Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Chuck Greif and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.
MOTHER STORIES
BY
MAUD LINDSAY
ILLUSTRATED _by_ SARAH NOBLE-IVES
"_Mother, a story told at the right time
Is a looking-glass for the mind_."
FROEBEL.
TWENTY-EIGHTH EDITION
MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY
SPRINGFIELD MASS. 1928
=Bradley Quality Books=
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
DEDICATED _to_ MY MOTHER
PREFACE
I have endeavored to write, for mothers and dear little children, a few
simple stories, embodying some of the truths of Froebel's Mother Play.
The Mother Play is such a vast treasure house of Truth, that each one
who seeks among its stores may bring to light some gem; and though,
perhaps, I have missed its diamonds and rubies, I trust my string of
pearls may find acceptance with some mother who is trying to live with
her children.
I have written my own mottoes, with a few exceptions, that I might
emphasize the particular lesson which I endeavor to teach in the story;
for every motto in the Mother Play comprehends so much that it is
impossible to use the whole for a single subject. From "The Bridge" for
instance, which is replete with lessons, I have taken only one,--for the
story of the "Little Traveler."
Most of these stories have been told and retold to little children, and
are surrounded, in my eyes, by a halo of listening faces.
"Mrs. Tabby Gray" is founded on a true story of a favorite cat. "The
Journey" is a new version of the old Stage Coach game, much loved by our
grandmothers; and I am indebted to some old story, read in childhood,
for the suggestion of "Dust Under the Rug," which was a successful
experiment in a kindergarten to test the possibility of interesting
little children in a story after the order of Grimm, with the wicked
stepmother and her violent daughter eradicated.
Elizabeth Peabody says we are all free to look out of each other's
windows; and so I place mine at the service of all who care to see what
its tiny panes command.
MAUD LINDSAY.
LIST OF STORIES
The Wind's Work
Mrs. Tabby Gray
Fleet Wing and Sweet Voice
The Little Girl with the Light
The Little Gray Pony
How the Home Was Built
The Little Traveler
The Open Gate
Inside the Garden Gate
The Journey
Giant Energy and Fairy Skill
The Search for a Good Child
The Closing Door
The Minstrel's Song
Dust Under the Rug
The Story of Gretchen
The King's Birthday
_THE WIND'S WORK_
MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER
_Power invisible that God reveals,
The child within all nature feels,
Like the great wind that unseen goes,
Yet helps the world's work as it blows_.
One morning Jan waked up very early, and the first thing he saw when he
opened his eyes was his great kite in the corner. His big brother had
made it for him; and it had a smiling face, and a long tail that reached
from the bed to the fireplace. It did not smile at Jan that morning
though, but looked very sorrowful and seemed to say "Why was I made? Not
to stand in a corner, I hope!" for it had been finished for two whole
days and not a breeze had blown to carry it up like a bird in the air.
Jan jumped out of bed, dressed himself, and ran to the door to see if
the windmill on the hill was at work; for he hoped that the wind had
come in the night. But the mill was silent and its arms stood still. Not
even a leaf turned over in the yard.
The windmill stood on a high hill where all the people could see it, and
when its long arms went whirling around every one knew that there was
no danger of being hungry, for then the Miller was busy from morn to
night grinding the grain that the farmers brought him.
When Jan looked out, however, the Miller had nothing to do, and was
standing in his doorway, watching the clouds, and saying to himself
(though Jan could not hear him):--
"_Oh! how I wish the wind would blow
So that my windmill's sails might go,
To turn my heavy millstones round!
For corn and wheat must both be ground,
And how to grind I do not know
Unless the merry wind will blow_."
He sighed as he spoke, for he looked down in the village, and saw the
Baker in neat cap and apron, standing idle too.
The Baker's ovens were cold, and his trays were clean, and he, too, was
watching the sky, and saying:--
"_Oh! how I wish the wind would blow,
So that the Miller's mill might go,
And grind me flour so fine, to make
My good light bread and good sweet cake!
But how to bake I do not know
Without the flour as white as snow_."
Jan heard every word that the Baker said, for he lived next door to him;
and he felt so sorry for his good neighbor that he wanted to tell him
so. But before he had time to speak, somebody else called out from
across the street:--
"_Well! I'm sure I wish the wind would blow,
For this is washing day, you know.
I've scrubbed and rubbed with all my might,
In tubs of foam from morning light,
And now I want the wind to blow
To dry my clothes as white as snow_."
This was the Washerwoman who was hanging out her clothes. Jan could see
his own Sunday shirt, with ruffles, hanging limp on her line, and it was
as white as a snowflake, sure enough!
"Come over, little neighbor," cried the Washerwoman, when she saw Jan.
"Come over, little neighbor, and help me work to-day!" So, as soon as
Jan had eaten his breakfast, he ran over to carry her basket for her.
The basket was heavy, but he did not care; and as he worked he heard
some one singing a song, with a voice almost as loud and as strong as
the wind.
[1]"_Oh! if the merry wind would blow,
Yeo ho! lads, ho! yeo ho! yeo ho!
My gallant ship would gaily go,
Yeo ho! lads, ho! yeo ho!
In fresh'ning gales we'd loose our sails,
And o'er the sea,
Where blue waves dance, and sunbeams glance,
We'd sail in glee,
But winds must blow, before we go,
Across the sea,
Yeo ho! my lads, yeo ho!"_
[Footnote 1: Air _Nancy Lee_.]
Jan and the Washerwoman and all the neighbors looked out to see who was
singing so cheerily, and it was the Sea-captain whose white ship Jan had
watched in the harbor. The ship was laden with linen and laces for fine
ladies, but it could not go till the wind blew. The Captain was
impatient to be off, and so he walked about town, singing his jolly song
to keep himself happy.
Jan thought it was a beautiful song, and when he went home he tried to
sing it himself. He did not know all the words, but he put his hands in
his pockets and swelled out his little chest and sang in as big a voice
as he could: "Yeo ho! my lads, yeo ho!"
While he sang, something kissed him on the cheek; and when he turned to
see what it was his hat spun off into the yard as if it were enchanted;
and when he ran to pick his hat up he heard a whispering all through the
town. He looked up, and he looked down, and on every side, but saw
nobody! At last the golden weather-vane on the church tower called
down:--
"Foolish child, it is the wind from out of the east."
The trees had been the first to know of its coming, and they were bowing
and bending to welcome it; while the leaves danced off the branches and
down the hill, in a whirl of delight.
The windmill's arms whirled round, oh! so fast, and the wheat was ground
into white flour for the Baker, who kindled his fires and beat his eggs
in the twinkling of an eye; and he was not quicker than the Sea-captain,
who loosed his sails in the fresh'ning gales, just as he had said he
would, and sailed away to foreign lands.
Jan watched him go, and then ran in great haste to get his kite; for the
petticoats on the Washerwoman's clothesline were puffed up like
balloons, and all the world was astir.
"Now I'm in my proper place," said the kite as it sailed over the roofs
of the houses, over the tree tops, over the golden weather vane, and
even over the windmill itself. Higher, higher, higher it flew, as if it
had wings; till it slipped away from the string, and Jan never saw it
again, and only the wind knew where it landed at last.
[Illustration: "Now I am in my proper place," said the Kite.]
_MRS. TABBY GRAY_
MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER
"_All mother love attracts the child,
Its world-wide tenderness he feels.
And ev'ry beast that loves her young,
His mother's love to him reveals_."
Mrs. Tabby Gray, with her three little kittens, lived out in the barn
where the hay was stored. One of the kittens was white, one was black,
and one gray, just like her mother, who was called Tabby Gray from the
color of her coat.
These three little kittens opened their eyes when they grew old enough,
and thought there was nothing so nice in all this wonderful world as
their own dear mother, although she told them of a great many nice
things, like milk and bread, which they should have when they could go
up to the big house where she had her breakfast, dinner, and supper.
Every time Mother Tabby came from the big house she had something
pleasant to tell. "Bones for dinner to-day, my dears," she would say, or
"I had a fine romp with a ball and the baby," until the kittens longed
for the time when they could go too.
One day, however, Mother Cat walked in with joyful news.
"I have found an elegant new home for you," she said, "in a very large
trunk where some old clothes are kept; and I think I had better move at
once."
Then she picked up the small black kitten, without any more words, and
walked right out of the barn with him.
The black kitten was astonished, but he blinked his eyes at the bright
sunshine, and tried to see everything.
Out in the barnyard there was a great noise, for the white hen had laid
an egg, and wanted everybody to know it; but Mother Cat hurried on,
without stopping to inquire about it, and soon dropped the kitten into
the large trunk. The clothes made such a soft, comfortable bed, and the
kitten was so tired after his exciting trip, that he fell asleep, and
Mrs. Tabby trotted off for another baby.
While she was away, the lady who owned the trunk came out in the hall;
and when she saw that the trunk was open, she shut it, locked it, and
put the key in her pocket, for she did not dream that there was
anything so precious as a kitten inside.
As soon as the lady had gone upstairs Mrs. Tabby Gray came back, with
the little white kitten; and when she found the trunk closed, she was
terribly frightened. She put the white kitten down and sprang on top of
the trunk and scratched with all her might, but scratching did no good.
Then she jumped down and reached up to the keyhole, but that was too
small for even a mouse to pass through, and the poor mother mewed
pitifully.
What was she to do? She picked up the white kitten, and ran to the barn
with it. Then she made haste to the house again, and went upstairs to
the lady's room. The lady was playing with her baby and when Mother Cat
saw this she rubbed against her skirts, and cried: "Mee-ow, mee-ow! You
have your baby, and I want mine! Mee-ow, mee-ow!"
By and by the lady said: "Poor Kitty! she must be hungry"; and she went
down to the kitchen and poured sweet milk in a saucer, but the cat did
not want milk. She wanted her baby kitten out of the big black trunk,
and she mewed as plainly as she could: "Give me my baby--give me my
baby, out of your big black trunk!"
The kind lady decided that she must be thirsty: "Poor Kitty, I will give
you water"; but when she set the bowl of water down Mrs. Tabby Gray
mewed more sorrowfully than before. She wanted no water,--she only
wanted her dear baby kitten; and she ran to and fro, crying, until, at
last, the lady followed her; and she led the way to the trunk.
"What can be the matter with this cat?" said the lady; and she took the
trunk key out of her pocket, put it in the lock, unlocked the trunk,
raised the top--and in jumped Mother Cat with such a bound that the
little black kitten waked up with a start.
[Illustration: The lady followed her; and she led the way to the trunk.]
"Purr, purr, my darling child," said Mrs. Tabby Gray, in great
excitement; "I have had a dreadful fright!" and before the black kitten
could ask one question she picked him up and started for the barn.
The sun was bright in the barnyard and the hens were still chattering
there; but the black kitten was glad to get back to the barn. His mother
was glad, too; for, as she nestled down in the hay with her three little
kittens, she told them that a barn was the best place after all to raise
children.
And she never afterwards changed her mind.
_FLEET WING AND SWEET VOICE_
MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER
_Make the home-coming sweet!
The gladness of going,
The pleasure of knowing
Will not be complete
Unless, at the ending,
The home-coming's sweet.
Make the home-coming sweet!
No fear of the straying,
Or dread of the staying
Of dear little feet,
If always you're making
The home-coming sweet_.
Mother and Father Pigeon lived with their two young pigeons in their
home, built high on a post in the king's barnyard. Every bright morning
they would fly away through the beautiful sunshine wherever they
pleased, but, when evening came, they were sure to come to the
pigeon-house again.
One evening, when they were talking together in their sweet, cooing way,
Mother Pigeon said:--
"We each have a story to tell, I know; so let each one take his turn,
and Father Pigeon begin."
Then Father Pigeon said:--
"To-day I have been down to the shining little stream that runs through
the wood. The green ferns grow on either side of it, and the water is
cool, cool, cool! for I dipped my feet into it, and wished that you all
were there."
"I know the stream," cooed Mother Pigeon. "It turns the wheels of the
mills as it hurries along, and is busy all day on its way to the river."
"To-day I have talked with the birds in the garden," said Sweet Voice,
one of the young pigeons, "the thrush, the blackbird, and bluebird, and
all. They sang to me and I cooed to them, and together we made the world
gay. The bluebird sang of the sunshine, and the blackbird of the
harvest; but the thrush sang the sweetest song. It was about her nest in
the tree."
"I heard you all," said Fleet Wing, the other young pigeon; "for I sat
and listened on the high church tower. I was so high up, there, that I
thought I was higher than anything else; but I saw the great sun shining
in the sky, and the little white clouds, like sky pigeons, sailing above
me. Then, looking down, I saw, far away, this white pigeon-house; and it
made me very glad, for nothing that I saw was so lovely as home."
"I never fly far away from home," said Mother Pigeon, "and to-day I
visited in the chicken yard. The hens were all talking, and they greeted
me with 'Good morning! Good morning!' and the turkey gobbled 'Good
morning!' and the rooster said 'How do you do?' While I chatted with
them a little girl came out with a basket of yellow corn, and threw some
for us all. When I was eating my share, I longed for my dear ones. And
now good night," cooed Mother Pigeon, "it is sleepy time for us all."
"Coo, coo! Good night!" answered the others; and all was still in the
pigeon-house.
Now over in the palace, where the king, and queen, and their one little
daughter lived, there was the sound of music and laughter; but the
king's little daughter was sad, for early the next morning her father,
the king, was to start on a journey, and she loved him so dearly that
she could not bear to have him leave her.
The king's little daughter could not go out in the sunshine like Sweet
Voice and Fleet Wing, but lay all day within the palace on her silken
cushions; for her fine little feet, in their satin slippers, were always
too tired to carry her about, and her thin, little face was as white as
a jasmine flower.
The king loved her as dearly as she loved him; and when he saw that she
was sad, he tried to think of something to make her glad after he had
gone away. At last he called a prince, and whispered something to him.
The prince told it to a count, and the count to a gentleman-in-waiting.
The gentleman-in-waiting told a footman, and the footman told somebody
else, and at last, the boy who waited on the cook heard it.
Early next morning he went to the pigeon-house, where Mother and Father
Pigeon and their two young pigeons lived; and putting his hand through a
door, he took Sweet Voice and Fleet Wing out, and dropped them into a
basket.
Poor Sweet Voice, and Fleet Wing! They were so frightened that they
could not coo! They sat very close to each other in the covered basket,
and wondered when they would see their mother and father and home
again.
All the time, as they sat close together in the basket and wondered,
they were being taken away from home; for the king had started on his
journey, and one of his gentlemen was carrying the basket, very
carefully, with him on his horse.
At last the horses stood still and the basket was taken to the king; and
when he opened it, the two little pigeons looked up and saw that the sun
was high in the sky, and that they were far from home.
When they saw that they were far from home, they were more frightened
than before; but the king spoke so kindly and smoothed their feathers so
gently, that they knew he would take care of them.
Then the king took two tiny letters tied with lovely blue ribbon out of
his pocket; and, while his gentlemen stood by to see, he fastened one
under a wing of each little pigeon.
"Fly away, little pigeons!" he cried; and he tossed them up toward the
sky. "Fly away, and carry my love to my little daughter!"
Fleet Wing, and Sweet Voice spread their wings joyfully, for they knew
that they were free! free! and they wanted to go home.
Everywhere they saw green woods, instead of the red roofs and shining
windows of the town, and Sweet Voice was afraid; but Fleet Wing said:--
"I saw these woods from the tall church steeple. Home is not so far away
as we thought."
Then they lost no time in talking, but turned their heads homeward; and
as they flew the little gray squirrels that ran about in the woods
called out to ask them to play, but the pigeons could not stay.
The wood dove heard them, and called from her tree: "Little cousins,
come in!" But the pigeons thanked her and hurried on.
"Home is not so far away," said Fleet Wing; but he began to fear that he
had missed the way, and Sweet Voice was so tired that she begged him to
fly on alone.
[Illustration: The little pigeons were taken in to see the king's
daughter.]
Fleet Wing would not listen to this; and, as they talked, they came to a
little stream of water with green ferns growing all about, and they knew
that it must be the very stream that Father Pigeon loved. Then they
cooled their tired feet in the fresh water, and cooed for joy; for they
knew that they were getting nearer, nearer, nearer home, all the time.
Sweet Voice was not afraid then; and as they flew from the shelter of
the woods, they saw the tall church steeple with its golden weather
vane.
The sun was in the west, and the windows were all shining in its light,
when Fleet Wing and Sweet Voice reached the town. The little children
saw them and called: "Stay with us, pretty pigeons." But Sweet Voice and
Fleet Wing did not rest until they reached the white pigeon house, where
Mother and Father Pigeon were waiting.
The cook's boy was waiting, too, and the little pigeons were taken in to
see the king's little daughter. When she found the letters which they
carried under their wings, she laughed with delight; and Fleet Wing and
Sweet Voice were very proud to think that they had brought glad news to
their princess.
They told it over and over again out in the pigeon-house, and Mother and
Father Pigeon were glad, too.
In the morning, the birds in the garden were told of the wonderful
things that had happened to Fleet Wing and Sweet Voice; and even the
hens and chickens had something to say when they heard the news.
The thrush said that it all made her think of her own sweet song; and
she sang it again to them:--
"_Wherever I fly from my own dear nest,
I always come back, for home is the best_."
_THE LITTLE GIRL WITH THE LIGHT_
MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER
_We can never dwell in shadows
If our souls are full of light.
Let the brightness of our being
Make the whole wide world as bright_
"_Jesus bids us shine for all around.
Many kinds of darkness in this world are found.
There's sin and want and sorrow, so we must shine,
You in your small corner, I in mine."
S.S. Hymn_.
There once lived a little maiden to whom God had given a wonderful
light, which made her whole life bright.
When she was a wee baby it shone on her face in a beautiful smile, and
her mother cried:--
"See! the angels have been kissing her!" And when she grew older it
lighted up her eyes like sunshine, and gleamed on her forehead like a
star.
All lovely things that loved light, loved her. The soft-cooing pigeons
came at her call. The roses climbed up to her windows to peep at her,
and the birds of the air, and the butterflies, that looked like
enchanted sunbeams, would circle about her head.
Her father was king of a country; and though she was not so tall as the
tall white lily in the garden, or the weeds that grew outside, she had
servants to wait on her, and grant her every wish, as if she were a
queen.
She was dearer to her father and mother than all else that they
possessed; and there was no happier king or queen or little maiden in
any kingdom of the world, till one sad day when the king's enemies came
upon them like a whirlwind, and changed their joy to sorrow.
Their palace was seized, the servants were scattered, and the king and
queen were carried away to a dark prison-house, where they sat and wept
for their little daughter, for they knew not where she was.
No one knew but the old nurse, who had nursed the king himself. She had
carried the child away, unnoticed amid the noise and strife, and set her
in safety outside the palace walls.
"Fly, precious one!" she cried, as she left her there. "Fly! for the
enemy is upon us!" And the little maiden started out in the world alone.
She knew not where to go; so she wandered away through the fields and
waste places, where nobody lived and only the grasshoppers seemed glad.
But she was not afraid,--no! not even when she came to a great forest,
at evening;--for she carried her light with her.
'T is true that once she thought she saw a threatening giant waiting by
the dusky path; but, when her light shone on it, it was only a pine
tree, stretching out its friendly arms; and she laughed so merrily that
all the woods laughed too.
"Who are you? Who are you?" asked an owl, blinking his eyes at the
brightness of her face; and a little rabbit, startled by the sound,
sprang from its hiding place in the bushes and fell trembling at her
feet.
"Alas!" it panted as she bent in pity to offer help, "Alas! the hunters
with their dogs and guns pursue me! But you flee, too! How can you help
me?" But the child took the tiny creature in her arms and held it close;
and when the dogs rushed through the tanglewood, they saw the light that
lighted up her eyes like sunshine and gleamed on her forehead like a
star, and came no further.
Then deeper into the great forest she went, bearing the rabbit still;
and the wild beasts heard her footsteps, and waited for her coming.
"Hush!" said the fox, "she is mine; for I will lead her from the path
into the tanglewood!"
"Nay, she is mine!" howled the wolf; "for I will follow on her
footsteps!"
"Mine! mine!" screamed the tiger; "for I will spring upon her in the
darkness, and she cannot escape me!"
[Illustration: The child took the tiny creature in her arms and held it
close.]
So they quarreled among themselves, for they were beasts and knew no
better; and as they snarled and growled and howled, the maiden walked in
among them; and when the light which made her lovely fell upon them,
they ran and hid themselves in the depths of the forest, and the
child passed on in safety.
The rabbit still slept peacefully on her breast. At last she, too, grew
weary, and lay down to sleep on the leaves and moss; and the birds of
the forest watched her and sang to her, and nothing harmed her all the
night.
In the morning a party of horsemen rode through the forest, looking
behind each bush and tree as if they sought something very precious.
The forest glowed with splendor then, for the sun had come in all its
glory to scatter darkness and wake up the world. The darkest dells and
caves and lonely paths lost their horror in the morning light, and there
were violets blooming in the shadows of the pines.
The leaves glistened, the flowers lifted their heads, and everything was
glad but the horsemen, whose faces were full of gloom because their
hearts were sad.
They did not speak or smile as they rode on their search; and their
leader was the saddest of them all, though he wore a golden crown that
sparkled with many jewels.
They followed each winding path through the forest, till at last they
reached the spot where the little maiden lay.
The rabbit waked up at the sound of their coming, but the child slept
till a loud cry of gladness awakened her and she found herself in her
father's arms.
In the night-time the king's brave soldiers had driven his enemies from
his land, and opened the doors of the prison-house in which he and the
queen lay, and the king had ridden with them in haste to find his
darling child, who was worth his crown and his kingdom.
The sight of her face was the sunshine to lighten their hearts, and they
sent the glad news far and near, with blast of trumpet and shouts of
joy.
But in all their great happiness the child did not forget the rabbit,
and she said to it, "Come with me and I will take care of you, for my
father the king is here." But the rabbit thanked her and wanted to go
home.
"My babies are waiting," it said, "and I have my work to do in the
world. I pray you let me go."
So the child kissed it and bade it go; and she, too, went to her own
dear home. There she grew lovelier every day, for the light grew with
her; and when, long years afterward, she was queen of the country, the
foxes and wolves and tigers dared not harm her people, for her good
knights drove evil from her land; but to loving gentle creatures she
gave love and protection, and she lived happily all the days of her
life.
_THE LITTLE GRAY PONY_
MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER
_The humblest workman has his place,
Which no one else can fill_.
There was once a man who owned a little gray pony.
Every morning when the dewdrops were still hanging on the pink clover in
the meadows, and the birds were singing their morning song, the man
would jump on his pony and ride away, clippety, clippety, clap!
The pony's four small hoofs played the jolliest tune on the smooth pike
road, the pony's head was always high in the air, and the pony's two
little ears were always pricked up; for he was a merry gray pony, and
loved to go clippety, clippety, clap!
The man rode to town and to country, to church and to market, up hill
and down hill; and one day he heard something fall with a clang on a
stone in the road. Looking back, he saw a horseshoe lying there. And
when he saw it, he cried out:--
"_What shall I do? What shall I do?
If my little gray pony has lost a shoe_?"
Then down he jumped, in a great hurry, and looked at one of the pony's
fore-feet; but nothing was wrong. He lifted the other forefoot, but the
shoe was still there. He examined one of the hindfeet, and began to
think that he was mistaken; but when he looked at the last foot, he
cried again:--
"_What shall I do? What shall I do?
My little gray pony has lost a shoe_!"
Then he made haste to go to the blacksmith; and when he saw the smith,
he called out to him:--
"_Blacksmith! Blacksmith! I've come to you;
My little gray pony has lost a shoe_!"
But the blacksmith answered and said:--
"_How can I shoe your pony's feet,
Without some coal the iron to heat_?"
The man was downcast when he heard this; but he left his little gray
pony in the blacksmith's care, while he hurried here and there to buy
the coal.
First of all he went to the store; and when he got there, he said:--
"_Storekeeper! Storekeeper! I've come to you;
My little gray pony has lost a shoe!
And I want some coal the iron to heat,
That the blacksmith may shoe my pony's feet_."
But the storekeeper answered and said:--
"_Now, I have apples and candy to sell,
And more nice things than I can tell;
But I've no coal the iron to heat,
That the blacksmith may shoe your pony's feet_."
Then the man went away sighing, and saying:--
"_What shall I do? What shall I do?
My little gray pony has lost a shoe!"_
By and by he met a farmer coming to town with a wagon full of good
things; and he said:--
"_Farmer! Farmer! I've come to you;
My little gray pony has lost a shoe!
And I want some coal the iron to heat,
That the blacksmith may shoe my pony's feet_."
Then the farmer answered the man and said:--
"_I've bushels of corn and hay and wheat
Something for you and your pony to eat;
But I've no coal the iron to heat,
That the blacksmith may shoe your pony's feet_."
So the farmer drove away and left the man standing in the road, sighing
and saying:--
"_What shall I do? What shall I do?
My little gray pony has lost a shoe_!"
In the farmer's wagon, full of good things, he saw corn, which made him
think of the mill; so he hastened there, and called to the dusty
miller:--
"_Miller! Miller! I've come to you;
My little gray pony has lost a shoe,
And I want some coal the iron to heat,
That the blacksmith may shoe my pony's feet_."
The miller came to the door in surprise; and when he heard what was
needed, he said:--
"_I have wheels that go round and round,
And stones to turn till the grain is ground,
But I've no coal the iron to heat,
That the blacksmith may shoe your pony's feet_."
[Illustration: When she came near the man she stopped to ask him his
trouble.]
Then the man turned away sorrowfully and sat down on a rock near the
roadside, sighing and saying:--
"_What shall I do? What shall I do?
My little gray pony has lost a shoe_!"
After a while a very old woman came down the road, driving a flock of
geese to market; and when she came near the man, she stopped to ask him
his trouble. He told her all about it; and when she had heard it all,
she laughed till her geese joined in with a cackle; and she said:--
"_If you would know where the coal is found,
You must go to the miner, who works in the ground_."
Then the man sprang to his feet, and, thanking the old woman, he ran to
the miner. Now the miner had been working many a long day down in the
mine, under the ground, where it was so dark that he had to wear a lamp
on the front of his cap to light him at his work! He had plenty of black
coal ready and gave great lumps of it to the man, who took them in haste
to the blacksmith.
The blacksmith lighted his great red fire, and hammered out four fine
new shoes, with a cling! and a clang! and fastened them on with a rap!
and a tap! Then away rode the man on his little gray pony,--clippety,
clippety, clap!
_HOW THE HOME WAS BUILT_
MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER
_The priceless blessing of a happy home can be
won only by struggle, endurance, and self-sacrifice_.
FROEBEL.
_Blow's Commentaries_.
Once there was a very dear family,--Father, Mother, big Brother Tom,
little Sister Polly, and the baby, who had a very long name, Gustavus
Adolphus; and every one of the family wanted a home more than anything
else in the world.
They lived in a house, of course, but that was rented; and they wanted a
home of their very own, with a sunny room for Mother and Father and
Baby, with a wee room close by for the little sister; a big, airy room
for Brother Tom; a cosy room for the cooking and eating; and, best of
all, a room that Grandmother might call her own when she came to see
them.
A box which Tom had made always stood on Mother's mantel, and they
called it the "Home Bank," because every penny that could be spared was
dropped in there for the building of the home.
This box had been full once, and was emptied to buy a little piece of
ground where the home could be built when the box was full again.
The box filled very slowly, though; and Gustavus Adolphus was nearly
three years old when one day the father came in with a beaming face and
called the family to him.
Mother left her baking, and Tom came in from his work; and after Polly
had brought the baby, the father asked them very solemnly: "Now, what do
we all want more than anything else in the world?"
"A home!" said Mother and Brother Tom.
"A home!" said little Sister Polly.
"Home!" said the baby, Gustavus Adolphus, because his mother had said
it.
"Well," said the father, "I think we shall have our home if each one of
us will help. I must go away to the great forest, where the trees grow
so tall and fine. All Winter long I must chop the trees down, and in the
Spring I shall be paid in lumber, which will help in the building of
the home. While I am away, Mother will have to fill my place and her own
too, for she will have to go to market, buy the coal, keep the pantry
full, and pay the bills, as well as cook and wash and sew, take care of
the children, and keep a brave heart till I come back again."
The mother was willing to do all this and more, too, for the dear home;
and Brother Tom asked eagerly: "What can I do?--what can I do?" for he
wanted to begin work right then, without waiting a moment.
"I have found you a place in the carpenter's shop where I work,"
answered the father. "And you will work for him, and all the while be
learning to saw and hammer and plane, so that you will be ready in the
Spring to help build the home."
Now, this pleased Tom so much that he threw his cap in the air and
hurrahed, which made the baby laugh; but little Polly did not laugh,
because she was afraid that she was too small to help. But after a
while the father said: "I shall be away in the great forest cutting down
the trees; Mother will be washing and sewing and baking; Tom will be at
work in the carpenter's shop; and who will take care of the baby?"
"I will, I will!" cried Polly, running to kiss the baby. "And the baby
can be good and sweet!"
So it was all arranged that they would have their dear little home,
which would belong to every one, because each one would help; and the
father made haste to prepare for the Winter. He stored away the firewood
and put up the stoves; and when the wood-choppers went to the great
forest, he was ready to go with them.
Out in the forest the trees were waiting. Nobody knew how many years
they had waited there, growing every year stronger and more beautiful
for the work they had to do. Every one of them had grown from a baby
tree to a giant; and when the choppers came, there stood the giant
trees, so bare and still in the wintry weather that the sound of the
axes rang from one end of the woods to the other. From sunrise to sunset
the men worked steadily; and although it was lonely in the woods when
the snow lay white on the ground and the cold wind blew, the father kept
his heart cheery. At night, when the men sat about the fire in their
great log-house, he would tell them about the mother and children who
were working with him for a home.
Nobody's ax was sharper than his or felled so many trees, and nobody was
gladder when Spring-time came and the logs were hauled down to the
river.
The river had been waiting too, through all the Winter, under its shield
of ice, but now that Spring had come, and the snows were melting, and
all the little mountain streams were tumbling down to help, the river
grew very broad and strong, and dashed along, snatching the logs when
the men pushed them in and carrying them on with a rush and a roar.
The men followed close along the bank of the river, to watch the logs
and keep them moving; but at last there came a time when the logs would
not move, but lay in a jam from shore to shore while the water foamed
about them.
"Who will go out to break the jam?" said the men. They knew that only a
brave man and a nimble man could go, for there was danger that the logs
might crush him and the river sweep him away.
They looked at each other. But the father was not afraid, and he was
surefooted and nimble; so he sprang out in a moment, with his ax, and
began to cut away at the logs.
"Some of these logs may help to build a home," he said; and he found the
very log that was holding the others tight, and as soon as that was
loosened, the logs began to move.
"Jump! Jump!" cried the men, as they ran for their lives; and, just as
the logs dashed on, with a rumble and a jumble and a jar that sent some
of the logs flying up in the air, the father reached the bank safely.
[Illustration: So the House was built; a cozy room for the cooking and
eating.]
The hard work was over now. After the logs had rested in the log "boom,"
they went on their way to the saw mills, where they were sawed into
lumber to build houses; and then the father hurried home.
When he came there, he found that the mother had baked and washed and
sewed and taken care of the children, as only such a precious mother
could have done. Brother Tom had worked so well in the carpenter's shop,
that he knew how to hammer and plane and saw, and had grown as tall and
as stout as a young pine tree. Sister Polly had taken such care of the
baby, that he looked as sweet and clean and happy as a rose in a garden;
and the baby had been so good, that he was a joy to the whole family.
"I must get this dear family into their home," said the father; and he
and Brother Tom went to work with a will. And the home was built, with a
sunny room for Father and Mother and Baby, a wee little room close by
for good Sister Polly, a big airy room for big Brother Tom, a cosy room
for the cooking and eating, and best of all, a room for the dear
grandmother, who came then to live with them all the time.
_THE LITTLE TRAVELER_
MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER
_Love is a bridge that links us heart to heart
Mother and child can never live apart_
Once upon a time there was a little boy who had a long journey to go. He
had a very dear mother, and she did not want her little son to leave
her; but she knew he must go, so she put her arms around him and said:
"Now, don't be afraid, for I shall be thinking of you, and God will take
care of you."
Then the little boy kissed her goodbye and ran away, singing a merry
song. As long as he could see her he would turn and wave his hand to
her; but by and by she was out of sight. Just then he came to a stream
of water that ran across his path.
"How can I get over?" thought the little boy; but a white swan swam up
to greet him, and said:--
"There is always a way to get over the stream. Follow me! follow me!"
So the little boy followed the swan till he came to a row of great
stepping stones, and he jumped from one to another, counting them as he
went.
When he reached the seventh he was safe across, and he turned to thank
the white swan. And when he had thanked her, he called:--
"_White swan, white swan, swimming so gay!
Carry a message for me to-day:
My love to my mother, wherever she be;
I know she is always thinking of me_."
Then the white swan swam back to carry the message, and the little boy
ran on his way.
Oh! there were so many beautiful things to hear,--the birds singing and
the bees humming; and so many beautiful things to see,--the flowers and
butterflies and green grass! And after a while he came to a wood, where
every tree wore a green dress; and through the wood, under the shade of
the trees, flowed a babbling creek.
"I wonder how I can get over?" said the little boy; and the wise wind
whispered:
"There is always a way to get over the stream. Follow me! follow me!"
[Illustration: "There is always a way to get over the stream, Follow me!
Follow me!"]
Then he followed the sound of the wise wind's voice, and the wind blew
against a tall pine tree, and the pine tree fell across the creek, and
lay there, a great round foot-log, where the little boy might step. He
made his way over, and thanked the wise wind; and he asked:--
"_Wise wind, wise wind, blowing so gay!
Carry a message for me to-day:
My love to my mother, wherever she be;
I know she is always thinking of me_."
The wind blew back to carry the message, and the little boy made haste
on his journey. His way lead through a meadow, where the clover grew and
the white sheep and baby lambs were feeding together in the sunshine.
On one side of this meadow flowed a silver shining river, and the child
wandered up and down the bank to find some way to cross, for he knew
that he must go on.
As he walked there, a man called a carpenter found him, and said to
him:--
"There is always a way to get over the stream. Follow me! follow me!"
Then the little boy followed the carpenter, and the carpenter and his
men built a bridge of iron and wood that reached across from bank to
bank. And when the bridge was finished, the child ran over in safety;
and after he had thanked the carpenter, he said:--
"_Carpenter, carpenter, on your way!
Carry a message for me to-day:
My love to my mother, wherever she be,
I know she is always thinking of me_."
The carpenter gladly consented; and after he had turned back to carry
the message, the little boy followed the path, which led up hill over
rocks and steep places, through brambles and briars, until his feet grew
weary; and when he came down into the valley again, he saw a river that
was very dark and very deep.
There was no white swan or wise wind to help him. No tree in the forest
could bridge it over, and the carpenter and his men were far away.
"I must get over. There is a way," said the little boy bravely; and, as
he sat down to rest, he heard a murmuring sound. Looking down, he spied
a tiny boat fastened to a willow tree.
"_I am the boat with a helping oar,
To carry you over from shore to shore_,"
repeated the boat; and when the little boy had unfastened it, he sprang
in, and began to row himself over the dark water.
As he rowed, he saw a tiny bird flying above him. The bird needed no
boat or bridge, for its wings were strong; and when the little boy saw
it, he cried:--
"_Little bird, little bird, flying so gay!
Carry a message for me to-day:
My love to my mother, wherever she be;
I know she is always thinking of me_."
The little bird flew swiftly back to carry the message, and the boy
rowed on till he reached the opposite shore. After he had thanked the
boat with its helping oar, he tied it to a tree as he had found it, and
then hastened away, singing his happy song again.
By and by he heard an answer to his song, and he knew that it was the
great sea, calling "Come! Come! Come!" And when he reached the shore
where the blue waves were dancing up to the yellow sands, he clapped his
hands with delight; for there, rocking on the billows, was a beautiful
ship with sails as white as a lady's hands.
"I knew there would be a way!" said the little boy, as he sprang on deck
and went sailing over the deep blue sea,--sailing, sailing, sailing, day
after day, night after night, over the beautiful sea.
At night the stars would look down, twinkling and blinking; and as the
little boy watched them, he would say:--
"_Little stars, little stars, shining so bright!
Carry a message for me to-night:
My love to my mother, wherever she be;
I know she is always thinking of me_."
The little boy went on sailing, sailing, day and night, until he came to
a land beyond the sea,--a land so full of delight that the little boy
felt that his journey was ended, until one day when a great storm came.
The wind blew, the thunder crashed, the lightning flashed, the rain came
pouring down, and the little boy wanted to go home.
"I will find a way!" he cried at last; and, just as he spoke, the sun
came bursting out, the storm clouds rolled away, and there in the sky
was a rainbow bridge that seemed to touch both sky and earth.
Then the little boy's heart leaped for joy, and he ran with feet as
light as feathers up the shining bow; and when he reached the highest
arch, he looked down on the other side and saw home and his mother at
the rainbow's end.
"Mother! Mother!" he called, as he ran down into her arms. "Mother, I've
always been thinking of you, and God has taken care of me."
_THE OPEN GATE_
MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER
_Early teach your child, through play, to guard
that which is dear to him from the danger of loss_.
FROEBEL.
One bright summer afternoon, Fleet, the good old shepherd dog that
helped to take care of the farmyard, decided that he would step into the
barn to see his friend Mrs. Muffet and her two little kittens, for he
had not been able to chat with them for some time.
On his way, Fleet looked around to see that all was right. The weather
was warm and the hens were taking a dust bath under the apple tree, and
the brindle calf was asleep in the shadow of the barn. The ducks and
geese were at the pond, the horses were at work in a distant field, the
cows and sheep were in pasture, and only the brown colt kicked up his
heels in the farmyard; so Fleet barked with satisfaction, and walked
into the barn.
Inside he found Mrs. Muffet washing her face, while her two little
kittens slept in the hay; and she gave Fleet a warm welcome.
"Good evening, Mrs. Muffet," said he.
"Good evening, Friend Fleet," answered she.
"How are the children?" asked the good dog, "and do they grow?"
"Grow?" said Mrs. Muffet. "You never saw anything like them! and such
tricks as they play! Tittleback is the merrier, and will play with his
own tail when he can find nothing else; but Toddlekins can climb in a
way that is astonishing. Why, he even talks of going to the top of the
barn, and no doubt he will, some day."
"No doubt, no doubt," said Fleet. "Children are so remarkable now."
"But what is the news with you, Friend Fleet?" inquired Mrs. Muffet.
"Nothing at all," said Fleet. "The barnyard is as quiet"--but just as he
spoke there arose such a clatter outside the door that he sprang to his
feet to see what was the matter, and the two kittens waked up in alarm.
Outside, the yard was in a commotion. Everybody was talking at the same
time. The hens were cackling, the roosters crowing, the ducks quacking,
the calf crying, and the sound of flying hoofs could be heard far down
the road.
"Pray, what is the matter?" said Fleet to three geese, that were
hurrying along, with their necks stretched out.
"The gate is open, the brown colt's gone, the brindle calf's going and
we are thinking about it; quawk! quawk!" said the three geese, Mrs.
Waddle, Mrs. Gabble, and Mrs. Dabble.
"Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Muffet, putting her head out of the
barn door.
"Out into the world," said the three geese together.
"You'd better go back to your pond," barked Fleet, as he bounded off to
help the cook, who was waving her apron to keep back the brindle calf,
while the milkmaid shut the gate, and little Dick ran down the road
after the brown colt.
The brown colt kicked up his heels, and did not care how fast Dick ran.
He had all the world to roam in, and the green grass was growing
everywhere; so he tossed his head and galloped away toward the blue
hills.
After a while he looked to see whether Dick was still following him, but
nobody was in sight; so he lay down and rolled over among the daisies;
and this was such fun that he tried it again, and again, until he was
tired.
Then he nibbled the grass awhile, but soon decided to take another run;
and he raised such a dust, as he scampered along, that the birds peeped
down from the trees to see what it was, and a little rabbit that ran
across the road was so astonished that it did not take breath again till
it reached its greenwood home.
"Hurrah!" said the brown colt, not because he knew what it meant but
because he had heard Dick say it. "Hurrah! maybe I'll never go back!"
Just then there came an awful screech out of a neighboring field, and,
although it was only the whistle of a threshing machine, the brown colt
was terribly frightened, and jumped over a fence into a cotton field.
[Illustration: "The gate is open, the brown colt's gone, the brindle
calf's going, and we are thinking about it, quawk! quawk!"]
"Oh!" thought he, as he tore his glossy coat on the sharp barbs of the
wire fence and cut his feet as he leaped awkwardly over, "Oh! how I wish
I could see Dick now."
But Dick was at home. He had run after the brown colt as fast as his
feet could carry him, and had called "Whoa! Whoa!" but the brown colt
would not listen; so Dick had gone home with his head hanging down, _for
he was the very one who had forgotten to shut the farmyard gate_.
Mother was at home, and she felt very sorry when she heard about it, for
she knew how dear that colt was to her careless little boy; and when
father came in from the fields, too late to look for the runaway, he
said that big boys and little boys and everybody else must take care of
the things they wanted to keep; and Dick cried, but it did no good.
The cows came home when father did, and the brindle calf was glad that
she had not gone away from the farmyard when she saw her mother come in
from the clover lot. The chickens went to roost, and the horses were
fed; but no brown colt came in sight, although Dick and Fleet went down
the lane to look, a dozen times.
"He's sorry enough," said Friend Fleet to Mrs. Muffet, as they ate their
supper; and Mrs. Muffet told Tittleback and Toddlekins all about it,
when she went back to the barn.
Poor little Dick! and poor brown colt! They thought about each other
very often that night; and early in the morning the man who owned the
cotton field, drove the brown colt out.
"I'd like to know," said the man, as he hurried him along, "what
business you have in my cotton field!" But the brown colt hung his head,
as Dick had done, and limped away.
The long pike road stretched out, hard and white, before him, and the
birds, chattering in the bushes, seemed to say:--
"Is this the same brown colt that raised such a dust yesterday?"
Oh! how long and weary the way was, to his limping feet! But at last he
reached home, just at milking time; and when the milkmaid saw him
standing at the gate, she gave a scream that brought the household out.
Dick and the cook and Fleet tumbled over each other in their surprise,
and the barnyard was in such an excitement that one hen lost her
chickens and did not find them all for fifteen minutes.
"What did you see?" cried the brindle calf.
"What made you come back?" asked the geese; but Dick and Friend Fleet
asked no questions, because they understood.
That was a long time ago, and the brown colt is a strong horse now, and
Dick a tall boy; but neither of them will ever forget the day when Dick
was careless and did not shut the farmyard gate.
_INSIDE THE GARDEN GATE_
MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER
_Wisdom comes with all we see,
God writes His lessons in each flower,
And ev'ry singing bird or bee
Can teach us something of His power_.
PART I.
Grandmother's garden was a beautiful place,--more beautiful than all the
shop windows in the city; for there was a flower or grass for every
color in the rainbow, with great white lilies, standing up so straight
and tall, to remind you that a whole rainbow of light was needed to make
them so pure and white.
There were pinks and marigolds and princes' feathers, with bachelor's
buttons and Johnny-jump-ups to keep them company. There were gay poppies
and gaudy tulips, and large important peonies and fine Duchess roses in
pink satin dresses.
There were soft velvet pansies and tall blue flags, and broad
ribbon-grasses that the fairies might have used for sashes; and mint and
thyme and balm and rosemary everywhere, to make the garden sweet; so it
was no wonder that every year, the garden was full of visitors.
Nobody noticed these visitors but Grandmother and Lindsay.
Lindsay was a very small boy, and Grandmother was a very old lady; but
they loved the same things, and always watched for these little
visitors, who came in the early spring-time and stayed all summer with
Grandmother.
Early, early in the spring, when the garden was bursting into bloom in
the warm southern sunshine, Grandmother and Lindsay would sit in the
arbor, where the vines crept over and over in a tangle of bloom, and
listen to a serenade. Music, music everywhere! Over their heads, behind
their backs, the little brown bees would fly, singing their song:--
"_Hum, hum, hum!
Off and away!
To get some
Sweet honey to-day!"_
while they found the golden honey cups, and filled their pockets with
honey to store away in their waxen boxes at home.
One day, while Grandmother and Lindsay were watching, a little brown bee
flew away with his treasure, and lighting on a rose, met with a cousin,
a lovely yellow butterfly.
"I think they must be talking to each other," said Grandmother, softly.
"They are cousins, because they belong to the great insect family, just
as your papa and Uncle Bob and Aunt Emma and Cousin Rachel all belong to
one family,--the Greys; and I think they must be talking about the honey
that they both love so well."
"I wish I could talk to a butterfly," said Lindsay, longingly; and
Grandmother laughed.
"Play that I am a butterfly," she proposed. "What color shall I be?--a
great yellow butterfly, with brown spots on my wings?"
So Grandmother played that she was a great yellow butterfly with brown
spots on its wings, and she said to Lindsay:--
"Never in the world can you tell, little boy, what I used to be?"
"A baby butterfly," guessed Lindsay.
"Guess again," said the butterfly.
"A flower, perhaps; for you are so lovely," declared Lindsay, gallantly.
"No, indeed!" answered the butterfly; "I was a creeping, crawling
caterpillar."
"Now, Grandmother, you're joking!" cried Lindsay, forgetting that
Grandmother was a butterfly.
"Not I," said the butterfly. "I was a crawling, creeping caterpillar,
and I fed on leaves in your Grandmother's garden until I got ready to
spin my nest; and then I wrapped myself up so well that you would never
have known me for a caterpillar; and when I came out in the Spring I was
a lovely butterfly."
"How beautiful!" said Lindsay. "Grandmother, let us count the
butterflies in your garden." But they never could do that, though they
saw brown and blue and red and white and yellow ones, and followed them
everywhere.
[Illustration: So the Grandmother played that she was a great yellow
butterfly.]