinary accomplishment. Anyone can eat."

"If it please you, sir, you are wrong," replied Tommy, "for I have been unable to eat all day."

"And why is that?" asked the alderman.

"Because I have had nothing to put to my mouth. But now that I have met so kind a gentleman, I am sure that I shall have a good supper."

The alderman laughed again at this shrewd answer, and said,

"You shall have supper, no doubt; but you must sing a song for the company first, and so earn your food."

Tommy shook his head sadly.

"I do not know any song, sir," he said.

The alderman called a servant and whispered something in his ear. The servant hastened away, and soon returned bearing upon a tray a huge slice of white bread and butter. White bread was a rare treat in those days, as nearly all the people ate black bread baked from rye or barley flour.

"Now," said the alderman, placing the tray beside him, "you shall have this slice of white bread and butter when you have sung us a song, and complied with one condition."

"And what is that condition?" asked Tommy.

"I will tell you when we have heard the song," replied the fat alderman, who had decided to have some amusement at the boy's expense.

Tommy hesitated, but when he glanced at the white bread and butter his mouth watered in spite of himself, and he resolved to compose a song, since he did not know how to sing any other.

So he took off his cap, and standing before the company he sang as follows:

"A bumble-bee lit on a hollyhock flower That was wet with the rain of a morning shower. While the honey he sipped His left foot slipped, And he couldn't fly again for half an hour!"

"Good!" cried the alderman, after the company had kindly applauded Tommy. "I can't say much for the air, nor yet for the words; but it was not so bad as it might have been. Give us another verse."

So Tommy pondered a moment, and then sang again:

"A spider threw its web so high It caught on a moon in a cloudy sky. The moon whirled round, And down to the ground Fell the web, and captured a big blue fly!"

"Why, that is fine!" roared the fat alderman. "You improve as you go on, so give us another verse."

"I don't know any more," said Tommy, "and I am very hungry."

"One more verse," persisted the man, "and then you shall have the bread and butter upon the condition."

So Tommy sang the following verse:

"A big frog lived in a slimy bog, And caught a cold in an awful fog. The cold got worse, The frog got hoarse, Till croaking he scared a polliwog!"

"You are quite a poet," declared the alderman; "and now you shall have the white bread upon one condition."

"What is it?" said Tommy, anxiously.

"That you cut the slice into four parts."

"But I have no knife!" remonstrated the boy.

"But that is the condition," insisted the alderman. "If you want the bread you must cut it."

"Surely you do not expect me to cut the bread without any knife!" said Tommy.

"Why not?" asked the alderman, winking his eye at the company.

"Because it cannot be done. How, let me ask you, sir, could you have married without any wife?"

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the jolly alderman; and he was so pleased with Tommy's apt reply that he gave him the bread at once, and a knife to cut it with.

"Thank you, sir," said Tommy; "now that I have the knife it is easy enough to cut the bread, and I shall now be as happy as you are with your beautiful wife."

The alderman's wife blushed at this, and whispered to her husband. The alderman nodded in reply, and watched Tommy carefully as he ate his supper. When the boy had finished his bread--which he did very quickly, you may be sure,--the man said,

"How would you like to live with me and be my servant?"

Little Tommy Tucker had often longed for just such a place, where he could have three meals each day to eat and a good bed to sleep in at night, so he answered,

"I should like it very much, sir."

So the alderman took Tommy for his servant, and dressed him in a smart livery; and soon the boy showed by his bright ways and obedience that he was worthy any kindness bestowed upon him.

He often carried the alderman's wig when his master attended the town meetings, and the mayor of the city, who was a good man, was much taken with his intelligent face. So one day he said to the alderman,

"I have long wanted to adopt a son, for I have no children of my own; but I have not yet been able to find a boy to suit me. That lad of yours looks bright and intelligent, and he seems a well-behaved boy into the bargain."

"He is all that you say," returned the alderman, "and would be a credit to you should you adopt him."

"But before I adopt a son," continued the mayor, "I intend to satisfy myself that he is both wise and shrewd enough to make good use of my money when I am gone. No fool will serve my purpose; therefore I shall test the boy's wit before I decide."

"That is fair enough," answered the alderman; "but in what way will you test his wit?"

"Bring him to my house to-morrow, and you shall see," said the mayor.

So the next day the alderman, followed by Tommy and a little terrier dog that was a great pet of his master, went to the grand dwelling of the mayor. The mayor also had a little terrier dog, which was very fond of him and followed him wherever he went.

When Tommy and the alderman reached the mayor's house the mayor met them at the door and said:

"Tommy, I am going up the street, and the alderman is going in the opposite direction. I want you to keep our dogs from following us; but you must not do it by holding them."

"Very well, sir," replied Tommy; and as the mayor started one way and the alderman the other, he took out his handkerchief and tied the tails of the two dogs together. Of course each dog started to follow its master; but as they were about the same size and strength, and each pulled in a different direction, the result was that they remained in one place, and could not move either one way or the other.

"That was well done," said the mayor, coming back again; "but tell me, can you put my cart before my horse and take me to ride?"

"Certainly, sir," replied Tommy; and going to the mayor's stable he put the harness on the nag and then led him head-first into the shafts, instead of backing him into them, as is the usual way. After fastening the shafts to the horse, he mounted upon the animal's back, and away they started, pushing the cart before the horse.

"That was easy," said Tommy. "If your honor will get into the cart I'll take you to ride." But the mayor did not ride, although he was pleased at Tommy's readiness in solving a difficulty.

After a moment's thought he bade Tommy follow him into the house, where he gave him a cupful of water, saying,

"Let me see you drink up this cup of water."

Tommy hesitated a moment, for he knew the mayor was trying to catch him; then, going to a corner of the room, he set down the cup and stood upon his head in the corner. He now carefully raised the cup to his lips and slowly drank the water until the cup was empty. After this he regained his feet, and, bowing politely to the mayor, he said,

"The water is drunk up, your honor."

"But why did you stand on your head to do it?" enquired the alderman, who had watched the act in astonishment.

"Because otherwise I would have drunk the water down, and not up," replied Tommy.

The mayor was now satisfied that Tommy was shrewd enough to do him honor, so he immediately took him to live in the great house as his adopted son, and he was educated by the best masters the city afforded.

And Tommy Tucker became in after years not only a great, but a good man, and before he died was himself mayor of the city, and was known by the name of Sir Thomas Tucker.

Pussy-cat Mew

"_Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where do you go?" "To London, to visit the palace, you know." "Pussy-cat Mew, will you come back again?" "Oh, yes! I'll scamper with might and with main!_"

PUSSY-CAT MEW set off on her way, Stepping quite softly and feeling quite gay. Smooth was the road, so she traveled at ease, Warmed by the sunshine and fanned by the breeze.

Over the hills to the valleys below, Through the deep woods where the soft mosses grow, Skirting the fields, with buttercups dotted, Swiftly our venturesome Pussy-cat trotted.

Sharp watch she kept when a village she neared, For boys and their mischief our Pussy-cat feared. Often she crept through the grasses so deep To pass by a dog that was lying asleep.

Once, as she walked through a sweet-clover field, Something beside her affrightedly squealed, And swift from her path there darted away A tiny field-mouse, with a coat of soft gray.

"Now here," thought our Pussy, "is chance for a dinner; The one that runs fastest must surely be winner!" So quickly she started the mouse to give chase, And over the clover they ran a great race.

But just when it seemed that Pussy would win, The mouse spied a hole and quickly popped in; And so he escaped, for the hole was so small That Pussy-cat couldn't squeeze in it at all.

So, softly she crouched, and with eyes big and round Quite steadily watched that small hole in the ground. "This mouse really thinks he's escaped me," she said, "But I'll catch him sure if he sticks out his head!"

But while she was watching the poor mouse's plight, A deep growl behind made her jump with affright; She gave a great cry, and then started to run As swift as a bullet that's shot from a gun!

"Meow! Oh, meow!" our poor Puss did say; "Bow-wow!" cried the dog, who was not far away. O'er meadows and ditches they scampered apace, O'er fences and hedges they kept up the race!

Then Pussy-cat Mew saw before her a tree, And knew that a safe place of refuge 'twould be; So far up the tree with a bound she did go, And left the big dog to growl down below.

But now, by good fortune, a man came that way, And called to the dog, who was forced to obey; But Puss did not come down the tree till she knew That the man and the dog were far out of view.

Pursuing her way, at nightfall she came To London, a town you know well by name; And wandering 'round in byway and street, A strange Pussy-cat she happened to meet.

"Good evening," said Pussy-cat Mew. "Can you tell In which of these houses the Queen may now dwell? I'm a stranger in town, and I'm anxious to see What sort of a person a real Queen may be."

"My friend," said the other, "you really must know It isn't permitted that strangers should go Inside of the palace, unless they're invited, And stray Pussy-cats are apt to be slighted.

"By good luck, however, I'm quite well aware Of a way to the palace by means of a stair That never is guarded; so just come with me, And a glimpse of the Queen you shall certainly see."

Puss thanked her new friend, and together they stole To the back of the palace, and crept through a hole In the fence, and quietly came to the stair Which the stranger Pussy-cat promised was there.

"Now here I must leave you," the strange Pussy said, "So don't be 'fraid-cat, but go straight ahead, And don't be alarmed if by chance you are seen, For people will think you belong to the Queen."

So Pussy-cat Mew did as she had been told, And walked through the palace with manner so bold She soon reached the room where the Queen sat in state, Surrounded by lords and by ladies so great.

And there in the corner our Pussy sat down, And gazed at the scepter and blinked at the crown, And eyed the Queen's dress, all purple and gold; Which was surely a beautiful sight to behold.

But all of a sudden she started, for there Was a little gray mouse, right under the chair Where her Majesty sat, and Pussy well knew She'd scream with alarm if the mouse met her view.

So up toward the chair our Pussy-cat stole, But the mouse saw her coming and ran for its hole; But Pussy ran after, and during the race A wonderful, terrible panic took place!

The ladies all jumped on their chairs in alarm, The lords drew their swords to protect them from harm, And the Queen gave a scream and fainted away-- A very undignified act, I must say.

And some one cried "Burglars!" and some one cried "Treason!" And some one cried "Murder!" but none knew the reason; And some one cried "Fire! they are burning the house!" And some one cried "Silence! it's only a mouse!"

But Pussy-cat Mew was so awfully scared By the shouting and screaming, no longer she dared To stay in the room; so without more delay She rushed from the palace and scampered away!

So bristling her fur, and with heart beating fast, She came to the road leading homeward at last. "What business," she thought, "has a poor country cat To visit a city of madmen like that?

"Straight homeward I'll go, where I am well fed, Where mistress is kind, and soft is my bed; Let other cats travel, if they wish to roam, But as for myself, I shall now stay at home."

And now over hills and valleys she ran, And journeyed as fast as a Pussy-cat can; Till just as the dawn of the day did begin She, safely at home, stole quietly in.

And there was the fire, with the pot boiling on it, And there was the maid, in the blue checkered bonnet, And there was the corner where Pussy oft basked, And there was the mistress, who eagerly asked:

_"Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where have you been?" "I've been to London, to visit the Queen." "Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, what did you there?" "I frightened a little mouse under her chair!"_

How the Beggars Came to Town

Hark, hark, the dogs do bark, The beggars are coming to town: Some in rags, and some in tags, And some in velvet gown.

VERY fair and sweet was little Prince Lilimond, and few could resist his soft, pleading voice and gentle blue eyes. And as he stood in the presence of the King, his father, and bent his knee gracefully before His Majesty, the act was so courteous and dignified it would have honored the oldest nobleman of the court.

The King was delighted, and for a time sat silently regarding his son and noting every detail of his appearance, from the dark velvet suit with its dainty ruffles and collar to the diamond buckles on the little shoes, and back again to the flowing curls that clustered thick about the bright, childish face.

Well might any father be proud of so manly and beautiful a child, and the King's heart swelled within him as he gazed upon his heir.

"Borland," he said to the tutor, who stood modestly behind the Prince, "you may retire. I wish to speak privately with his royal highness."

The tutor bowed low and disappeared within the ante-room, and the King continued, kindly,

"Come here, Lilimond, and sit beside me. Methinks you seem over-grave this morning."

"It is my birthday, Your Majesty," replied the Prince, as he slowly obeyed his father and sat beside him upon the rich broidered cushions of the throne. "I am twelve years of age."

"So old!" said the King, smiling into the little face that was raised to his. "And is it the weight of years that makes you sad?"

"No, Your Majesty; I long for the years to pass, that I may become a man, and take my part in the world's affairs. It is the sad condition of my country which troubles me."

"Indeed!" exclaimed the King, casting a keen glance at his son. "Are you becoming interested in politics, then; or is there some grievous breach of court etiquette which has attracted your attention?"

"I know little of politics and less of the court, sire," replied Lilimond; "it is the distress of the people that worries me."

"The people? Of a surety, Prince, you are better posted than am I, since of the people and their affairs I know nothing at all. I have appointed officers to look after their interests, and therefore I have no cause to come into contact with them myself. But what is amiss?"

"They are starving," said the Prince, looking at his father very seriously; "the country is filled with beggars, who appeal for charity, since they are unable otherwise to procure food."

"Starving!" repeated the King; "surely you are misinformed. My Lord Chamberlain told me but this morning the people were loyal and contented, and my Lord of the Treasury reports that all taxes and tithes have been paid, and my coffers are running over."

"Your Lord Chamberlain is wrong, sire," returned the Prince; "my tutor, Borland, and I have talked with many of these beggars the past few days, and we find the tithes and taxes which have enriched you have taken the bread from their wives and children."

"So!" exclaimed the King. "We must examine into this matter." He touched a bell beside him, and when a retainer appeared directed his Chamberlain and his Treasurer to wait upon him at once.

The Prince rested his head upon his hand and waited patiently, but the King was very impatient indeed till the high officers of the court stood before him. Then said the King, addressing his Chamberlain,

"Sir, I am informed my people are murmuring at my injustice. Is it true?"

The officer cast an enquiring glance at the Prince, who met his eyes gravely, before he replied,

"The people always murmur, Your Majesty. They are many, and not all can be content, even when ruled by so wise and just a King. In every land and in every age there are those who rebel against the laws, and the protests of the few are ever heard above the contentment of the many."

"I am told," continued the King, severely, "that my country is overrun with beggars, who suffer for lack of the bread we have taken from them by our taxations. Is this true?"