PLACE: Caliph's Palace.
TIME: Half-hour later.
CALIPH: Well, my friend, did you do as I told you?
WOODCUTTER: Yes, and Ali refused to shave my donkey.
CALIPH (_to Courtier_): Bid Ali come to me at once and bring his razors
with him.
(Courtier leaves and returns with Ali.)
CALIPH: Why did you refuse to shave this man's companion? Was not that
your agreement?
ALI (_kissing the ground_): It is true, O caliph, such was the
agreement, but who ever made a companion of a donkey before?
CALIPH: True enough, but who ever thought of saying that a pack saddle
is a part of a load of wood? No, no, it is the woodcutter's turn now.
Shave his donkey instantly.
(Ali lathers the beast and shaves him in the presence of the whole
court, and then slips away amid the laughter of the bystanders.)
CALIPH: Now, my honest woodcutter, here is a purse of gold for you.
Always remember that the caliph gladly listens to the complaints of his
people, poor and rich, and will right their wrongs if he can.
WOODCUTTER: Long live the Caliph!
COURTIERS: Long live the Caliph!
--EASTERN TALE.
WINTER NIGHT
Blow, wind, blow!
Drift the flying snow!
Send it twirling, twirling overhead.
There's a bedroom in a tree
Where snug as snug can be,
The squirrel nests in his cozy bed.
Shriek, wind, shriek!
Make the branches creak!
Battle with the boughs till break of day!
In a snow cave warm and tight
Through the icy winter night
The rabbit sleeps the peaceful hour away.
Scold, wind, scold!
So bitter and so bold!
Shake the windows with your tap, tap, tap!
With half-shut, dreamy eyes
The drowsy baby lies
Cuddled closely in his mother's lap.
--MARY F. BUTTS.
HOPE'S DOLL
It was Saturday morning. Elizabeth Brown sat by a window in the big
kitchen making a pink dress for little Hope's doll.
On the chair beside her lay the doll, though you might not have thought
of calling it one. It did not have curly hair--nor eyes that open and
shut. In those days no child had toys like ours. Hope's doll was made of
a corncob; the face was painted on a piece of linen stretched over a
ball of wool on the end of the cob.
Little Hope was taking her morning nap. When Elizabeth had sewed the
last neat stitches, she dressed the doll and laid it on the bed by the
little girl. How happy Hope was when she awoke and saw it! She thought
it the most beautiful doll in the world.
"What will you call your doll, Hope?" asked Elizabeth.
"I will name her for mother," said Hope. "I will call her Mary Ellen."
[Illustration: Hope and her doll]
Hope played all the afternoon with her doll and was very happy. When the
sunset gun sounded, she had to stop playing. With the Puritans, the
Sabbath began at sunset, and no child could play after the gun was
heard.
The little maid kissed her baby and went into the bedroom to find a warm
place for it to stay until the next evening. There lay father's Sunday
coat; what warmer nest could she find for Mary Ellen than its big
pocket?
After breakfast the next day, every one got ready to go to meeting.
Master Brown filled the little tin foot stove with hot coals from the
hearth; then he took his gun from its hook. In those days no man went
anywhere without his gun--not even to church, for the Indians were
likely to come at any time.
Sometimes the firing of a gun was the call to worship. More often a big
drum, beaten on the steps of the meeting house, told the people it was
time to come together.
At the sound of the drum, Master Brown and his wife, with Elizabeth and
Hope, started to church. From every house in the village came men,
women, and children. They were always ready when the drum began to beat,
for no one was ever late to meeting in those days.
Master Brown led his family to their pew and opened a little door to let
them in. The pew was very much like a large box with seats around the
sides.
The church was cold, for there was no fire. The children warmed their
fingers and toes by the queer little foot stove their father had brought
from home.
When every one was seated, the minister climbed the steps to his high
pulpit. The sermon was always very long--three hours at least. The
children could not understand what it was all about, and it was very
hard for them to sit still and listen quietly.
Elizabeth was four years older than Hope, so she felt quite like a
little woman. She sat up beside her mother and looked at the minister
almost all the time; but sometimes she had to wink hard to keep awake.
When she thought she could not let her feet hang down another minute,
she would slip down to the footstool to rest.
Elizabeth was often ashamed of Hope, who could not sit still ten
minutes. She tried to listen to the sermon, but could not. When she
began to stir about a little, her mother shook her head at her. She sat
still for a few minutes, but was soon restless again.
Presently she began to be sleepy and laid her head upon her father's arm
for a nap. Just then she felt something in his pocket. A happy smile
came over Hope's face; she was wide-awake now. Slipping her hand into
the wide pocket, she drew out Mary Ellen and smoothed her wrinkled gown.
Master Brown's thoughts were all on the sermon, and even Mistress Brown
did not notice Hope for a little time. When she did, what do you suppose
she saw? Hope was standing on the seat showing her doll to the little
girl in the pew behind her.
Oh, how ashamed her mother was! She pulled her little daughter down
quickly and whispered, "Do you want the tithingman to come? Well, sit
down and listen." Taking Mary Ellen, she slipped the doll into her muff.
Little Hope did sit down and listen. She did not even turn around when
the kind lady behind them dropped a peppermint over the high-backed pew
for her. She was very much afraid of the tithingman, who sat on a high
seat. He had a long rod with a hard knob on one end and a squirrel's
tail on the other.
[Illustration: The tithingman tickling the nodding lady]
When he saw a lady nodding during the sermon, he stepped around to her
pew and tickled her face with the fur end of the rod. She would waken
with a start and be, oh! so ashamed. She would be very glad the pew had
such high sides to hide her blushing face.
Perhaps you think the boys who sat on the other side of the church had a
good time. But there was the tithingman again. When he saw a boy
whispering or playing, he rapped him on the head with the knob end of
the rod. The whispering would stop at once, for the rod often brought
tears and left a headache.
Besides keeping the boys from playing and the grown people from going to
sleep, the tithingman must turn the hourglass. In those days very few
people could afford clocks, but every one had an hourglass. It took the
fine sand just one hour to pour from the upper part of the glass into
the lower part.
When the sand had all run through, the tithingman turned the glass over
and the sand began to tell another hour. The glass was always turned
three times before the minister closed the service. Then the men picked
up their muskets and foot stoves, the women wrapped their long capes
closely about them, and all went home.
At sunset the Puritan Sabbath ended. The women brought out their
knitting and spinning, or prepared for Monday's washing, and the
children were free to play until bedtime.
--MARGARET PUMPHREY.
NAHUM PRINCE
More than a hundred years ago, our country was at war with England.
George Washington was at the head of our army. As you know, he and his
men were fighting for our country's freedom.
The English army was larger than our army, and General Washington needed
all the men he could get. The regular troops were with him.
In one little town in Vermont all the strong, able-bodied men had gone
to the front. News came that the English and the Americans were about to
meet in battle. The Americans needed more men and called for volunteers.
Old men with white hair and long beards volunteered. Young boys with
smooth cheeks and unshaven lips volunteered. There wasn't a boy in the
village over thirteen years of age who didn't volunteer.
Even lame Nahum Prince offered himself. He brought out his grandfather's
old gun and got in line with the others. He stood as straight and tall
as he could--as a soldier should stand.
Soon the captain came along the line to inspect the volunteers. When he
saw Nahum, he said, "No, no, Nahum, you cannot go; you know you cannot.
Why, you could not walk a mile. Go home, my lad."
Just then the good old minister came by. "Yes, Nahum," he said, "you
must stay at home. Who knows but that you will find a greater work to do
for your country right here?"
And lame Nahum dropped out of the line.
Then the volunteers marched off, every man and boy in the village except
Nahum Prince. Poor Nahum! His heart was heavy.
"What can I do for my country in this small village?" he said to
himself. "Oh, I wish I could be a soldier!"
He walked toward his home slowly and sadly. Just as he passed the
blacksmith shop, three horseman galloped up to the door.
[Illustration: The horseman speaks to Nahum]
"Where is the blacksmith?" asked one.
"He and all the men and boys have gone to join the army," said Nahum.
"There isn't a man or a boy in town except me. I wouldn't be here if I
were not lame."
"We cannot have this horse shod," said the rider to the others. "We
shall not reach there in time."
"Why, I can set a shoe," said Nahum.
"Then it is lucky you are left behind," said the man. "Light up the
forge and set the shoe."
Nahum lighted the fire, blew the coals with the bellows, and soon put on
the shoe.
"You have done a great deed to-day, my boy," said the rider as he
thanked Nahum and rode away.
The next week the boys came home and told of a great battle. They told
how the Americans were about to lose the fight when Colonel Seth Warner,
leading a band of soldiers, rode up just in time to save the day.
Nahum said nothing, but he knew that Colonel Warner would not have
arrived in time if he had not set that shoe. And it was really Nahum
Prince and Colonel Seth Warner who won the victory of Bennington.
THE LITTLE COOK'S REWARD
Betty lived a long, long time ago on a farm in North Carolina. She knew
how to clean up the house, to wash the dishes, to sew, and to cook. She
knew how to knit, and to spin and weave, too.
One day Betty's father said, "Let us go to town to-morrow. President
Washington is passing through the South, and a man told me to-day that
he will be in Salisbury to-morrow."
"Yes," said Betty's brother Robert, "and our company has been asked to
march in the parade. One of the boys is going to make a speech of
welcome."
"I should like to go," said their mother, "but I can't leave home."
"Oh, yes, you can, mother," said Betty. "I have stayed here by myself
many times, and I can stay to-morrow. You go with father, and I will
take care of things."
The next morning every one on the place was up before the sun. Robert
was so impatient to start to town that he could scarcely eat any
breakfast. Mother was so excited that she forgot to put coffee in the
coffee pot.
At last every one had left, and Betty was alone. "I wish I could see the
President," she said, "and I do wish I could see his great coach. Father
says that it is finer than the Governor's. Four men ride in front of it,
and four behind it. The servants are dressed in white and gold. How I
wish I could see it all!"
While Betty was talking to herself, she was not idle. She washed the
dishes and she cleaned the house. Then, as it was not time to get
dinner, she sat down on the shady porch.
"I wonder whether General Washington looks like his picture," she said.
"Oh, if I could only see him!"
But what sound was that? Betty stood up, and shading her eyes with her
hands, looked down the road. Four horsemen came along at a gallop. Then
there followed a great white coach, trimmed with gold and drawn by four
white horses. There were four horsemen behind the coach, and last of all
came several black servants.
[Illustration: Betty looking up at the great coach]
All stopped at the gate. A tall handsome man stepped from the coach and
came up the walk. Betty felt as if she could neither move nor speak. She
remembered, however, all that her mother had taught her, and she made a
low curtsy as the gentleman reached the steps.
"Good morning, my little maid," he said. "I know it is late, but would
you give an old man some breakfast?"
Betty's cheeks grew as pink as the rose by the porch. She made another
curtsy and said, "Indeed, I will. I am the only one at home, for father,
mother, and Robert have gone to Salisbury to see the great Washington.
But I am sure I can give you some breakfast. Father says that I am a
good cook."
"I know you are, and that you are as brisk as you are pretty. Just give
me a breakfast, and I promise you that you shall see Washington before
your father, mother, or brother Robert does."
"I will do the best I can, sir," Betty said.
The other men came in, and all sat on the porch and talked while Betty
worked. Getting her mother's whitest cloth and the silver that came from
England, she quickly set the table. She brought out a loaf of new bread
and a jar of fresh honey. Then she ran to the spring house and got
yellow butter and rich milk. She had some fresh eggs that had been laid
by her own hens. These she dropped into boiling water. Last of all she
cut thin slices of delicious ham.
When everything was ready, Betty went to the porch and invited the
strangers in. Her cheeks were now the color of the red rose by the gate.
The visitors ate heartily of all the good things Betty had prepared. As
the tall, handsome gentleman rose to go, he leaned over and kissed her.
"My pretty little cook," he said, "you may tell your brother Robert that
you saw Washington before he did, and that he kissed you, too."
You may believe that Betty did tell it. She told it to her children, and
they told it to their children, and I am telling it to you to-day.
--MRS. L.A. McCORKLE.
ROCK-A-BY, HUSH-A-BY, LITTLE PAPOOSE
Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, little papoose,
The stars come into the sky,
The whip-poor-will's crying, the daylight is dying,
The river runs murmuring by.
The pine trees are slumbering, little papoose,
The squirrel has gone to his nest,
The robins are sleeping, the mother bird's keeping
The little ones warm with her breast.
The roebuck is dreaming, my little papoose,
His mate lies asleep at his side,
The breezes are pining, the moonbeams are shining
All over the prairie wide.
Then hush-a-by, rock-a-by, little papoose,
You sail on the river of dreams;
Dear Manitou loves you and watches above you
Till time when the morning light gleams.
--CHARLES MYALL.
THE TAR WOLF
I
Many hundreds of moons ago, there was a great drought. The streams and
lakes were drying up. Water was so scarce that the animals held a
council to decide what they should do.
"I hope it will rain soon and fill the streams and lakes," Great Bear
said. "If it does not, all the animals will have to go to a land where
there is more water."
"I know where there is plenty of water," said Wild Goose.
"I do, too," said Wild Duck.
Most of the animals did not wish to go away. "It is well enough for the
ducks and geese to go," said Wild Cat; "they like to move about. It is
well enough for Great Bear to go; he can sleep through the winter in one
hollow tree as soundly as in another. But we do not wish to leave our
hunting grounds."
"If we go to a new country," said Gray Wolf, "we shall have to make new
trails."
"And we shall have to clear new land," said Big Beaver, who had to cut
down the trees when land was cleared.
All this time the Rabbit said nothing. "Brother Rabbit," Great Bear
asked, "what do you think about this matter?"
Brother Rabbit did not answer. His eyes were shut, and he seemed too
sleepy to think about anything.
Great Bear asked again, "What do you think about it, Brother Rabbit?
Shall we go to the place the ducks and geese have found, where there is
plenty of water?"
"Oh," answered Brother Rabbit, "I do not mind the drought. I drink the
dew on the grass in the early morning; I do not need to go where there
is more water."
And he shut his eyes again.
"Well," said Red Deer, "if there is dew enough for Brother Rabbit every
morning, there is dew enough for us. We need not go to another country."
"Those are wise words, my brother," said Brown Terrapin.
All the others said, "Those are wise words, my brother," and the council
was over. The animals were happy because they thought they need not go
away from their homes.
Days passed, and still it did not rain. The animals found that the dew
did not keep them from suffering from thirst. They were afraid that,
after all, they would have to go to another country.
Still the Rabbit looked sleek and fat. He declared that he got all the
water he needed from the dew on the grass in the early morning.
"You sleep too late," he said. "By the time you get up, the sun has
dried the dew."
II
After that, the animals came out earlier than before, but they could not
get water enough from the morning dew. They did not understand why the
Rabbit looked so well.
One day Gray Wolf said to Wild Cat, "Let us watch the Rabbit and see
where he gets so much dew that he is never thirsty."
That night they stayed in the woods near Rabbit's wigwam, so as to
follow him on the trail. They kept awake all night for fear that they
might sleep too late.
Very early in the morning, Brother Rabbit came out of his wigwam and ran
swiftly down the hill. Wild Cat and Gray Wolf followed as fast and as
quietly as they could.
The dew was on the grass and leaves, but Brother Rabbit did not stop to
get it. Instead, he ran down the hill and pushed away a heap of brush.
Wild Cat and Gray Wolf hid behind some bushes and watched him.
Brother Rabbit drank from a little spring. Then he filled a jar with
clear, fresh water, piled the brush over the spring again, and went up
the hill to his wigwam.
Ah! now Gray Wolf and Wild Cat knew why Brother Rabbit did not mind the
drought; and they made a plan to punish him for being so selfish.
They got tar and resin from the pine trees, and out of these they made a
great wolf. After placing it close to the spring, they hid again in the
bushes, to see what would happen.
Early the next morning, Brother Rabbit came running down the hill for
more water. He stopped when he saw the tar wolf by his spring.
"What are you doing here, Gray Wolf?" he asked. Of course there was no
answer.
"Has my brother no ears?" asked Brother Rabbit.
As the wolf was still silent, Brother Rabbit became angry. "Answer me,
Gray Wolf," he cried. But there was no answer.
Then Brother Rabbit slapped the tar wolf with his right front paw. It
stuck fast, and Brother Rabbit could not pull it away.
[Illustration: Brother Rabbit and the wolf]
"Let me go," he cried, "or I will slap you with the other paw."
He slapped the tar wolf with the left front paw. That too, stuck fast.
Now Brother Rabbit was very angry. "Let me go, Gray Wolf," he cried.
"Let me go, I say!"
As Grey Wolf did not let him go, Brother Rabbit kicked the tar wolf,
first with one of his hind paws and then with the other. Both stuck
fast, and so he was held by all four paws.
Just then Gray Wolf and Wild Cat came from their hiding place.
"We have caught you, Brother Rabbit," they said. "Now we are going to
take you to the council and tell how you tried to keep all the water for
yourself."
III
They took Brother Rabbit to the council house, and sent for Great Bear
and all the other animals. Soon all came, and the council began. Gray
Wolf told that he had seen Brother Rabbit go to the spring, uncover it,
get water, and cover the spring up again.
The animals said that Brother Rabbit must be punished, but how they
could not decide.
"Burn him alive," said Gray Wolf.
"I am quite willing," Brother Rabbit said, smiling. "Fire is my friend
and will not hurt me."
"We might cut off his head," said Brown Terrapin.
"Very well," said the Rabbit, quietly. "Try that. It will not hurt me,
for a better head will grow back."
He said he was not afraid of each thing that was mentioned.
"Is there nothing of which you are afraid?" asked Great Bear, at last.
"Is there nothing that can hurt you?"
"Of only one thing am I afraid," answered Brother Rabbit, in a low
voice. "I am afraid you will turn me loose in the brier patch. Please do
not throw me in the brier patch."
"Turn him loose in the brier patch!" cried all the animals.
How frightened Brother Rabbit looked now!
"Oh, Gray Wolf," he begged, "burn me; cut off my head. Do anything else
with me, but please don't throw me in the brier patch."
The more he begged, the faster Gray Wolf hurried to the brier patch. The
other animals followed close behind. They were all talking about the
tricks Brother Rabbit had played on them and how they had never before
been able to get even with him.
When they came to the edge of the brier patch, Brother Rabbit begged
harder than ever.
"Good Wolf," he cried, "do anything else with me, but don't throw me in
the brier patch!"
Gray Wolf laughed and threw Brother Rabbit far into the patch.
Brother Rabbit landed on his feet, and off he ran through the briers. He
called back, "Thank you, good Wolf! You threw me right on my trail! I
was born and bred in the brier patch. I was born and bred in the brier
patch!"
He was running so fast that by the time he said this, he was out of
sight.
--THE INDIAN TAR-BABY STORY.
THE RABBIT AND THE WOLF
The rabbit liked to play tricks on the other animals. Best of all, he
liked to play tricks on the wolf. At last the wolf grew angry and said
that he was going to get even with the rabbit.
One day he caught the rabbit coming through a field.
"Now," said the wolf, "I am going to pay you for all the tricks you have
played on me. I will cut off your ears and use them for spoons to stir
my hominy pot. As soon as I sharpen this stone, off your ears go!"
While the wolf sharpened the stone, he sang in his harsh voice a song
somewhat like this:
"Watch me sharpen,
Watch me sharpen;
Soon I am going to cut off your ears.
Sicum, sicum, sicum, sicum,
Sicum, se mi su!"
When he sang,
"Sicum, sicum, sicum, sicum,
Sicum, se mi su!"
the rabbit could almost feel the sharp stone cutting his ears. But he
was a brave little rabbit and said nothing.
At last the wolf stopped singing for a moment.
Then the rabbit said, "Brother Wolf, I know a new dance. Don't you wish
me to teach it to you?"
"Yes, when I have cut off your ears," said the wolf.
Then he went on singing,
"Sicum, sicum, sicum, sicum,
Sicum, se mi su!"
"After my ears are cut off," said the rabbit, "I can never dance any
more."
Now the wolf knew that the rabbit could sing and dance better than any
other animal, and he wished very much to learn the new dance. He went on
sharpening the stone, but he did not sing while he worked.
After a while he asked, "Is the new dance as pretty as the Snake Dance?"
"Oh, a great deal prettier," answered the rabbit.
"Is it as pretty as the Turkey Dance?"
"Oh, a great deal prettier than the Turkey Dance."
"Is it as pretty as the Eagle Dance?"
"Oh, a great deal prettier than the Eagle Dance."
The wolf asked if the new dance was as pretty as other dances he had
seen, and the rabbit said that it was much prettier.
This pleased the wolf, as he wished to have a new dance for the green
corn festival.
"You may teach me the dance now," he said. "I can cut off your ears
afterward."
"Very well," said the rabbit; "pat your foot to keep time, and watch me
while I dance."
[Illustration: The rabbit danced as the wolf shook the rattle]
So the wolf stood in the middle of the field, patting his foot and
shaking a rattle while the rabbit danced around him and sang,
"Watch me dance around the field,
Watch me dance around the field,
Hi, la, hi, la, hi!"
Then the rabbit made a ring in the middle of the field. He said to the
wolf, "Now, you dance around this ring, and sing just as I do."
He made a larger ring for himself and danced around just beyond the
wolf. The wolf thought that this was the finest dance he had ever seen.
He and the rabbit danced faster and faster, and sang louder and louder.
As the rabbit danced, he moved nearer and nearer to the edge of the
field. The wolf was dancing so fast and singing so loud that he did not
notice this.
The rabbit kept on singing,
"Now I dance on the edge of the field,
Now I dance on the edge of the field,
Hi, la, hi, la, hi!"
At last, Brother Rabbit reached the edge of the field; then he jumped
into the blackberry bushes and ran away. The wolf tried to give chase,
but he was so dizzy that he could not run. And the rabbit got away
without having his ears cut off.
--SOUTHERN INDIAN TALE.
BLOCK CITY
What are you able to build with your blocks?
Castles and palaces, temples and docks.
Rain may keep raining, and others go roam,
But I can be happy and building at home.
Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea,
There I'll establish a city for me:
A kirk and a mill and a palace beside,
And a harbor as well where my vessels may ride.
Great is the palace with pillar and wall,
A sort of a tower on the top of it all,
And steps coming down in an orderly way
To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.
This one is sailing and that one is moored:
Hark to the song of the sailors on board!
And see on the steps of my palace, the kings
Coming and going with presents and things!
Now I have done with it, down let it go.
All in a moment the town is laid low,
Block upon block lying scattered and free,
What is there left of my town by the sea?
--ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
A GOOD PLAY
We built a ship upon the stairs
All made of the back-bedroom chairs,
And filled it full of sofa pillows
To go a-sailing on the billows.
We took a saw and several nails,
And water in the nursery pails;
And Tom said, "Let us also take
An apple and a slice of cake;"--
Which was enough for Tom and me
To go a-sailing on, till tea.
We sailed along for days and days,
And had the very best of plays;
But Tom fell out and hurt his knee,
So there was no one left but me.
--ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
THE MONKEY'S FIDDLE
I
Once upon a time there was a great famine in the land, and Monkey could
find no food. There were no bulbs, no beans, no insects, nor anything
else to eat.
At last Monkey said to himself, "Why should I perish here with hunger?
My uncle Orang-outang has enough and to spare; I shall go to him, and he
will give me food and shelter."
So he set out and soon came to the place where Orang-outang lived. For a
long time Monkey was happy in his new home, but by and by he heard that
there was no longer a famine in his own land. Then he decided to go
back.
Before he started, Orang-outang made him a present of a fiddle and of a
bow and arrow,
"With this bow and arrow you can kill any animal," he said. "With this
fiddle you can make anything dance until you bid it stop."
Thanking his uncle for the presents, Monkey set out on his homeward
journey. On the way he met Brother Wolf.
"What news, Brother Wolf?" asked Monkey.
When Wolf had told him the news, Monkey asked, "What have you been doing
to-day?"
"Oh," said Wolf, "I have been following a deer all the morning, but I
have been unable to get near enough to kill him. Now I am faint with
hunger."
"I can help you," said Monkey. "I have a magic bow and arrow. Show me
the deer, and I will bring him down."
When Wolf showed him the deer, Monkey fitted an arrow to the bow and
took aim. Hardly had the arrow left the bow when the deer fell dead.
Monkey and Wolf sat down and had a good feast. As Wolf ate, he thought
of the magic bow and arrow, and he planned to get them away from Monkey.
"First I will ask for them," he said to himself. "If Monkey will not
give them to me, I will use force."
[Illustration: Wolf demands the bow and arrow]
When Wolf had finished eating, he said to Monkey, "Please give me the
bow and arrow."
"I will not," said Monkey. "They were a present from my dear uncle; why
should I give them to you?"
"Very well," said Wolf. "I am stronger than you, and I will take them by
force."
II
Wolf was just about to snatch the bow and arrow from Monkey when Jackal
came along. Then Wolf thought of a new plan.
He called out to Jackal, "Help! help! Monkey has stolen my magic bow and
arrow."
Jackal came running to them. Wolf told his side of the story, and Monkey
told his.
"I cannot believe either of you," said Jackal. "Let us lay the question
before the court. There Lion, Tiger, and the other animals will hear you
both; perhaps they will be able to decide to whom the magic bow and
arrow belong. But to keep you two from quarreling, I had better take
care of the bow and arrow."
Monkey gave them to Jackal, and all three started off to court. When
they arrived, there sat Lion on the throne. Seated around were the other
animals of the jungle.
Monkey told his story first. Standing in front of the throne, he made a
low bow and said, "The great famine, my lord, drove me out of my
country, and I had to take refuge with my uncle. When I started back
home, he gave me this bow and arrow. Finding Wolf almost starving, I
shot a deer for him. Instead of being grateful for the food, he tried to
rob me of the bow and arrow. I am here to ask that you restore them to
me."
"He does not tell the truth," cried Wolf.
Then Jackal said, "I believe that the bow and arrow belong to Wolf; he
and Monkey were quarreling about them when I came along. They agreed to
leave the question to you, King Lion. I know you will see that justice
is done."
Wolf looked very innocent and said nothing.
King Lion rose and asked, "What say you? To whom do the bow and arrow
belong?"
"To Wolf," they all cried.
"Stealing is a crime that must be punished," said King Lion. "What shall
be done?"
"Let Monkey be hanged," they all cried.
Monkey still had his magic fiddle. Holding it in his hand, he made a
deep bow and said: "Give me leave to play a tune on my fiddle before I
hang, O King."
Now, the beasts all loved a merry tune, and knowing that Monkey was a
master player they called out, "Let him play."
III
Monkey placed the fiddle under his chin, drew the bow across the
strings, and struck up "Cockcrow." This was a favorite tune with the
court. At the first notes all nodded their heads in time to the music.
As Monkey played on, the entire court began to dance.
Round and round they went like a whirlwind. Over and over, quicker and
quicker sounded the tune of "Cockcrow." Faster and faster flew the
dancers, until one after another fell to the ground worn out.
Monkey saw nothing of all this. With eyes closed and his head placed
lovingly against the fiddle, he played on and on, keeping time with his
foot.
Wolf was the first one to cry out, "Please stop, Cousin Monkey. For
pity's sake, stop."
But Monkey did not seem to hear him. Again and again sounded the magic
notes of "Cockcrow."
King Lion had gone round and round with his young wife so many times
that both were ready to drop. At last, as he passed Monkey, he roared,
"Stop, ape! My whole kingdom is yours if you will only stop playing."
"I do not want it," said Monkey. "Make Wolf confess that he tried to
steal my bow and arrow. Then I will stop playing."
"I confess! I confess!" panted Wolf, who was ready to fall to the
ground.
"Good," cried King Lion, as the music stopped. "Monkey is innocent. Let
him have his bow and arrow."
"Punish Wolf!" cried the animals.
So Wolf was soundly beaten and driven from the court. Then Monkey went
off rejoicing, carrying with him his magic gifts.
--AFRICAN TALE.
THE THREE TASKS
I
There were once two brothers who set out to seek their fortune. They
wasted their time and their money in all sorts of foolish ways, and
before long they were nearly penniless.
After the two brothers had been gone some time, their younger brother,
who had always been thought the simpleton of the family, set out to seek
his fortune.
One day as he was passing through a village far away from home, he found
his two brothers.
"Where are you going?" they asked.
"I am going to seek my fortune," he replied.
"Ha, ha! how foolish you are!" they cried. "With all our wit and wisdom
we have been unable to make our fortune. It is silly of you even to
try." And they laughed and made fun of him.
Nevertheless, the three brothers decided to travel on together. As they
journeyed on, they saw a large ant hill by the side of the road. The two
elder brothers were about to destroy it, when the simpleton said, "Leave
the poor ants alone. I will not let you disturb them."
They went on their way until they came to a pond upon which two ducks
were swimming. The two older brothers were about to kill them, when the
simpleton said, "Leave them alone. I will not let you kill them."
Soon the three came to a tree, in the trunk of which was a wild bee's
nest. The two older brothers wished to steal the honey. They started to
make a fire under the tree and smoke out the bees. The simpleton said,
"Leave the poor bees alone. I will not let you rob them."
II
At last the three brothers came to a castle where everything looked as
if it had been turned to stone. There was not a single human being to be
seen. They walked along the great wide hall, but still they saw no one.
"The castle must be enchanted," the brothers said to one another.
After passing through many rooms, they came to a door in which there
were three locks. In the middle of the door was a little grating through
which they could look into the room beyond.
They saw a little man, dressed in gray, seated at a table. Twice they
called to him, but he did not answer. They called a third time. Then he
rose, opened the three locks, and came out.
He said not a word, but led them to a table on which a feast was spread.
When they had eaten and drunk as much as they wished, the old man showed
each of them to a bedroom. There they rested well all night.
The next morning the little gray man came to the eldest brother and
beckoned him to follow. He led him to a room in which there was a stone
table, and on the table there lay three stone tablets.
[Illustration: The little gray man and the tablets]
On the table near the tablets was written:
"This castle is enchanted. Before the enchantment can be broken, there
are three tasks to be performed. The one who performs these three tasks
shall marry the youngest and dearest of the three princesses who now lie
asleep in the castle."
When the eldest brother had read this, the old man gave him the first
tablet. On it was written:
"In the forest, hidden beneath the thick moss, are the pearls which
belonged to the princesses. They are a thousand in number. These must be
collected by sunset. If one single pearl is missing, then he who has
sought them shall be turned to stone."
The eldest brother searched the whole day long, but by sunset he had
found only a hundred pearls. So he was turned to stone.
The following day the second brother tried his luck, but by sunset he
had found but two hundred pearls. So he, too, was turned to stone.
Then it came the simpleton's turn. He searched all day amidst the moss,
but he fared little better than his brothers. At last he sat down upon a
stone and burst into tears.
As he sat there, the king of the ants, whose life he had once saved,
came with five thousand ants. Before long the little creatures had found
every one of the pearls and piled them up in a heap.
The little gray man then gave the simpleton the second tablet. Upon it
was written the second task:
"The key that opens the chamber in which the princesses are sleeping
lies in the bottom of the lake. He who has performed the first task must
find the key."
When the simpleton came to the lake, the ducks which he had saved were
swimming upon it. At once they dived down into the depths below and
brought up the key.
The simpleton showed the key to the little gray man, who then gave him
the third tablet. On it was written the third task:
"The one who has gathered the pearls and found the key to the chamber
may now marry the youngest and dearest princess. He must, however, first
tell which is she. The princesses are exactly alike, but there is one
difference. Before they went to sleep, the eldest ate sugar, the second
ate syrup, and the youngest ate honey."
The simpleton laid down the tablet with a sigh. "How can I find out
which princess ate the honey?" he asked himself.
However, he put the key he had found in the lock and opened the door. In
the chamber the three princesses were lying. Ah, which was the youngest?
Just then the queen of the bees flew in through the window and tasted
the lips of all three. When she came to the lips that had sipped the
honey, she remained there. Then the young man knew that this was the
youngest and dearest princess.
So the enchantment came to an end. The sleepers awoke, and those who had
been turned to stone became alive again. The simpleton married the
youngest and dearest princess, and was made king after her father's
death. His two brothers, who were now sorry for what they had done,
married the other two princesses, and lived happily ever after.
--GRIMM.
[Illustration: A child dancing]
THE WORLD'S MUSIC
The world's a very happy place,
Where every child should dance and sing,
And always have a smiling face,
And never sulk for anything.
I waken when the morning's come,
And feel the air and light alive
With strange sweet music like the hum
Of bees about their busy hive.
The linnets play among the leaves
At hide-and-seek, and chirp and sing;
While, flashing to and from the eaves,
The swallows twitter on the wing.
From dawn to dark the old mill-wheel
Makes music, going round and round;
And dusty-white with flour and meal,
The miller whistles to its sound.
The brook that flows beside the mill,
As happy as a brook can be,
Goes singing its old song until
It learns the singing of the sea.
For every wave upon the sands
Sings songs you never tire to hear,
Of laden ships from sunny lands
Where it is summer all the year.
The world is such a happy place
That children, whether big or small,
Should always have a smiling face
And never, never sulk at all.
--GABRIEL SETOUN.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY
I
Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who were very unhappy
because they had no children. But at last a little daughter was born,
and their sorrow was turned to joy. All the bells in the land were rung
to tell the glad tidings.
The king gave a christening feast so grand that the like of it had never
been known. He invited all the fairies he could find in the
kingdom--there were seven of them--to come to the christening as
godmothers. He hoped that each would give the princess a good gift.
When the christening was over, the feast came. Before each of the
fairies was placed a plate with a spoon, a knife, and a fork--all pure
gold. But alas! as the fairies were about to seat themselves at the
table, there came into the hall a very old fairy who had not been
invited. She had left the kingdom fifty years before and had not been
seen or heard of until this day.
The king at once ordered that a plate should be brought for her, but he
could not furnish a gold one such as the others had. This made the old
fairy angry, and she sat there muttering to herself.
Her angry threats were overheard by a young fairy who sat near. This
good godmother, fearing the old fairy might give the child an unlucky
gift, hid herself behind a curtain. She did this because she wished to
speak last and perhaps be able to change the old fairy's gift.
At the end of the feast, the youngest fairy stepped forward and said,
"The princess shall be the most beautiful woman in the world."
The second said,
"She shall have a temper as sweet as an angel."
The third said,
"She shall have a wonderful grace in all she does or says."
[Illustration: The old fairy looks at the princess in her cradle]
The fourth said,
"She shall sing like a nightingale."
The fifth said,
"She shall dance like a flower in the wind."
The sixth said,
"She shall play such music as was never heard on earth."
Then the old fairy's turn came. Shaking her head spitefully, she said,
"When the princess is seventeen years old, she shall prick her finger
with a spindle, and--she--shall--die!"
At this all the guests trembled, and many of them began to weep. The
king and queen wept loudest of all.
Just then the wise young fairy came from behind the curtain and said:
"Do not grieve, O King and Queen. Your daughter shall not die. I cannot
undo what my elder sister has done; the princess shall indeed prick her
finger with the spindle, but she shall not die. She shall fall into
sleep that will last a hundred years. At the end of that time, a king's
son will find her and awaken her."
Immediately all the fairies vanished.
II
The king, hoping to save his child even from this misfortune, commanded
that all spindles should be burned. This was done, but it was all in
vain.
One day when the princess was seventeen years of age, the king and queen
left her alone in the castle. She wandered about the palace and at last
came to a little room in the top of a tower. There an old woman--so old
and deaf that she had never heard of the king's command--sat spinning.
"What are you doing, good old woman?" asked the princess.
"I am spinning, my pretty child."
"Ah," said the princess. "How do you do it? Let me see if I can spin
also."
She had just taken the spindle in her hand when, in some way, it pricked
her finger. The princess dropped down on the floor. The old woman called
for help, and people came from all sides, but nothing could be done.
When the good young fairy heard the news, she came quickly to the
castle. She knew that the princess must sleep a hundred years and would
be frightened if she found herself alone when she awoke. So the fairy
touched with her magic wand all in the palace except the king and the
queen. Ladies, gentlemen, pages, waiting maids, footmen, grooms in the
stable, and even the horses--she touched them all. They all went to
sleep just where they were when the wand touched them. Some of the
gentlemen were bowing to the ladies, the ladies were embroidering, the
grooms stood currying their horses, and the cook was slapping the
kitchen boy.
The king and queen departed from the castle, giving orders that no one
was to go near it. This command, however, was not needed. In a little
while there sprang around the castle a wood so thick that neither man
nor beast could pass through.
III
A great many changes take place in a hundred years. The king had no
other child, and when he died, his throne passed to another royal
family. Even the story of the sleeping princess was almost forgotten.
One day the son of the king who was then reigning was out hunting, and
he saw towers rising above a thick wood. He asked what they were, but no
one could answer him.
At last an old peasant was found who said, "Your highness, fifty years
ago my father told me that there is a castle in the woods where a
princess sleeps--the most beautiful princess that ever lived. It was
said that she must sleep there a hundred years, when she would be
awakened by a king's son."
At this the young prince determined to find out the truth for himself.
He leaped from his horse and began to force his way through the wood. To
his astonishment, the stiff branches gave way, then closed again,
allowing none of his companions to follow.
A beautiful palace rose before him. In the courtyard the prince saw
horses and men who looked as if they were dead. But he was not afraid
and boldly entered the palace. There were guards motionless as stone,
gentlemen and ladies, pages and footmen, some standing, some sitting,
but all like statues.
[Illustration: The prince finds the princess]
At last the prince came to a chamber of gold, where he saw upon a bed
the fairest sight one ever beheld--a princess of about seventeen years
who looked as if she had just fallen asleep. Trembling, the prince knelt
beside her, and awakened her with a kiss. And now the enchantment was
broken.
The princess looked at him with wondering eyes and said: "Is it you, my
prince? I have waited for you long."
So happy were the two that they talked hour after hour. In the meantime
all in the palace awaked and each began to do what he was doing when he
fell asleep. The gentlemen went on bowing to the ladies, the ladies went
on with their embroidery. The grooms went on currying their horses, the
cook went on slapping the kitchen boy, and the servants began to serve
the supper. Then the chief lady in waiting, who was ready to die of
hunger, told the princess aloud that supper was ready.
The prince gave the princess his hand, and they all went into the great
hall for supper. That very evening the prince and princess were married.
The next day the prince took his bride to his father's palace, and there
they lived happily ever afterward.
--GRIMM.
THE UGLY DUCKLING
I
It was summer. The country was lovely just then. The cornfields were
waving yellow, the wheat was golden, the oats were still green, and the
hay was stacked in the meadows. Beyond the fields great forests and
ponds of water might be seen.
In the sunniest spot of all stood an old farmhouse, with deep canals
around it. At the water's edge grew great burdocks. It was just as wild
there as in the deepest wood, and in this snug place sat a duck upon her
nest. She was waiting for her brood to hatch.
At last one eggshell after another began to crack. From each little egg
came "Cheep! cheep!" and then a little duckling's head.
"Quack! quack!" said the duck; and all the babies quacked too. Then they
looked all around. The mother let them look as much as they liked, for
green is good for the eyes.
"How big the world is!" said all the little ducklings.
"Do you think this is all the world?" asked the mother. "It stretches a
long way on the other side of the garden and on to the parson's field,
but I have never been so far as that. I hope you are all out. No, not
all; that large egg is still unbroken. I am really tired of sitting so
long." Then the duck sat down again.
"Well, how goes it?" asked an old duck who had come to pay her a visit.
"There is one large egg that is taking a long time to hatch," replied
the mother. "But you must look at the ducklings. They are the finest I
have ever seen; they are all just like their father."
"Let me look at the egg which will not hatch," said the old duck. "You
may be sure that it is a turkey's egg. I was once cheated in that way.
Oh, you will have a great deal of trouble, for a turkey will not go into
the water. Yes, that's a turkey's egg. Leave it alone and teach the
other children to swim."
"No, I will sit on it a little longer," said the mother duck.
"Just as you please," said the old duck, and she went away.
At last the large egg cracked. "Cheep! cheep!" said the young one, and
tumbled out. How large it was! How ugly it was!
"I wonder if it can be a turkey chick," said the mother. "Well, we shall
see when we go to the pond. It must go into the water, even if I have to
push it in myself."
Next day the mother duck and all her little ones went down to the water.
Splash! she jumped in, and all the ducklings went in, too. They swam
about very easily, and the ugly duckling swam with them.
"No, it is not a turkey," said the mother duck. "See how well he can use
his legs. He is my own child! And he is not so very ugly either."
II
Then she took her family into the duck yard. As they went along, she
told the ducklings how to act.
"Keep close to me, so that no one can step on you," she said. "Come;
now, don't turn your toes in. A well-brought-up duck turns its toes out,
just like father and mother. Bow your heads before that old duck yonder.
She is the grandest duck here. One can tell that by the red rag around
her leg. That's a great honor, the greatest honor a duck can have. It
shows that the mistress doesn't want to lose her. Now bend your necks
and say 'Quack!'"
They did so, but the other ducks did not seem glad to see them.
"Look!" they cried. "Here comes another brood, as if there were not
enough of us already. And oh, dear, how ugly that large one is! We won't
stand him."
Then one of the ducks flew at the ugly duckling and bit him in the neck.
[Illustration: The ugly duckling and the other ducks]
"Let him alone," said the mother; "he is doing no harm."
"Perhaps not," said the duck who had bitten the poor duckling, "but he
is too ugly to stay here. He must be driven out."
"Those are pretty children that the mother has," said the old duck with
the rag around her leg. "They are all pretty but that one. What a pity!"
"Yes," replied the mother duck, "he is not handsome, but he is
good-tempered, and he swims as well as any of the others. I think he
will grow to be pretty. Perhaps he stayed too long in the egg."
"Well, make yourselves at home," said the old duck. "If you find an
eel's head, you may bring it to me."
And they did make themselves at home--all but the poor ugly duckling.
His life was made quite miserable. The ducks bit him, and the hens
pecked him. So it went on the first day, and each day it grew worse.
The poor duckling was very unhappy. At last he could stand it no longer,
and he ran away. As he flew over the fence, he frightened the little
birds on the bushes.
"That is because I am so ugly," thought the duckling.
He flew on until he came to a moor where some wild ducks lived. They
laughed at him and swam away from him.
Some wild geese came by, and they laughed at the duckling, too. Just
then some guns went bang! bang! The hunters were all around. The hunting
dogs came splash! into the swamp, and one dashed close to the duckling.
The dog looked at him and went on.
"Well, I can be thankful for that," sighed he. "I am so ugly that even
the dog will not bite me."
When all was quiet, the duckling started out again. A storm was raging,
and he found shelter in a poor hut. Here lived an old woman with her cat
and her hen. The old woman could not see well, and she thought he was a
fat duck. She kept him three weeks, hoping that she would get some duck
eggs, but the duckling did not lay.
After a while the fresh air and sunshine streamed in at the open door,
and the duckling longed to be out on the water. The cat and the hen
laughed when he told them of his wish.
"You must be crazy," said the hen. "I do not wish to swim. The cat does
not; and I am sure our mistress does not."
"You do not understand me," said the duckling. "I will go out into the
wide world."
"Yes, do go," said the hen.
And the duckling went away. He swam on the water and dived, but still
all the animals passed him by because he was so ugly; and the poor
duckling was lonesome.
III
Now the winter came, and soon it was very cold. Snow and sleet fell, and
the ugly duckling had a very unhappy time.
One evening a whole flock of handsome white birds rose out of the
bushes. They were swans. They gave a strange cry, and spreading their
great wings, flew away to warmer lands and open lakes.
The ugly duckling felt quite strange, and he gave such a loud cry that
he frightened himself. He could not forget those beautiful happy birds.
He knew not where they had gone, but he wished he could have gone with
them.
The winter grew cold--very cold. The duckling swam about in the water to
keep from freezing, but every night the hole in which he swam became
smaller and smaller. At last he was frozen fast in the ice.
Early the next morning a farmer found the duckling and took him to the
farmhouse. There in a warm room the duckling came to himself again. The
children wished to play with him, but he was afraid of them.
In his terror he fluttered into the milk pan and splashed the milk about
the room. The woman clapped her hands at him, and that frightened him
still more. He flew into the butter tub and then into the meal barrel.
How he did look then! The children laughed and screamed. The woman
chased him with the fire tongs. The door stood open, and the duckling
slipped out into the snow.
It was a cruel, hard winter, and he nearly froze. At last the warm sun
began to shine, and the larks to sing. The duckling flapped his wings
and found that they were strong. Away he flew over the meadows and
fields.
Soon he found himself in a beautiful garden where the apple trees were
in full bloom, and the long branches of the willow trees hung over the
shores of the lake. Just in front of him he saw three beautiful white
swans swimming lightly over the water.
"I will fly to those beautiful birds," he said. "They will kill me
because I am so ugly; but it is all the same. It is better to be killed
by them than to be bitten by the ducks and pecked by the hens."
So he flew into the water and swam towards the beautiful birds. They saw
the duckling and came sailing down toward him. He bowed his head saying,
"Kill me, oh, kill me."
But what was this he saw in the clear water? It was his own image, and
lo! he was no longer a clumsy dark-gray bird, but a--swan, a beautiful
white swan. It matters not if one was born in a duck yard, if one has
only lain in a swan's egg. The other swans swam around him to welcome
him.
[Illustration: The little children see the new swan]
Some little children came into the garden with corn and other grains
which they threw into the water. The smallest one cried, "Oh, see! there
is a new swan, and it is more beautiful than any of the others."
The ugly duckling was shy and at first hid his head under his wing. Then
he felt so happy that he raised his neck and said, "I never dreamed of
so much happiness when I was an ugly duckling."
--HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.
THE WHITE BLACKBIRD
I
I was born a blackbird in a bushy thicket near a meadow. My father took
good care of his family and would peck about all day for insects. These
he brought home to my mother, holding them by the tail so as not to mash
them. He had a sweet voice, too, and every evening sang beautiful songs.
I should have been happy, but I was not. I ate little and was weak; and
from the first, I was different from my brothers and sisters. They had
glossy, black feathers, while mine were dirty gray. These made my father
angry whenever he looked at them.
When I moulted for the first time, he watched me closely. While the
feathers were falling out and while I was naked, he was kind; but my new
feathers drove him wild with anger. I did not wonder. I was no longer
even gray; I had become snow white. I was a white blackbird! Did such a
thing ever happen in a blackbird family before?
It made me very sad to see my father so vexed over me. But it is hard to
stay sad forever, and one sunshiny spring day I opened my bill and began
to sing. At the first note my father flew up into the air like a
sky-rocket.
"What do I hear?" he cried. "Is that the way a blackbird whistles? Do I
whistle that way?"
"I whistle the best I can," I replied.
"That is not the way we whistle in my family," my father said. "We have
whistled for many, many years and know how to do it. It is not enough
for you to be white; you must make that horrible noise. The truth is you
are not a blackbird."
"I will leave home," I answered with a sob. "I will go far away where I
can pick up a living on earthworms and spiders."
"Do as you please," my father said. "You are not a blackbird."
II
I flew away early the next morning, and was lucky enough to find shelter
under an old gutter. It rained hard that night. I was just about to go
to bed, when a very wet bird came in and sat down beside me. His
feathers were grayish like mine, but he was much larger than myself.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I don't know," I replied. "I pass for a blackbird but I am white."
"I am the finest bird in the world," he said. "I am a carrier pigeon and
carry messages."
Then I saw that a traveling bag hung from his neck.
"Maybe I am a pigeon," I said, "since I am not a blackbird."
"No," he answered, "a runt like you could not be a pigeon."
The next morning the pigeon sprang from the gutter and flew away as fast
as the wind. As I was lonely, I followed him. He flew faster and faster,
but I kept up for a good while. At last my strength gave out and I fell
down into a meadow.
I was stunned by the fall. When I came to my senses, two birds stood
near by looking at me. One was a dainty little magpie; the other a
soft-eyed turtle dove. The magpie kindly offered me some berries she had
gathered.
"Who are you?" she asked.
[Illustration: The three birds meet]
"A blackbird or a pigeon," I said sadly. "I don't know which."
"Are you joking?" she cried. "You are a magpie."
"But magpies are not white," I said.
"Russian magpies are," she answered; "perhaps you belong to that
family."
My joy was great for a moment at finding out what I was. Still I was not
sure that I was a magpie and thought I might settle the matter by
singing. I burst into song and warbled and whistled, and whistled and
warbled.
The magpie looked at me in surprise. Then her face grew sad and she
backed off from me. At last she flew away without another word. Whatever
I might be, I was not a magpie--not even a Russian magpie.
I made up my mind not to rest until I found out what bird I was. So I
flew off to a place where birds of all kinds met to talk and enjoy
themselves. There were robins and sparrows and crows and wrens and
martins and every sort of bird. But I was not like any of them and
whenever I began to sing, they all laughed.
"You are not one of us," they said; "you are a white blackbird. That is
what you are."
III
I had now seen all the birds, but none of them were as fine as the
blackbirds. I did not want to be like any of these birds; I longed to be
a blackbird, a real blackbird. That was not possible. So I made up my
mind to be content with my lot, as I had the heart of a blackbird even
if I were not black.
A great flock of blackbirds lived on the edge of a cornfield. I went to
them and asked them to let me be their helper.
"I am only a white blackbird," I said, "but I have the heart of a true
blackbird."
They let me stay. I waited on them early and late, bringing straw to
make nests and tender little worms for the baby blackbirds. The old
birds were kind to me, and I began to be happy.
Hard work did me good. I soon grew strong, and when the crows tried to
drive us away, I led the blackbirds to victory. My sight was keen, and I
was the first to find out that the scarecrow was not a man. I caught
more worms, too, than any of the blackbirds.
By and by a strange thing happened. I saw one day that my white feathers
were speckled with brown dots. They grew larger and larger until the
dots covered me all over; I was no longer white but brown. And now,
little by little, my brown coat turned darker and darker until one
morning it was black--a rich, glossy black! I was a blackbird at last.
Then the other blackbirds hopped around me with joy, crying, "He is the
largest and bravest of the blackbirds. Let him be king! Long live the
king of the blackbirds!"
--ALFRED DE MUSSET (_Adapted_).
THE BROWN THRUSH
There's a merry brown thrush sitting up in
the tree,
He's singing to me! He's singing to me!
And what does he say, little girl, little boy?
"Oh, the world's running over with joy!
Don't you hear? don't you see?
Hush! look! in my tree,
I'm as happy as happy can be!"
And the brown thrush keeps singing, "A nest
do you see,
And five eggs hid by me in the juniper tree?
Don't meddle! don't touch! little girl, little boy,
Or the world will lose some of its joy!
Now I'm glad! now I'm free!
And I always shall be,
If you never bring sorrow to me."
So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree,
To you and to me, to you and to me.
--LUCY LARCOM.
THE KING AND THE GOOSEHERD
ACT I
(King in plain clothes had gone out for a walk in the park. He sat under
a tree to read a book and fell asleep. When he waked up he walked on,
forgetting his book. He sees a lad looking after a flock of geese and
calls him.)
KING: Boy, I left a book lying under a tree in the park. Will you please
get it for me? If you do, I will give you a gold piece.
BOY: Give me a gold piece to go to the park, indeed! You must have a
pocketful of gold pieces. Or you must think me more stupid than I am.
KING: Stupid! Who thinks you stupid?
BOY: Why, who would be so foolish as to give me a gold piece just for
running half a mile for a book? No, no, you are joking. You couldn't
make me believe that.
KING: Well, you know "seeing is believing." Look! here is the gold piece
for you.
BOY: But it is in _your_ hand. If I saw it in my own hand, that would be
a different matter.
KING (_laughing_): You are certainly not stupid, my boy; but you may
have it in your own hand. Here it is.
(Boy stands still, looking worried,)
KING: Well, why don't you go?
BOY: I only wish I could. But what would become of the geese while I am
away? If they strayed into the meadow over yonder, I should have to pay
trespass-money--more than the gold piece--and lose my place besides.
KING: I'll tell you what we'll do. You go for the book, and I'll herd
the geese.
BOY (_laughing_): You herd the geese--a pretty gooseherd you would make!
You are too fat and too old.
KING (_to himself, shaking with laughter_): Well, Well, "fat and old."
What next, I wonder!
BOY: Why, you couldn't mind the geese. Just look at the "court gander"
there--the one with the black head and wings. He is the ringleader
whenever there is any mischief. He would lead you a pretty dance.
KING: Never mind the geese. I'll answer for them, and I promise to pay
all damages if they get away.
BOY (_handing the king his whip_): Well, then, be careful. Watch the
"court gander."
(Boy walks on a few feet, then hurries back.)
KING: What's the matter now?
BOY: Crack the whip!
(King tries but fails.)
BOY: Just as I thought. Here, this way! Can't you see? You are stupid!
KING: Just let me try once more.
(King tries.)
BOY: Well, that did pretty well.
(Moves off muttering.)
He is as big a goose as any in the flock.
ACT II
KING (_lying on the ground and laughing so that the tears run down his
cheeks_): Oh, but this is fine! First I was fat and old. Now I am as big
a goose as any in the flock. What would my courtiers say?
(Springing up suddenly.)
Look at that "court gander"! There he goes with the whole flock.
(He dashes wildly after the geese and tries to crack the whip, but
cannot.)
Now they are in the meadow; what will the boy say?
(Boy returns and sees the geese in the meadow; the king looks ashamed.)
BOY: Just as I expected. I have found the book, but you have lost the
geese. What a time I shall have trying to find them!
KING: Never mind; I will help you get them together again.
[Illustration: The king and the boy look for the geese]
BOY: Humph! Much help you'll be. But go there by that stump and don't
let the geese pass you. Wave your arms at them and shout at them. Surely
you can do that!
KING: I'll try.
ACT III
Boy: Well, they are back again! Thanks to goodness, but none to you.
What can you do?
KING: Pray excuse me for not doing any better, but you see, I am not
used to work. I am the king.
BOY: I was a simpleton to trust you with the geese; but I am not such a
simpleton as to believe that you are the king.
KING: Just as you will. You are a good lad. Here is another gold coin as
a peace offering. Good-day.
BOY (_as king walks away_): He is a kind gentleman, whoever he may be;
but take my word for it, he will never make a gooseherd.
--OLD TALE.
DONAL AND CONAL
I
There was once in old Ireland a very fine lad by the name of Donal. He
was not only a very fine lad, but a very gay lad. He would go for miles
to a party or a wedding; and he was always welcome, for Donal knew where
to wear his smile. He wore it on his face instead of keeping it in his
pocket.
The dearest wish of Donal's heart no one knew but himself. His soul was
full of music, and he longed to have a violin.
One night Donal was going home through a dark forest when a storm came
up. He found an old hollow tree and got inside of it to keep dry. Soon
he fell asleep.
After a while Donal was awakened by a strange noise. He peeped out, and
he saw a queer sight. The storm had passed, and the moon was shining.
Many elves were dancing to strange music played by an old, old elf.
[Illustration: Donal sees the fairies dancing]
Such queer dancing it was! Donal crept out of the tree and drew nearer
and nearer. Suddenly he laughed out loud and said, "Well, that's the
worst dancing I have ever seen!"
The fairies were astonished and angry, and they all began to talk at the
same time.
"We have a man among us!" cried one.
"Let us hang him!" cried another.
"Cut his head off!" cried a third.
But the queen stepped out among them and said, "Leave him to me."
Then she called Donal to her. Now Donal was a wee bit frightened, but he
knew where to wear his smile, you remember. So he went up to the queen,
smiling and bowing.
"You say our dancing is the worst you have ever seen," she said. "Now,
show us that you can do better."
Donal smiled again and bowed low. Then he began to dance. Such dancing
the elves had never seen! They clapped their hands and made him dance
again and again. Finally, Donal was exhausted, and after making a low
bow to the queen, sat down on the ground.
The fairies crowded around him.
"Give him our silver!" cried one.
"Make it gold!" cried another.
"Diamonds!" cried a third.
But the queen said, "Leave it to me."
She went up to the old, old elf who had been playing for the dance.
Taking his violin from him, she gave it to Donal. You see, the queen
knew the dearest wish of his heart.
Then Donal was a happy lad, indeed! He thanked the queen and went home
playing on his new violin.
II
There lived near Donal's home a lad named Conal. He was not such a fine
lad as Donal, nor such a gay one. He was a greedy lad, and the dearest
wish of his heart was to be rich. And he did not know where to wear his
smile. If he had one, he kept it in his pocket.
When Conal heard what had happened to Donal, he wished to know all about
it. So he went to him and said, "Donal, man, how did you get that
beautiful violin?"
Donal told the story backward and forward, and forward and backward,
from beginning to end, until Conal knew it by heart.
Then Conal said to himself, "I will go to the hollow tree and dance for
the elves; but I shall not be so foolish as Donal. I will take their
gold and silver, and their diamonds, too."
That night Conal went to the hollow tree and waited until the elves
appeared. Then he crept out and watched them dance. And he said, just as
Donal had, "Well, that's the worst dancing I have ever seen!"
The fairies were astonished and angry again, and again they all began to
talk at once.
"Another man among us!" cried one.
"Let us hang him!" cried another.
"Cut off his head!" cried a third.
But the queen said, "Leave it to me."
Then she called Conal to her. Now Conal did not know where to wear his
smile, you remember; he always kept it in his pocket. So he went up to
the queen with a very sour face.
The queen said to him, as she had to Donal, "You say our dancing is the
worst you have ever seen. Now, show us that you can do better."
Conal began to dance, and he could dance well. The elves were delighted.
They clapped their hands and asked him to dance again, but he said
roughly, "No, that is enough. Do you expect me to dance all night?"
The elves were silent then, and the queen's face was stern. But she was
a just queen, and she said, "You have danced well. Will you have some of
our silver?"
"Yes," said Conal, without a word of thanks; and he filled his coat
pockets.
"Will you have gold?" asked the queen.
"Yes," said Conal greedily, as he filled the pockets in his trousers.
"Will you have some of our diamonds?" the queen asked, and her face was
dark with anger.
"Yes, yes," cried Conal.
"You shall not have them, you greedy lad!" cried the queen; "you shall
have nothing."
Just then a cloud passed across the moon, and the elves vanished.
"Oh, well," said Conal, "I have the gold and silver."
He plunged his hands into his pockets and lo! the gold and silver had
turned to stones. Then Conal went home a sadder and a wiser lad.
--IRISH TALE.
[Illustration: A bird singing]
WHO TOLD THE NEWS?
Oh, the sunshine told the bluebird,
And the bluebird told the brook,
That the dandelions were peeping
From the woodland's sheltered nook.
Then the brook was blithe and happy,
And it babbled all the way,
As it ran to tell the river
Of the coming of the May.
Soon the river told the meadow,
And the meadow told the bee,
That the tender buds were swelling
On the old horse-chestnut tree.
And the bee shook off its torpor,
And it spread each gauzy wing,
As it flew to tell the flowers
Of the coming of the spring.
THE BIRDS OF KILLINGWORTH
I
It was spring. The apple trees and the cherry trees were pink and white
with blossoms. They filled the air with fragrance. The maples were red,
and on the oak and poplar the buds were swelling. The brooklets were
rushing and leaping on toward the sea.
It was spring everywhere. The robin and the bluebird were piping sweetly
in the blossoming orchard. The sparrows were chirping, and hungry crows
were calling loudly for food. The farmers of Killingworth were plowing
the fields, and the broken clods, too, told of spring.
A farmer heard the cawing of the crows and the song of the birds.
He said, "Did one ever see so many birds? Why, when we plant our seeds,
these birds will take them all. When the fruit ripens, they will destroy
it. I, for one, wish there were no birds, and I say kill them all."
Another farmer said, "Yes, let us call a meeting of the people of the
village and decide what is to be done with the pests."
The meeting was called, and all came: the squire, the preacher, the
teacher, and the farmers from the country round about.
Up rose the farmer who had said he wished there were no birds.
"Friends," he said, "the crows are about to take my field of corn. I put
up scarecrows, but the birds fly by them and seem to laugh at them. The
robins are as saucy as they can be. Soon they will eat all the cherries
we have. I say kill all birds; they are a pest."
"So say I," said another farmer.
"And I," said another.
"And I," "And I," came from voices in every part of the hall.
The teacher arose and timidly said:
"My friends, you know not what you do. You would put to death the birds
that make sweet music for us in our dark hours: the thrush, the oriole,
the noisy jay, the bluebird, the meadow lark.
"You slay them all, and why? Because they scratch up a little handful of
wheat or corn, while searching for worms or weevils.
"Do you never think who made them and who taught them their songs of
love? Think of your woods and orchards without birds!
"And, friends, would you rather have insects in the hay? You call the
birds thieves, but they guard your farms. They drive the enemy from your
cornfields and from your harvests.
"Even the blackest of them, the crow, does good. He crushes the beetle
and wages war on the slug and the snail.
"And, what is more, how can I teach your children gentleness and mercy
when you contradict the very thing I teach?"
But the farmers only shook their heads and laughed. "What does the
teacher know of such things?" they asked. And they passed a law to have
the birds killed.
So the dreadful war on birds began. They fell down dead, with
bloodstains on their breasts. Some fluttered, wounded, away from the
sight of man, while the young died of starvation in the nests.
II
The summer came, and all the birds were dead. The days were like hot
coals. In the orchards hundreds of caterpillars fed. In the fields and
gardens hundreds of insects of every kind crawled, finding no foe to
check them. At last the whole land was like a desert.
From the trees caterpillars dropped down upon the women's bonnets, and
they screamed and ran. At every door, the women gathered and talked.
"What will become of us?" asked one. "The men were wrong,--something
must be done."
"The teacher was right," said another.
At last, the farmers grew ashamed of having killed the birds. They met
and did away with the wicked law, but it was too late.
[Illustration: The wagon filled with branches and cages]
Harvest time came, but there was no harvest. In many a home there was
want and sorrow.
The next spring a strange sight was seen--a sight never seen before or
since. Through the streets there went a wagon filled with great branches
of trees. Upon them were hung cages of birds that were making sweet
music.
From all the country round these birds had been brought by order of the
farmers. The cages were opened, and once more the woods and fields were
filled with the beautiful birds, who flew about singing their songs of
joy. And again the harvests grew in the fields and filled to overflowing
the farmers' barns.
--_Adapted from_ LONGFELLOW.
THE TRAILING ARBUTUS
I
Many, many moons ago, in a lodge in a forest, there lived an old man.
His hair was white as the snowdrift. All the world was winter; snow and
ice were everywhere, and the old man wore heavy furs.
The winds went wildly through the forest searching every bush and tree
for birds to chill. The old man looked in vain in the deep snow for
pieces of wood to keep up the fire in his lodge. Then he sat down by his
dull and low fire.
Shaking and trembling he sat there, hearing nothing but the tempest as
it roared through the forest, seeing nothing but the snowstorm as it
whirled and hissed and drifted.
All the coals became white with ashes, and the fire was slowly dying.
Suddenly the wind blew aside the door of the lodge, and there came in a
most beautiful maiden.
Her cheeks were like the wild rose, her eyes were soft and glowed like
the stars in springtime; and her hair was as brown as October's nuts.
Her dress was of ferns and sweet grasses, her moccasins were of white
lilies, on her head was a wreath of wild flowers, and in her hands were
beautiful blossoms. When she breathed, the air became warm and fragrant.
"Ah, my daughter," exclaimed the old man. "Happy are my eyes to see you.
Sit here on the mat beside me; sit here by the dying embers. Tell me of
your strange adventures, and I will tell you of my deeds of wonder."
From his pouch he drew his peace pipe, very old and strangely fashioned.
He filled the pipe with bark of willow, and placed a burning coal upon
it.
Then he said, "I am Manito, the Mighty. When I blow my breath about me,
the rivers become motionless and the waters hard as stone."
The maiden smiling said, "When I blow my breath about me, flowers spring
up over all the meadows. And all the rivers rush onward, singing songs
of joy."
"When I shake my hoary tresses," said the old man, darkly frowning, "all
the ground is covered with snow. All the leaves fade and wither."
"When I shake my flowing ringlets," said the maiden, "the warm rains
fall over all the land."
Then proudly the old man replied, "When I walk through the forest,
everything flees before me. The animals hide in their holes. The birds
rise from the lakes and the marshes, and fly to distant regions."
Softly the maiden answered, "When I walk through the forest, all is
bright and joyous. The animals come from their holes. The birds return
to the lakes and marshes. The leaves come back to the trees. The plants
lift up their heads to kiss the breezes. And where-ever my footsteps
wander, all the meadows wave their blossoms, all the woodlands ring with
music."
II
While they talked, the night departed. From his shining lodge of silver
came the sun. The air was warm and pleasant; the streams began to
murmur; the birds began to sing. And a scent of growing grasses was
wafted through the lodge.
The old man's face dropped upon his breast, and he slept. Then the
maiden saw more clearly the icy face before her--saw the icy face of
winter.
Slowly she passed her hands above his head. Streams of water ran from
his eyes, and his body shrunk and dwindled till it faded into the
air--vanished into the earth--and his clothing turned to green leaves.
The maiden took from her bosom the most precious flowers. Kneeling upon
the ground, she hid them all about among the leaves.
[Illustration: The maiden hides the flowers among the leaves]
"I give you my most precious flowers and my sweetest breath," she said,
"but all who would pluck you must do so upon bended knee."
Then the maiden moved away--through the forest and over the waking
fields; and wherever she stepped, and nowhere else in all the land,
grows the trailing arbutus.
--INDIAN LEGEND.
HIDDEN TREASURE
I
Once upon a time there was an old farmer named John Jacobs. He had heard
that treasures were found in odd places. He thought and thought about
such treasures until he could think of nothing else; and he spent all
his time hunting for them. How he wished he could find a pot of gold!
One morning he arose with a bright face and said to his wife, "At last,
Mary, I've found the treasure."
"No, I cannot believe it," she said.
"Yes," he answered; "at least it is as good as found. I am only waiting
until I have my breakfast. Then I will go out and bring it in."
"Oh, how did you find it?" asked the wife.
"I was told about it in a dream," said he.
"Where is it?"
"Under a tree in our orchard," said John.
"Oh, John, let us hurry and get it."
So they went out together into the orchard.
"Which tree is it under?" asked the wife.
John scratched his head and looked silly.
"I really do not know," he said.
"Oh, you foolish man," said the wife. "Why didn't you take the trouble
to notice?"
"I did notice," said he. "I saw the exact tree in my dream, but there
are so many trees, here that I am confused. There is only one thing to
do now. I must begin with the first tree and keep on digging until I
come to the one with the treasure under it."
This made the wife lose all hope. There were eighty apple trees and a
score of peach trees.
She sighed and said, "I suppose if you must, you must, but be careful
not to cut any of the roots."
By this time John was in a very bad humor. He went to work saying, "What
difference does it make if I cut all the roots? The whole orchard will
not bear one bushel of good apples or peaches. I don't know why, for in
father's time it bore wagonloads of choice fruit."
"Well, John," said his wife, "you know father used to give the trees a
great deal of attention."
But John grumbled to himself as he went on with his digging. He dug
three feet deep around the first tree, but no treasure was there. He
went to the next tree, but found nothing; then to the next and the next,
until he had dug around every tree in the orchard. He dug and dug, but
no pot of gold did he find.
II
The neighbors thought that John was acting queerly. They told other
people, who came to see what he was doing.
They would sit on the fence and make sly jokes about digging for hidden
treasure. They called the orchard "Jacobs' folly."
Soon John did not like to be seen in the orchard. He did not like to
meet his neighbors. They would laugh and say, "Well, John, how much
money did you get from the holes?"
This made John angry. At last he said, "I will sell the place and move
away."
"Oh, no," said the wife, "this has always been our home, and I cannot
think of leaving it. Go and fill the holes; then the neighbors will stop
laughing. Perhaps we shall have a little fruit this year, too. The heaps
of earth have stood in wind and frost for months, and that will help the
trees."
John did as his wife told him. He filled the holes with earth and
smoothed it over as level as before. By and by everybody forgot "Jacobs'
folly."
Soon the spring came. April was warm, and the trees burst into bloom.
"Mary," said John one bright spring day, "don't you think the blossoms
are finer than usual this year?"
"Yes, they look as they did when your father was alive," said his wife.
[Illustration: John's trees full of fruit]
By and by, the blooms fell, leaving a million little green apples and
peaches. Summer passed and autumn followed. The branches of the old
trees could hardly hold up all the fine fruit on them.
Now the neighbors came, not to make fun, but to praise. "How did you do
it?" they asked.
"The trees were old and needed attention," said John. "By turning the
soil and letting in the air, I gave them strength to bear fruit. I have
found the treasure after all, and I have learned a lesson. Tilling the
soil well is the way to get treasure from it."
--GRIMM.
THE LITTLE BROWN BROTHER
Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother,
Are you awake in the dark?
Here we lie cozily, close to each other;
Hark to the song of the lark--
"Waken!" the lark says, "waken and dress you;
Put on your green coats and gay,
Blue sky will shine on you, sunshine caress you--
Waken! 'tis morning--'tis May!"
Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother,
What kind of flower will you be?
I'll be a poppy--all white, like my mother;
Do be a poppy like me.
What! you're a sunflower? How I shall miss you
When you're grown golden and high!
But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you;
Little brown brother, good-by!
--EMILY NESBIT.
HOW THE FLOWERS GROW
This is how the flowers grow;
I have watched them and I know:
First, above the ground is seen
A tiny blade of purest green,
Reaching up and peeping forth
East and west, and south and north.
Then the sunbeams find their way
To the sleeping bud and say,
"We are children of the sun
Sent to wake thee, little one."
And the leaflet opening wide
Shows the tiny bud inside,
Peeping with half-opened eye
On the bright and sunny sky.
Breezes from the west and south
Lay their kisses on its mouth;
Till the petals all are grown,
And the bud's a flower blown.
--GABRIEL SETOUN.
WISE MEN OF GOTHAM
Once upon a time there were some wise men who lived in Gotham. Listen
and you will hear how wise they were.
Twelve of these wise men went fishing one day. Some went into the stream
and some stayed on dry ground. They caught many fish and had a good
time.
As they came home, one of the men said, "We have risked much wading in
that stream. I pray God no one of us is drowned."
"Why, one of us might be! Who knows?" cried another. "Let's see about
it. Twelve of us went fishing this morning. We must count and see if
twelve are returning."
So one man counted, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,
nine, ten, eleven." And he did not count himself!
"Alas! One of us is drowned!" he cried.
"Woe be unto us! Let me count," said another. And he did not count
himself.
"Alas! alas!" he wailed; "truly one of us is drowned!"
Then every man counted, and each one failed to count himself.
"Alas! alas!" they all cried; "one of us is drowned! Which one is it?"
They went back to the shore, and they looked up and down for him that
was drowned. All the time they were lamenting loudly.
A courtier came riding by. "What are you seeking?" he asked, "and why
are you so sorrowful?"
"Oh," said they, "this day we came to fish in the stream. There were
twelve of us, but one is drowned."
"Why," said the courtier, "count yourselves and see how many there be."
Again they counted, and again each man failed to count himself.
"Well, this is sad," said the courtier, who saw how the mistake had been
made. "What will you give me if I find the twelfth man?"
"Sir," cried all together, "you may have all the money we own."
"Give me the money," said the courtier.
Then he began to count. He gave the first man a whack over the shoulders
and said, "There is one."
He gave the next a whack and said, "There is two." And so he counted
until he came to the last man. He gave this one a sounding blow, saying,
"And here is the twelfth."
"God bless you!" cried all the company. "You have found our neighbor."
--OLD ENGLISH STORY.
THE MILLER'S GUEST
I
A hunter who had ridden ahead in the chase was lost. The sun went down,
and darkness fell upon the forest. The hunter blew his horn, but no
answer came. What should he do?
At last he heard the sound of horse's hoofs. Some one was coming. Was it
friend or foe? The hunter stood still, and soon a miller rode out into
the moonlight.
"Pray, good fellow, be so kind as to tell me the way to Nottingham,"
said the hunter.
"Nottingham? Why should you be going to Nottingham? The king and his
court are there. It is not a place for the like of you," replied the
miller.
"Well, well, perhaps you are right, good miller," said the hunter. "And
yet who knows? I'll wager that the king is no better man than I am.
However, it is getting late, and lodging I must have. Will you give me
shelter for the night?"
"Nay, nay, not so fast," said the miller. "Stand forth and let me see if
you are a true man. Many thieves wear fine clothes these days."
The hunter stepped forward. "Well, and what do you think of me?" he
asked gayly. "Will you not give a stranger lodging?"
"How do I know that you have one penny in your purse?" asked the miller.
"You may carry your all on your back, for aught I know. I've heard of
lords who are like that."
"True, good miller, but I have gold. If it be forty pence, I will pay
it," said the hunter.
"If you are a true man, and have the pence, then lodging you may have.
My good wife may not like it, but we'll see," said the miller.
"Good!" cried the hunter. "And here's my hand on it."
"Nay, nay, not so fast," replied the miller. "I must know you better
before I shake hands. None but an honest man's hand will I take."
"Some day, my good miller," replied the hunter, "I hope to have you take
my hand in yours. Proud will I be when the day comes."
II
And so to the miller's house they went. The miller again looked at the
stranger and said, "I like his face well. He may stay with us, may he
not, good wife?"
"Yes, he is a handsome youth, but it's best not to go too fast," said
the good wife. "He may be a runaway servant. Let him show his passport,
and all shall be well."
The hunter bowed low, and said, "I have no passport, good dame, and I
never was any man's servant. I am but a poor courtier who has lost his
way. Pray give me lodging for the night. Your kindness I will surely
repay."
Then the wife whispered to the miller, "The youth is of good manners and
to turn him out would be sin."
"Yea, a well-mannered youth--and one who knows his betters when he sees
them," the miller replied. "Let the lad stay."
"Well, young man," said the wife, "you are welcome here; and well lodged
you shall be, though I do say it myself. You shall have a fresh bed with
good brown sheets."
"Aye," said the miller, "and you shall sleep with our own son Richard."
Then they all sat down to supper--such a supper: pudding, apple pie, and
good things of all kinds. Then at a wink from the miller, the wife
brought out a venison pasty.
"Eat!" said the miller. "This is dainty food."
"Faith!" cried the hunter, "I never before ate such meat."
"Pshaw!" said Richard. "We eat this every day."
"Every day? Where do you buy it?"
"Oh, never a penny pay we. In merry Sherwood Forest we find it. Now and
then, you see, we make bold with the king's deer."
"Then I think that it is venison," said the hunter.
"To be sure. Any fool would know that," replied Richard; "but say
nothing about it. We would not have the king hear of it."
"I'll keep your secret," said the hunter. "Don't fear. The king shall
never know more than he knows now."
And so the evening passed merrily. It was late when the guest sought his
bed, but right soundly did he sleep.
The next morning the miller, the good wife, and Richard came out to see
the hunter on his way. Just then a party of nobles rode up.
"There's the king!" cried one.
"Pardon, your majesty!" cried another, and all fell upon their knees
before the hunter.
The miller stood shaking and quaking, and for once his wife could not
speak. The king, with a grave face, drew his sword, but not a word did
he say.
The terrified miller threw himself at his ruler's feet, crying out for
mercy. Again the sword was raised, and down it fell, but lightly, upon
the miller's shoulder, and the king said:
[Illustration: The king knights the miller]
"Your kind courtesy I will repay; so I here dub thee Knight. Rise, Sir
John of Mansfield."
For many a day the miller and his wife told of the night the king spent
with them. And for many a day the king told of the time he was taken for
a thief and ate of his own deer in the miller's house.
--ENGLISH BALLAD (Adapted).
SADDLE TO RAGS
I
This story I'm going to sing,
I hope it will give you content,
Concerning a silly old man
That was going to pay his rent,
With a till-a-dill, till-a-dill-dill,
Till-a-dill, dill-a-dill, dee,
Sing fol-de-dill, dill-de-dill, dill,
Fol-de-dill, dill-de-dill, dee.
A silly old man said to his wife one day, "Well, 'tis time I paid my
rent. The landlord has been away for a year and a day, but now he is
back, and I must pay for twelve months."
"Yes, it's twice forty pounds that is due, and it should be paid," said
the good wife. "So much money in the house keeps me from sleeping at
night."
"Well, I'll bridle old Tib, and away we shall go," said the old man.
"Right glad I'll be, too, to be rid of the gold."
The silly old man bridled old Tib and saddled her too. And away they
started. As he was jogging along, a stranger came riding up on a fine
horse with fine saddle bags.
"Good morning, old man," said the stranger.
"Good morning," said the old man.
"How far are you going?"
"To tell the truth, kind sir, I am going just two miles," said the old
man.
"And where are you going?" asked the stranger.
"I am going to pay my rent, kind sir," said the old man. "I am but a
silly old man who farms a piece of ground. My rent for a half year is
forty pounds; but my landlord has been away for a year, and now I owe
him eighty pounds. Right glad I am to pay it."
"Eighty pounds! That is indeed a large sum," cried the stranger, "and
you ought not to tell anybody you carry so much. There are many thieves
about, and you might be robbed."
"Oh, never mind!" said the old man. "I do not fear thieves. My money is
safe in my saddle bags, on which I ride."
So they rode along most pleasantly.
When they came to a thick wood, the stranger pulled out a pistol and
said, "Stand still, and give me your money."
"Nay," said the old man. "The money is for my landlord. I will not give
it to you."
"Your money or your life!"
"Well, if you will have it, you can go for it," cried the old man, as he
threw his old saddle bags over a hedge.
The thief dismounted and said, "Stand here and hold my horse while I go
over the hedge. You are silly, but surely you can do that."
The thief climbed through the hedge. When he was on the other side, the
old man got on the thief's horse, and away he galloped.
"Stop, stop!" cried the thief. "And half of my share you shall have."
"Nay," cried the man. "I think I'll go on. I'd rather have what's in
your bag."
[Illustration: The old man gallops away]
And away he galloped, riding as he never rode before.
II
The thief thought there must be something in the old man's bags; so with
his big rusty knife he chopped them into rags. But no money did he find,
for the silly old man was not so silly as he seemed. His money was in
his pocket.
The old man rode on to his landlord's home and paid his rent. Then he
opened the thief's bag, which was glorious to behold. There were five
hundred pounds in gold and silver.
"Where did you get the silver?" asked the landlord. "And where did you
get the gold?"
"I met a proud fool on the way," said the old man with a laugh. "I
swapped horses with him, and he gave me this to boot."
"Well, well! But you're too old to go about with so much money," said
the landlord.
"Oh, I think no one would harm a silly old man like me," said the
farmer, as he rode away.
The old man went home by a narrow lane, and there he spied Tib tied to a
tree.
"The stranger did not like his trade, I fear," said he. "So I think I'll
take Tib home."
The old man went home much richer than when he left. When she heard the
story, the wife danced and sang for glee. "'Tis hard to fool my old
man," said she.
--ENGLISH BALLAD (_Adapted_).
[Illustration: The Rock-a-By Lady walking by]
THE ROCK-A-BY LADY
The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street
Comes stealing; comes creeping;
The poppies they hang from her head to her
feet,
And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet--
She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet,
When she findeth you sleeping!
There is one little dream of a beautiful drum--
"Rub-a-dub!" it goeth;
There is one little dream of a big sugar-plum,
And lo! thick and fast the other dreams come
Of pop-guns that bang, and tin tops that hum,
And a trumpet that bloweth!
And dollies peep out of those wee little dreams
With laughter and singing;
And boats go a-floating on silvery streams,
And the stars peek-a-boo with their own misty gleams,
And up, up, and up, where the Mother Moon beams,
The fairies go winging!
Would you dream all these dreams that are tiny and fleet?
They'll come to you sleeping;
So shut the two eyes that are weary, my sweet,
For the Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street
With poppies that hang from her head to her feet,
Comes stealing; comes creeping.
--EUGENE FIELD.
THE SANDMAN
The rosy clouds float overhead,
The sun is going down;
And now the sandman's gentle tread
Comes stealing through the town.
"White sand, white sand," he softly cries,
And as he shakes his hand,
Straightway there lies on babies' eyes
His gift of shining sand.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
When he goes through the town.
From sunny beaches far away--
Yes, in another land--
He gathers up at break of day
His store of shining sand.
No tempests beat that shore remote,
No ships may sail that way;
His little boat alone may float
Within that lovely bay.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
When he goes through the town.
[Illustration: The sandman]
He smiles to see the eyelids close
Above the happy eyes;
And every child right well he knows,
Oh, he is very wise!
But, if as he goes through the land,
A naughty baby cries,
His other hand takes dull gray sand
To close the wakeful eyes.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
When he goes through the town.
So when you hear the sandman's song
Sound through the twilight sweet,
Be sure you do not keep him long
A-waiting on the street.
Lie softly down, dear little head,
Rest quiet, busy hands,
Till, by your bed his good-night said,
He strews the shining sands.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
When he goes through the town.
--MARGARET VANDERGRIFT.
A DICTIONARY
To the Children: Below you will find the words in the Third Reader that
you may not know the meaning of, or how to pronounce. Some words have
more than one meaning. In looking for the meaning of a word, choose the
meaning that best fits the sentence in which the word occurs.
ad ven ture: a bold undertaking.
af fec tion: love.
a gree ment: a bargain.
al mond: a nut.
am ber: of the color of amber-yellow.
ap plaud ed: praised.
ar bu tus: a trailing plant with small pinkish-white blossoms.
A tri (Ah tree): a town in Italy.
aught: anything.
Bau cis (Bor sis): a Greek woman.
bel lows (lus): an instrument for blowing a fire, used by blacksmiths.
bil low: a great wave.
blithe (bl=ithe): joyous, glad.
bred: brought up.
bur dock: a coarse plant with bur-like heads.
card: an instrument for combing cotton, wool, or flax.
chase: hunt; pursuit.
chris ten ing: naming a child at baptism.
cliff: a high, steep face of rock.
com rade (kom rad): a mate, a companion.
Con al (C~on' al): an Irish lad.
con ceit ed: proud, vain.
con fess: to own; to admit.
coun cil: a small body called together for a trial, or to decide a matter.
court ier (court' yer): an attendant at the court of a prince.
crime: a wicked act punishable by law.
crouch: to stoop low.
dan ger: risk.
de li cious: pleasing to the taste.
de nied: disowned.
depths: deep part of sea.
de stroy: break up; kill.
dis tress: suffering of mind.
dock: a place between piers where vessels may anchor.
Don al (D~on' al): an Irish lad.
dor mouse (dor mous'): a small animal that looks like a squirrel.
drought (drout): want of water.
dub: call.
dumps: low spirits.
eaves: overhanging lower edges of a roof.
em bers: smouldering ashes.
em per or: ruler of an empire.
em press: wife of an emperor; a female ruler.
en chant ed: bewitched.
en e my: foe.
es tab lish: to found.
ex act ly: completely.
ex haust ed: tired, worn out.
ex tend ing: reaching.
fam ine: scarcity of food.
fes ti val: a time of feasting.
flax: a slender plant with blue flowers, used to make thread and cloth.
fol ly: foolishness.
foot man: a man servant.
forge: a place with its furnace where metal is heated and hammered into
different shapes.
fra grance: sweetness.
free dom: independence, liberty.
gauz y: like gauze, thin.
Got ham (Got am): a village in Old England, commonly called G=o tham.
grate ful: thankful.
groom: a servant in charge of horses.
guard: one that guards; a watch.
hail ing: calling.
har bor: a protected body of water where vessels may anchor safely.
haught y: proud.
her ald: a messenger.
Ho ang ti (H=o ~ang tee): an emperor of China.
hoar y: white.
horse-chest nut: a tree.
hu man: like men.
hu mor: mood, disposition.
in no cent: guiltless.
in spect: examine.
in stant ly: at once.
in vent ed: made.
jest: joke.
ju ni per: an evergreen, tree.
jus tice: right treatment.
king dom: country belonging
to king or queen.
kirk: church.
knight: a mounted man-at-arms.
lad en: loaded.
la ment ed: wailed, wept.
lin en: thread or cloth made of flax.
lodge: dwelling place; wigwam.
loom: a machine for weaving threads into cloth.
lus cious: delicious.
Man i tou (too): a name given by the Indians to the "Great Spirit," or God.
marsh es: swamps.
mer cy: pity, kindness.
min is ter: a pastor, a clergyman.
mis for tune: bad fortune.
moc ca sin: Indian shoes.
moor: to secure in place, as a vessel: a great tract of waste land.
moult ed: shed feathers.
no bles: lords.
nurs er y: play room for children.
o blige: do a favor.
o rang ou tang: a kind of ape.
or der ly: regular; in order.
page: a youth training for knighthood.
pas try (p=as): article of food made with crust of paste (or dough) as a
pie.
peas ant (p~es): a tiller of the soil.
pe can: a kind of nut.
Pe kin duck: a large, creamy white duck.
pest: a nuisance.
Phi le mon (F=i l=e' mon): a Greek peasant.
pil lar: a support.
pin ing: drooping; longing.
pound: a piece of English money, equal to about $5.00 in United States
money.
prai rie: an extensive tract of level or rolling land.
rag ing: furious, violent.
rec og nized: known.
re flec tion: image.
ref uge: shelter.
re fused: declined to do.
reign ing (rain): ruling.
re mote: distant.
rest less: eager for change, discontented; unquiet.
re store: to return, to give back.
roe buck: male deer.
runt: an animal unusually small of its kind.
sad dle bags: a pair of pouches attached to a saddle, used to carry
small articles.
Salis bur y (Sauls): a town in North Carolina.
sav age: wild, untamed.
scare crow: an object set up to scare crows and other birds away from
crops.
score: the number twenty.
serv ice: benefit, favor.
shek el: ancient coin.
shreds: strips, fragments.
Si ling (Se): a Chinese empress.
sim ple ton: a foolish person.
six pence: six pennies--about twelve cents in United States money.
squire: a justice of the peace.
state ly: dignified, majestic.
stat ues: likeness of a human being cut out of stone.
steeped: soaked.
striv ing: laboring, endeavoring.
stub ble: stumps of grain left in ground, as after reaping.
tab lets: a flat piece on which to write.
tasks: work, undertaking.
tem pest: storm.
tem ple: a kind of church.
thriv ing: prospering, succeeding.
tid ings: news.
till ing: cultivating.
tim id ly: shyly.
tink er ing: mending.
tithing man (t=ith): officer who enforced good behavior.
tor por: numbness, dullness.
tread: step.
tri als: efforts, attempts.
troop: an armed force.
u su al: ordinary, common.
vain: proud, conceited; to no purpose.
van ished: disappeared.
ven i son (ven' z'n): flesh of deer.
vic to ry: triumph.
vol un teer: one who offers himself for a service.
wa ger (wa jer): bet.
wages: carries on.
wand: a small stick.
width: breadth.
wig wam: Indian tent.
wis dom: learning, knowledge.
yarn: thread.
Zeus (Z=us): a Greek god.
WORD LIST
This list contains the words in the Child's World Third Reader, except
those already used in the earlier books of this series, and a few that
present no difficulty in spelling, pronunciation or meaning.
9
Greece
Philemon
Baucis
unhappy
hives
10
gathered
couple
Zeus
beggars
11
attend
footsore
herbs
although
pitcher
13
disappeared
homeward
14
feeble
linden
15
treasure
lucky
Iris
precious
16
messenger
swift-footed
Mercury
awakened
17
hereafter
honest
upright
18
blossoms
luscious
harsh
19
hues
frolic
glistened
wrestled
scurried
21
fluttered
speckled
tender
22
parents
moment
remained
praised
25
zigzag
remote
comrade
blithe
amber
billows
stubble
bracing
26
plantation
spindle
28
woven
loom
ruffles
29
England
buttonholes
30
shepherd
shearers
32
dyers
33
colored
plaid
34
Hoangti
emperor
China
Si-ling
empress
suddenly
35
cocoons
37
dainty
linen
38
frightful
steeped
39
suffered
aprons
40
shreds
pulp
glorious
surprise
verses
41
isles
thousands
prayers
42
Hillmen
housewife
bargains
43
saucepan
aye
sixpence
tinkering
44
refused
muttered
vexed
chimney
45
scoured
spoiled
exclaimed
46
shelter
Dormouse
lest
47
gracious
lamented
invented
48
Atri
heralds
ye
complaint
message
49
guilty
50
arousing
justice
51
steed
undertone
jest
52
applauded
53
savage
54
dragged
judge
prison
55
denied
wisdom
56
labor
honeycomb
57
artists
extending
poets
affection
well-deserved
59
dreadful
worry
horrid
notice
62
business
65
perfectly
breath
67
Epaminondas
granny
75
service
76
obliged
gently
77
tremendous
marvelous
78
forbid
allow
81
caramels
almond
pecan
taffy
82
except
Christ
84
Pedro
altar
distress
86
stately
haughty
88
musician
90
family
scare
pantry
94
chocolate
95
whiskers
danger
101
huddled
wailed
usual
faint
102
cheerful
pardon
104
chorus
shriller
chubby
bundled
106
furniture
mirror
reflection
108
disgusted
110
satisfied
oiling
111
bow-legged
conceited
112
remarked
width
113
clattering
astonished
114
fault
recognized
115
shekels
116
impossible
caliph
117
courtier
presence
refused
119
companion
120
razors
agreement
121
instantly
122
cozy
drowsy
124
Puritans
Sabbath
125
Indians
worship
126
sermon
minister
127
tithingman
peppermint
130
freedom
regular
Vermont
able-bodied
Americans
volunteers
131
inspect
133
victory
134
president
Salisbury
135
impatient
governor
138
delicious
heartily
139
murmuring
papoose
prairie
Manitou
140
drought
council
142
declared
sleek
144
resin
selfish
147
mentioned
loose
149
hominy
sharpened
154
establish
harbor
moored
orderly
155
nursery
scattered
156
famine
Orang-outang
157
journey
magic
160
refuge
grateful
restore
innocent
161
favorite
whirlwind
162
kingdom
confess
rejoicing
163
penniless
simpleton
nevertheless
164
destroy
human
165
enchanted
tablets
166
performs
princesses
167
collected
pearls
168
depths
exactly
syrup
172
christening
godmothers
174
nightingale
spitefully
175
grieve
vanished
misfortune
177
embroidering
departed
royal
178
reigning
peasant
determined
guards
motionless
179
statues
181
canals
burdocks
182
parson
cheated
186
miserable
moor
189
terror
cruel
190
clumsy
matters
192
glossy
moulted
naked
193
horrible
sky-rocket
195
strength
turtle dove
196
Russian
199
juniper
201
trespass-money
202
mischief
damages
ringleader
205
gooseherd
excuse
206
Ireland
208
exhausted
diamonds
211
trousers
greedily
212
torpor
gauzy
213
fragrance
Killing-worth
214
squire
timidly
215
oriole
weevils
enemy
contradict
216
starvation
caterpillars
foe
218
arbutus
tempest
219
moccasins
embers
adventures
220
hoary
joyous
marshes
ringlets
221
shrunk
bosom
scent
223
treasures
224
confused
humor
score
225
attention
folly
227
million
tilling
228
caress
229
leaflet
petals
230
Gotham
woe
223
Nottingham
wager
234
aught
lodging
235
passport
youth
servant
236
venison
pasty
Sherwood
237
majesty
terrified
246
straightway
beaches
248
twilight
strews