there he cooled it in the water, and cooled it in the water, and cooled
it in the water; then he took it in his hands and came along home. When
he got home, the puppy-dog was dead. His Mammy looked at it, and she
said,--
"Law's sake! Epaminondas, what you got there?"
"A puppy-dog, Mammy," said Epaminondas.
"A _puppy-dog_!" said his Mammy. "My gracious sakes alive, Epaminondas,
you ain't got the sense you was born with! That ain't the way to carry a
puppy-dog! The way to carry a puppy-dog is to take a long piece of
string and tie one end of it round the puppy-dog's neck and put the
puppy-dog on the ground, and take hold of the other end of the string
and come along home, like this."
"All right, Mammy," said Epaminondas.
Next day Epaminondas went to see his Auntie again, and when he came to
go home she gave him a loaf of bread to carry to his Mammy; a brown,
fresh, crusty loaf of bread.
So Epaminondas tied a string around the end of the loaf and took hold of
the end of the string and came along home, like this. (Imitate dragging
something along the ground.) When he got home his Mammy looked at the
thing on the end of the string, and she said,--
"My laws a-massy! Epaminondas, what you got on the end of that string?"
"Bread, Mammy," said Epaminondas; "Auntie gave it to me."
"Bread!!!" said his Mammy. "O Epaminondas, Epaminondas, you ain't got
the sense you was born with; you never did have the sense you was born
with; you never will have the sense you was born with! Now I ain't gwine
tell you any more ways to bring truck home. And don't you go see your
Auntie, neither. I'll go see her my own self. But I'll just tell you one
thing, Epaminondas! You see these here six mince pies I done make? You
see how I done set 'em on the doorstep to cool? Well, now, you hear me,
Epaminondas, _you be careful how you step on those pies_!"
"Yes, Mammy," said Epaminondas.
Then Epaminondas' Mammy put on her bonnet and her shawl and took a
basket in her hand and went away to see Auntie. The six mince pies sat
cooling in a row on the doorstep.
And then,--and then,--Epaminondas _was_ careful how he stepped on those
pies!
He stepped (imitate)--right--in--the--middle--of--every--one.
* * * * *
And, do you know, children, nobody knows what happened next! The person
who told me the story didn't know; nobody knows. But you can guess.
FOOTNOTES:
[19] A Negro nonsense tale from the Southern States of America.
THE BOY WHO CRIED "WOLF!"
There was once a shepherd-boy who kept his flock at a little distance
from the village. Once he thought he would play a trick on the villagers
and have some fun at their expense. So he ran toward the village crying
out, with all his might,--
"Wolf! Wolf! Come and help! The wolves are at my lambs!"
The kind villagers left their work and ran to the field to help him. But
when they got there the boy laughed at them for their pains; there was
no wolf there.
Still another day the boy tried the same trick, and the villagers came
running to help and got laughed at again.
Then one day a wolf did break into the fold and began killing the lambs.
In great fright, the boy ran for help. "Wolf! Wolf!" he screamed. "There
is a wolf in the flock! Help!"
The villagers heard him, but they thought it was another mean trick; no
one paid the least attention, or went near him. And the shepherd-boy
lost all his sheep.
That is the kind of thing that happens to people who lie: even when they
tell the truth no one believes them.
THE FROG KING
Did you ever hear the old story about the foolish Frogs? The Frogs in a
certain swamp decided that they needed a king; they had always got along
perfectly well without one, but they suddenly made up their minds that a
king they must have. They sent a messenger to Jove and begged him to
send a king to rule over them.
Jove saw how stupid they were, and sent a king who could not harm them:
he tossed a big log into the middle of the pond.
At the splash the Frogs were terribly frightened, and dived into their
holes to hide from King Log. But after a while, when they saw that the
king never moved, they got over their fright and went and sat on him.
And as soon as they found he really could not hurt them they began to
despise him; and finally they sent another messenger to Jove to ask for
a new king.
Jove sent an eel.
The Frogs were much pleased and a good deal frightened when King Eel
came wriggling and swimming among them. But as the days went on, and the
eel was perfectly harmless, they stopped being afraid; and as soon as
they stopped fearing King Eel they stopped respecting him.
Soon they sent a third messenger to Jove, and begged that they might
have a better king,--a king who was worth while.
It was too much; Jove was angry at their stupidity at last. "I will give
you a king such as you deserve!" he said; and he sent them a Stork.
As soon as the Frogs came to the surface to greet the new king, King
Stork caught them in his long bill and gobbled them up. One after
another they came bobbing up, and one after another the stork ate them.
He was indeed a king worthy of them!
THE SUN AND THE WIND
The Sun and the Wind once had a quarrel as to which was the stronger.
Each believed himself to be the more powerful. While they were arguing
they saw a traveller walking along the country highway, wearing a great
cloak.
"Here is a chance to test our strength," said the Wind; "let us see
which of us is strong enough to make that traveller take off his cloak;
the one who can do that shall be acknowledged the more powerful."
"Agreed," said the Sun.
Instantly the Wind began to blow; he puffed and tugged at the man's
cloak, and raised a storm of hail and rain, to beat at it. But the
colder it grew and the more it stormed, the tighter the traveller held
his cloak around him. The Wind could not get it off.
Now it was the Sun's turn. He shone with all his beams on the man's
shoulders. As it grew hotter and hotter, the man unfastened his cloak;
then he threw it back; at last he took it off! The Sun had won.
THE LITTLE JACKAL AND THE ALLIGATOR
The little Jackal was very fond of shell-fish. He used to go down by the
river and hunt along the edges for crabs and such things. And once, when
he was hunting for crabs, he was so hungry that he put his paw into the
water after a crab without looking first,--which you never should do!
The minute he put in his paw, _snap_!--the big Alligator who lives in
the mud down there had it in his jaws.
"Oh, dear!" thought the little Jackal; "the big Alligator has my paw in
his mouth! In another minute he will pull me down and gobble me up! What
shall I do? what shall I do?" Then he thought, suddenly, "I'll deceive
him!"
So he put on a very cheerful voice, as if nothing at all were the
matter, and he said,--
"Ho! ho! Clever Mr Alligator! Smart Mr Alligator, to take that old
bulrush root for my paw! I hope you'll find it very tender!"
The old Alligator was hidden away beneath the mud and bulrush leaves,
and he couldn't see anything. He thought, "Pshaw! I've made a mistake."
So he opened his mouth and let the little Jackal go.
The little Jackal ran away as fast as he could, and as he ran he called
out,--
"Thank you, Mr Alligator! Kind Mr Alligator! _So_ kind of you to let me
go!"
The old Alligator lashed with his tail and snapped with his jaws, but it
was too late; the little Jackal was out of reach.
After this the little Jackal kept away from the river, out of danger.
But after about a week he got such an appetite for crabs that nothing
else would do at all; he felt that he must have a crab. So he went down
by the river and looked all around, very carefully. He didn't see the
old Alligator, but he thought to himself, "I think I'll not take any
chances." So he stood still and began to talk out loud to himself. He
said,--
"When I don't see any little crabs on the land I generally see them
sticking out of the water, and then I put my paw in and catch them. I
wonder if there are any fat little crabs in the water to-day?"
The old Alligator was hidden down in the mud at the bottom of the river,
and when he heard what the little Jackal said, he thought, "Aha! I'll
pretend to be a little crab, and when he puts his paw in, I'll make my
dinner of him." So he stuck the black end of his snout above the water
and waited.
The little Jackal took one look, and then he said,--
"Thank you, Mr Alligator! Kind Mr Alligator! You are _exceedingly_ kind
to show me where you are! I will have dinner elsewhere." And he ran away
like the wind.
The old Alligator foamed at the mouth, he was so angry, but the little
Jackal was gone.
For two whole weeks the little Jackal kept away from the river. Then,
one day he got a feeling inside him that nothing but crabs could
satisfy: he felt that he must have at least one crab. Very cautiously,
he went down to the river and looked all around. He saw no sign of the
old Alligator. Still, he did not mean to take any chances. So he stood
quite still and began to talk to himself,--it was a little way he had.
He said,--
"When I don't see any little crabs on the shore, or sticking up out of
the water, I usually see them blowing bubbles from under the water; the
little bubbles go _puff, puff, puff_, and then they go _pop, pop, pop_,
and they show me where the little juicy crabs are, so I can put my paw
in and catch them. I wonder if I shall see any little bubbles to-day?"
The old Alligator, lying low in the mud and weeds, heard this, and he
thought, "Pooh! _That's_ easy enough; I'll just blow some little
crab-bubbles, and then he will put his paw in where I can get it."
So he blew, and he blew, a mighty blast, and the bubbles rose in a
perfect whirlpool, fizzing and swirling.
The little Jackal didn't have to be told who was underneath those
bubbles: he took one quick look, and off he ran. But as he went, he
sang,--
"Thank you, Mr Alligator! Kind Mr Alligator! You are the kindest
Alligator in the world, to show me where you are, so nicely! I'll
breakfast at another part of the river."
The old Alligator was so furious that he crawled up on the bank and went
after the little Jackal; but, dear, dear, he couldn't catch the little
Jackal; he ran far too fast.
After this, the little Jackal did not like to risk going near the water,
so he ate no more crabs. But he found a garden of wild figs, which were
so good that he went there every day, and ate them instead of
shell-fish.
Now the old Alligator found this out, and he made up his mind to have
the little Jackal for supper, or to die trying. So he crept, and
crawled, and dragged himself over the ground to the garden of wild figs.
There he made a huge pile of figs under the biggest of the wild fig
trees, and hid himself in the pile.
After a while the little Jackal came dancing into the garden, very happy
and free from care,--_but_ looking all around. He saw the huge pile of
figs under the big fig tree.
"H-m," he thought, "that looks singularly like my friend, the Alligator.
I'll investigate a bit."
He stood quite still and began to talk to himself,--it was a little way
he had. He said,--
"The little figs I like best are the fat, ripe, juicy ones that drop off
when the breeze blows; and then the wind blows them about on the ground,
this way and that; the great heap of figs over there is so still that I
think they must be all bad figs."
The old Alligator, underneath his fig pile, thought,--
"Bother the suspicious little Jackal! I shall have to make these figs
roll about, so that he will think the wind moves them." And straight-way
he humped himself up and moved, and sent the little figs flying,--and
his back showed through.
The little Jackal did not wait for a second look. He ran out of the
garden like the wind. But as he ran he called back,--
"Thank you, again, Mr Alligator; very sweet of you to show me where you
are; I can't stay to thank you as I should like: good-bye!"
At this the old Alligator was beside himself with rage. He vowed that he
would have the little Jackal for supper this time, come what might. So
he crept and crawled over the ground till he came to the little Jackal's
house. Then he crept and crawled inside, and hid himself there in the
house, to wait till the little Jackal should come home.
By and by the little Jackal came dancing home, happy and free from
care,--_but_ looking all around. Presently, as he came along, he saw
that the ground was all raked up as if something very heavy had been
dragged over it. The little Jackal stopped and looked.
"What's this? what's this?" he said.
Then he saw that the door of his house was crushed at the sides and
broken, as if something very big had gone through it.
"What's this? What's this?" the little Jackal said. "I think I'll
investigate a little!"
So he stood quite still and began to talk to himself (you remember, it
was a little way he had), but loudly. He said,--
"How strange that my little House doesn't speak to me! Why don't you
speak to me, little House? You always speak to me, if everything is all
right, when I come home. I wonder if anything is wrong with my little
House?"
The old Alligator thought to himself that he must certainly pretend to
be the little House, or the little Jackal would never come in. So he put
on as pleasant a voice as he could (which is not saying much) and
said,--
"Hullo, little Jackal!"
Oh! When the little Jackal heard that, he was frightened enough, for
once.
"It's the old Alligator," he said, "and if I don't make an end of him
this time he will certainly make an end of me. What shall I do?"
He thought very fast. Then he spoke out pleasantly.
"Thank you, little House," he said, "it's good to hear your pretty
voice, dear little House, and I will be in with you in a minute; only
first I must gather some firewood for dinner."
Then he went and gathered firewood, and more firewood, and more
firewood; and he piled it all up solid against the door and round the
house; and then he set fire to it!
And it smoked and burned till it smoked that old Alligator to smoked
herring!
THE LARKS IN THE CORNFIELD
There was once a family of little Larks who lived with their mother in a
nest in a cornfield. When the corn was ripe the mother Lark watched very
carefully to see if there were any sign of the reapers' coming, for she
knew that when they came their sharp knives would cut down the nest and
hurt the baby Larks. So every day, when she went out for food, she told
the little Larks to look and listen very closely to everything that
went on, and to tell her all they saw and heard when she came home.
One day when she came home the little Larks were much frightened.
"Oh, Mother, dear Mother," they said, "you must move us away to-night!
The farmer was in the field to-day, and he said, 'The corn is ready to
cut; we must call in the neighbours to help.' And then he told his son
to go out to-night and ask all the neighbours to come and reap the corn
to-morrow."
The mother Lark laughed. "Don't be frightened," she said; "if he waits
for his neighbours to reap the corn we shall have plenty of time to
move; tell me what he says to-morrow."
The next night the little Larks were quite trembling with fear; the
moment their mother got home they cried out, "Mother, you must surely
move us to-night! The farmer came to-day and said, 'The corn is getting
too ripe; we cannot wait for our neighbours; we must ask our relatives
to help us.' And then he called his son and told him to ask all the
uncles and cousins to come to-morrow and cut the corn. Shall we not move
to-night?"
"Don't worry," said the mother Lark; "the uncles and cousins have plenty
of reaping to do for themselves; we'll not move yet."
The third night, when the mother Lark came home, the baby Larks said,
"Mother, dear, the farmer came to the field to-day, and when he looked
at the corn he was quite angry; he said, 'This will never do! The corn
is getting too ripe; it's no use to wait for our relatives, we shall
have to cut this corn ourselves.' And then he called his son and said,
'Go out to-night and hire reapers, and to-morrow we will begin to cut.'"
"Well," said the mother, "that is another story; when a man begins to do
his own business, instead of asking somebody else to do it, things get
done. I will move you out to-night."
A TRUE STORY ABOUT A GIRL
Once there were four little girls who lived in a big, bare house, in the
country. They were very poor, but they had the happiest times you ever
heard of, because they were very rich in everything except money. They
had a wonderful, wise father, who knew stories to tell, and who taught
them their lessons in such a beautiful way that it was better than play;
they had a lovely, merry, kind mother, who was never too tired to help
them work or watch them play; and they had all the great green country
to play in. There were dark, shadowy woods, and fields of flowers, and a
river. And there was a big barn.
One of the little girls was named Louisa. She was very pretty, and ever
so strong; she could run for miles through the woods and not get tired.
She had a splendid brain in her little head; it liked study, and it
thought interesting thoughts all day long.
Louisa liked to sit in a corner by herself, sometimes, and write
thoughts in her diary; all the little girls kept diaries. She liked to
make up stories out of her own head, and sometimes she made verses.
When the four little sisters had finished their lessons, and had helped
their mother wash up and sew, they used to go to the big barn to play;
and the best play of all was theatricals. Louisa liked theatricals
better than anything.
They made the barn into a theatre, and the grown-up people came to see
the plays they acted. They used to climb up on the hay-loft for a stage,
and the grown people sat in chairs on the floor. It was great fun. One
of the plays they acted was _Jack and the Beanstalk_. They had a ladder
from the floor to the loft, and on the ladder they tied a vine all the
way up to the loft, to look like the wonderful beanstalk. One of the
little girls was dressed up to look like Jack, and she acted that part.
When it came to the place in the story where the giant tried to follow
Jack, the little girl cut down the beanstalk, and down came the giant
tumbling from the loft. The giant was made out of pillows, with a great,
fierce head of paper, and funny clothes.
Another story that they acted was _Cinderella_. They made a wonderful
big pumpkin out of the wheelbarrow, trimmed with yellow paper, and
Cinderella rolled away in it, when the fairy godmother waved her wand.
One other beautiful story they used to play. It was the story of
_Pilgrim's Progress_; if you have never heard it, you must be sure to
read it as soon as you can read well enough to understand the
old-fashioned words. The little girls used to put shells in their hats
for a sign they were on a pilgrimage, as the old pilgrims used to do;
then they made journeys over the hill behind the house, and through the
woods, and down the lanes; and when the pilgrimage was over they had
apples and nuts to eat, in the happy land of home.
Louisa loved all these plays, and she made some of her own and wrote
them down so that the children could act them.
But better than fun or writing Louisa loved her mother, and by and by,
as the little girl began to grow into a big girl, she felt very sad to
see her dear mother work so hard. She helped all she could with the
housework, but nothing could really help the tired mother except money;
she needed money for food and clothes, and someone grown up, to help in
the house. But there never was enough money for these things, and
Louisa's mother grew more and more weary, and sometimes ill. I cannot
tell you how much Louisa suffered over this.
At last, as Louisa thought about it, she came to care more about helping
her mother and her father and her sisters than about anything else in
all the world. And she began to work very hard to earn money. She sewed
for people, and when she was a little older she taught some little girls
their lessons, and then she wrote stories for the papers. Every bit of
money she earned, except what she had to use, she gave to her dear
family. It helped very much, but it was so little that Louisa never felt
as if she were doing anything.
Every year she grew more unselfish, and every year she worked harder.
She liked writing stories best of all her work, but she did not get much
money for them, and some people told her she was wasting her time.
At last, one day, a publisher asked Louisa, who was now a woman, to
write a book for girls. Louisa was not very well, and she was very
tired, but she always said, "I'll try," when she had a chance to work;
so she said, "I'll try," to the publisher. When she thought about the
book she remembered the good times she used to have with her sisters in
the big, bare house in the country. And so she wrote a story and put all
that in it; she put her dear mother and her wise father in it, and all
the little sisters, and besides the jolly times and the plays, she put
the sad, hard times in,--the work and worry and going without things.
When the book was written, she called it _Little Women_, and sent it to
the publisher.
And, children, the little book made Louisa famous. It was so sweet and
funny and sad and real,--like our own lives,--that everybody wanted to
read it. Everybody bought it, and much money came from it. After so many
years, little Louisa's wish came true: she bought a nice house for her
family; she sent one of her sisters to Europe, to study; she gave her
father books; but best of all, she was able to see to it that the
beloved mother, so tired and so ill, could have rest and happiness.
Never again did the dear mother have to do any hard work, and she had
pretty things about her all the rest of her life.
Louisa Alcott, for that was Louisa's name, wrote many beautiful books
after this, and she became one of the most famous women of America. But
I think the most beautiful thing about her is what I have been telling
you: that she loved her mother so well that she gave her whole life to
make her happy.
MY KINGDOM
The little Louisa I told you about, who wrote verses and stories in her
diary, used to like to play that she was a princess, and that her
kingdom was her own mind. When she had unkind or dissatisfied thoughts,
she tried to get rid of them by playing they were enemies of the
kingdom; and she drove them out with soldiers; the soldiers were
patience, duty, and love. It used to help Louisa to be good to play
this, and I think it may have helped make her the splendid woman she was
afterward. Maybe you would like to hear a poem she wrote about it, when
she was only fourteen years old.[20] It will help you, too, to think the
same thoughts.
A little kingdom I possess,
Where thoughts and feelings dwell,
And very hard I find the task
Of governing it well;
For passion tempts and troubles me,
A wayward will misleads,
And selfishness its shadow casts
On all my words and deeds.
How can I learn to rule myself,
To be the child I should,
Honest and brave, nor ever tire
Of trying to be good?
How can I keep a sunny soul
To shine along life's way?
How can I tune my little heart
To sweetly sing all day?
Dear Father, help me with the love
That casteth out my fear,
Teach me to lean on Thee, and feel
That Thou art very near,
That no temptation is unseen,
No childish grief too small,
Since Thou, with patience infinite,
Doth soothe and comfort all.
I do not ask for any crown
But that which all may win,
Nor seek to conquer any world,
Except the one within.
Be Thou my Guide until I find,
Led by a tender hand,
Thy happy kingdom in _myself_,
And dare to take command.
FOOTNOTES:
[20] From Louisa M. Alcott's _Life, Letters and Journals_.
PICCOLA[21]
Poor, sweet Piccola! Did you hear
What happened to Piccola, children dear?
'Tis seldom Fortune such favour grants
As fell to this little maid of France.
'Twas Christmas-time, and her parents poor
Could hardly drive the wolf from the door,
Striving with poverty's patient pain
Only to live till summer again.
No gifts for Piccola! Sad were they
When dawned the morning of Christmas-day;
Their little darling no joy might stir,
St Nicholas nothing would bring to her!
But Piccola never doubted at all
That something beautiful must befall
Every child upon Christmas-day,
And so she slept till the dawn was gray.
And full of faith, when at last she woke,
She stole to her shoe as the morning broke;
Such sounds of gladness filled all the air,
Twas plain St Nicholas had been there!
In rushed Piccola sweet, half wild:
Never was seen such a joyful child.
"See what the good saint brought!" she cried,
And mother and father must peep inside.
Now such a story who ever heard?
There was a little shivering bird!
A sparrow, that in at the window flew,
Had crept into Piccola's tiny shoe!