Gobble-gobble-gobble. And the turkey said, ‘I wonder what there is in
that great, black hole.’ And the turkey said, ‘Hark! I hear a strange
noise in that great, black hole, something growling like a bear. I
wonder what that is that is growling like a bear.’
“So the turkey walked along and looked in, and he said, ‘Oh, it is
nothing but Jack Hildigo. I am not afraid of Jack Hildigo. I will go
in and gobble, while he growls like a bear.’
“So the turkey went in and stood by the side of Jack Hildigo; and the
turkey said, Gobble-gobble-gobble, and Jack Hildigo growled like a
bear, so.”
Jonas would say, U-r-r, u-r-r, u-r-r, growling like a bear, and
Rollo would say, Gobble-gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble,
gobble-gobble-gobble, three times, and no more. This would make Rollo
laugh. Then Jonas went on with the story.
“By and by there came along a duck, a waddling, quacking duck. And the
duck said, ‘I wonder what there is in that great, black hole.’ And the
duck said, ‘Hark! I hear a strange noise in that great, black hole,
something growling like a bear. I wonder what that is that is growling
like a bear.’
“So the duck walked along and looked in, and he said, ‘Oh, it is
nothing but Jack Hildigo and a turkey. I am not afraid of Jack
Hildigo.’ So the duck went in and stood by the turkey, and said,
Quack-quack-quack, and the turkey said, Gobble-gobble-gobble, and Jack
Hildigo growled like a bear, so.”
Here Jonas would say, U-r-r, u-r-r, u-r-r, and Rollo would say,
Gobble-gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble,
and John would say, Quack-quack-quack, quack-quack-quack,
quack-quack-quack, all together, three times, and no more. Here Jonas
would go on with the story.
“By and by there came along a dog, a large dog, a large, black dog,
with a bone in his mouth. And the dog said, ‘I wonder what there is
in that great, black hole.’ And when he came nearer he heard a noise.
And he said, ‘Hark! what noise is that? It is something growling like
a bear.’ So he walked along carefully, but when he got near the hole,
he said, ‘Oh, it is only Jack Hildigo and a turkey and a duck! I am
not afraid of Jack Hildigo, or the turkey, or the duck. I will go in
and bow-wow-wow.’ So he went in and stood by the side of the duck. And
the dog said, Bow-wow-wow, and the duck said, Quack-quack-quack, and
the turkey said, Gobble-gobble-gobble, and Jack Hildigo growled like a
bear, so.”
Here Jonas would say, U-r-r, u-r-r, u-r-r, growling like a bear,
and Rollo would say, Gobble-gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble,
gobble-gobble-gobble, and John would say, Quack-quack-quack, and Samuel
would say, Bow-wow-wow, bow-wow-wow, bow-wow-wow, three times, and no
more. This would make them all laugh, and then Jonas would go on with
the story.
“In the yard of that house was a pig. He was lying down with his nose
in the mud. And after lying there some time, he thought he would get
up and take a walk.
“So he walked along till he came round behind the house, and he saw a
great hole in the wall. And he said, ‘I wonder what there is in that
great, black hole.’ And when he came nearer, he heard a noise, and he
said, ‘Hark! what noise is that? It is something growling like a
bear.’ So he walked along carefully, but when he got near the hole, he
said, ‘Oh, it is only Jack Hildigo. I am not afraid of Jack Hildigo. I
will go in and grunt, while he growls like a bear.’”
When Jonas got as far as this, in telling the story one day, he
stopped, and said he could not go any farther, for there was nobody to
play pig. But he said if he could only get four or five more boys some
time, he could tell a good deal further, and they should have a great
deal more fun.
This is the end of the story about Jack Hildigo.
HOW TO TREAT A KITTEN.
There was once a boy named James, and one day his father came home and
said, “James, I have got something for you.”
“What is it, father?” said James.
“Oh, I will show it to you presently,” said his father.
“Where is it?” said James.
“It is in a little basket, which I left out in the other room.”
So when James’ father had put away his hat and whip, he went out into
the other room, and presently came in bringing a basket in his hands,
which he was holding carefully by the handle.
“Oh, let me see, let me see,” said James; and he came up to his father,
and began to pull down the basket.
This was wrong, for children ought never to attempt to pull any thing
away from their father. It was foolish too, as well as wrong, for James
could not succeed in pulling it away. The more he pulled, the higher
his father held up the basket, until at last his father told him to let
go. He obeyed.
Then his father held the basket down low. He put it in a chair, and
James stood by the side of it. He saw that there was a cloth spread
over the top of it, and tied round the basket. James’ father untied the
string, and unwound it, and then carefully lifted up the cloth, and
James looked in and saw there a beautiful gray kitten.
The kitten appeared afraid; she curled down into a corner of the
basket, and looked up as if she was frightened.
“Oh, father,” said James, “let me take her out.”
“Well,” said his father, “but do it carefully.”
So James put his hands in to take up the kitten; but when she saw them
coming, it frightened her more, and she jumped up to the top of the
basket, and then leaped out upon the chair, and from the chair to the
floor. She ran along the floor. At the same instant, James ran after
her, holding out his hands, saying, “Oh, catch her, catch her.” His
father only turned round quietly, and shut the door. He was much wiser
than James, for James’ bustle and noise only made the kitten more
frightened, while his father quietly did what would effectually keep
the kitten from running away.
“Now, James,” said his father, “let the kitten stay there under
the table a minute or two, while I tell you something. You see how
frightened she looks. She is afraid you will hurt her. Now, if you
treat her very gently and kindly for a few days, and do not try to
catch her at first, she will soon find out that you are her friend, and
she will not be afraid of you. She will let you take her, and play with
her as much as you please. But if you handle her roughly, or tease her
in any way, she will be always wild.”
Then James’ father went away.
James stood a minute or two looking at his kitten, and then he thought
he would go and catch her. So he walked along towards the table, and
then stooped down to take up the kitten, but she suddenly turned round,
and ran under the chairs, and hid behind a basket, in one corner of the
room.
James ran after her. He pulled away the basket, and saw the kitten
for an instant crouching in a corner of the room, staring wildly at
him, and evidently very much terrified. The moment she found that the
basket was taken away, and that she was exposed again, she started off,
ran directly across the room, towards a large clock which was in the
opposite corner, and squeezed under it.
James now did not know what to do. He could not move the great, heavy
clock. He put his face close down to the floor, and looked under, and
he could just see the kitten’s two shining eyes there, but he could not
reach in, to take her.
“Ah,” said he at last, “I know what I can do. I can go and get father’s
cane, and then I can _poke_ her out.” So he went out into the entry
and got the cane, and came back, and began to thrust it under, and
behind the clock. The poor kitten was much more frightened to hear this
thumping around her, and to feel the great stick punching her sides; so
presently she darted out, ran across the room, and out through the door
which James had left open.
James followed her, brandishing* his cane. When he got to the entry,
he found that the kitten was half way up stairs. He immediately began
to go up as fast as he could, but she could go faster. She leaped up
from step to step, then ran along the passage way at the top until
she reached the door leading to the garret, which James saw, to his
chagrin, was open a very little.
Do you know what chagrin means? It means the feeling James had when he
saw that the garret door was open. What sort of a feeling do you think
that was?
The kitten squeezed through the opening of the garret door, and
disappeared. James opened the door wide, and went up nearly to the top
of the garret stairs, and looked into the garret. It was rather dark
there, and the boards looked loose on the floor, and there were a great
many boxes and barrels there, and James was afraid to go in. So he
stood there and called “Kitty, kitty, kitty.” But the kitty knew him by
this time too well to come.
Now James began to be sorry that he had not taken his father’s advice,
and treated his kitten more gently and kindly. He was afraid she was
lost, and that he could never get her again.
That night, at tea time, when his father had heard all about it, he
reproved James for his harsh and cruel treatment of his kitten, and
told him that he thought he deserved to lose her entirely.
“Do you think I _shall_ lose her entirely?”
“No,” said his father, “not this time. I think I can get her out of the
garret.”
“How?” said James.
“Why, by kindness and gentleness. I shall draw her out by doing exactly
the opposite to what you did to drive her in. But I do not believe it
will do any good. I do not think you will ever treat her kindly enough
to make her trust you.”
James promised that he would; but his father knew that he did not
always keep his promises.
That evening, James’ father poured a little milk into a saucer, and he
and James carried it up garret, and put it upon the floor, and then
came directly down again. The next morning they went up to look at it,
and found that the milk was gone. They then brought down the saucer,
filled it again, and carried it back. They stopped a minute to look
round for the kitten, and presently they saw her behind a barrel. James
wanted to go and catch her, but his father would not let him. His
father said, “Poor pussy, poor pussy,” in a gentle, soothing tone, and
put the saucer down where she could see it, and then led James away
down stairs. When he went out that morning, he forbid James going to
the garret till he came home.
At noon they carried some more milk up, and the kitten came out a
little way towards them.
“There,” said James’ father, “do you not see the effect of kindness?”
He then put the saucer down, and went back with James a few steps, and
stood still. The kitten came up to the saucer and began to drink the
milk.
“_Now_ let us go and catch her,” said James.
“No,” said his father.
After the kitten had drunk all the milk, she ran back behind the
barrel, and James and his father came down stairs.
The next time they went up, they stood close by the saucer, and the
kitten came up slowly and cautiously. James’ father gently stroked her
back while she was feeding, and James thought he was certainly going to
catch her then. But he did not; he let her drink the milk and then go
back behind the barrels.
“Why, father, are you not _ever_ going to catch her?” said James.
“Yes,” said his father, “when the proper time comes”; and they went
down stairs.
The next time they came, the kitten came running out to meet them, and
they held the saucer down. When she came near, James’ father reached
out his hand, and took her up gently and said, “Now we will carry her
down stairs.”
“Let _me_ carry her,” said James.
“Well, you may,” said his father; “but you must hold her very
carefully.” So James took the kitten, and his father took the saucer,
and they went down stairs. They put the kitten and the saucer under the
table, and pretty soon, though she seemed rather frightened at first,
she began to drink. James’ father forbid his touching her, or doing any
thing to her, all day.
Thus, in a few days, the kitten became considerably tame, and would let
James play with her, but he soon began to handle her roughly again. He
would pull her by the tail, and carry her around under his arm, and
try to make her stand up on her hind legs, and do a great many other
things, which he thought was very good fun for him, but which were
very terrifying or painful to her. The kitten became very much afraid
of him. She would never let him play with her, or catch her, if she
could possibly get away, and often in struggling to get away she would
scratch his hands. Thus the kitten hated James, and James soon began to
hate the kitten.
“She is a cross, ugly, good for nothing old puss,” said he one day.
“Very well,” said his father, “then I will take her out of your way.”
So his father got the basket, and put her gently in it, and he
spread the cloth over it, and tied it down; James stood by, looking
sorrowfully.
“What are you going to do with her, father?” said he.
“I am going to take her out of your way. She shall never trouble you
any more.”
Then James’ father put on his hat, and took the basket and walked away.
* * * * *
Some months afterwards James went to see Rollo. He found Rollo out
on the platform, in the garden-yard. You remember the picture of the
garden-yard. You can see the platform in the picture if you look back.
When James arrived at the house, and went through to the yard to see
Rollo, he found him playing horses. He had a little wooden cart,
very small, with a string tied to it, and was trotting about on the
platform. And who do you think he had in the cart for a driver? Why,
it was a little _gray kitten_! She was lying down in the cart with her
fore paws resting on the front of it, and her chin resting on her fore
paws, and she seemed to enjoy her ride very much. She looked so funny
that James could not help laughing.
“Oh, what a beautiful kitten!” said he. “I wish I had such a kitten. I
had one once, but she was not such a tame, good kitten as that,--she
was an old, cross, ugly, good for nothing puss. She did nothing but
scratch me.”
* * * * *
Now it happened that this was the very kitten which James had, though
James did not know it. His father had come and given it to Rollo. Rollo
called her Ooty, and he made her gentle and tame by treating her
kindly.
* Brandishing it means holding it up as if he were going to strike
her.
OVERBOARD.
Do you recollect what you read about Jonas’ raft in another part of
this book? One day, when Jonas was going down to the brook with Rollo,
there was the following _dialogue_ between Rollo’s father and mother.
_Mother._ I am afraid to have Rollo sail with Jonas on that raft, as he
calls it. I am very much afraid he will get in, some day.
_Father._ I presume he _will_ get in.
Rollo’s mother looked surprised. She thought it was strange that his
father should let him go on the water, when he thought he probably
would fall in.
_Father._ Perhaps I ought rather to say I think it not improbable that
he will get in.
_Mother._ Why then do you allow him to go?
_Father._ Because the water is not deep, and with Jonas with him, who
is a strong and a faithful boy, I think he cannot be hurt; and if he
should grow careless and inattentive, and fall off of the raft, it
would do him a great deal of good.
_Mother._ What good would it do him?
_Father._ It would make him more careful in future; and besides, an
actual plunge into the water where it is deep enough to frighten a
boy, will teach him more of the nature of water, than an hour’s talk
to him about its properties. A fall off of Jonas’ raft may, not very
improbably, be the means of saving his life, by making him careful,
when he shall be exposed to real danger.
Rollo’s father was right; Rollo did fall off. One day, when he and
Jonas were sailing up towards the bridge, Jonas was standing behind
pushing, and Rollo was sitting on before. Rollo took up a long stick
which was on the raft, and thought he would stand up, and push too.
Jonas stood with his back to him, and did not see him. Rollo pushed
his stick down into the water, but the bottom was farther off than it
seemed to be, and leaning over, he lost his balance, and away he went
all over into the water. In an instant Jonas plunged in after him, and
dragged him out upon the bank. The raft, left to itself, floated down
the stream.
Rollo’s mother put on dry clothes, and when Rollo was warm again, she
said,
“Perhaps now you think I shall forbid your going down to the brook
again, but I shall not. You may go and sail again whenever you please.”
She knew that his experience would make him careful in future, without
any censure from her.
OLD THINGS AND NEW THINGS.
Which is the prettiest, an _old_ thing or a _new_ thing? Oh, a _new_
thing to be sure, you say. A beautiful, new book, fresh from the
bookstore, is a great deal prettier than an old, worn out, tattered
book, that you have had a great while.
Now there is one great mistake that small boys very often make. They
think that books and other things become old and worn out, only because
they have had them a long time; but that is not the reason. I have seen
a great many books, beautiful books too, full of pictures, and they
had been kept a great many years, and yet they were not old and worn
out. They looked just as well as when they were first bought. Now I am
going to explain to you here how you may keep your things so that they
shall not become old and worn out.
Suppose your father should bring you home a beautiful book with a
red morocco cover, and full of pictures. It looks new and beautiful.
Now look at the cover a moment. Do you suppose the cover is red all
through? Suppose any body should cut the corner off of the cover,
should you expect that it would be red _all through_ where they cut
it? It would not. It is only red outside. The red is very thin, very
thin indeed, spread all over the outside of the cover. You might take a
knife and scrape it off in a little spot, and see that it is very thin,
and that it is some other color underneath. Perhaps somebody will take
some old book which is not good for much, and show you what I mean. You
must not try it upon any good books.
Now suppose you should lay your red morocco book down upon the floor,
and push it along, the floor would rub off a little of the red morocco.
And then suppose that the next day you should lay it down on the
stone steps, the rough stone would wear off more of the red morocco.
And then suppose that you should lay it down open upon the table, or
floor; a little dust from the table or floor would stick to the leaves,
and spoil their whiteness. And then suppose you should let your book
fall from a chair; it would bruise one of the corners, and bend it up
a little. So if you go on a great many days rubbing your book upon
the floor, and throwing it about, and tumbling the leaves, after a
short time the beautiful red color of the cover would be worn off in
spots, and the white paper would get soiled, and the corners very much
bruised, and the book would begin to look old and tattered and torn.
It would become an old, worn out book, not because you had kept it so
long, but because you had used it roughly.
SELLING A BOY.
Once there was a man who was very poor. He had to work very hard to
get money; but he found it very hard to get money enough to buy bread
for himself, and his wife, and his little boy. So he thought he would
go and see if he could not sell his little boy. He took him up in his
arms, and went out into the street, and walked along until he came to a
shoemaker’s shop. He thought that perhaps the shoemaker would like to
buy him.
So he stopped and looked in at the window, and said,
“Shoemaker,--Mr. Shoemaker,--do you want to buy a little boy?”
And the shoemaker said, “Is it a good little boy?”
And the man said, “Yes, he is an excellent little boy. He always obeys
me exactly, and he is kind and gentle, and not troublesome, and he
tries to do right; if you buy him, by and by when he grows up, he can
work with you, and help you make shoes.”
“Well,” said the shoemaker, “I will give you a dollar for him.”
“A dollar,” said the man, thinking, “shall I take a dollar for my
little boy? Then I should go home alone, and have nobody to play with
me, and get up in my lap, and hear me tell stories. No, no, no, I will
not sell my little boy for a dollar.” So he walked on.
Presently he came to a carpenter’s shop. He stopped at the window, and
said,
“Carpenter,--Mr. Carpenter,--should you like to buy a little boy?”
“A little boy!” said the carpenter; “what sort of a boy is he?”
“Oh,” said the man, “he is an excellent little boy. I love him very
much, but I have to sell him because I want some money to buy me some
bread. But he is a good boy. He is obedient and faithful, and when he
grows up he can help you saw boards and drive nails. The shoemaker
offered me a dollar, but I could not sell him for a dollar.”
“Well,” said the carpenter, “I will give you _ten_ dollars for him,
for he looks like a pretty good boy.”
“Ten dollars,” said the man, thinking, “ten dollars. Shall I sell my
little boy for ten dollars? That would buy me a good deal of bread, but
then I should not have any little boy. I should have nobody to come and
meet me when I get home, or to sit still by my side when I am tired.
No, no, no, I cannot sell my little boy for ten dollars.” So he left
the carpenter’s and walked on.
The next place he came to was a mill. There was a great wheel spinning
round and round in the water, and some carts filled with bags of wheat
at the door. They were going to grind the wheat into flour. The miller
came out to the door. His clothes looked white. The man said to him,
“Miller,--Mr. Miller,--I have got a boy to sell. Do you want to buy
him?” As he said this he showed the miller the little boy who was in
his arms.
“Is he a good boy, or a naughty boy?” asked the miller; “for I am sure
I do not want to buy any naughty boys.”
“Oh, he is a very good boy,” said the man. “He does not cry, only when
he hurts himself, and then he stops crying as soon as he can. He is not
cross, or fretful, or disobedient, or troublesome. I know you will like
him, and he will help you a good deal in your mill.”
“Well,” said the miller, “I think he is a good boy, and I should like a
good boy in my mill very much. He could tie up the bags, and hold the
horses at the door. I will give you a hundred dollars for him.”
“A hundred dollars!” said the man, “that’s a good deal of money. I
could buy a _great many_ loaves of bread with a hundred dollars. I
could buy bread enough to last me a year, and as long as the money
should last I could have a fine time resting from all my hard work. But
then I should never see my poor little boy any more. And then perhaps,
he would not be happy with the miller. He may have to work too hard,
and perhaps some of the horses which he would have to hold might kick
him. No, I will not sell him to the miller for a hundred dollars, after
all. I had rather carry him home, and work the harder.”
So he left the miller and walked on. He thought that perhaps somebody
would give him more money for his boy. He walked on a little way and
came to a large, beautiful white house by the side of the road. It
belonged to a rich gentleman, who was standing at the door.
He thought he would go and offer him to this rich gentleman. While he
was hesitating, he looked into his little boy’s face, and he was so
pleasant, and looked so gentle and kind, that the man could not bear to
sell him.
“No, no, no,” said he, “I will not sell my little boy at all. I have
kept him a good while, and taken care of him, and I love him very much.
No, I will not sell him. I will carry him home, and work very hard
to get bread for him to eat. And he will be kind, and dutiful, and
obedient, and when I grow old perhaps he will take care of me. No, no,
I would not sell him for a thousand dollars.”
* * * * *
This is a fictitious story. It is written to teach children that if
they are good, and kind, and obedient, their fathers will love them,
and work hard, if necessary, to get them bread, and will not sell them,
even if any body should offer them a thousand dollars.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Pages 81-82, 93-94, 119-120, and 169-170 are missing from this
edition. In other editions, these are illustration pages or blank
pages. Due to this, some of the page numbers in the Table of
Contents in the original were incorrect. Page numbers have been
corrected in this eBook.