Part 2

“When all our shoes were made, he packed his bag and said good-by for another year.”

LITTLE-FOLK LAND

The children all go looking In vain for Fairyland, Where little folk have dwelling, And wander hand in hand; Where silvery small voices Ring clear upon the air, Where magic little whispers Work wonders everywhere;

Where flower fields are forests, For tiny feet to tread; Where one has lived a life-time Before the day is fled. For this dear wondrous country The children look in vain; They find but empty flowers, Through sun and summer rain.

It is the grown folks only Have eyes for Fairyland, Where little people wander, And toddle hand in hand; Where happy voices prattle, And whisper secrets strange; Where tiny sprites by magic To bigger fairies change;

Where dancing little figures Get lost amid the flowers; Where days as years are measured, And minutes count for hours. It is the grown folk only Can find the land of elves; How could the children guess it? The fairies are themselves. —_Edith Colby Banfield._

CHILDREN OF A SUNNY LAND

I—A STRANGE MILK WAGON

Domingo and his sister Marikena live in a warm, sunny land. It is the land of Brazil, where there are fruits and flowers all the year, and it is always summer.

Domingo and Marikena love the sunshine, and the birds and flowers.

They like to play out of doors in the early morning and at night, but at noon it is too hot, and every one takes a nap.

When they go to the woods they do not see crows and blue jays and woodpeckers. Instead, there are gorgeous parrots and beautiful humming-birds that are almost as large as robins.

Perhaps they see monkeys in the palm trees; and, instead of acorns, they find cocoanuts.

In their schoolroom they sing all their lessons. Is not that a merry way? But it would seem strange to you because you could not understand one word they say. You see, they do not speak English, and they could not talk with you.

Every morning the two children are up very early and out on the balcony watching for something. Soon they call out, “_leite, leite_,” which means, “milk, milk.”

And what do you suppose they see? Not a wagon filled with glass jars or tin cans. Oh, no! It is only two or three cows being driven down the street by a woman.

The woman stops the cows in front of Domingo’s house, and milks one of them while the children watch her. How sweet and fresh this milk is! I wish you could have some every morning, too!

II—A RIDE IN A CHAIR

Domingo and Marikena are going with their mother to visit their cousin.

They have had their afternoon nap and it is not too hot out of doors now, as it is nearly four o’clock.

If you were going to pay a visit you would walk or ride in a car or carriage, would you not?

But Domingo and Marikena are not going in either of those ways. It is too hot to walk, and the streetcars do not go up the hill where their aunt lives, so they will ride in a chair.

The chairs are large and have big, soft cushions. They have a cover overhead and curtains on all sides, and are carried by four men.

The two children ride in one chair; their mother in another. The curtains are drawn down, but Domingo peeps out as they ride through the city streets.

When they reach the cousin’s house they do not rap on the door or ring a bell. The mother claps her hands, and when the aunt sees them she says, “Enter and welcome. The house and all it contains is yours.”

Is not that a strange way of saying, “I am glad to see you. Will you come in?”

They sit in the parlor and while they talk they sip coffee from tiny cups. Before they come away they walk in the garden, where there are beautiful flowers and fountains, tall palm trees, and rubber trees with blossoms like yellow lilies.

The chair-men wait and the children ride home again, but it is dark, and they can see only the lights in the houses. The chair swings back and forth like a cradle as the men trot down the hill into the city.

They sing as they go, and the song is a low, sweet tune like a lullaby. Marikena puts her head on the cushions and almost falls asleep.

Domingo nods and dreams of the fruit and the flowers and the funny pet monkey his cousin had in the garden. Oh! the days are long and happy in Brazil, and the children have merry times.

III—THE CARNIVAL

“The Carnival, the Carnival,” shouted Domingo one morning. “This is the first day of the Carnival.”

Then he ran to find Marikena. “Look, Sister,” he cried, “I am a clown this year. What are you?”

“I am a fairy,” she replied. “See my cap and wand. And here is a bag full of sugarplums and sweetmeats. I can hang the bag over my shoulder.”

“See these big pockets,” said her brother. “They are bigger than a bag and they are just full of goodies. I like to be a clown, because I can have such big pockets. Take that!” and he threw a handful of sugarplums into her lap.

Just then there was a clapping of hands at the door and the children ran to the balcony.

In Brazil the Carnival is held on the three days before Lent, and every one has a holiday. The cities are beautifully decorated, and men, women and children wear odd costumes and masks.

Some of them are dressed to look like monkeys, some like parrots, and some like clowns. Some wear gay dresses and funny masks, and others wear ugly skins of animals and hideous masks.

The children often carry wreaths and garlands of flowers; and there is always music and feasting and dancing in the streets.

Every one has pockets, bags, or baskets full of sugarplums, sweetmeats, bonbons and flowers.

These they throw at every one they meet, laughing merrily if they make a good hit.

The children think it is great fun to pelt each other with sugarplums and flowers. It is as good as snow-balling, only they can never have snow battles because they never have any snow.

The Carnival is the best time of all the year in Brazil, or at least Domingo and Marikena think so.

* * * * *

Where do Domingo and Marikena live?

When do they play out of doors?

What do they see in the woods?

How is the milk brought to their house?

When they go visiting, what do they ride in?

What did their aunt say when they went to call on her? What did they do at their aunt’s house?

What do some of the people wear on Carnival days?

What do they carry in their pockets? What do they throw at each other?

THE LITTLE PLANT

On the edge of the forest stood a tiny plant. It was only six inches tall.

The ground around it was so cold and hard that it could not grow taller. It had stood there many years, sad and sorrowful.

“Grow and be beautiful,” said the forest sternly, but the plant did not grow.

“Do you not wish to grow?” said the blue jay. Then he began to tell the little plant how lazy and useless it was. But his words went into one ear and out of the other.

Still the plant did not grow.

“Grow! grow!” roared the wind. “Grow tall and straight. I will teach you to obey. Grow! grow!”

Then the wind lashed the tiny plant with its cold wings, and beat its branches to the ground. But the poor thing came near dying and did not grow at all.

“Do grow,” said the sun. “Grow and be beautiful. I will help you.”

Then the sun warmed the earth around the plant, and gentle showers fell on it from the clouds.

Now the little twigs began to grow, and the tiny plant became a beautiful birch tree, with green leaves and snow-white bark.

—_Anna von Rydingsvärd._

TWO WAYS

Two little weeds grew on a bank by the roadside.

All summer they had been drinking the dew and sunshine, and had been very happy.

But now autumn had come, with gray skies and winds that nipped and pinched them.

“We shall die soon,” said one little weed.

“I should like to do something pleasant before I die, just to show what a happy time I have had. I think I will turn red, and then people will see how I feel.”

“You will be very foolish to waste your strength in any such nonsense!” said the other little weed. “I shall live as long as I can, and hug the brown bank here.”

So the first little weed turned bright scarlet, and was so pretty that every one looked at it.

By and by there came down the road a most beautiful maiden.

When she saw the scarlet leaves she picked them and put them in her hair.

This made the little weed so happy that he died for pure joy.

The second little weed lived on, and turned slowly brown, like the bank.

“He was so foolish!” he said, speaking of the weed that turned scarlet. “He put all his strength into turning red, and so he died.”

“I was proud of him,” said the brown bank. “He did what he could, and people loved him.”

“Yes, but I am alive, and stay with you!” said the weed.

“Much I care!” said the bank.

—_Laura E. Richards._

A SONG IN THE WOOD

I found a shy little violet root Half hid in the woods, on a day of spring, And a bird flew over, and looked at it, too, And for joy, as he looked, he began to sing.

The sky was the tenderest blue above,— And the flower like a bit of the sky below; And between them the wonderful winds of God On heavenly errands went to and fro.

Away from the summer, and out of the South The bird had followed a whisper true, As out from the brown and desolate sod Stepped the shy little blossom, with eyes of blue.

And he sang to her, in the young spring day, Of all the joy in the world astir; And her beauty and fragrance answered him, While the spring and he bent over her.

—_Louise Chandler Moulton._

HOW THE CORN GREW

Little Me Too walked to the right, then to the left, along the sidewalk in front of the house.

As he walked he sang with all his might about the ocean, and the summer time, and any other pleasant thing that came into his head.

He made it up as he went along, and grew quite out of breath at last, and had to stop.

Just as he had got his breath and was meaning to begin all over again, he saw something very small and yellow on the edge of the walk.

Then he began to sing the song of whatever it might be that was so small and yellow.

This is what he sang:—

“I wonder what this is. I guess it is a kernel of corn. I wonder how it came here All alone by itself. I guess I don’t know. I wonder if it can be planted In the grass in our yard. Yes!”

When he said “Yes!” he stooped down and dug a hole in the ground in the dooryard with his fingers.

Then he put the kernel of corn in the hole and covered it over with dirt.

Afterwards he stood up and sang at the top of his voice, “Now I guess it will grow!”

Of course it grew!

After a few days it poked itself up through the earth to make Little Me Too remember. For Little Me Too had forgotten all about it.

When he saw it poking its head up through the grass, he didn’t remember even then that it was the kernel of corn.

It had changed.

When he put it into the ground and covered it with dirt, it was yellow and hard.

Now it was green and soft. It looked somewhat like the rest of the grass,—but not _just_ like it, or Little Me Too wouldn’t have noticed it.

When he saw it he said, “There’s a grass that wants to be different. Perhaps it’s the grandfather grass.”

He let it alone, and he got the man with the lawn mower to let it alone. That gave it a good chance to grow.

It grew just as fast as it could, and as soon as it was big enough it showed Little Me Too that it was no grandfather grass, but a cornstalk.

The man with the lawn mower said so.

Then it was that Little Me Too remembered. When he remembered, he said, “Yes, it grew.”

When it had grown to be taller than Little Me Too, people walking along the sidewalk would look at it, and say, “What a fine garden!”

The mother said, “I am glad it is something that can’t find its way into the nursery.”

Little Me Too it was who first saw the ear of corn growing on the stalk.

He showed it to some people, and there were others who saw it without having it shown to them.

Each of them asked for a bite from it when it should be ripe.

Little Me Too said “yes,” to them all.

When he had said “yes” to thirty-one people, his mother said, “Don’t say ‘yes’ to any more people; you won’t have corn enough for them all.”

Little Me Too promised not to say “yes” again, but sometimes he forgot, and by the time the corn was ripe he had said “yes” to fifty people.

But he had plenty of corn, for it was an ear of pop corn.

After it was popped over the nursery fire it filled a big, big bowl.

—_Julia Dalrymple._

“DO YOU KNOW?”

Do you know That you can go In the early morning light When the dew is on the grass And find the little cobweb tents The fairies sleep in all the night?

But, alas, you’ll find no traces Of their little fairy faces!

—_Edith Colby Banfield._

THE LITTLE GOATHERDS

Louis and Marie live among the mountains in Switzerland. These mountains are very high and are called the Swiss Alps.

The cold winds sweep down the mountain-side and rush through the valleys. Sometimes it blows so hard that it almost blows the thatched roofs off the houses.

But the mountain people know all about these strong winds. What do you suppose they do to keep the roof from blowing away? They lay heavy stones on the roof to keep it in place.

The winters are long and cold; and it snows and snows! You never saw such deep drifts nor such big fields of ice.

But the summer is beautiful,—the sky is blue and the sun is bright; and far away the mountain peaks are capped with glistening snow.

Then the grass is green and the flowers blossom everywhere. These are happy days for the children.

In summer Louis and Marie go out every morning with the goats. Marie is just a tiny bit of a girl only four years old, but Louis is a big boy. He is almost nine, and that is very old when one has such a little sister.

Louis lets the goats out of their yard. They jump and run and caper about, and Marie hides behind her mother’s dress. She is afraid of the goats at first.

One of the big goats always runs to the vineyard, he is so fond of grapes. Louis drives him out with a long stick.

Then the whole herd runs to the wheat field, and Louis runs after them, shouting at them and driving them away toward the mountain pasture.

Marie runs along with him and Patte Blanche goes, too. Patte Blanche is their dog, and his name means White Foot.

When the goats reach the pasture land they clamber over the rocks and eat the moss and the bushes and the sweet, green grass.

Louis and Marie pick the flowers that grow on the mountain-side, and play little games with the stones. They watch the goats, too, and talk about them. Sometimes a goat wanders too far away and then Louis sends White Foot to drive her back to the others.

At noon the children eat their lunch of barley-bread and cheese, and White Foot sits beside them and eats the bits they give him.

There is always so much to do and so much to see that the days seem very short. Soon it is time for White Foot to drive the goats down from the rocks and the little company starts for home.

One night a very funny thing happened when they were on their way home.

The goats were wandering along, nibbling at the green grass, and the children were following them down the path, when they saw a strange man sitting on a log. The man was fast asleep and his head nodded and bobbed up and down.

Just as Louis saw him, one of the goats spied him, too, and what do you think she did? She trotted along, ran up behind him and butted him right off the log. Of course the man waked up and I think he was going to be very angry, but the goat put her fore feet up on the log and looked as if she wanted to laugh.

The children laughed, and so the man laughed, too. Then he walked home with them and helped them drive the goats into their yard.

Louis and Marie will never forget how funny the goat looked trying to laugh at the man, and they like to tell the story over and over again.

SWISS CHILDREN

You have just read a story about Louis and Marie, who live among the mountains of Switzerland.

Switzerland is a land of mountains and valleys and many beautiful lakes and rivers.

Most of the people live in the valleys and keep cattle, sheep, and goats.

In the springtime thousands of cattle are driven up into the mountains to stay all summer.

Many of the people go up into the mountains, too, and live in little huts. The men and boys take care of the cattle, and the women make butter and cheese.

The cows wear bells which tinkle as they walk, and the music of all the bells, in the stillness of the mountains, is very beautiful.

In the fall the men drive the cattle down into the valleys again. When they reach the villages their friends come out to meet them, and every one has a holiday. The children think this is one of the best days in all the year. They like to hear the bells ring out their welcome; they like to see the flags and banners waving from the windows and the house-tops. They sing and dance and shout and are very merry.

At night there is a feast in the village square, and perhaps they like this best of all.

Many of the houses in Switzerland are very small and are made of wood. These little houses are called chalets.

Louis and Marie live in a tiny chalet on the side of a steep mountain. Their father owns a farm and has cows and sheep and goats, and ever so many geese.

You never saw such a farm in all your life. The mountain is so steep that the fields and pastures seem to be tipped up on edge, and it looks as if the horses would fall off when the farmer is plowing the fields, but they never do.

Louis has a pet dog. He harnesses his dog to a little wagon and drives him up and down the road. Sometimes he gives Marie a ride in the wagon.

Louis goes to the village school, and Marie will have to go as soon as she is six years old. There are very good schools in Switzerland, and the children learn the same things that you learn in your school.

These children have many odd playthings and toys carved out of wood. They have wooden whistles and horns, and little wooden goats and bears. Marie has a tiny chalet, almost like the one she lives in, which she calls her “playhouse.”

The toys the children like best are the ones that have a music box in them. The Swiss people make all kinds of music boxes and put them in all kinds of things, in chairs and tables and clocks, and even in plates.

While the boys are learning to carve, the girls learn to embroider on linen and to make lace.

Very often the Swiss girls sit outside the door of their chalet making lace which they sell to the people who are travelling through the mountains.

* * * * *

Where do Louis and Marie live?

What does their father do?

Where do the cattle live in the summer?

Who takes care of them?

What do the women make, up in the mountains?

Which holiday do the Swiss children like best?

What do they do on this day?

What is a Swiss cottage called?

Why do people like to travel in Switzerland?

If you should go there, what would you like to see?

What would you like to buy?

LULLABY-LAND

Where is the road to Lullaby-land? Where is the ferry to Dreamland-shore? Here, little wanderer, take my hand, Mother will show thee to Lullaby-land, Mother will ferry her darling o’er The sweet rocking waters to Dreamland-shore.

Soft lie the shadows in Lullaby-land, Soft lap the waters by Dreamland-shore, Sweet is the sound on that far-away strand Of little keels grating along the sand, And tenderly stealeth the moonlight o’er The dear little children on Dreamland-shore.

Here, little weary one, take my hand, Soon shall my dearie be far afloat; Mother’s lap is Lullaby-land, Mother’s arms are the empty boat, Waiting to carry her darling o’er The sweet rocking waters to Dreamland-shore.

—_Edith Colby Banfield._

THE STONE BLOCKS

“Why is your little sister crying, dear?” asked the Play Angel. “I thought you were taking care of her.”

“So I am, taking beautiful care of her,” said the child. “But the more beautiful care I take, the more she cries. She does not like to have me take care of her.”

“Let me see,” said the Play Angel, and she sat down on the nursery floor. “Now show me what you have been doing.”

“Look,” said the child. “First I showed her all my dolls, and then all my dolls’ dresses. Now I have given her my new stone blocks to play with, but she will not play with them. She puts them in her mouth and cries.”

“Perhaps she is hungry!” said the Play Angel.

So she took a piece of bread and gave it to the baby. The baby stopped crying and ate the bread, and laughed and crowed.

“See!” said the Angel. “Now she is happy. Remember, dear, that when babies are hungry, stone blocks do them no good.”

“You are a very clever angel to know that,” said the child.

“You are a rather foolish child,” said the Angel, “or you would have found it out for yourself.”

—_Laura E. Richards._

GREAT-GREAT-GRANDMA’S CHRISTMAS IN ENGLAND

Betty and Percy sat up until eleven o’clock that Christmas Eve. It was such a merry time!

They saw the men bring in the Yule log. It was so big that it took three men to carry it, and then they had to bring it in on their shoulders.

At one end of the hall was a large fireplace. I think you never saw one like it. Pots and kettles hung over the fire, and on each side were seats where the children could sit and eat apples and tell stories. You see, it was a very big fireplace.

The men rolled the Yule log into the fireplace and lighted the fire. How the sparks flew! How the fire roared up the chimney!

It lighted the great hall. It shone on the oak table where the supper was laid.

On the supper table were two wax candles. These candles were almost as tall as you are. They were wreathed with holly.

These were the Christmas candles and they burned the whole evening. The hall was trimmed with holly and mistletoe. The holly had bright green leaves and red berries, and the mistletoe had white berries.

A big bunch of mistletoe hung down from the ceiling before the fire. If anyone happened to stand under the mistletoe, she was kissed.

How many times Betty was kissed! First her father caught her under the mistletoe, then Uncle Edward, and then Grandpa.

At eleven o’clock Nurse said that Betty and Percy must go to bed. They did not like to go one bit.

There was a fire in the fireplace in Betty’s bedroom, but it was very cold. In Great-Great-Grandma’s time there were no such things as stoves and furnaces.

Nurse undressed Betty, and then the little girl climbed up the steps into her bed. It was so big and high that she had to climb up five steps to get into it.

Then Nurse drew the curtains of the bed to keep out the cold.

Betty was almost asleep when she heard the Waits singing. The Waits always sang under the windows on Christmas Eve.

“Open the lattice, please, Nurse,” she said.

So Nurse opened one of the windows. It opened like a door, and had panes of glass which were small and diamond-shaped.

The house Betty lived in was very, very large, and was called a castle.

This is what the Waits were singing:—

“God rest ye, merry gentlemen, Let nothing you dismay, For Jesus Christ our Saviour Was born upon this day.”

Betty did not hear the next verse, because her eyes were shut and she was fast asleep.

When she waked up in the morning, the first thing she heard was another Christmas carol.

She slid down the side of the bed and ran to the window.

It was a lovely Christmas morning. The trees and ground and walks were covered with snow. How it glistened in the sunshine!