everybody. They rode on trucks; in every motor there were crowds—many of
them had been strangers to each other but a short time ago. Older women
seemed to have grown suddenly younger. They walked with a new springiness
in their steps. People sang—crowds went by having made up hurried
parades, singing as they went.
Even tin pans were brought out and did their share toward a great noise
in thankfulness. Peace! Peace following war!
People dressed up—solemn people were no longer solemn.
And all were a part of a great day in history—one of history’s greatest
days!
In small towns too the whistles blew, the church bells rang and very
early in the dark morning, lights appeared in the houses. Small village
bands or a group who could play musical instruments led processions which
kept on all through the day and up into the following night. The small
towns too had sent their own to the war. And peace had come to the small
towns.
November 11th—Armistice Day! Peace! Something so beautiful, meaning so
much to all human beings, that it has become the hope of the world that
peace may always be with us!
NOVEMBER 12: Window Castles
“The children want to look out of their windows and you’re in the way,”
said Mr. Sun to Master Chilly and Jack Frost’s other brothers.
Chilly and the others began to move a little and as they moved their
castles disappeared with them. The children were getting up now and
were calling to each other. “Oh, look at the wonderful pictures on the
windows. There are castles too! Aren’t they beautiful!”
Chilly and the other Frost brothers and workers were delighted. “You see,
Mr. Sun, they like us.”
“Well, maybe they do,” said Mr. Sun, “but I can’t help you stay around.
I must smile and talk in my usual way and it’s too warm a day for you to
like.”
Slowly the frost castles left the windows, for they were taken away by
the Frost Brothers after Mr. Sun had talked to them as they will never
teach any one else the mystery of their work.
NOVEMBER 13: The Autumn Paint Club
“Come on, now,” said Jack Frost to his brothers. “It is time that the
Autumn Paint Club finished up some of its work.”
“Nutty Chum, Chippy Chappy, and Sharpy and Bright Eyes and others of the
squirrel family will be glad that we have come, for we will improve the
nuts and they like the nuts, oh yes indeed!
“Then we will please the children, too, for they like the chestnut
season. Oh, yes, that is the truth! They do like the chestnut season.
“But ah, Frost Brothers, the night is almost here. Let’s get started.
“Remember, you all know just what you have to do! You all know which
of you must paint the windows with the magic Frost paint brushes this
evening, and you know which of you must whisper to the flowers the little
Frost word, ‘Obey!’ You all know what you must do.”
“We all know,” said the Frost Brothers.
“I feel just like work,” said Master Very Cool.
“So do I,” said Master Chilly.
“I feel like it, too, I should say I did,” agreed Master Heavy Frost.
“Good,” said Jack Frost. “And you’re a fine worker, Master Heavy Frost.
You make creatures obey you!”
So off went the Frost Brothers, and the next morning when the people
awoke they said what a heavy frost there had been, but Jack Frost was
chuckling to himself as he said: “The Autumn Paint Club did fine work
last night!”
NOVEMBER 14: Mother Brown Bat
“Ah, children,” said Mother Brown Bat, “it will soon be time to go to
bed. And we shall sleep well, for bats are good sleepers. We shall sleep
especially well if it is to be a cold winter. Ah, my children, what
marketing trips we have made. I have not had to call in a neighbor to
take care of my babies when I went out. No, my babies hung onto my neck
and came along, too.
“What times we used to have catching bugs and other delicious delicacies
we found about at night. What meals we used to have.
“We used to have beetle pudding quite often and gnat salad. Do you
remember, my Bat babies?”
“We remember, Mother Brown Bat. But,” they said, “we are no longer
babies.”
“That is true,” said Mother Brown Bat, “and you are able to look after
yourselves; but I still call you babies, for it is hard for a mother to
realize her children are grown-up and you do grow up so quickly.
“Sometimes we went about in the very, very early mornings and often we
started out before it was really night. But we took great care, for we
kept away from people. People have such a curious habit of not liking
bats.”
“That is hard to believe,” said the Bat children.
“I think so,” said Mother Brown Bat. “I should think they would like
bats, and especially the members of our family, for we are so small and
dainty and so clever in the way we hang on to the trees when we sleep,
rather than fussing about housekeeping and bed-making all the time.
“Housekeeping takes up too much time for a Mother Brown Bat and the Mr.
Brown Bat and the little Brown Bats wouldn’t half appreciate it either.
“So she doesn’t bother to do a lot of work for no reason at all, for none
of us miss a home life. We’re perfectly happy as we are and with our own
ways and habits.”
“Perfectly happy,” agreed the Bat children. “We’re perfectly happy,
Mother Brown Bat.”
NOVEMBER 15: The Magic Slate
“There was once,” said Witty Witch, as she sat in the center of old Mr.
Giant’s cave, and told stories to the elves, brownies, gnomes, goblins
and many of her other little friends, “a very naughty little gnome.
“‘I think slates are the nicest things in the world,’ he said. ‘Anything
we write or draw on them we can rub right out again. I guess I’ll be like
a slate myself. I’ll do what I please and then I’ll rub it out.’
“Of course he didn’t quite know how he was to do that. Rubbing out chalk
marks on his slate he found to be quite a different matter from rubbing
out mean and naughty actions!
“Still he said to himself that he would never do the same naughty things
again, and that he was sorry, and that was just about the same as rubbing
them out.
“He always pretended in school that he knew the answer to every question.
Then, when Professor Gnome would ask what he had written, he would say,
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Professor, but I didn’t know you wanted me to keep the
answer on my slate. I rubbed it out.’ For then, he thought, he had shown
he knew something by writing on his slate—even though he did not write
the answer at all, but simply something quite absurd.
“One night he was very tired. He had been playing hard and had quite
forgotten about his lessons. He had also knocked down a little creature
smaller than himself, but he had said to himself that he was sorry for
that. He really hadn’t meant to be so rough.
“Suddenly before his eyes he saw Professor Gnome, only he looked much
bigger than he did in school. He was carrying a big slate.
“‘This is a slate which cannot be rubbed off by your sponge, little
gnome,’ he said. ‘I have the magic rubber for it which the Fairy Queen
gave me. You can now do your lessons correctly on this slate and when I
think they are well done then I shall take your slate and rub it clean.’
“And the little gnome seemed to be back in the school-room now and
he had written something on his slate—just to pretend he knew the
answer—and then he tried to rub it off before Professor Gnome saw it.
But it wouldn’t rub at all. And all the class laughed at him for knowing
absolutely nothing.
“Next it was recess time, and the little gnome he had knocked down was
crying. He had bumped his head as he had fallen, and the bump kept
growing larger and larger until at last his head had gone entirely, and
there was only a big bump left!
“Oh, how the gnome felt. ‘I shall always remember that I can’t rub out
everything I do,’ he said. ‘My magic slate will teach me a good lesson,
for I’ll be so ashamed when I see all my mistakes right in front of me
until I have made them really and truly right.’
“It was only a dream, to be sure,” said Witty Witch, “but from that day
on the gnome worked and played as though everything he did and said could
not be washed off unless everything was right.”
NOVEMBER 16: Peter’s Trip with the Man in the Moon
“There was once,” said daddy, “a little boy named Peter who had always
longed to see the man in the moon. Every night when there was a full moon
he would sit at his window and look at the funny, jolly face of the old
man until he became so sleepy he would have to go to bed.
“One night he sat watching so long that he fell asleep by the window.
It was not long before he saw the strangest thing. The moon seemed to
be growing larger and larger, and soon it was back of a tree near his
window. He could see quite plainly the jolly old face of his beloved man
in the moon looking jollier and fatter than ever. The old man grinned
from ear to ear at Peter, and in a moment or two he spoke.
“‘Well, Peter, here I am. Now how do you like me?’ And as he spoke he
chuckled and laughed.
“‘Oh, I think you’re wonderful!’ said Peter, with wild enthusiasm and joy.
“‘So you think I’m wonderful, do you? Ha, ha! Well, that is a joke! But
there certainly isn’t any one else just like me, that’s true enough. So
maybe I’m wonderful because I’m so queer. What about that?’
“‘Oh, no,’ said Peter, ‘you’re wonderful because you’re so fat and jolly
and because you’re always laughing and seeming to have a good time.’
“At that, the old man in the moon laughed some more and said: ‘Well,
you’re a funny little chap too. All folks don’t think it’s such a
compliment to be fat, but I do. It’s the way I am, you see, and it’s
best to be satisfied with the way you are, isn’t it? If you really like
me then I’ll take you off in my chariot of mist to visit the stars, and
you’ll call on all the bright queens of the stars, who sparkle so you can
see them from down on the earth.’
“So off went Peter with the man in the moon for the most gorgeous trip.
They visited all the stars, saw the bright fairy queens who live in them
and all the little elves and brownies. And then the man in the moon
showed Peter where he stayed in the sky and how he moved every week so
that all the little boys and girls in the world could see a full moon
every month. And Peter could see down below all the wee little houses
(they looked so small from where Peter was) and the earth, which looked
very funny and small, too, from up in the moon. Peter felt a little
afraid at first that he’d fall, but as he’d never heard of the man in the
moon having a tumble to earth he felt comforted. Alas, all too soon the
journey had to end, for Peter heard the distant sound of a breakfast bell.
“As he yawned he realized he’d been sleeping all night by the window.
But, oh, such a gorgeous sleep as it had been!”
NOVEMBER 17: Dinah
“Her name was Dinah,” said daddy, “and she was a gorilla. A gorilla is
a relation of the monkey family, you know, and looks something like a
chimpanzee.
“She had had quite an interesting life as she had lived in Africa when
young, and then she had been captured and had been tamed and had been
very friendly with her owner, and after that she was brought over to this
country and given to a Zoo in a large city.
“‘I don’t expect to stay here very long,’ said Dinah. ‘I do not care
about living to a great old age, as some creatures do, and I do not like
captivity. I am different from the ourang-utan and the chimpanzee, who
are so friendly with the keeper.
“‘I do not object to the keeper, but life bores me. There are some
creatures who are always happy, and if they aren’t always happy, they are
happy most of the time. So look at me while you can. Now is your chance
to see the gloomy gorilla.’”
[Illustration: “PETER FELT A LITTLE AFRAID AT FIRST THAT HE’D FALL”—_Page
270_]
NOVEMBER 18: Winter Sleepers
Billie Brownie had still many of his calls to make in order to say
good-winter to his friends who were going to sleep for the winter.
“Goog-a-room, goog-a-room, goog-a-room,” said Grandpa Frog from the
near-by pond; “come, little frogs, come all, and sleep in the beautiful
mud. The cold weather is coming.
“It was bitterly cold last night, little frogs.”
Then he saw Billie Brownie.
“Good-winter,” croaked Grandpa Frog.
And the toads and the frogs all squealed and croaked,
“Good-winter, Billie Brownie, good-winter!”
Then Billie Brownie went to call on the Jumping Mice.
“That frost last night was a hard one,” said little Miss Julia Jumping
Mouse. “I’m going to bed to take care of my mouse beauty sleep.”
“Ha, ha,” laughed Miss Jenny Jumping Mouse, “who ever heard of a mouse
going to bed early to get her beauty sleep?”
“I can’t stop to talk it over with you. I’m too sleepy,” said Miss Julia
Jumping Mouse.
“Good-winter to all of you,” said Billie Brownie. But as he walked away
from all his friends who were going to sleep for the winter, he said to
himself:
“To sleep for a night
Is quite all right.
But to sleep half a year
Is really quite queer.
But of course we’re all different,
As different can be,
And what is natural to you
Might seem very queer to me!”
NOVEMBER 19: Toody Ruggles’ Luck
“A number of rich ladies,” began daddy, “at the seashore one day last
summer had been throwing pennies from a bridge into the water for a lot
of poor boys who were diving for them. The water was quite a good deal
over their heads, but the little boys were marvelous divers and swimmers,
having always lived by the water. The ladies kept on throwing pennies
time and time again to see the wonderful dives the little boys were able
to make. They would dive straight down into the water and stay down ever
so long and then come up, each one holding a glittering bright penny.
“But, alas, a dreadful thing happened. One of the ladies in throwing
pennies dropped a most beautiful diamond ring off from her finger and
into the deep water.
“‘Oh, dear,’ she cried in dismay, ‘that was the ring I valued most and
cared more for than any piece of jewelry I had. I shouldn’t have worn it,
though, for it was much too loose for that finger. Whatever shall I do
without it? I was so fond, so fond of it!’
“At once the little boys offered to dive for it, for it had been by the
throwing of pennies to them that the lady had lost her much prized ring,
and they wanted, of course, to get it back for her.
“So again and again they dived, but as none of them had seen her drop it
they couldn’t judge where it had been dropped.
“Now, Toody Ruggles was perhaps the best little diver of all, and yet
even he had been so far unsuccessful, but at last he thought he saw it
shining down among some weeds. The lady, however, had just about given up
hopes of ever seeing her ring again when, lo and behold, up came Toody,
his wet little face wreathed in smiles, carrying the beautiful ring. The
lady was overpowered with joy and gave Toody a most wonderful reward.
“Oh, how happy Toody Ruggles was! At home he had one little sister who
was very fragile and delicate. As their parents had both died, Toody
was trying his best to look after his sister and himself by selling
newspapers and carrying suitcases from the station. Lately, though, the
doctor had told him that his sister must have plenty of fruit to build
her up and to make her regain her strength, and this poor Toody was
unable to afford.
“But now he had the wonderful reward from the lady, and all the other
boys were delighted that Toody had been the lucky one.
“Toody at once began to give his little sister delicious fruits. Soon the
color came back to her cheeks, and she grew well and strong. So Toody’s
worry that he might lose his beloved little sister was over, and through
his good luck their little home once more became very, very happy.”
NOVEMBER 20: The Limpets
“A limpet,” said daddy, “is a little shellfish. They’re very, very small,
perhaps a shade smaller than a snail, and they cling to the rocks which
are their homes. There are always hundreds of them fastened on the big
rocks on the coast by the sea. They live on seaweed and the salt water.
“When I was a boy we spent some time in a town by the sea. We used to
play off a bank called ‘Greenbank’ because in the summer time this bank
was always so very green. Below this bank there were countless big rocks.
We could hide behind these rocks, and no one could see us. We loved that
because it seemed so mysterious to hide like that. We could see the bank
above us, and then, miles and miles, as far as we could see, was the
ocean. The rocks were covered with seaweed, and they used to be very
slippery. Sometimes we would play hide-and-seek back of these rocks.
“The rocks that were half in the water would be covered with the limpets.
One big rock had great numbers of them on it, and we always called the
rock ‘Limpet Rock.’
“One Saturday about six of us had taken a big basketful of lunch and
had gone down to Greenbank to spend the day. There had been a terrific
storm the night before. We looked for our Limpet Rock the first thing,
but we saw not a sign of a limpet. How funny, we thought; that surely is
the rock! What could have become of the limpets? They were quite used to
storms, and surely they couldn’t have been hurt by the storm of the night
before! Suddenly we spied them.
“There they all were, looking very unhappy and clinging to little pebbles
and rocks in the low water. Before the day was over, though, the limpets
had attached themselves to another big rock. So we called this rock the
‘New Limpet Rock.’ Once the limpets had fastened themselves to the new
rock, they were just as happy as before, for they can change homes more
easily than any other creatures and be happy.
“So I think we should admire the limpets because they are so brave and
cheerful when they are driven from one home and with practically no fuss
they set about and get a new home right away.”
NOVEMBER 21: The Rescue
“A little girl named Fannie,” began daddy, “was walking across a city
street carrying a very small black poodle dog in her arms.
“Suddenly the poodle dog, whose name was Gyp, saw another dog on the
other side of the street. Evidently Gyp thought the other little dog
would be nice to talk to, so he jumped with one bound out of Fannie’s
arms.
“Fannie gave a scream of horror, at which the policeman, standing near,
flew to the rescue. Had he been a minute later the little dog would have
been struck by a street car.
“‘Oh, you’ve rescued my little dog!’ Fannie cried. ‘You are so brave and
wonderful!’
“Gyp, who had been very much frightened at his narrow escape, was
breathing little short, quick breaths from the fear of a moment before.
“But at the same time his little tail was wagging for all it was worth,
as he wanted to show the big policeman how much he thanked him, for he
knew the policeman had saved his little dog life.”
NOVEMBER 22: The Old Man in the Woods
“A little boy named Bobbie had a sister named Agnes,” said daddy. “They
had few neighbors, as they lived in a very small place where there were
only a few houses. Near their house were long stretches of woods. They
had never been to the other side of the woods nor had they ever really
walked very far into the forest, for it was said in the little hamlet
where they lived that a queer old man had a hut about a mile and a half
through the long lonely road. But one day the children decided they’d
venture forth to see this old man.
“Off they started, and after walking quite a distance they came to a
funny little hut with smoke coming out of the chimney. When the old man
saw Bobbie and Agnes he called out in a happy, excited voice: ‘I’m having
visitors! Hurrah!’
“He took the children in his hut and showed them some wonderful picture
books. He told them how delighted he was to have visitors, as he knew
he was thought queer, but really he wasn’t at all, except that he loved
to live in the heart of the woods. So the children promised to see him
often, and he promised to show them more picture books, and before they
left he gave them each a big piece of delicious apple pie.”
NOVEMBER 23: The Queen’s Pin
“Once when I was a little boy,” began daddy, “I heard an interesting
story that a pin told. Now, you may think that a pin could not tell such
a very good story, but this was an exceptional pin, belonging to a very
grand person.
“‘Having been made into a beautiful crown shaped pin of superb pearls,’
said the pin, ‘I was put into a show case in a very beautiful jewelry
shop. People would notice me above all other pins in the case and pick
me out as being by far the most beautifully set pin. All the pearls which
belonged to me were very, very lovely ones. But I was so expensive that
people could just look at me and could not afford to buy me.
“‘The jeweler was so proud of me that he really did not care whether I
was sold or not, for my beauty attracted so much attention that it was a
help to his business. You see, people would ask one another if they had
seen me, and if they hadn’t they would come right to the shop to look at
me. Then, though they didn’t buy me, they would be sure to buy something
else in the shop.
“‘But at last a marvelous carriage drove up before the door. It was drawn
by four horses, and there were two fine coachmen and two very pompous
looking footmen sitting up on top of the fine carriage.
“‘The jeweler was all in a flutter. Never before had he seen such a
wonderful carriage. And out of it stepped a very handsomely dressed lady
with a lady on either side of her, who both guarded her very carefully.
“‘“The queen—the queen has come to my little shop!” cried the excited
jeweler, and all the other shoppers stood by and made low bows.
“‘But I didn’t bow. I didn’t think a crown need bow.
“‘The queen had heard of me, and she had come to buy me. The jeweler,
with trembling fingers, fastened me in my little blue velvet box, and off
I went, carried by the queen.
“‘When we reached the palace I felt very much at home, for everything
was so beautiful there. I must confess, though, that I did feel a little
nervous that first evening when I was worn by the queen with so many
other exquisite jewels.
“‘Oh, but such times as I did have! The court dinners and balls and
receptions were so dazzling, and I adored them. But, best of all, I loved
the parades and seeing all the crowds of people cheer and wave their
handkerchiefs to the queen. And the bands were so exciting!
“‘But the proudest moment of my life was really when the queen gave me to
a young lady as a token of her appreciation of the lady’s brave soldier
daddy.’”
NOVEMBER 24: Eagle’s Thanksgiving
“Of course,” said Daddy Bald Eagle, “Thanksgiving Day is a day when the
turkey is shown a great honor. But I would like to have something to
say for Thanksgiving Day, too. Thanksgiving Day is a day when people
are thankful. They are thankful for their homes, thankful for their
country, thankful they belong to their country and that they have so many
blessings.
“And the Eagle would like to say he is thankful, too.
“Yes, I would like to say how thankful I am that I am chosen as the
national emblem of the United States. I would like to say that I shall
never cease to be thankful that this honor has been shown to my family.”
NOVEMBER 25: Thanksgiving Day
It was a holiday and it was Thanksgiving Day. From the moment Melly got
up she felt in a “holiday” spirit, she said. And everything and every one
seemed to feel the same way too.
First she went in quite early in the morning to see her mother who was
sitting up in bed, waiting for her little visitor.
Her mother was wearing a dear little blue jacket and a blue cap and was
looking so pretty.
She had a nice little chat with her mother and then she went back into
her own room to get dressed.
Yes, every one in the house seemed to act and feel as though the day was
a holiday as it most certainly was.
And oh, such a Thanksgiving dinner as they had.
First they had corn soup and then they had turkey and many vegetables and
then they had apple and celery salad. Next they had two pies to choose
from, or to take a piece from each, and they had ice-cream too, and every
kind of a nut and piece of fruit was in the fruit dish.
In the center of the table was a little bit of a pumpkin. It was a real
pumpkin but it was very, very small.
On top of the pumpkin Melly’s mother had put some tiny carrots and baby
potatoes and some little snowberries from the snowberry bush.
They did make the table look so gay and pretty. After dinner Melly and
her family played the good old game of “stagecoach.” You know the game?
The different people in the room who are playing the game take the names
of the people supposed to be in the stagecoach, such as the driver, the
little boy traveler and his mother and so on.
Every time the word stage-coach is mentioned each person playing the game
must get up and turn around and the last person who sits down when doing
this goes on with the story-telling.
Of course the one who is telling the story must tell all of the trip this
imaginary stage-coach took.