PART TWO

Jack and his mother had plenty of money, but still he could not help thinking about the giant, and wondering what he was doing, and if there was any way to slay him. Every day he looked at the bean-stalk and longed to climb again. At last he stained his face a dark brown, put on some old clothes, and climbed the bean-stalk up to the sky as he had done before.

He went straight to the giant’s door and knocked as he had done the first time. The giant’s wife came and he asked for something to eat and a place to sleep.

“Go away!” she said. “Once I let a boy in here and he stole my husband’s hen!” But Jack looked so hungry that she let him in and fed him and hid him in the closet.

The giant came along soon and made so much noise the house shook. He sat down and sniffed the air. “I smell fresh meat,” he said, and Jack trembled for his life.

“Oh, the crows left some fresh meat in the house,” his wife said, and then she fed the giant until he was quite full and in a good humor. Then he pulled out his money bags and began to count his money. Jack’s eyes glistened when he saw so much gold and silver, but he kept very still in the closet. By and by the giant came to some gold eggs the hen had laid. He was so cross when he thought about the hen that he was terrible and scolded his wife so hard that she ran out of the house.

The giant got up and stamped about the room until he all but knocked holes in the floor. Finally he came to his magic harp in the corner. He took the harp and set it on the table.

“Now, play me a tune,” said he, and the harp began to play the most beautiful music. It played and it played, one tune after another, until the giant lay down on his couch and fell asleep.

Jack crept out of the closet and seized the harp and ran off with it as fast as he could. But the harp was an enchanted harp and it cried out:

“Master! Master! Come quick! Come quick!” Then the giant awoke and saw Jack running down the road with the harp.

Away went Jack, the giant right after him. The harp kept on calling, and Jack kept on running until he came to the bean-stalk. Down he began to climb, and down the giant came after him!

But Jack was very nimble, and reached the ground before the giant was half way.

“Run, mother! bring the axe!” he cried. His mother came running with the axe, and Jack began cutting down the bean-stalk, and crash! it fell to the ground bringing the giant with it. He fell and he fell until he hit the ground so hard he went on through and has never been seen or heard of since.

THE LEGEND OF THE SPIDER WEB

_Too much pride in one’s self brings a change in one’s nature._

In olden times people had to do all their own spinning and weaving. They did not have good factories and mills as we now have, but each family made its own cloth and its own clothes. Sometimes the women of the family learned how to make the most beautiful cloth. Wonderful patterns of fruits, flowers, birds and even pictures were woven in the cloth.

In ancient times people had so much regard for the work of spinning and embroidering that they had a goddess of needlework named Minerva. She could do finer work than any mortal, of course, because she was a goddess.

Now there was a young woman named Arachne, who did such dainty work in spinning and weaving that people came from miles around to see her work. Whenever they came she would show them her work, and they would exclaim, “How wonderful! How beautiful!”

Arachne was herself becoming very proud of her skill, and began to boast of what she could do. She said, “I can do better work than any woman in the world. Minerva, herself, cannot do better than I!” Thus she put herself above the gods, which was very foolish in her as we shall see.

Minerva heard about Arachne’s boast and was very much displeased. She decided that Arachne’s boast should be punished. So one day Minerva, disguised as an old woman, went to Arachne’s house and began to talk to her about her work. With great pride Arachne showed the old woman some of the patterns she had made. The old woman said finally:

“I hear you boast that you can do finer work than Minerva herself.” Whereupon the foolish young woman spread out her embroidery and weaving, and said: “Minerva can do no better.”

Then the old woman said: “I will challenge you to a contest myself.”

Arachne laughed aloud, but she agreed to the contest. Her pride was aroused, and she and the old woman began to weave. Arachne did her best, but the old woman did her work twice as fast and far more beautiful. The birds she embroidered seemed ready to sing; the trees seemed to bear golden fruit, and the pictures seemed real men and women. It was very wonderful work and those who stood around watching the contest were amazed.

Arachne was so ashamed of her own work and so angry that she said: “Begone, you old witch! leave my house!”

But the old woman turned into the radiant goddess Minerva, and Arachne fled from the house. Finding a rope Arachne tried to hang herself, but Minerva turned her into a spider, and she is still weaving webs to this very day.

ANDROCLUS AND THE LION

_Even a wild beast will show gratitude for a kind act._

Androclus was a Roman slave. His master was very unkind and treated him cruelly. At last Androclus succeeded in making his escape to another country. He made his home in a forest for it was not safe for him to live near other people, as a large reward was always offered for the return of runaway slaves.

Androclus killed animals and birds for food and slept under trees. Once when he was hunting for some game he came upon a cave in the side of the mountain, and at once decided to make this his home.

Now, it happened that a fierce lion had also chosen this cave for his home, and while Androclus was making a bed out of some dry leaves, the lion entered. Androclus was much alarmed and felt sure he would be killed.

To his surprise the great beast made no attempt to harm him, but instead crept up close to him and held up a swollen paw in the center of which was a long thorn. Androclus took hold of the thorn and gently pulled it out. The grateful lion looked up at him as if to say: “I thank you, kind friend.” For a long time these two lived together as friends.

By and by some hunters came through the forest. They recognized Androclus as a runaway slave, and carried him back to his master who put him in prison. It was the custom of the Romans to assemble at a great theater to be amused. This theater was not like ours. They had no plays but instead had fights between men and beasts. Runaway slaves were often punished by being made to fight these wild animals.

Not long after Androclus was put in prison he was ordered to fight a fierce lion. When the day for the fight came the cage was opened, and the enraged lion started at him. The lion was growling and showing his sharp teeth. The brave slave faced him without flinching. Then the lion saw Androclus; instead of rushing at him to kill him, he crept gently up to him and licked his feet.

Androclus fell down on his knees and threw his arms around the neck of the lion. The surprised people asked for an explanation. Androclus told them how he had helped the lion when he was hurt, and how they had lived together in the cave. The people then commanded that Androclus be set free and ordered that the lion be given to him. After that Androclus was a freeman and was often seen walking on the streets of Rome followed by his lion which looked like a huge dog.

DIRTY TOM

_In which a dirty little boy becomes a clean little boy and feels much better for it._

Tom was a poor little orphan. He had no father to buy good clothes for him and no kind mother to wash and bathe him. There was no one to look after him, and kiss him good-night when he went to bed. He lived with a very old woman who let him grow up, dirtier and dirtier every day.

Poor little Tom! He had no toys; he had no ball nor marbles, nor kites; he had no knife, no pets--not even a little dog--and nobody came to play with him. Everybody called him “Dirty Tom,” but it was not his fault.

One spring morning Tom sat on the doorsteps listening to the birds singing in the trees, watching the flowers growing by the wayside, and the little children going by on their way to school. Nobody spoke to him. Every one just said: “That’s Dirty Tom.”

By and by a lady came along and spoke to Tom. She asked him his name and Tom said: “They call me ‘Dirty Tom,’ but my name is Thomas, for I heard a man say so.”

The lady said: “Very well, Thomas, would you like to go to Sunday School if the Brownie brought you a suit of pretty clothes?”

Tom thought awhile, and then said: “The Brownies never bring me anything. I am too dirty.” But the lady insisted that they might, and Tom promised to go to Sunday School if the clothes came. He really did want the clothes and then he wanted to see what Sunday School was. You never can tell what even a dirty looking boy would like to have and to do. Tom liked nice things as much as anybody.

All that week Tom wondered what would happen. Sunday morning came, and Tom ran to the front porch and found a bundle of clothes just as pretty and clean as could be. There was a note tied to it which read: “Here are the new clothes, but you must scrub and scrub before you put them on,” and the note was signed “Brownie.”

Tom got a tub and a cloth and scrubbed himself from head to foot. He washed until all the dirt was gone. Then he put on his new clothes and showed himself to the old woman.

“Why, Dirty Tom, you look like an angel,” she said.

Tom went to Sunday School and walked up the aisle. Nobody recognized him. At last the lady came and took him by the hand and said: “Why, here is Thomas come to our Sunday School. We shall all have to call him ‘Clean Tommie’ hereafter.” And so they did, for he was Dirty Tom no more.

BRUCE AND THE SPIDER

_In which the King of Scotland learns a lesson in perseverance._

Once upon a time there was a king of Scotland named Robert Bruce. He was a brave king, and had many brave soldiers, but he and his men had suffered defeat from the English, who had come into Scotland with a great army, and were driving Robert Bruce and his men out of their cities and towns.

Six battles had been fought, and each time Bruce led his brave little army into battle but each time he was defeated. At last Bruce was so badly beaten, that his army was put to flight, and he himself had to flee through the woods to escape capture.

Bruce went in hiding in the mountains, and lived as best he could from hut to hut, while he was gathering a new army. One day he found refuge in a shed that was very old, and lay down on some straw to rest. He was very tired, and weary, and was glad to find anything to lie down on for awhile.

As he lay there he began to think of the six battles he had lost, and of his scattered army, and of Scotland and her enemies. Overhead a spider had begun to weave a web. The spider was trying to fasten a long thread to a beam to hold his web, and was having a lot of trouble.

Bruce saw him swing for the beam the first time and miss it; then the spider tried the second time and missed it; then the third time and missed it again. The spider rested awhile, and swung out bravely for the fourth time, but he was not far enough and back he came. Then he made a strong effort for the fifth time and came a little nearer, but still he fell back. Bruce began to hope that the spider would succeed, and when he swung out the sixth time he rose up to watch him. But the spider missed it by a little bit and down he fell again. This was six failures.

“I wonder if he will give up,” said Bruce to himself. But the spider had no idea of giving it up, for he gathered his thread together, and swung to the beam and fastened his thread.

“If a spider fails six times and succeeds the seventh, then surely the king of Scotland can,” said Bruce thinking of the battles he had lost.

So Bruce went out and gathered his men and told them about the spider and said, “Now, for one more brave effort; for Scotland, and for freedom.” The men cheered as they went into battle and they fought so bravely that the English were defeated and were glad to get back to England with their lives.

And from that day to this, no Scotchman by the name of Bruce will ever hurt a spider.

THE MIRROR

(Adapted from Hans Andersen)

_To show that it all depends upon how we look at things._

Once there was a wicked sprite; indeed, he was one of the worst sprites you ever knew. He was always in mischief. One day he was in a fine humor; he had just made a mirror that had the power of changing every lovely thing that looked into it into something hideous, and when anything ugly looked into it, it became ten times worse than it really was.

A beautiful landscape looked like boiled spinach. It made a person appear to stand on his head and sometimes appear as if he had no body at all. The face of a girl looked for all the world like an old potato, and if she had a mole or a freckle it seemed to spread all over her nose and mouth.

This sprite kept a school--a school for sprites, of course--and he showed all the other sprites the mirror and said to them:

“Now you can see what the world and the people really look like.” The sprites took the mirror around and had everybody look in it, and said:

“That is the very way you look! What do you think of yourself?”

At last there was not a land nor any people who had not seen the mirror. And you may be sure that everybody who looked in the mirror had a very poor opinion of himself.

And now the sprites thought of a good joke. They flew with the mirror high up into the sky. The mirror grinned as it went up, and kept on grinning until it became so slippery the sprites could hardly hold it. Up they flew until they came near reaching the stars. The joke they had in view was so good that the mirror grinned until it wriggled out of their hands and fell and fell and fell, until it struck the ground. It was broken into a million pieces and the wind scattered them everywhere, until you would have thought that was the end of the mirror.

But not so fast! Each tiny bit was now as bad as the whole mirror itself. Some bits were like dust and flew into people’s eyes. Then their eyes saw everything crooked, or looked evil at all the good things. They would say of such a one: “He has a bad eye, do not trust him.”

Some bits flew into people’s hearts and it made them shudder for their hearts became hard and cold like lumps of ice. They did not love anybody at all, not even their own children. Some bits flew into people’s minds, and then they thought evil thoughts and planned wicked things. They oppressed the poor and even had designs on the mayor and councilmen.

At all this the sprites laughed as if it were a good joke. But I tell you it was very wicked of them, for some bits of the mirror are floating about yet and we must look out not to have them come near us.

THE PIG AND THE SHEEP

_Every one can do his part in making a home._

Listen now, and you shall hear a story about a pig and a sheep who started out one morning to build a house so that they could live together. After traveling a long way they met a rabbit. The rabbit asked them where they were going.

“We are going to build a house to live in,” said the pig and the sheep. “May I live with you?” asked the rabbit. “What can you do to help build a house?” asked the pig and the sheep. The rabbit scratched his ear with his hind foot and said: “I can gnaw with my teeth and scratch with my feet.”

“Then you may come along,” said the pig and the sheep; so they all started off down the road. Soon they met a goose sitting on the roadside. The goose asked where they were going. “We are going to build a house to live in,” said the pig and the sheep and the rabbit. “May I live with you?” asked the goose.

“What can you do to help build a house?” asked the pig and the sheep and the rabbit. The goose stood up on one leg for awhile and then said: “I can pull moss and make mud for the cracks.”

“Then you may come along,” said the pig and the sheep and the rabbit. So all four started down the road. Pretty soon they met an old dog standing under a tree. The dog asked where they were going. “We are going to build a house to live in,” said the pig and the sheep and the rabbit and the goose. “May I live with you?” asked the dog.

“What can you do to help build a house?” asked the pig and the sheep and the rabbit and the goose. The old dog sat down on his hind legs and looked at the sky. Then he said: “I can dig up rocks with my fore paws, and I can crack bones with my teeth for the soup.”

“Then you may come along,” said the pig and the sheep and the rabbit and the goose. And so all five started down the road. Before long they came to a little boy with a gun on his shoulder. The little boy asked them where they were going. “We are going to build a house to live in,” said the pig and the sheep and the rabbit and the goose and the dog. “May I live with you?” asked the little boy.

“What can you do to help build a house?” they all asked. “You beat me with a stick one day,” said the pig. “You chased me down the road last week,” said the sheep. “You ran me out of the cabbage patch,” said the rabbit. “You once hit me with a rock,” said the goose. “You tied a can to my tail a few days ago,” said the dog.

The little boy laid down his gun and crossed his heart with his hand, and said: “If you will let me go with you I will never do any of those things again.” “Then you may come along,” said the pig and the sheep and the rabbit and the goose and the dog. And so all six started off down the road. Whether they built their house or not I do not know.

THE SHOEMAKER AND THE ELVES

_A fairy story to show that help often comes from unexpected directions._

Now this is a story about a poor shoemaker who worked very hard and paid his debts and lived peaceably with his neighbors. He could hardly make enough to live on, and at last had just enough leather to make one pair of shoes. So he cut them out at night and laid them down to be finished in the morning.

He slept well and rose early to begin his labor. He said his prayers and ate his porridge and then went to his bench. Great was his wonder when he saw the shoes already sewed and finished and upon the table.

“Who has done this for me?” he asked. His wife came running up to wonder also, but nobody knew who had finished the shoes. That very day a man came in and bought the shoes because they were so well made, and stitched so carefully. Then he had money enough to buy leather for two pairs of shoes. So that night he cut out two pairs and laid them on the floor and went to bed as before, expecting to finish them in the morning.

But the same thing happened again. The shoes were finished carefully and were set upon the table and ready for customers. The shoemaker and his wife could not tell how it happened. That very day two men customers came by and bought the shoes.

Now the shoemaker bought leather for four pairs of shoes, and again they were finished for him in the morning and customers came by and bought them. And so it went on. No matter how many shoes the shoemaker cut out and laid on the floor, they were all ready for the customer the next day.

The shoemaker now had plenty of money, but he was not proud. One night he said to his wife:

“I think we will watch to see who stitches the shoes.” And so they sat up and looked through a crack in the door. About midnight there came two little elves and began to stitch and sew with magic fingers. They worked with great glee and so fast that shoe after shoe fell from their little hands, all finished, ready to sell the next day. Putting them on the table the elves danced and punched each other in the side and disappeared up the chimney.

The next day his wife said:

“We must make some clothes for the poor little elves. They seemed quite ragged to me,” and she made two funny little suits and hung them on the bench. That night the elves saw them and put them on, but they were so funny that they both began to laugh until their sides ached so that they could hardly work. But they finished the shoes about daybreak and danced off up the chimney in their new clothes--but they never came back! Perhaps they felt that it was not necessary any longer now that the shoemaker was prosperous.

THE LITTLE RED HEN

_The lazy do not deserve to be fed by the industrious. Every one should contribute his share._

Once there lived a frog, a cat and a little red hen in a tiny house. The frog was so lazy that he would not even jump to catch a fly; the cat was too lazy to catch a mouse that ran across her tail. The little red hen had to do all the work.

One morning the little red hen said: “Who will build the fire?” “Not I,” said the frog. “Not I,” said the cat. “Then I will,” said the little red hen, and she built the fire.

“Who will make the bread?” said the little red hen. “Not I,” said the frog. “Not I,” said the cat. “Then I will,” said the little red hen, and she made the bread.

“Who will lay the table?” said the little red hen. “Not I,” said the frog. “Not I,” said the cat. “Then I will,” said the little red hen, and she laid the table.

Then the frog and cat got up on their chairs, took up their knives and forks, and made ready to eat breakfast. “Who will eat this bread?” said the little red hen. “I will,” said the frog. “I will,” said the cat. “No, you will not,” said the little red hen. “I will eat it myself.” And the little red hen grabbed the bread and flew down the road until she came to a pasture.

She sat down and began to eat. An old fox was hungry that morning and had not provided for his family. He came down the road looking for a rabbit. “I smell fresh bread,” said he, and began to sniff. “I smell a little red hen,” and he sniffed once more.

The old fox crept up behind the little red hen and grabbed her by the tail feathers, and before she could get loose he put her into his bag, threw the bag over his shoulders and started home. “We shall have little red hen for breakfast,” said he.

It was very close in the bag, which was a thick meal bag, and the bits of meal made the little red hen sneeze. Then she felt for her handkerchief to wipe her eyes and nose, and her scissors fell out of her pocket.

“That’s good luck!” said the little red hen, and at once she slit a hole in the bag with the scissors big enough for her to get out. She jumped out as they were passing a stony place and quickly put a rock in the bag to make the fox think that he still had the little red hen. The old fox reached home and threw the bag on the floor.

“Now for a nice breakfast,” said he, and opened the bag. When he saw the stone he was much astonished.

“I certainly thought it was the little red hen I had in the bag,” said he, and scratched his ear with his hind foot, which is a way the old fox did when he could not understand.

THE THRIFTY SQUIRRELS

_It is a wise man that lays aside a portion of his earnings so as to provide for the time when he cannot work._

Once upon a time a squirrel made his home in the hollow of a big oak tree. He and his family were very bright looking squirrels. They were so careful about little things. Not even a nut end or the rind of an acorn was wasted in their homes. Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel and the three little ones made up the family.

The first thing Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel taught their children was to store away food to eat in the winter when they could not go out to get it. All summer long they were gathering acorns, and in the fall when the nuts were ripe they spent all their time storing the old oak full of provisions for the winter. They knew the cold was coming and that they should make some provisions against the snow and the sleet.

One cold winter afternoon the squirrels were all in their snug little home. It was almost night. A very little rap came on the door. Mr. Squirrel went to see who it was, but at first he did not see anybody, so he said: “Who is there?”

“It is I,” said a little voice. “I am very cold and hungry. May I come in awhile and warm myself?”

“Of course you may,” said Mr. Squirrel.

A rabbit hopped in. His fur was dirty and he looked ragged. His eyes were dull. His whiskers and ears hung down. He looked as ill as a rabbit could look. Mr. Squirrel had him sit in a chair beside the fire, and Brownie, his oldest child, gave him her own acorns to eat. He ate them eagerly. When he was warm, Mrs. Squirrel sent the little ones to bed and when they were gone she said: “My friend, how did it happen that you had this bad luck?”

“I did not know that it was going to be so cold, and that the snow was going to be so deep that I could not get some winter cabbage to eat. You know I do not mind work, but I just did not know all this was going to happen. It seems no use for me to try. I don’t know how you manage,” said the rabbit.

“We all tried. We put away a part of everything we had. If we had six acorns we put three away. There was plenty of nuts last fall, so we have plenty for ourselves and for a friend, too; so eat all you want,” said Mr. Squirrel.

It was pleasant in the Squirrel family, but the rabbit had been such an idle fellow that he could not stay long contented. He would not help to do the work in the Squirrel house, so in a few days he left.

Often when he felt the cold winter wind he wished he had stayed with the Squirrels. And the Squirrels, who were very kind hearted, often thought of the rabbit out in the cold.

THE BOY WHO WANTED TO PLAY ALWAYS

_Everything in nature must work to live. Along with the pleasures of childhood should come the lessons of toil._

George did not like to work. He did not like to bring in wood, nor clean the yard, nor go on errands, nor take care of the baby, nor even to put away his own clothes. He loved to play all the time. His mother said to him one day:

“George, you must go over to your uncle’s house and bring me a basket of wool. Now hurry along.”

George thought this was hard, for he wanted to play and not to work. He wished he was a dog, a squirrel, a bee, a cow--just anything that seemed to be having a good time.

He took the basket and started across the field. On the way he met a dog.

“I wish I had nothing to do like you,” said George.

“Nothing to do!” exclaimed the dog. “I am a very hard worked animal. I dare not sleep at night, for I am the watch dog against burglars. Besides that, I have to protect the chickens against the old fox. Then I have to catch rabbits for my master; chase the cat away from the birds, keep the place clear of stray dogs, and even look after the sheep in the field. Then every morning I take the cow to pasture and bring her back in the afternoon. That is where I am going now. No, sir! I am as busy as a bee--I am.” And the dog hurried on after the cow.

Pretty soon George saw a bee on a flower.

“I wish I had nothing to do like you,” said George to the bee.

“Nothing to do!” said the bee. “You don’t know what you are talking about. I am at work all day looking for honey. I have to fill my hive so that you and your mother can have plenty for the winter, and then I must fill it over again for myself. I do not have a single minute. No, sir! I lead a dog’s life--I do.” And the bee flew on to get another load of honey.

Pretty soon the boy came to a squirrel. “Why you are having a good time,” said he. “I wish I had nothing to do like you.”

“Nothing to do!” said the squirrel. “I am far behind in my store of nuts for the winter. They are very scarce, and I am very much afraid I cannot find enough for my family. I must hurry from sunrise to dark. No, sir! I work like a horse--I do.”

George found the horse busy pulling the plow; the cow giving milk, the tree making acorns, the fields making corn, the flowers making seed, the ants storing food--and they were all so happy about it and nobody complaining at all.

When he reached his uncle’s house he got the wool and said:

“I must hurry on home now, for I am very busy; I have my work to do.” And he whistled all the way home, and the tired little mother kissed his happy face and said:

“Thank you, George, you can be a great help to me.”

JACK AND JILL

_Kindness to animals begets a feeling of care and protection for the helpless and dependent._

Henry was a little boy who lived on a big place near town. There were plenty of trees in his yard and the birds were always flying round, but there were no squirrels. One day Henry said to his cousin Ed who lived in town:

“Cousin Ed, I wish you would get me two little squirrels.”

“All right, Henry, I will try to get them, but you will have to take good care of them.” Henry promised, and in a few days cousin Ed told him a man had promised to get the squirrels.

Henry was very busy now getting the squirrels’ home ready. He built it out of an old box, fixed it so that no rain could get in, and cut a hole in the side so that the squirrels could go in and out. By the time the box was ready the squirrels came--two little baby squirrels, just old enough to take care of themselves.

Henry was a very happy little boy. He put the squirrel house high up in a tree in the yard, and plenty of nuts close by so that the squirrels could get them. He took care not to frighten the squirrels, and never tried to catch them until they were quite tame.

In about a week’s time they knew his voice, and would climb down the tree to take a nut from his hand and then scamper back up to the squirrel home and hide it inside. Soon they were tame enough to come inside the house and play around. They would climb on Henry’s shoulders and down into his pockets to hunt for nuts.

One day Henry’s grandfather came to dinner and sat in a big chair on the porch. There was a bowl of nuts on the table, and Henry called “Jack” and “Jill”--for those were the squirrels’ names. They came running and saw the nuts. They looked at grandfather. They must have thought he was a tree, for they began to hide nuts all over him. They ran behind him and into his pockets which they almost filled with nuts. Then grandfather got up and the nuts scattered in every direction, while every one laughed to see how astonished Jack and Jill were to see their tree walk off that way.

The next year out came four little baby squirrels from the squirrel house, and they went to live in the trees in the yard. And in a few years there were squirrels everywhere, running over the trees and about the yard, and people often came to see them and play with them.

Jack and Jill still live in the old home, but they certainly have a yard full of children.

THE APPLE TREE’S CHILDREN

_Showing that a tree must surrender its beautiful flowers in order to produce useful fruit._

In the land of “Long Ago” lived a beautiful apple tree, or rather the tree had been beautiful, until a cruel wind and a cold rain came one night and took her children from her, and the apple tree wept and let her tears fall with the rain. And no wonder she wept, for her children were the loveliest pink and white flowers--we call them apple blossoms, but the old tree called them her children and loved them dearly.

The sweet Spring fairy saw the grief of the Apple Tree and said:

“Why do you weep, dear Tree? Is there nothing I can do to help you?” And the tree replied: “Alas, O Fairy! my children have been taken from me and nothing can comfort me but to have them back. If you can obtain this boon for me, you are indeed my friend.”

So the Spring fairy said:

“Have patience, dear Tree, and I will speak to my friend, the Autumn fairy, about your children. Remember, though, that it may take us all summer to find them, and when they return to you they may be larger than they were and changed in appearance.”

“They will still be my children, and I shall love them all the same,” answered the faithful Mother Tree.

Then the Spring fairy went away, and all summer long the poor Apple Tree waited for the return of her children. Whenever she felt very lonely or sad she comforted herself by remembering that the good Spring fairy always told the truth.

At last after her long watch, the Tree was surprised one day to see some small bright apples on her branches. She felt puzzled for they looked so unlike the children that she had lost. From day to day the apples grew larger and more beautiful, but still the poor Tree wondered if they were really her children. Suddenly the Autumn fairy stood before her and said:

“Dear Tree, I have been sent by our friend, the Spring fairy, to restore your children to you. As you see, they have grown larger and more beautiful since they left you.”

“Indeed, kind Fairy,” the Tree replied, “I was just wondering if these were really mine. They look so unlike my children who went away.”

“Wait,” said the Fairy, “and you shall see your children as you knew them.” So saying the Fairy cut an apple through the middle, between the blossom end and the stem. Then she held up the halves and said to the Tree:

“Do you not see your children--the little blossoms--again?”

And sure enough, there in the center of each bright apple was a dear little flower. And the old tree held all the apples closer as she thanked the good Autumn fairy for the return of her children.

THE BLUE RIBBON

_In which a dog tells of worries and troubles at a dog show._

“Everybody says I am a very fine dog. They say I am a collie dog, and that my mother and father were famous dogs in Scotland. I do not care about that, however, because when Master Charles, who owns me, tells people about me they want me to come in and be looked at while I would rather be in the yard playing. One day Walter carried me as a prize dog to a dog show. I did not know what it was until I got there, and I never want to hear of one again. They washed me with soap and rubbed me till I was dry. They put me in a box with slats in front, and all round me I could hear other dogs barking. It was an awful noise.

“I was among the collie dogs like myself, but we could not even get a look at each other. All I could see was in the boxes in front of me, a lot of miserable little black and tan terriers--the most useless of all dogs, I think. They were pleased at being there and kept growling at me all the time, but I wouldn’t even bark back at the snappy little things.

“I didn’t see why I had to stay there for four long days, with only two walks a day with Walter who came to feed me. My master Charles came along sometimes with other gentlemen, and I begged to be taken away, but he only said: ‘There, old boy, be a sport! It is all right; you stay and get the Blue Ribbon.’ I wondered what he meant until one day I got it.

“Walter and two others took me one day, with some other dogs like me. They weighed us and punched us, and looked into our ears and mouths till, if Walter had not been there, I’d have bitten them hard. Then they put us all back in our boxes and hung a blue ribbon, with a round shining thing on it on my box. Every one that came along said: ‘See the Blue Ribbon!’ and then added, ‘Isn’t he a beauty to get the first prize!’ I didn’t know what they meant, but I was tired of their poking at me. No one came that I loved, so I just crept back into the box and had a good cry. I was so homesick, and it was no fun to win the Blue Ribbon.

“From the way people talked one would think I was that old Blue Ribbon they spoke of, when it was only the blue ribbon with the shining round thing on it.

“At last came the joyful day when Walter said: ‘Now, old Sport, we’ll go home.’ How I jumped and barked at the word and how delightful it was to get back. But to my surprise, while they all petted me and were glad to see me, they all shouted: ‘Where’s the Blue Ribbon, the first prize! Let’s see it!’

“Every one crowded about that shining round blue ribbon thing. It angered me so that when Walter tied it on my collar I ran as hard as I could, and then went dog fashion for that old blue ribbon thing until there was nothing left but torn ribbon and a chewed-up piece of silver. It was the cause of all my troubles, and I never wanted to see it again.”

THE ADVENTURES OF PERSEUS