other. Little Kitty Inkfish and Nelly Jellyfish were especially good
friends, and one day Kitty Inkfish asked her mother if she could
invite Nelly Jellyfish to visit her for a whole week. Old Mrs. Inkfish
consented, so Nelly Jellyfish was invited. Such excitement as there was,
and all sorts of entertainments and parties were planned. Nelly Jellyfish
arrived at exactly the hour she was invited to commence her visit. That
afternoon the first party in her honor was to be given, and, of course, a
number of other jellyfishes were invited for the party.
“But a great big, dangerous fish was hovering near. He saw all the nice
fat looking jellyfishes, and he said to himself, ‘Here’s where I have
a supper party too.’ So he dove through the water toward little Nelly
Jellyfish. Oh, how frightened all the jellyfishes were, but as quickly
as possible the inkfishes had dropped ink into the water and made it
so black that the big fish couldn’t see. They all got out of the way,
pulling the jellyfishes with them, and watched, with great amusement, the
great big fish trying to find his way out.
“He coughed and sneezed with the ink in his face and made very wry faces
at the taste of the ink, which made the inkfishes chuckle.
“At last the big fish had left, and all the jellyfishes congratulated the
inkfishes on their wonderful means of protection, and they said they felt
pretty sure that Nelly Jellyfish would be well looked after on her visit
as well as have a wonderful time.”
[Illustration: “HURRY, DREAM FAIRIES, TIE UP THE DREAMS FOR ME TO TAKE
AROUND.”—_Page 29_]
FEBRUARY 8: The Vegetables
“The vegetables on the stove were talking,” said daddy. ‘I insist upon
being well-cooked,’ said Mr. Leader Potato.
“‘To my mind, that is nonsense. The cook arranges the heat and puts us on
the stove when she wants to,’ said one of the String-Beans. ‘She takes us
off when she sees fit. And she gives us just what she wants in the way of
salt and pepper and butter.’
“‘Yes, can you imagine her saying, “Mr. Bean, have you enough salt?”’
“‘Neither would she say,’ went on the Stewed Corn, “Are you quite warm
enough, Mr. Corn, or are you too warm? I will open a window if you wish.”
No! We do exactly as we’re told. Mr. Potato, you are wrong. Yes, I grieve
to admit it, but you are quite, quite wrong.’
“‘I insist upon being well-cooked because if I am not well-cooked, I am
extremely horrid to eat,’ repeated Mr. Leader Potato; ‘I am hard and not
“done” at all. No one likes me then. So they find it is well to cook me
properly.’
“‘We all should be cooked properly,’ said the others.
“‘You all should, it is true,’ said Mr. Leader Potato. ‘But it is
absolutely important that I should be well-cooked. A half-cooked potato
is so extremely disagreeable.’
“But as he was talking, along came the cook to mash Potato and his
family, for dinner was almost ready.
“‘How much fussing over I require!’ said Mr. Potato proudly.”
FEBRUARY 9: The Life Saving St. Bernards
“Once there was an old man who owned a number of St. Bernard dogs,” said
daddy. “One night they camped near a small settlement. The old man had
found sticks and wood, and the dogs had carried it along on the sleds.
So they had a huge fire. They got nice and warm and had a supper of the
provisions they’d brought and which, too, the dogs had carried.
“But a storm could be seen coming, and the snow was flying so fast it was
almost blinding. The old man rolled the dogs up in warm rugs, and then,
rolling up in a sleeping bag, he went fast asleep.
“He had not been asleep long before he was awakened by one of the biggest
St. Bernard dogs, who was tugging at his sleeping bag.
“‘What is it, my beauty?’ asked the old man. Still the dog tugged at the
bag. The old man was so sleepy at first he was half dazed, but he opened
his eyes. Slowly he realized that some one must be suffering near-by, for
he heard a strange wailing sound as of some one in distress. He got up,
put on some warm things, and, hitching some of the dogs to a sled, they
started out into the blizzard.
“They went toward the place where the sound of the wailing came from,
and there, half buried in the snow, they found a man almost frozen to
death. The old man, with the help of the dogs, put him on the big sled
and dragged him back to their camp. There the old man rubbed him, and
by the fire he began to recover. He said he had started out for another
settlement to find food and had become blinded by the snow until he could
go no farther. He was so grateful to the old man for saving his life. But
the old man told him that the dog had been the rescuer.”
FEBRUARY 10: The Birthday Goblin
“A little girl named Polly,” said daddy, “could hardly wait for her
birthday to come. She had been thinking about it for a long time, and at
last there was only one more night and the birthday would actually be
here.
“It was bedtime and Polly was ready for bed.
“‘I’m going to stay awake for ages,’ she said to herself, ‘and try to
guess what mother and daddy are going to give me, and what we’ll have to
eat at the party. I do hope it will be ice-cream. I am a little afraid
it won’t be, though, because when I asked mother about it, she said
that perhaps it would be nice to have a change. Nothing is so nice as
ice-cream for a birthday party.’
“‘That’s true,’ said a jolly little creature, who suddenly appeared
before her.
“‘Who are you?’ asked Polly.
“‘I’m the birthday Goblin. That is, I am one of the birthday Goblins, for
there are a good many of us needed for our work. There are such lots of
birthdays,’ and the Goblin tossed his head and laughed.
“‘And,’ continued the Goblin, ‘I tell mothers and daddies not to forget
the good, old-fashioned way of putting a ring, a thimble and a button in
the cake. I have to see about the presents, too. For how well I know what
the girls and boys like as presents! That’s our business, you know.’
“‘Are we going to have ice-cream tomorrow?’ asked Polly.
“‘Yes,’ said the Goblin. ‘Your mother took my suggestions so quickly.
I didn’t have to coax her at all. But your birthday is here and the sun
has been up some time. Good-by, happy birthday!’ And as Polly opened
her eyes, her mother was by her bed, whispering that always wonderful
birthday wish of:
“‘Many happy returns of the day!’”
FEBRUARY 11: A Make-Believe and Real President
“You have heard,” said daddy, “how Abraham Lincoln pretended the cabbages
which he grew in his garden were real people and how he named them.
The straightest and very best-looking one he named General Strong, and
another he named Captain Brave. One more he admired especially and
thought it an exceptionally fine looking cabbage. He called it Mr.
President, and little did he then think that he, the little boy, would be
President when he grew up.”
FEBRUARY 12: Abraham Lincoln
“I have one little story to tell you to-night which I don’t think you’ve
heard before,” said daddy. “When the present King of Siam was a little
boy and his governess was teaching him American history he became so
impressed with Abraham Lincoln and his freeing of the slaves and the
tragedy of his death, that he said,
“‘When I become King I will free the slaves of the palace.’
“‘Will you promise me that?’ his governess asked, and the little boy
promised. And when he became king all of the wives and slaves of the
royal palace—four or five hundred—were freed and were given money and
assistance to get fresh starts as free people.
“That story came to me,” daddy continued, “from my own mother who knew
the governess, and I have never told it to you two children before.
“And while it is splendid to think of a little boy in far-off Siam loving
and following the great example of our splendid Lincoln, still I’ve
been thinking to-day that the greatest thing of all is that we all know
Lincoln so well that we can hardly find a new story to tell of him.
“He was so simple, so human, so real a person that we have all grown to
know him—not only as a President and a magnificent figure in history—but
as Abraham Lincoln, the man of the people.”
FEBRUARY 13: Isa’s Valentine Party
“A little girl named Isa had been very ill in a large city hospital,”
said daddy. “But at last a joyful time came when Isa really seemed to be
on the road to getting well, and very happy her mother and daddy were.
“‘Oh, little Isa,’ said her daddy, ‘we’re going to have a surprise for
you. You know to-night is St. Valentine’s eve, and I have an idea my
little daughter may be going to have all kinds of bright, heart-shaped
presents!’
“‘Oh, daddy!’ said Isa, ‘instead of giving just me a valentine party
couldn’t we have one for all the children in the hospital? I’m well
enough to be moved into the big ward, and all the children who are able
to be there can have a party with me, and we can have a huge valentine
party. Oh, couldn’t we do that, daddy?’
“‘Yes, indeed,’ said her daddy.
“So in the evening the big ward was bright with red hearts strung from
the ceiling and hanging over the beds. The lights were covered with red
paper shades, and in the very center of the room was an enormous big
heart, and what do you suppose was in the heart?”
“What?” asked Evelyn eagerly.
“Why, for every child there was a red ribbon. Each child pulled one
ribbon attached to the heart and at the end was a beautiful present.”
FEBRUARY 14: Why There is a Saint Valentine’s Day
“St. Valentine,” said daddy, “was a bishop in the third century—that
was many, many years ago. He was a very good, kind man and always went
about doing kind things for people. But some of the Romans didn’t like
him, and in those days the people were cruel. If they didn’t like any
one or imagined he might do them harm, they had him beheaded, and Bishop
Valentine, as he was then called, was beheaded.
“His friends felt dreadfully that such a good man should be so cruelly
murdered, and for days they could talk of nothing else but of the good
Bishop Valentine, and they’d tell one another of all his good deeds and
of his love for all people and of his kindnesses. The older people would
tell their children about him until before long they began to speak of
him as St. Valentine, and that name clung to him.
“So that ever since then, through all the years that have passed, he
has always been known as St. Valentine, and although he was so cruelly
beheaded, still his deeds of charity and kindness will always be known.
“You see, that is why we send valentines around to tell people we’re
thinking of them and are fond of them, and we call them valentines
because they’re nice, thoughtful messages and are like the dear old St.
Valentine.”
FEBRUARY 15: The Desk and the Ink-Well
“I misbehave most frightfully if children don’t pay me attention,” said
the Ink-Well.
“Yes,” said the Desk. “And then you make me suffer.”
“Do you really know what I mean?” asked the Ink-Well.
“Of course,” said the Desk. “If, for instance, a little girl or a boy
is pouring from the great big grandfather Ink-Bottle and is giving you
something more in the way of a nice Inky fluid or drink, and if the
little girl looks the other way, you spill.”
“I don’t spill. I turn a somersault, or I trickle down the desk.”
“Yes, down me,” said the Desk. “And do you think it is very nice to make
me suffer?”
“Ha, ha,” laughed the Ink-Well, “as if you cared whether I trickled down
over you or not. You are made of wood and you don’t care.”
“That’s so,” agreed the Desk, “but even if I am made of wood I like to be
varnished and made over nice and fresh every little while. It’s just like
having one’s face washed.”
“But people who have their faces washed,” said the Ink-Well, “(though I
do believe they always wash their faces themselves) do so far more than
once a year. That is as often as you get your face washed or varnished.”
“Well, I’m made of wood, you see,” said the Desk, “and so I don’t care.
Once a year does quite nicely for me. Besides it would be quite utterly
useless any oftener for you’d only spill over me and I’d get quite horrid
looking.”
“That’s polite of you, I’m sure,” said the Ink-Well, “to say you’d look
horrid with some of my nice ink on you. It adds a lot I think.”
“It may add ink,” said the Desk, “but it doesn’t add beauty.”
But the school bell was ringing and so the Desk and Ink-Well were silent.
FEBRUARY 16: Dr. Sun
“For over two weeks a little boy has followed me around,” said the Sun.
“Whatever do you mean?” asked the Sun Rays.
“He has been ill. He has had a very, very bad cold. Oh, he has been so
wretched and he has not felt like doing anything. A little boy is pretty
ill when he doesn’t feel like doing anything and wants to stay quiet.”
“That’s true,” said the Sun Rays. For how often they had seen small boys
scampering and playing, and sometimes they had danced, too, for joy.
“The doctor comes every day,” continued the Sun. “Sometimes he comes
twice a day, and once he came three times. But every time he comes he
tells the little boy always to sit in the sun! And he has been following
me around. When I am shining into one window in the morning, there I see
the little boy sitting by the window. In the afternoon when I choose an
entirely different part of the house to shine in the windows, there is
the little boy again. And for two weeks he has been doing this. Just
following me around. I do feel so honored. And you, my good Sun Ray
children, you should feel honored too.”
“We do,” said the Sun Rays.
“Listen now!” said the Sun. And they all stopped talking to listen.
There was the little boy sitting by the window, and by him stood his
mother and a big man with a low voice. The man was carrying a little
black satchel and he was talking.
“Well, how are you to-day, my boy?” he asked.
“Oh, much stronger and better,” said the boy. “I almost feel like getting
out again.”
“You’ll be able to in a very few days now.”
“Oh, doctor,” said the mother, “you have saved my little boy’s life. He
was so sick.” But the doctor shook his head.
“I did not save his life,” he said. “The Sun did that. The Sun fights
germs better than medicines or doctors. We are needed to tell the people
to take advantage of the Sun and use it, and we have to tell them what
the trouble is. For the Sun can’t talk. If he could he would be one of
the greatest doctors in the world. For he always carries his cure with
him. Ah, now he helps me drive away the colds, the many horrid sicknesses
that come when little boys have to stay in the house.”
“Dear father,” said the Sun Rays, “you are really Doctor Sun.”
“And you my little assistant nurses,” said the Sun.
FEBRUARY 17: Mr. Moon Hides
“What’s the matter?” asked the Earth.
“I’m tired,” said the Moon.
“All right,” said the Earth. “My shadow is always ready for you to hide
behind when you want it.”
“You don’t mind, do you?” asked the Moon.
“I’m highly flattered,” said the Earth. “It is a great honor. Lots of
people come out and look at us both at such times. For people call it an
Eclipse.”
“What do they mean by that?” asked the Moon.
“They call it a total eclipse,” said the Earth, “when there is no Moon to
be seen at all.”
“My! And they use words like that—total Eclipse—just to say that the Moon
can’t be seen. Well, well, well, they do pay me a great compliment.”
The Moon talked to the Earth for a long time and the Earth’s shawl or
shadow kept the moon from sight for several hours.
Before long the Moon grew a little restless. “I think I must be leaving,”
he said.
“Sorry to see you go,” said the Earth. “You call on me so seldom. Your
visits are so rare.”
“Oh,” laughed the Moon, “you are so nice to me, but where did you pick up
that last word? Was it running around down on the earth where you heard
it as it walked over you?”
“Words don’t run around,” said the Earth, “but the people who use them
do. That word means that your visits are so few. I’d like to see you
oftener.”
“Thank you,” said the Moon. “Perhaps because I come only now and again it
is better, for you see it is more of a treat.”
“Maybe that is so,” said the Earth. “I always enjoy looking at you from
afar, but I do thoroughly enjoy your calls.”
“Then I’ll come some time again,” said the Moon.
FEBRUARY 18: A Careless Master
“A horse,” said daddy, “was very thirsty.
“‘I don’t know how I can go on working so hard without a drink,’ he was
trying to tell his master. But his master paid no attention.
“On and on they went. The horse’s tongue became so dry. He hung it out of
his mouth, but the master didn’t notice—not even when he gave him a pat
as he came out from a house where he had left a package.
“Now, a little fairy was hovering near-by. The fairy was the Princess Joy
and she was in her long dress of mist-fog material. For the day was misty
and there was a light fog. But not enough rain had fallen for the horse
to wet his tongue. He had tried to hold his mouth open and get a drink
that way but the rain-drops were not coming down. They were feeling shy
and not like a trip to the earth.
“‘I’m so thirsty,’ said the horse again to himself.
“‘Thirsty,’ said the Princess Joy. ‘Why doesn’t your master give you
something to drink? You’re a good horse. You go wherever he wants you
to go—and so willingly, too. You’re so loyal and you are nice with his
children and let them play with you whenever they want to. Can’t he give
you a drink?’
“‘He has forgotten,’ said the horse. ‘He doesn’t mean to be cruel. He has
just forgotten—that’s all.’
“‘Well, we’ll attend to that,’ said the Fairy Princess Joy.
“Now she knew that the horse’s master and the ice man did not like each
other. ‘I’ll attend to this,’ she said to herself.
“The ice man was delivering ice from house to house along the same street
where the master was delivering his parcels. The ice man had his ice in a
little hand wagon he was pushing along himself.
“‘You shall have some fine ice water,’ whispered the fairy to the horse.
‘The best of ice water.’
“The Fairy whispered to the ice man, and though he didn’t know that the
fairy had told him to leave his wagon in just such a place, he did so.
“‘Now walk up a little bit,’ she said to the horse.
“The horse began to lick a fine piece of ice. Ah, such a drink as he had.
The ice melted so fast against his dry tongue, and there was a great deal
in the side of the wagon. He licked the ice until half of a piece had
gone.
“Just then the ice man and his master came out at the same time. There
the horse was having his drink.
“‘You owe me for a piece of ice,’ said the ice man. ‘I can’t sell that
piece now. Why don’t you give your horse some water? What are you—cruel
to animals, eh?’
“This made the master feel very badly. ‘I forgot,’ he murmured. ‘I shall
pay you for the ice and I’ll never forget again.’
“‘The first good speech I’ve heard you make. You’ve always been too
careless and thoughtless before, but now we’ll be friends, and I do
believe you’ll never forget your fine animal again.’ And the master
agreed.”
FEBRUARY 19: The Cat Show
“There were cats at the Cat Show,” said daddy, “such as are never seen
in any kitchen. Cats on velvet cushions who looked far too haughty ever,
ever to crawl under a good old stove on a torn cushion. For at this Cat
Show there were cats whose families were old and noble in the history
of Catland. And cats of all colors! They were even lavender and so many
other queer colors for cats to be!
“And such wonderful fur they had! It was soft and silky and combed so
well. They wore bright ribbons, and their cushions matched! And they were
fed the most delicious bits of meat and fish—and drank cream, real, real
cream!
“But two cats were talking. One was named Royalty and the other Nobility.
“‘What do you think of the Show?’ asked Royalty.
“‘It’s about the same as most,’ said Nobility, with a yawn.
“‘How dull they are!’ snarled Royalty. And some passer-by said,
“‘That cat is so highly bred, you see. Did you notice how he snarled?’
“‘Isn’t that too absurd!’ said Royalty. ‘As if it were something very
fine to be cross. I’m cross because of these people. They make such a
fuss over me. They spoil me, and then some of my poor little sisters and
brothers are left by these very same people to starve in the city all
summer, while they go off and shut up their houses!’
“‘What do you mean?’ asked Nobility. ‘You haven’t any sisters or brothers
who live in kitchens, have you?’ And Nobility’s back rose in surprise.
“‘Indeed, I have,’ said Royalty, ‘and I’m proud of it! Do you for one
moment think that my family were born in Egypt or India—or Malta—or
wherever they say the family came from? Do you know where my family came
from? From the alleys and side streets where they used to hunt for scraps
of food—almost any kind of food.
“‘Then, you see, the family were ambitious, and somehow we became kitchen
cats, and we lived on milk and good food.’
“‘But how did you ever come here?’ asked Nobility.
“‘Because my little master wanted to make some money to buy a bicycle.
He thought perhaps I’d win a prize at a small Show which was given at
that time. He fed me up, put a ribbon around my neck, and had me sit on
a purple cushion. I won a prize and I’ve been winning them ever since.
I was bought for a great deal of money, and I make a lot! But what does
that mean to me? Nothing! All I want to say is that if only I knew
Grown-Up talk I’d say to all these people that they could admire me
if they wished but to please remember my sisters and brothers when the
summer comes again.’”
FEBRUARY 20: The Queer Pets
“A funny old woman,” commenced daddy, “lived all alone. Her chief delight
in life was to have all the chickens, geese and ducks she could, and let
them walk anywhere they pleased. They could go right into the parlor or
into the kitchen, whichever suited their fancy. Luckily, for the good of
the parlor, they really preferred the kitchen. All the food was there,
and they liked to eat better than anything else.
“Now, this old woman was very peculiar, too, and she looked it. But the
funniest thing about her was that all the animals she had were queer
looking too. The geese seemed to be a little different from any other
geese. The ducks had even more hideous feet than most ducks have, and
they were all of rather strange colors.
“One day not very long ago there flew around the neighborhood a strange
looking bird. He seemed to be quite alone.
“But soon, to every one’s surprise, they saw him playing with the strange
looking geese, ducks and chickens that belonged to the old woman. He
never wanted to fly in the house, but they saw that she brought out water
and crumbs to him. And the old woman welcomed with joy one more strange
creature.”
FEBRUARY 21: Harry’s Composition
“Harry was a very clever little boy,” daddy said. “The teacher of the
class to which Harry belonged had had all the pupils write original
compositions to recite at the Washington’s Birthday entertainment.
“The day before the entertainment (at which, of course, all the mothers
and daddies of the children were to be present) a rehearsal of everything
was to take place. It was Harry’s turn to recite his composition. As
he got up on the platform his legs were shaking, and every one saw how
nervous he was.
“He began, then he faltered, and then he broke down and sobbed. Harry,
the hero of the school, was crying. Could it be true? The pupils looked
at him with pity. What could be the trouble, they asked themselves.
“‘Teacher,’ he finally said between his choking sobs, ‘I didn’t write
that composition. I cheated. I copied it out of an old book I found. I’m
not worthy to recite on Washington’s Birthday.’
“And then he rushed from the platform down to his seat, and, putting his
head in his hands, he cried and cried.
“‘You’ve done a thing worthy of George Washington’s Birthday, Harry,’
said the teacher. ‘You’re not able to act a lie, and because you are
truthful you will still recite the composition, giving the name of its
real writer.’”
FEBRUARY 22: Father of His Country
We all know the old answer to the question of “Who was George Washington?”
Many a time have we gaily answered the question as we’ve pounded fists on
the table:
“First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen.”
And at the end of that we’ve had a nice little winding up of pounding.
There is hardly a place, it seems, that in some way is not connected with
Washington. Perhaps at one time or another he had made his headquarters
there, or a chair is preserved carefully because Washington sat in it!
At Mount Vernon, where Washington lived, one can see the very rooms
through which Washington walked, his bed-room, and the very four-poster
bed in which he slept. And around the house are the grounds which
Washington loved and through which he wandered, down to the banks of the
Potomac River.