might not be lonesome on the way. He did not know this, however, for
they all had been changed into fine mist or vapor. Do you know what
vapor is? If you breathe into the air, when it is cold enough, you will
see it coming out of your mouth like steam, and you may also see very
hot steam coming from the nose of a kettle of boiling water. When it
is quite near to the earth, where we can see it, we call it “fog.” The
water-drops had been changed into vapor because in their own shape they
were too heavy for sunbeams to carry.
Higher and higher they sailed, so fast that they grew quite dizzy; why,
in an hour they had gone over a hundred miles! and how grand it was,
to be looking down on the world below, and sailing faster than fish can
swim or birds can fly!
But after a while it grew nearly time for the Sun to go to bed; he
became very red in the face, and began to sink lower and lower, until
suddenly he went clear out of sight!
Poor little Aqua could not help being frightened, for every minute it
grew darker and colder. At last he thought he would try to get back to
the earth again, so he slipped away, and as he fell lower and lower
he grew heavier, until he was a little round, bright drop again, and
alighted on a rosebush. A lovely velvet bud opened its leaves, and in
he slipped among the crimson cushions, to sleep until morning. Then the
leaves opened, and rolling over in his bed he called out, “Please, dear
Sun, take me with you again.” So the sunbeams caught him up a second
time, and they flew through the air till the noon-time, when it grew
warmer and warmer, and there was no red rose to hide him, not even a
blade of grass to shade his tired head; but just as he was crying out,
“Please, King Sun, let me go back to the dear mother Ocean,” the wind
took pity on him, and came with its cool breath and fanned him, with all
his brothers, into a heavy gray cloud, after which he blew them apart
and told them to join hands and hurry away to the earth. Helter-skelter
down they went, rolling over each other pell-mell, till with a patter
and clatter and spatter they touched the ground, and all the people
cried, “It rains.”
Some of the drops fell on a mountain side, Aqua among them, and down
the rocky cliff he ran, leading the way for his brothers. Soon, together
they plunged into a mountain brook, which came foaming and dashing
along, leaping over rocks and rushing down the hillside, till in the
valley below they heard the strangest clattering noise.
On the bank stood a flour-mill, and at the door a man whose hat and
clothes were gray with dust.
Inside the mill were two great stones, which kept whizzing round and
round, faster than a boy's top could spin, worked by the big wheel
outside; and these stones ground the wheat into flour and the corn into
golden meal.
But what giant do you suppose it was who could turn and swing that
tremendous wheel, together with those heavy stones? No giant at all.
No one but our tiny little water-drops themselves, who sprang on it by
hundreds and thousands, and whirled it over and over.
The brook emptied into a quiet pond where ducks and geese were swimming.
Such a still, beautiful place it was, with the fuzzy, brown cat-tails
lifting their heads above the water, and the yellow cow lilies, with
their leaves like green platters, floating on the top. On the edge lived
the fat green bullfrogs, and in the water were spotted trout, silver
shiners, cunning minnows, and other fish.
Aqua liked this place so much that he stayed a good while, sailing up
and down, taking the ducks' backs for ships and the frogs for horses;
but after a time he tired of the dull life, and he and his brothers
floated out over a waterfall and under a bridge for a long, long
distance, until they saw another brook tumbling down a hillside.
“Come, let's join hands!” cried Aqua; and so they all dashed on together
till they came to a broad river which opened its arms to them.
By the help of Aqua and his brothers the beautiful river was able to
float heavy ships, though not so long ago it was only a little rill,
through which a child could wade or over which he could step. Here a
vessel loaded with lumber was carried just as easily as if it had been
a paper boat; there a steamer, piled with boxes and barrels, and crowded
with people, passed by, its great wheel crashing through the water and
leaving a long trail, as of foamy soapsuds, behind it. On and ever on
the river went, seeking the ocean, and whether it hurried round a corner
or glided smoothly on its way to the sea, there was always something
new and strange to be seen--busy cities, quiet little towns, buzzing
sawmills, stone bridges, and harbors full of all sorts of vessels, large
and small, with flags of all colors floating from the masts and sailors
of all countries working on the decks. But Aqua did not stay long in any
place, for as the river grew wider and wider, and nearer and nearer
its end, he could almost see the mother Ocean into whose arms he was
joyfully running. She reached out to gather all her children, the
water-drops, into her heart, and closer than all the others nestled our
little Aqua.
His travels were over, his pleasures and dangers past; and he was folded
again to the dear mother heart, the safest, sweetest place in all the
whole wide world. In warm, still summer evenings, if you will take a
walk on the sea-beach, you will hear the gentle rippling swash of the
waves; and some very wise people think it must be the gurgling voices
of Aqua and his brother water-drops telling each other about their
wonderful journey round the world.
MOUFFLOU.
Adapted from Ouida.
“We tell too few stories to children, and those we tell are stories
whose heroes are automata and stuffed dolls,”--Froebel.
Lolo and Moufflou lived far away from here, in a sunny country called
Italy.
Lolo was not as strong as you are, and could never run about and play,
for he was lame, poor fellow, and always had to hop along on a little
crutch. He was never well enough to go to school, but as his fingers
were active and quick he could plait straw matting and make baskets at
home. He had four or five rosy, bright little brothers and sisters, but
they were all so strong and could play all day so easily that Lolo was
not with them much; so Moufflou was his very best friend, and they were
together all day long.
Moufflou was a snow-white poodle, with such soft, curly wool that he
looked just like a lamb; and the man who gave him to the children, when
he was a little puppy, had called him “Moufflon,” which meant sheep in
his country.
Lolo's father had died four years before; but he had a mother, who had
to work very hard to keep the children clean and get them enough to eat.
He had, too, a big brother Tasso, who worked for a gardener, and every
Saturday night brought his wages home to help feed and clothe the little
children. Tasso was almost a man now, and in that country as soon as you
grow to be a man you have to go away and be a soldier; so Lolo's mother
was troubled all the time for fear that her Tasso would be taken away.
If you have money enough, you can always pay some one to go in your
place; but Tasso had no money, and neither had the poor mother, so every
day she was anxious lest her boy might have to go to the wars.
But Lolo and Moufflon knew nothing of all this, and every day, when
Lolo was well enough, they were happy together. They would walk up the
streets, or sit on the church, steps, or, if the day was fair, would
perhaps go into the country and bring home great bundles of yellow and
blue and crimson flowers.
The tumble-down old house in which the family lived was near a tall,
gray church. It was a beautiful old church, and all the children loved
it, but Lolo most of all. He loved it in the morning, when the people
brought in great bunches of white lilies to trim it; and at noon, when
it was cool and shady; and at sunset, when the long rays shone through
the painted windows and made blue and golden and violet lights on the
floor.
One morning Lolo and Moufflou were sitting on the church steps and
watching the people, when a gentleman who was passing by stopped to look
at the dog.
“That's a very fine poodle,” he said.
“Indeed he is,” cried Lolo. “But you should see him on Sundays when he
is just washed; then he is as white as snow.”
“Can he do any tricks?” asked the gentleman.
“I should say so,” said Lolo, for he had taught the dog all he knew. “He
can stand on his hind legs, he can dance, he can speak, he can make a
wheelbarrow of himself, and when I put a biscuit on his nose and count
one, two, three, he will snap and catch the biscuit.”
The gentleman said he should like to see some of the tricks, and
Moufflou was very glad to do them, for no one had ever whipped him or
hurt him, and he loved to do what his little master wished. Then the
gentleman told Lolo that he had a little boy at home, so weak and so
sick that he could not get up from the sofa, and that he would like to
have Lolo bring the poodle to show him the next day, so he gave Lolo
some money, and told him the name of the hotel where he was staying.
Lolo went hopping home as fast as his little crutch could carry him, and
went quickly upstairs to his mother.
“Oh, mamma!” he said. “See the money a gentleman gave me, and all
because dear Moufflou did his pretty tricks so nicely. Now you can have
your coffee every morning, and Tasso can have his new suit for Sunday.”
Then he told his mother about the gentleman, and that he had promised to
take Moufflou to see him the next day.
{Illustration: He will snap and catch the biscuit}
So when the morning came, Moufflou was washed as white as snow, and his
pretty curls were tied up with blue ribbon, and they both trotted off.
Moufflou was so proud of his curls and his ribbon that he hardly liked
to put his feet on the ground at all. They were shown to the little
boy's room, where he lay on the sofa very pale and unhappy. A bright
little look came into his eyes when he saw the dog, and he laughed when
Moufflou did his tricks. How he clapped his hands when he saw him make
a wheelbarrow, and he tossed them both handfuls of cakes and candies!
Neither the boy nor the dog ever had quite enough to eat, so they
nibbled the little cakes with their sharp, white teeth, and were very
glad.
When Lolo got up to go, the little boy began to cry, and said, “Oh, I
want the dog. Let me have the dog!”
“Oh, indeed I can't,” said Lolo, “he is my own Moufflou, and I cannot
let you have him.”
The little boy was so unhappy and cried so bitterly that Lolo was very
sorry to see him, and he went quickly down the stairs with Moufflou. The
gentleman gave him more money this time, and he was so excited and so
glad that he went very fast all the way home, swinging himself over the
stones on his little crutch. But when he opened the door, there was his
mother crying as if her heart would break, and all the children were
crying in a corner, and even Tasso was home from his work, looking very
unhappy.
“Oh! what is the matter?” cried Lolo. But no one answered him, and
Moufflon, seeing them all so sad, sat down and threw up his nose in the
air and howled a long, sad howl. By and by one of the children told Lolo
that at last Tasso had been chosen to be a soldier, and that he must
soon go away to the war. The poor mother said, crying, that she did not
know what would become of her little children through the long, cold
winter.
Lolo showed her his money, but she was too unhappy even to care for
that, and so by and by he went to his bed with Moufflou. The dog had
always slept at Lolo's feet, but this night he crept close up by the
side of his little master, and licked his hand now and then to show that
he was sorry.
The next morning Lolo and Moufflon went with Tasso to the gardens where
he worked, and all the way along the bright river and among the green
trees they talked together of what they should do when Tasso had gone.
Tasso said that if they could only get some money he would not have to
go away to the wars, but he shook his head sadly and knew that no one
would lend it to them. At noon Lolo went home with Moufflon to his
dinner. When they had finished (it was only bean soup and soon eaten),
the mother told Lolo that his aunt wanted him to go and see her that
afternoon, and take care of the children while she went out. So Lolo put
on his hat, called Moufflou, and was limping toward the door, when his
mother said:&&
“No, don't take the dog to-day, your aunt doesn't like him; leave him
here with me.”
“Leave Moufflou?” said Lolo, “why, I never leave him; he wouldn't know
what to do without me all the afternoon.”
“Yes, leave him,” said his mother. “I don't want you to take him with
you. Don't let me tell you again.” So Lolo turned around and went down
the stairs, feeling very sad at leaving his dear Moufflou even for a
short time. But the hours went by, and when night-time came he hurried
back to the little old home. He stood at the bottom of the long, dark
stairway and called “Moufflou! Moufflou!” but no doggie came; then he
climbed half-way up to the landing and called again, “Moufflou!” but no
little white feet came pattering down. Up to the top of the stairs went
poor tired Lolo and opened the door.
“Why, where is my Moufflou?” he said.
The mother had been crying, and she looked very sad and did not answer
him for a moment.
“Where is my Moufflou?” asked Lolo again, “what have you done with my
dear Moufflou?”
“He is sold,” the mother said at last, “sold to the gentleman who has
the little lame boy. He came here to-day, and he likes the dog so much
and his little boy was so pleased at the pretty tricks he does, that he
told me he would give a great deal of money if I would sell him the dog.
Just think, Lolo, he gave me so much money that we can pay somebody now
to go to the war for Tasso.”
But before she had finished talking, Lolo began to grow white and cold
and to waver to and fro, so that his little crutch could hardly support
him. When she had done he called out, “My Moufflou--my Moufflou sold!”
and he threw his hands up over his head and fell all in a heap on the
floor, his poor little crutch clattering down beside him. His mother
took him up and laid him on his bed, but all night long he tossed to and
fro, calling for his dog. When the morning came, his little hands and
his head were very, very hot, and by and by the doctor came and said he
had a fever. He asked the mother what it was the little boy was calling
for, and she told him that it was his dog, and that he had been sold.
The doctor shook his head, and then went away.
Day after day poor Lolo lay on his bed. His hair had been cut short, he
did not know his brothers and sisters, nor his mother, and his little
aching head went to and fro, to and fro, on the pillow from morning till
night. Once Tasso went to the hotel to find the gentleman. He was
going to tell him to take the money and give him back the dog; but the
gentleman had gone many miles away on the cars and taken Moufflou with
him. So every day Lolo grew weaker, until the doctor said that he must
die very soon.
One afternoon they were all in the room with him. The windows were wide
open. His mother sat by his bed and the children on the floor beside
her; even Tasso was at home helping to take care of his little
brother. All was so still that you could hear poor Lolo's faint breath,
when--suddenly--there was a scampering and a pattering of little feet
on the stairs, and a white poodle dashed into the room and jumped on the
bed. It was Moufflou! but you would never have known him, for he was
so thin that you could count all his bones. His curls were dirty and
matted, and full of sticks and straws and burrs; his feet were dusty and
bleeding, and you could tell in a moment that he had traveled a great
many miles. When he jumped on the bed, Lolo opened his eyes a little.
He saw it was Moufflou, and laid one little thin hand on the dog's
head; then he turned on his pillow, closed his eyes, and went quietly to
sleep. Moufflou would not get off the bed, and would eat nothing unless
they brought it to him there. He only lay close by his little master,
with his brown eyes wide open, looking straight into his face. By and by
the doctor came, and said that Lolo was really a little better, and
that perhaps he might get well now. The mother and Tasso were very glad
indeed, but they knew that the gentleman would come back for his dog,
and they scarcely knew what to do, nor what to say to him. Lolo grew a
little stronger every day, and at the end of a week a man came upstairs
asking if Moufflou was there. They had taken him a long way off, but
he had run away from them one day, and they had never been able to find
him. Tasso asked the messenger to let Moufflou stay until he had seen
the gentleman, and he took the money and put on his hat and went with
him to the hotel. The sick boy was in the room with his father, and
Tasso went straight to them and told them all about it: that Lolo nearly
died without his dear Moufflon, that day after day he lay in his bed
calling for the dog, and that at last one afternoon Moufflon came back
to them, thin and hungry and dirty, but so glad to see his little master
again. Nobody knew, said Tasso, how he could have found his way so many
miles alone, but there he was, and now he begged the gentleman to be
so kind as to take back the money. He would go and be a soldier, if he
must; but Lolo and his dog must never be parted again.
The gentleman told Tasso that he seemed to be a kind brother, and that
he might keep the money and the dog too, if only he would find them
another poodle and teach him to be as wise and faithful as Moufflou was.
Tasso was so glad that he thanked them again and again, and hurried home
to tell Lolo and his mother the good news. He soon found a poodle almost
as pretty as Moufflou, and every day Lolo, who has grown strong now,
helps Tasso to teach him all of Moufflon's tricks.
Sometimes Lolo turns and puts his arms around Moufflon's neck and
says,&&
“Tell me, my Moufflou, how you ever came back to me, over all the
rivers, and all the bridges, and all the miles of road?”
Moufflou can never answer him, but I think he must have found his way
home because he loved his master so much; and the grown people always
say, “Love will find out the way.”
BENJY IN BEASTLAND.
ADAPTED FROM MRS. EWING.
“With the genuine story-teller the inner life of the genuine listener
is roused; he is carried out of himself, and he thereby measures
himself.”--FROEBEL.
Benjy was a very naughty, disagreeable boy! It is sad to say it, but it
is truth. He always had a cloudy, smudgy, slovenly look, like a slate
half-washed, that made one feel how nice it would be if he could be
scrubbed inside and out with hot water and soap.
Benjy was the only boy in the family, but he had two little sisters who
were younger than he. They were dear, merry little things, and many boys
would have found them pleasant little playmates; but Benjy had shown how
much he disliked to play with them, and it made them feel very badly.
One of them said one day, “Benjy does not care for us because we are
only girls, so we have taken Nox for our brother.” Nox was a big curly
dog, something like a Newfoundland.
Now Benjy was not at all handsome, and he hated tubs and brushes and
soap and water. He liked to lie abed late in the mornings, and when he
got up he had only time enough to half wash himself. But Nox rose early,
liked cold water, had snow-white teeth and glossy hair, and when you
spoke to him he looked straight up at you with his clear honest brown
eyes. Benjy's jacket and shirt-front were always spotted with dirt,
while the covering of Nox's chest was glossy and well kept. Benjy came
into the parlor with muddy boots and dirty hands; but Nox, if he had
been out in the mud, would lie down when he came home, and lick his
brown paws till they were quite clean. Benjy liked to kill all kinds of
animals, but Nox saved lives, though he often came near losing his own.
Near their home was a deep river, where many a dog and cat was drowned.
There was one place on the bank of this river where there was an old
willow-tree, which spread its branches wide and stretched its long arms
till they touched the water. Here Nox used to bring everything that he
found in the river.
I must tell you that Benjy did not like Nox, and with very good
reason. Benjy had had something to do with the death of several animals
belonging to the people in the neighborhood, and he had tied stones or
tin cans around their necks and dropped them into the river. But Nox
used to wander round quite early in the morning, and very often found in
the river and brought out what Benjy had thrown in, and this is why he
did not like the brave dog.
There was another dog in the family, named Mr. Rough. His eyes had
been almost scratched out by cats, his little body bore marks of many
beatings, and he had a hoarse bark which sounded as if he had a bad
cold.
If Benjy cared for any animal, it was for Mr. Rough, although he treated
him worse than he did Nox, because he was small.
One day Benjy felt very mischievous; he even played a cruel trick on Nox
while he was asleep. As he sat near to him he kept lightly pricking the
dog's lips with a fine needle. The dog would half wake up, shake his
head, rub his lips with his paws, and then drop off to sleep again.
At last this cruel boy stuck the needle in too far and hurt poor Nox,
who jumped up with a start, and as he did so the needle broke off, part
of it staying in the flesh, where, after a great deal of work which hurt
the poor dog dreadfully, the little sisters found it. How they cried
for their pet! The braver one held Nox's lips and pulled out the needle,
while the other wiped the tears from her sister's eyes, that she might
see what she was doing. Nox sat still and moaned and wagged his tail
very feebly, but when it was over he fairly knocked the little sisters
down in his eagerness to show his gratitude. But Benjy went out and
found Mr. Rough, and as he did not feel like being kind to any one, he
kicked him, and Mr. Rough for the first time ran away. Benjy could not
find him, but he found a boy as naughty as himself, who was chasing
another little dog and pelting it with stones. This would have been very
good fun, but one of the stones struck the dog and killed him. So the
boys tied something around his neck and threw him into the river.
Benjy went to bed early that night, but he could not sleep, because he
was thinking of that little white dog, and wishing he had not thrown
him into the river; so at last he got up and went to the willow-tree. He
looked up through the branches and saw the moon shining down at him, and
it seemed so large and so close that he thought if he were only on the
highest part of the tree he could touch it with his hand. While he was
looking he thought of a book his mother had, which told him that all
animals went up into the moon after they left the earth.
“I wonder,” said Benjy, “if that dog we killed last night is really up
there.”
The Man in the Moon looked down on him just then, and, to his surprise,
said:&&
“This is Beastland. Won't you come up and see if the dog is here? Can
you climb?”
“I guess I can,” said Benjy, and he climbed up first on one branch, then
up higher on to another, till he stood on the very top, and all he could
see about him was a shining white light.
“Walk right in,” said the Man in the Moon. “Put out your feet,--don't be
afraid!” So Benjy stepped into the moon and found himself in Beastland.
Oh! it was such a funny place, and yet it was very beautiful. There were
many more beasts there than in a menagerie, and they were so polite to
each other, too, and so merry and kind to Benjy, that it made him feel
quite at home.
A nice old spider was anxious to teach him how to make a web. So he said
to Benjy:&&
“When you are ready, look around and find a spot where you can tie your
first line; then you have a ball of thread inside of you, of course.”
“I can't say that I have,” said Benjy, “but I have a good deal of string
in my pocket.”
“Oh, well!” said the spider, “that is all right; whether it's in your
pocket or your stomach it is all the same.”
Just as the spider was giving Benjy his lesson, one animal whispered to
another, and that one to another, who and what Benjy was. Dear me! in a
minute the beasts all changed their way of treating him. They called him
BOY! and up there that meant something not at all nice. Then they took
him to the Lion, the king of all the beasts, and asked him what should
be done with the Boy.
The Lion said: “If you want me to have anything to do with this trouble,
you must mind me. First, however, we will hear what Benjy has to say for
himself.”