many years ago, so we know that Mary must have worn a long, thick dress,
falling all about her in heavy folds, and that she had a soft white veil
over her head and neck, and across her face. Mary lived in Nazareth, and
the journey they were making was to Bethlehem, many miles away.
They were a long time traveling, I am sure; for donkeys are slow, though
they are so careful, and Mary must have been very tired before they came
to the end of their journey.
They had traveled all day, and it was almost dark when they came near to
Bethlehem, to the town where the baby Christ was to be born. There was
the place they were to stay,--a kind of inn, or lodging-house, but not
at all like those you know about.
They have them to-day in that far-off country, just as they built them
so many years ago.
It was a low, flat-roofed, stone building, with no window and only one
large door. There were no nicely furnished bedrooms inside, and no soft
white beds for the tired travelers; there were only little places built
into the stones of the wall, something like the berths on steamboats
nowadays, and each traveler brought his own bedding. No pretty garden
was in front of the inn, for the road ran close to the very door, so
that its dust lay upon the doorsill. All around the house, to a high,
rocky hill at the back, a heavy stone fence was built, so that the
people and the animals inside might be kept safe.
Mary and Joseph could not get very near the inn; for the whole road in
front was filled with camels and donkeys and sheep and cows, while a
great many men were going to and fro, taking care of the animals. Some
of these people had come to Bethlehem to pay their taxes, as Mary and
Joseph had done, and others were staying for the night, on their way to
Jerusalem, a large city a little further on.
The yard was filled, too, with camels and sheep; and men were lying on
the ground beside them, resting, and watching, and keeping them safe.
The inn was so full and the yard was so full of people, that there was
no room for anybody else, and the keeper had to take Joseph and Mary
through the house and back to the high hill, where they found another
place that was used for a stable. This had only a door and a front, and
deep caves were behind, stretching far into the rocks.
This was the spot where Christ was born. Think how poor a place!--but
Mary was glad to be there, after all; and when the Christ-child came,
he was like other babies, and had so lately come from heaven that he was
happy everywhere.
There were mangers all around the cave, where the cattle and sheep were
fed, and great heaps of hay and straw were lying on the floor. Then,
I think, there were brown-eyed cows and oxen there, and quiet, woolly
sheep, and perhaps even some dogs that had come in to take care of the
sheep.
And there in the cave, by and by, the wonderful baby came, and they
wrapped him up and laid him in a manger.
All the stars in the sky shone brightly that night, for they knew the
Christ-child was born, and the angels in heaven sang together for joy.
The angels knew about the lovely child, and were glad that he had come
to help the people on earth to be good.
There lay the beautiful baby, with a manger for his bed, and oxen and
sheep all sleeping quietly round him. His mother watched him and loved
him, and by and by many people came to see him, for they had heard that
a wonderful child was to be born in Bethlehem. All the people in the inn
visited him, and even the shepherds left their flocks in the fields and
sought the child and his mother.
But the baby was very tiny, and could not talk any more than any other
tiny child, so he lay in his mother's lap, or in the manger, and only
looked at the people. So after they had seen him and loved him, they
went away again.
After a time, when the baby had grown larger, Mary took him back to
Nazareth, and there he lived and grew up.
And he grew to be such a sweet, wise, loving boy, such a tender, helpful
man, and he said so many good and beautiful things, that every one loved
him who knew him. Many of the things he said are in the Bible, you know,
and a great many beautiful stories of the things he used to do while he
was on earth.
He loved little children like you very much, and often used to take them
up in his arms and talk to them.
And this is the reason we love Christmas Day so much, and try to make
everybody happy when it comes around each year. This is the reason:
because Christ, who was born on Christmas Day, has helped us all to be
good so many, many times, and because he was the best Christmas present
the great world ever had!
THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY.
“The story brings forward other people, other relations, other times and
places, other and even quite different forms; notwithstanding this fact,
the auditor seeks his image there.”--FROEBEL.
Nearly three hundred years ago, a great many of the people in England
were very unhappy because their king would not let them pray to God as
they liked. The king said they must use the same prayers that he did;
and if they would not do this, they were often thrown into prison, or
perhaps driven away from home.
“Let us go away from this country,” said the unhappy Englishmen to
each other; and so they left their homes, and went far off to a
country called Holland. It was about this time that they began to call
themselves “Pilgrims.” Pilgrims, you know, are people who are always
traveling to find something they love, or to find a land where they can
be happier; and these English men and women were journeying, they said,
“from place to place, toward heaven, their dearest country.”
In Holland, the Pilgrims were quiet and happy for a while, but they were
very poor; and when the children began to grow up, they were not like
English children, but talked Dutch, like the little ones of Holland, and
some grew naughty and did not want to go to church any more.
“This will never do,” said the Pilgrim fathers and mothers; so after
much talking and thinking and writing they made up their minds to come
here to America. They hired two vessels, called the Mayflower and the
Speedwell, to take them across the sea; but the Speedwell was not a
strong ship, and the captain had to take her home again before she had
gone very far.
The Mayflower went back, too. Part of the Speedwell's passengers were
given to her, and then she started alone across the great ocean.
There were one hundred people on board,--mothers and fathers, brothers
and sisters and little children. They were very crowded; it was cold and
uncomfortable; the sea was rough, and pitched the Mayflower about, and
they were two months sailing over the water.
The children cried many times on the journey, and wished they had never
come on the tiresome ship that rocked them so hard, and would not let
them keep still a minute.
But they had one pretty plaything to amuse them, for in the middle of
the great ocean a Pilgrim baby was born, and they called him “Oceanus,”
for his birthplace. When the children grew so tired that they were cross
and fretful, Oceanus' mother let them come and play with him, and that
always brought smiles and happy faces back again.
At last the Mayflower came in sight of land; but if the children had
been thinking of grass and flowers and birds, they must have been
very much disappointed, for the month was cold November, and there was
nothing to be seen but rocks and sand and hard bare ground.
Some of the Pilgrim fathers, with brave Captain Myles Standish at
their head, went on shore to see if they could find any houses or white
people. But they only saw some wild Indians, who ran away from them, and
found some Indian huts and some corn buried in holes in the ground. They
went to and fro from the ship three times, till by and by they found
a pretty place to live, where there were “fields and little running
brooks.”
Then at last all the tired Pilgrims landed from the ship on a spot now
called Plymouth Rock, and the first house was begun on Christmas Day.
But when I tell you how sick they were and how much they suffered that
first winter, you will be very sad and sorry for them. The weather was
cold, the snow fell fast and thick, the wind was icy, and the Pilgrim
fathers had no one to help them cut down the trees and build their
church and their houses.
The Pilgrim mothers helped all they could; but they were tired with the
long journey, and cold, and hungry too, for no one had the right kind of
food to eat, nor even enough of it.
So first one was taken sick, and then another, till half of them were in
bed at the same time, Brave Myles Standish and the other soldiers nursed
them as well as they knew how; but before spring came half of the people
died and had gone at last to “heaven, their dearest country.”
But by and by the sun shone more brightly, the snow melted, the leaves
began to grow, and sweet spring had come again.
Some friendly Indians had visited the Pilgrims during the winter, and
Captain Myles Standish, with several of his men, had returned the visit.
One of the kind Indians was called Squanto, and he came to stay with the
Pilgrims, and showed them how to plant their corn, and their pease and
wheat and barley.
When the summer came and the days were long and bright, the Pilgrim
children were very happy, and they thought Plymouth a lovely place
indeed. All kinds of beautiful wild flowers grew at their doors, there
were hundreds of birds and butterflies, and the great pine woods were
always cool and shady when the sun was too bright.
When it was autumn the fathers gathered the barley and wheat and corn
that they had planted, and found that it had grown so well that they
would have quite enough for the long winter that was coming.
“Let us thank God for it all,” they said. “It is He who has made the sun
shine and the rain fall and the corn grow.” So they thanked God in their
homes and in their little church; the fathers and the mothers and the
children thanked Him.
“Then,” said the Pilgrim mothers, “let us have a great Thanksgiving
party, and invite the friendly Indians, and all rejoice together.”
So they had the first Thanksgiving party, and a grand one it was! Four
men went out shooting one whole day, and brought back so many wild ducks
and geese and great wild turkeys that there was enough for almost a
week. There was deer meat also, of course, for there were plenty of fine
deer in the forest. Then the Pilgrim mothers made the corn and wheat
into bread and cakes, and they had fish and clams from the sea besides.
The friendly Indians all came with their chief Massasoit. Every one came
that was invited, and more, I dare say, for there were ninety of them
altogether.
They brought five deer with them, that they gave to the Pilgrims; and
they must have liked the party very much, for they stayed three days.
Kind as the Indians were, you would have been very much frightened if
you had seen them; and the baby Oceanus, who was a year old then, began
to cry at first whenever they came near him.
They were dressed in deerskins, and some of them had the furry coat of
a wild cat hanging on their arms. Their long black hair fell loose on
their shoulders, and was trimmed with feathers or fox-tails. They
had their faces painted in all kinds of strange ways, some with black
stripes as broad as your finger all up and down them. But whatever
they wore, it was their very best, and they had put it on for the
Thanksgiving party.
Each meal, before they ate anything, the Pilgrims and the Indians
thanked God together for all his goodness. The Indians sang and danced
in the evenings, and every day they ran races and played all kinds of
games with the children.
Then sometimes the Pilgrims with their guns, and the Indians with their
bows and arrows, would see who could shoot farthest and best. So they
were glad and merry and thankful for three whole days.
The Pilgrim mothers and fathers had been sick and sad many times since
they landed from the Mayflower; they had worked very hard, often had not
had enough to eat, and were mournful indeed when their friends died and
left them. But now they tried to forget all this, and think only of how
good God had been to them; and so they all were happy together at the
first Thanksgiving party.
All this happened nearly three hundred years ago, and ever since that
time Thanksgiving has been kept in our country.
Every year our fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers have
“rejoiced together” like the Pilgrims, and have had something to be
thankful for each time.
Every year some father has told the story of the brave Pilgrims to his
little sons and daughters, and has taught them to be very glad and proud
that the Mayflower came sailing to our country so many years ago.
LITTLE GEORGE WASHINGTON, PART I.
“The child takes each story as a conquest, grasps each as a treasure,
and inserts into his own life, for his own advancement and instruction,
what each story teaches and shows.”--Froebel.
Every one of my little children has seen a picture of George Washington,
I am sure.
Perhaps you may remember his likeness on a prancing white horse, holding
his cocked hat in his hand, and bowing low to the people, or his picture
as a general at the head of his armies, with a sword by his side and
high boots reaching to the knee; sometimes you have seen him in a boat
crossing the Delaware River, wrapped in his heavy soldier's cloak; and
again as a President, with powdered hair, lace ruffles, and velvet coat.
Of course all these are pictures of a strong, handsome, grown-up man,
and I suppose you never happened to think that George Washington was
once a little boy.
But ever so long ago he was as small as you are now, and I am going to
tell you about his father and mother, his home and his little-boy days.
He was born one hundred and sixty years ago in Virginia, near a great
river called the Potomac. His father's name was Augustine, his mother's
Mary, and he had several brothers and a little sister.
They all lived in the country on a farm, or a plantation, as they
call it in Virginia. The Washington house stood in the middle of green
tobacco fields and flowery meadows, and there were so many barns and
storehouses and sheds round about it that they made quite a village
of themselves. The nearest neighbors lived miles away; there were no
railroads nor stages, and if you wanted to travel, you must ride on
horseback through the thick woods, or you might sail in little boats up
and down the rivers.
City boys and girls might think, perhaps, that little George Washington
was very lonely on the great plantation, with no neighbor-boys to play
with; but you must remember that the horses and cattle and sheep and
dogs on a farm make the dearest of playmates, and that there are all
kinds of pleasant things to do in the country that city boys know
nothing about.
Little George played out of doors all the time and grew very strong. He
went fishing and swimming in the great river, he ran races and jumped
fences with his brothers and the dogs, he threw stones across the
brooks, and when he grew a larger boy he even learned to shoot.
He had a pretty pony, too, named “Hero,” that he loved very much, and
that he used to ride all about the plantation.
Some of the letters have been kept that he wrote when he was a little
boy, and he talks in them about his pony, and his books with pictures of
elephants, and the new top he is going to have soon.
Think of that great General Washington on a white horse once playing
with a little humming top like yours!
Many things are told about Washington when he was little; but he lived
so long ago that we cannot tell very well whether they ever happened
or not. One story is that his father took him out into the garden on a
spring morning, and drew the letters of his name with a cane in the soft
earth. Then he filled the letters with seed, and told little George to
wait a week or two and see what would happen. You can all guess what did
happen, and can think how pleased the little boy was when he found his
name all growing in fresh green leaves.
Then another story, I'm sure you've all heard, is about the cherry-tree
and the hatchet.
Little George's father gave him one day, so they say, a nice, bright,
sharp little hatchet. Of course he went around the barns and the sheds,
trying everything and seeing how well he could cut, and at last he went
into the orchard. There he saw a young cherry-tree, as straight as
a soldier, with the most beautiful, smooth, shining bark, waving its
boughs in a very provoking way, as if to say, “You can't cut me down,
and you needn't try.”
Little George did try and he did cut it down, and then was very sorry,
for he found it was not so easy to set it up again.
{Illustration: The letters of his name . . . the soft earth}
His father was angry, of course, for he lived in a new country, and
three thousand miles from any place where he could get good fruit trees;
but when the little boy told the truth about it, his father said he
would rather lose a thousand cherry-trees than have his son tell a lie.
Now perhaps this never happened; but if George Washington ever did cut
down a cherry-tree, you may be sure he told the truth about it.
I think, though he grew to be such a wise, wonderful man, that he must
have been just a bright, happy boy like you, when he was little.
But everybody knows three things about him,--that he always told the
truth, that he never was afraid of anything, and that he always loved
and minded his mother.
When little George was eleven years old, his good father died, and
his poor mother was left alone to take care of her boys and her great
plantation. What a busy mother she was! She mended and sewed, she taught
some of her children, she took care of the sick people, she spun wool
and knitted stockings and gloves; but every day she found time to gather
her children around her and read good books to them, and talk to them
about being good children.
So riding his pony, and helping his mother, and learning his lessons,
George grew to be a tall boy.
When he was fourteen years old, he made up his mind that he would like
to be a sailor, and travel far away over the blue water in a great ship.
His elder brother said that he might do so. The right ship was found;
his clothes were packed and carried on board, when all at once his
mother said he must not go. She had thought about it; he was too young
to go away, and she wanted her boy to stay with her.
Of course George was greatly disappointed, but he stayed at home, and
worked and studied hard. He wanted very much to learn how to earn money
and help his mother, and so he studied to be a surveyor.
Surveyors measure the land, you know. They measure people's gardens and
house-lots and farms, and can tell just where to put the fences, and
how much land belongs to you and how much to me, so that we need never
quarrel about it.
To be a good surveyor you have to be very careful indeed, and make no
mistakes; and George Washington was careful and always tried to do his
best, so that his surveys were the finest that could be made.
When he was only sixteen, he went off into the great forest, where no
one lived but the Indians, to measure some land for a friend of his.
The weather was cold; he slept in a tent at night, or out of doors, on a
bearskin by the fire, and he had to work very hard. He met a great many
Indians, and learned to know their ways in fighting and how to manage
them.
Three years he worked hard at surveying, and at last he was a grown-up
man!
He was tall and splendid then, over six feet high, and as straight as
an Indian, with a rosy face and bright blue eyes. He had large hands
and fingers, and was wonderfully strong. People say that his great tent,
which it took three men to carry, Washington could lift with one hand
and throw into the wagon.
He was very brave, too, you remember. He could shoot well, and almost
never missed his aim; he was used to walking many miles when he was
surveying, and he could ride any horse he liked, no matter how wild and
fierce.
So you see, when a man is strong, when he can shoot well, and walk and
ride great distances, when he is never afraid of anything, that is just
the man for a soldier; and I will tell you soon how George Washington
came to be a great soldier.
GREAT GEORGE WASHINGTON, PART II.
“The good story-teller effects much; he has an ennobling effect upon
children,--so much the more ennobling that he does not appear to intend
it,”--FROEBEL.
All this time while George Washington had been growing up,--first a
little boy, then a larger boy, and then a young surveyor,--all this time
the French and English and Indians were unhappy and uncomfortable in the
country north of Virginia. The French wanted all the land, so did the
English, and the Indians saw that there would be no room for them,
whichever had it, so they all began to trouble each other and to quarrel
and fight.
These troubles grew so bad at last that the Virginians began to be
afraid of the French and Indians, and thought they must have some
soldiers of their own ready to fight.
George Washington was only nineteen then, but everybody knew he was wise
and brave, so they chose him to teach the soldiers near his home how to
march and to fight.
Then the king and the people of England grew very uneasy at all this
quarreling, and they sent over soldiers and cannon and powder, and
commenced to get ready to fight in earnest. Washington was made a major,
and he had to go a thousand miles, in the middle of winter, into the
Indian and French country, to see the chiefs and the soldiers, and find
out about the troubles.
When he came back again, all the people were so pleased with his courage
and with the wise way in which he had behaved, that they made him
lieutenant-colonel.
Then began a long war between the French and the English, which lasted
seven years. Washington fought through all of it, and was made a
colonel, and by and by commander of all the soldiers in Virginia. He
built forts and roads, he gained and lost battles, he fought the Indians
and the French; and by all this trouble and hard work he learned to be a
great soldier.
In many of the battles of this war, Washington and the Virginians did
not wear a uniform like the English soldiers, but a buckskin shirt and
fringed leggings like the Indians.
From beginning to end of some of the battles, Washington rode about
among the men, telling them where to go and how to fight; the bullets
were whistling around him all the time, but he said he liked the music.
By and by the war was over; the French were driven back to their own
part of the country, and Washington went home to Mt. Vernon to rest, and
took with him his wife, lovely Martha Washington, whom he had met and
married while he was fighting the French and Indians.
While he was at Mt. Vernon he saw all his horses again,--“Valiant” and
“Magnolia” and “Chinkling” and “Ajax,”--and had grand gallops over the
country.
He had some fine dogs, too, to run by his side, and help him hunt the
bushy-tailed foxes. “Vulcan” and “Bingwood” and “Music” and “Sweetlips”
were the names of some of them. You may be sure the dogs were glad when
they had their master home again.
But Washington did not have long to rest, for another war was coming,
the great war of the Revolution.
Little children cannot understand all the reasons for this war, but I
can tell you some of them.
You remember in the story of Thanksgiving I told you about the Pilgrim
fathers, who came from England to this country because their king would
not let them pray to God as they liked. That king was dead now, and
there was another in his place, a king with the name of George, like our
Washington.
Now our great-grandfathers had always loved England and Englishmen,
because many of their friends were still living there, and because it
was their old home.
The king gave them governors to help take care of their people, and
soldiers to fight for them, and they sent to England for many things to
wear and to eat.
But just before this Revolutionary War, the king and the great men who
helped him began to say that things should be done in this country
that our people did not think right at all. The king said they must
buy expensive stamps to put on all their newspapers and almanacs and
lawyer's papers, and that they must pay very high taxes on their tea and
paper and glass, and he sent soldiers to see that this was done.
This made our great-grandfathers very angry. They refused to pay the
taxes, they would not buy anything from England any more, and some men
even went on board the ships, as they came into Boston Harbor, and threw
the tea over into the water.