The Adventures of Johnny Chuck  by Thornton Burgess

Johnny Chuck Receives Callers

T HE morning after gentle Sister South Wind arrived on the Green Meadows, Peter Rabbit came hopping and skipping down the Lone Little Path from the Green Forest. Peter was happy. He didn't know why. He just was happy. It was in the air. Everybody else seemed happy, too. Peter had to stop every few minutes just to kick up his heels and try to jump over his own shadow. He had felt just that way ever since gentle Sister South Wind arrived.

"I simply have to kick and dance! I cannot help but gaily prance! Somehow I feel it in my toes Whenever gentle South Wind blows."

So sang Peter Rabbit as he hopped and skipped down the Lone Little Path. Suddenly he stopped right in the middle of the verse. He sat up very straight and stared down at Johnny Chuck's house. Some one was sitting on Johnny Chuck's door-step. It looked like Johnny Chuck. No, it looked like the shadow of Johnny Chuck. Peter rubbed his eyes and looked again. Then he hurried as fast as he could, lipperty-lipperty-lip. The nearer he got, the less like Johnny Chuck looked the one sitting on Johnny Chuck's door-step. Johnny Chuck had gone to sleep round and fat and roly-poly, so fat he could hardly waddle. This fellow was thin, even thinner than Peter Rabbit himself. He waved a thin hand to Peter.

"Hello, Peter Rabbit! I told you that I would see you in the spring. How did you stand the long winter?"

That certainly was Johnny Chuck's voice. Peter was so delighted that in his hurry he fell over his own feet. "Is it really and truly you, Johnny Chuck?" he cried.

"Is it really and truly you, Johnny Chuck?" he cried.

"Of course it's me; who did you think it was?" replied Johnny Chuck rather crossly, for Peter was staring at him as if he had never seen him before.

"I—I—I didn't know," confessed Peter Rabbit. "I thought it was you and I thought it wasn't you. What have you been doing to yourself, Johnny Chuck? Your coat looks three sizes too big for you, and when I last saw you it didn't look big enough." Peter hopped all around Johnny Chuck, looking at him as if he didn't believe his own eyes.

"Oh, Johnny's all right. He's just been living on his own fat," said another voice. It was Jimmy Skunk who had spoken, and he now stood holding out his hand to Johnny Chuck and grinning good-naturedly. He had come up without either of the others seeing him.

Peter's big eyes opened wider than ever. "Do you mean to say that he has been eating his own fat?" he gasped.

Johnny Chuck and Jimmy Skunk both laughed. "No," said Jimmy Skunk, "he didn't eat it, but he lived on it just the same while he was asleep all winter. Don't you see he hasn't got a particle of fat on him now?"

"But how could he live on it, if he didn't eat it?" asked Peter, staring at Johnny Chuck as if he had never seen him before.

Jimmy Skunk shrugged his shoulders. "Don't ask me. That is one of Old Mother Nature's secrets; you'll have to ask her," he replied.

"And don't ask me," said Johnny Chuck, "for I've been asleep all the time. My, but I'm hungry!"

"So am I!" said another voice. There was Reddy Fox grinning at them. Johnny Chuck dove into the doorway of his house with Peter Rabbit at his heels, for there was nowhere else to go. Jimmy Skunk just stood still and chuckled. He knew that Reddy Fox didn't dare touch him.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

The Man in the Moon

The Man in the Moon came tumbling down, And asked the way to Norwich; He went by the south, and burnt his mouth With eating cold pease porridge.

 

Bobby and the Big Road  by Maud Lindsay

The Big Road

T HE road that ran by the little brown house where Bobby and his mother and father lived was a long road, and a wide road, and a smooth road.

It began at the little town and wound on and on like a great white ribbon through the green country and away to the mountain-top.

Trees grew on either side of it, and tiny flowers. The air was sweet with ferns and balm, and birds sang there the livelong day.

A great many people traveled on the Big Road. From early morning till late at night they were passing the little brown house.

Some of them rode on horseback, and some in carriages. Some of them had fine automobiles to carry them to their journey's end, and some of them walked.

But no matter how they traveled, or whether they were rich or poor, the Big Road belonged to every one of them alike.

It belonged to Bobby, too. His father told him about it the very day that he was five years old and came to the little brown house for the first time.

"The Big Road is my road and your mother's road, and it belongs to a great many other people; but it is your road, too. It will take you to pleasant places and bring you pleasant friends, and you must be a friend to every one who travels on it," said Father.

Bobby felt just as if the Big Road were one of his birthday presents. A queer present, but he liked it.

 

Bobby and the Big Road  by Maud Lindsay

The Walk

B OBBY'S father thought the Big Road was always saying, "Come and go with me."

So the very first day that he and Mother and Bobby lived in the country they went for a walk on the road.

The sun was shining, and the west wind blowing, and wherever they looked there were wonderful things to see.

"I see a brown butterfly with gold spots on his wings," said Bobby.

"I see a locust-tree full of white blossoms," said Mother.

"I see a lizard sunning himself on a stone," said Father.

It was as nice as playing a game to tell what they saw along the Big Road.

Mother spied two blackbirds on a rail fence. Bobby found a spotted toad in the grass, and when the road turned into a wood Father called:

"Look, look, there is a grey squirrel."

Mother and Bobby looked as quickly as they could but the grey squirrel was quicker than they.

Whisk, whisk he ran up into a tall hickory-tree. They did not even catch a glimpse of him.

"If we sit down on this log and keep as still as mice perhaps you may see him yet," said Father.

So they sat down on the log and waited and watched, and watched and waited till Bobby thought he could not keep still another minute.

Just then the grey squirrel peeped down from the tree.

"Any danger down there?" his bright eyes seemed to ask.

Mother and Father and Bobby scarcely dared to breathe; they were so afraid of startling him.

What a cunning grey squirrel he was with his big bushy tail and his little round nose!

He came a little way down the tree and then stopped to look and listen. Then he came a little farther down. Then, hurry, scurry, he jumped to the ground almost at Bobby's feet and scampered away into the woods.

He jumped to the ground almost at Bobby's feet.

Bobby talked about him all the way home.

"Do you suppose he knew we were waiting for him?" he asked.

"I cannot tell you that," said Father, "but one thing I know, he will very soon find out that we are his friends."

And sure enough, before the summer was over the grey squirrel would take nuts from Bobby's hand.

 

Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Old Man and a Calf

 

The Tale of Mr. Jeremy Fisher  by Beatrix Potter

The Tale of Jeremy Fisher

O NCE upon a time there was a frog called Mr. Jeremy Fisher; he lived in a little damp house amongst the buttercups at the edge of a pond.

T HE water was all slippy-sloppy in the larder and in the back passage.

But Mr. Jeremy liked getting his feet wet; nobody ever scolded him, and he never caught a cold!

H E was quite pleased when he looked out and saw large drops of rain, splashing in the pond—

"I WILL get some worms and go fishing and catch a dish of minnows for my dinner," said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. "If I catch more than five fish, I will invite my friends Mr. Alderman Ptolemy Tortoise and Sir Isaac Newton. The Alderman, however, eats salad."

M R. JEREMY put on a macintosh, and a pair of shiny goloshes; he took his rod and basket, and set off with enormous hops to the place where he kept his boat.

T HE boat was round and green, and very like the other lily-leaves. It was tied to a water-plant in the middle of the pond.

M R. JEREMY took a reed pole, and pushed the boat out into open water. "I know a good place for minnows," said Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

M R. JEREMY stuck his pole into the mud and fastened the boat to it.

Then he settled himself cross-legged and arranged his fishing tackle. He had the dearest little red float. His rod was a tough stalk of grass, his line was a fine long white horse-hair, and he tied a little wriggling worm at the end.

T HE rain trickled down his back, and for nearly an hour he stared at the float.

"This is getting tiresome, I think I should like some lunch," said Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

H E punted back again amongst the water-plants, and took some lunch out of his basket.

"I will eat a butterfly sandwich, and wait till the shower is over," said Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

A GREAT big water-beetle came up underneath the lily leaf and tweaked the toe of one of his goloshes.

Mr. Jeremy crossed his legs up shorter, out of reach, and went on eating his sandwich.

O NCE or twice something moved about with a rustle and a splash amongst the rushes at the side of the pond.

"I trust that is not a rat," said Mr. Jeremy Fisher; "I think I had better get away from here."

M R. JEREMY shoved the boat out again a little way, and dropped in the bait. There was a bite almost directly; the float gave a tremendous bobbit!

"A minnow! a minnow! I have him by the nose!" cried Mr. Jeremy Fisher, jerking up his rod.

B UT what a horrible surprise! Instead of a smooth fat minnow, Mr. Jeremy landed little Jack Sharp the stickleback, covered with spines!

T HE stickleback floundered about the boat, pricking and snapping until he was quite out of breath. Then he jumped back into the water.

A ND a shoal of other little fishes put their heads out, and laughed at Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

A ND while Mr. Jeremy sat disconsolately on the edge of his boat—sucking his sore fingers and peering down into the water—a much  worse thing happened; a really frightful  thing it would have been, if Mr. Jeremy had not been wearing a macintosh!

A GREAT big enormous trout came up—ker-pflop-p-p-p! with a splash—and it seized Mr. Jeremy with a snap, "Ow! Ow! Ow!"—and then it turned and dived down to the bottom of the pond!

B UT the trout was so displeased with the taste of the macintosh, that in less than half a minute it spat him out again; and the only thing it swallowed was Mr. Jeremy's goloshes.

M R. JEREMY bounced up to the surface of the water, like a cork and the bubbles out of a soda water bottle; and he swam with all his might to the edge of the pond.

H E scrambled out on the first bank he came to, and he hopped home across the meadow with his macintosh all in tatters.

"W HAT a mercy that was not a pike!" said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. "I have lost my rod and basket; but it does not much matter, for I am sure I should never have dared to go fishing again!"

H E put some sticking plaster on his fingers, and his friends both came to dinner. He could not offer them fish, but he had something else in his larder.

S IR ISAAC NEWTON wore his black and gold waistcoat,

A ND Mr. Alderman Ptolemy Tortoise brought a salad with him in a string bag.

A ND instead of a nice dish of minnows—they had a roasted grasshopper with lady-bird sauce; which frogs consider a beautiful treat; but I  think it must have been nasty!

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

One, He Loves

One, he loves; two, he loves; Three, he loves, they say; Four, he loves with all his heart; Five, he casts away. Six, he loves; seven, she loves; Eight, they both love. Nine, he comes; ten, he tarries; Eleven, he courts; twelve, he marries.

 

Among the Meadow People  by Clara Dillingham Pierson

The Tree Frog's Story

I N all the meadow there was nobody who could tell such interesting stories as the old Tree Frog. Even the Garter Snake, who had been there the longest, and the old Cricket, who had lived in the farm-yard, could tell no such exciting tales as the Tree Frog. All the wonderful things of which he told had happened before he came to the meadow, and while he was still a young Frog. None of his friends had known him then, but he was an honest fellow, and they were sure that everything he told was true: besides, they must be true, for how could a body ever think out such remarkable tales from his own head?

When he first came to his home by the elm tree he was very thin, and looked as though he had been sick. The Katydids who stayed near said that he croaked in his sleep, and that, you know, is not what well and happy Frogs should do.

One day when many of the meadow people were gathered around him, he told them his story. "When I was a little fellow," he said, "I was strong and well, and could leap farther than any other Frog of my size. I was hatched in the pond beyond the farm-house, and ate my way from the egg to the water outside like any other Frog. Perhaps I ought to say, 'like any other Tadpole,' for, of course, I began life as a Tadpole. I played and ate with my brothers and sisters, and little dreamed what trouble was in store for me when I grew up. We were all in a hurry to be Frogs, and often talked of what we would do and how far we would travel when we were grown.

"Oh, how happy we were then! I remember the day when my hind legs began to grow, and how the other Tadpoles crowded around me in the water and swam close to me to feel the two little bunches that were to be legs. My fore legs did not grow until later, and these bunches came just in front of my tail."

"Your tail!" cried a puzzled young Cricket; "why, you haven't any tail!"

"I did have when I was a Tadpole," said the Tree Frog. "I had a beautiful, wiggly little tail with which to swim through the waters of the pond; but as my legs grew larger and stronger, my tail grew littler and weaker, until there wasn't any tail left. By the time my tail was gone I had four good legs, and could breathe through both my nose and my skin. The knobs on the ends of my toes were sticky, so that I could climb a tree, and then I was ready to start on my travels. Some of the other Frogs started with me, but they stopped along the way, and at last I was alone.

"I was a bold young fellow, and when I saw a great white thing among the trees up yonder, I made up my mind to see what it was. There was a great red thing in the yard beside it, but I liked the white one better. I hopped along as fast as I could, for I did not then know enough to be afraid. I got close up to them both, and saw strange, big creatures going in and out of the red thing—the barn, as I afterward found it was called. The largest creatures had four legs, and some of them had horns. The smaller creatures had only two legs on which to walk, and two other limbs of some sort with which they lifted and carried things. The queerest thing about it was, that the smaller creatures seemed to make the larger ones do whatever they wanted them to. They even made some of them help do their work. You may not believe me, but what I tell you is true. I saw two of the larger ones tied to a great load of dried grass and pulling it into the barn.

"As you may guess, I stayed there a long time, watching these strange creatures work. Then I went over toward the white thing, and that, I found out, was the farm-house. Here were more of the two-legged creatures, but they were dressed differently from those in the barn. There were some bright-colored flowers near the house, and I crawled in among them. There I rested until sunset, and then began my evening song. While I was singing, one of the people from the house came out and found me. She picked me up and carried me inside. Oh, how frightened I was! My heart thumped as though it would burst, and I tried my best to get away from her. She didn't hurt me at all, but she would not let me go.

"She put me in a very queer prison. At first, when she put me down on a stone in some water, I did not know that I was in prison. I tried to hop away, and—bump! went my head against something. Yet when I drew back, I could see no wall there. I tried it again and again, and every time I hurt my head. I tell you the truth, my friends, those walls were made of something which one could see through."

"Wonderful!" exclaimed all the meadow people; "wonderful, indeed!"

"And at the top," continued the Tree Frog, "was something white over the doorway into my prison. In the bottom were water and a stone, and from the bottom to the top was a ladder. There I had to live for most of the summer. I had enough to eat; but anybody who has been free cannot be happy shut in. I watched my chance, and three times I got out when the little door was not quite closed. Twice I was caught and put back. In the pleasant weather, of course, I went to the top of the ladder, and when it was going to rain I would go down again. Every time that I went up or down, those dreadful creatures would put their faces up close to my prison, and I could hear a roaring sound which meant they were talking and laughing.

"The last time I got out, I hid near the door of the house, and although they hunted and hunted for me, they didn't find me. After they stopped hunting, the wind blew the door open, and I hopped out."

"You don't say!" exclaimed a Grasshopper.

"Yes, I hopped out and scrambled away through the grass as fast as ever I could. You people who have never been in prison cannot think how happy I was. It seemed to me that just stretching my legs was enough to make me wild with joy. Well, I came right here, and you were all kind to me, but for a long time I could not sleep without dreaming that I was back in prison, and I would croak in my sleep at the thought of it."

"I heard you," cried the Katydid, "and I wondered what was the matter."

"Matter enough," said the Tree Frog. "It makes my skin dry to think of it now. And, friends, the best way I can ever repay your kindness to me, is to tell you to never, never, never, never go near the farm-house."

And they all answered, "We never will."

 

A Book of Nursery Rhymes  by Francis D. Bedford

The Pigs

 

About Harriet  by Clara Whitehill Hunt

What Harriet Did on Saturday

T HE very minute her eyes opened the next morning Harriet called:—

"Is the sun shining? Are we going to the beach to-day?"

And her Mother answered:—

"Yes, it is exactly the right kind of a day for the beach."

You may be sure it did not take Harriet long to dress on that  morning. And poor Florella May got no attention at all. She lay in her little crib in her nightie for another long day, but she didn't seem to mind it a bit. As her little Mother often remarked, Florella May had a very nice disposition.

Harriet was so excited that she could not eat enough of her oatmeal to uncover the Japanese garden. She could hardly wait for Father and Mother to get ready to start, but it was really only a short time before they were closing the big front door and walking down the street toward the trolley car.

Father carried the suitcase which held the lunch-boxes, the towel, Harriet's rompers, Father's book, and Mother's knitting. Mother carried a cloak for Harriet in case cool winds should blow up before the end of the day. And Harriet held a bright red pail and a shiny new shovel, and you  know what they  were for!

Down at the corner they stopped for the trolley car. Although it was so early in the morning the very first car that came along was almost full of happy little boys and girls with their mothers and aunties and their lunches and pails and shovels.

There weren't many fathers on the car, because not all the little children were so fortunate as Harriet in having a Father who could play with her on Saturdays now and then.

The motorman stopped the car, Father helped Mother into a seat and swung Harriet up into Mother's lap, then he stood in the aisle because all the seats were filled.

It was not a very pretty ride through the city streets, but Harriet was interested in everything she saw. Presently they passed the Park, and that was lovely. It was so pleasant to look in under the trees and see the children at play on the soft grass.

In less than an hour they were getting out of the car and walking through a great high open building out on to the board walk from which they could see Old Ocean, with his little waves dancing and winking in the sunshine, and his big waves rumbling and roaring as they broke on the sand under the board walk.

After a long, happy first look at the water and some deep, long breaths of its salt breezes, Father said:—

"Come, we don't want to stay here among the merry-go-rounds and side-shows. Let's go over to Sunset Beach where we can get down on the sand and enjoy the waves close at hand."

So they walked and walked, first on the board walk and then on the sand. Harriet kept her hand in Father's because this was her first visit to the Ocean for almost a year, and she was a little bit afraid that the big roaring waves might run up so high that they would gobble her up and take her down, down into the green water to feed the little fishes.

After a while they came to a nice quiet part of the beach and Father paid a man for two easy seats with awnings over them to shade them from the sun. Then Mother told Harriet she might take off her shoes and stockings and put on her rompers.

Oh, how good the soft sand felt to little feet that had been cooped up in shoes and stockings for most of a year!

Very soon Harriet lost all fear of her old friend the Ocean, and was merrily playing "tag" with the little waves, which every now and then caught up with her and gave her feet a splashing.

After she had run and jumped and pranced and squealed, "letting off steam," as Father called it, she ran to her Mother and said:—

"Mother, I'm hungry!"

"I thought so!" said Mother, with a laugh. "Very well, you may have a little lunch now to make up for the breakfast you did not eat, but we'll not have our real luncheon until later."

So Harriet sat down beside her Mother's chair and ate two thin bread-and-butter sandwiches and one large cooky, and then she drank some milk out of one of the little paper cups that Mother always kept on hand for picnics and traveling.

After her little lunch was finished, she took her pail and shovel down to where the sand was damp. First she filled the pail even full of sand and patted down the top, very smooth, with her shovel. Then she pressed her hands into the smooth sand; and then she trotted up to her Father, saying:—

"See, Daddy, I have two hands in my pail and two hands on my arms."

"So I see," said Father. "You are quite a handy young person."

Next Harriet dug a deep hole, sat down and put her feet into it, and then scooped the sand back into the hole, burying her feet tightly under the sand.

"Oh, Daddy!" she shrieked. "I've lost my feet. The little gnomes down in the ground are pulling them!"

"You don't say so!" said Father. "Then I suppose you'll have to make those two extra hands serve in place of feet hereafter."

"I know! Like Jocko! His back feet are almost like hands," said Harriet.

Jocko was a little monkey at the "Zoo." He was very tame and all the children loved him. You shall hear about him in another story.

Next Harriet decided that she would make a house. With the edge of her shovel she marked out a square on the sand. This was the kitchen of her house. Then she made a little mound of sand against one wall of her kitchen, cut off the top and the sides of the mound so that they were flat instead of rounding, and this was the kitchen stove. She marked six little circles on the top of the stove for the places on which to set the cooking dishes over the gas flames.

After looking with pride at her stove, she was about to begin on a table, when a little girl with sparkling black eyes ran up to her and, after a look at Harriet's work, said:—

"Hello! Are you making a house?"

"Yes," answered Harriet.

"I'll make one next door and then we can visit each other."

"All right," said Harriet, very much pleased to have a playmate.

The two little girls worked busily side by side for some minutes. By the time Harriet had finished her kitchen, and Marjorie—that was the new little girl's name—had marked out a good many rooms, but had not furnished any of them, the little neighbors began making calls on each other. And before long Marjorie exclaimed:—

"Oh, let's dig some wells and see the waves come up and fill them!"

So they left their houses unfinished and began to dig a number of deep holes, keeping watch to run out of the way when a wave now and then ran up high and filled the holes.

In a short time Marjorie said:—

"My Mother brought my tin dishes in her bag. Let's make some pies and cakes in them."

Marjorie scampered off and soon came running back with her tiny doll kitchen dishes in her hands. She gave half of them to Harriet. In a few minutes each little cook had made a row of pies and cakes and cookies which looked so good that Marjorie exclaimed:—

"They look good enough to eat. Let's!"

By this time Harriet was so charmed with her lively new friend that she was ready to do anything Marjorie suggested, so those two little girls put as much as a spoonful of damp sand into their silly little mouths!

Then how they spluttered and made wry faces, and Marjorie said:—

"Ugh! It's almost as bad as medicine. Oh, I'll tell you! Play you're sick and I'm the doctor and I'll come to visit you."

"W-e-ll—but don't make me take any bad medicine," said Harriet doubtfully.

"No; I'll just say you are run down and need to go to the country at once to rest."

This sounded very nice. The next thing to do was to make a bed. This they did by digging a long, shallow place in the warm, dry part of the sand. First Harriet lay down in the bed, then Marjorie tried it; but it was not big enough for Marjorie, who was two years older than Harriet.

So Marjorie changed her mind about being the doctor, and decided that she would be a patient too, lying in a hospital bed next to Harriet's.

Harriet and Marjorie had a beautiful morning, and when their Mothers called them to lunch they agreed to play together again after they had eaten.

Oh, what a good lunch Mother had brought, all wrapped in waxed paper that had kept the sandwiches so fresh. There were lettuce sandwiches and chicken sandwiches and egg sandwiches, and little round sandwiches made of brown bread and cream cheese. There were olives and cookies and oranges and pink-and-white candies. There was milk to drink for Harriet and hot coffee from the thermos bottle for Father and Mother. And they ate and ate till every crumb was gone. And after it was all eaten Harriet didn't seem to care about playing!

She climbed up into Father's lap and said:—

"Tell me a story, Daddy, please."

So Father, looking out over the wide, wide waters, away out to where the sky seemed to come down and rest on the ocean, told about brave sailors, and lighthouses shining out in the dark to save ships from going to pieces upon the rocks; and about tiny little coral animals that build big islands; and about divers who go down to the bottom of the sea for the pearls that are hidden away in oyster shells. And as Harriet watched the lovely sea gulls, now flying high in the air, now floating like little boats on the water, Mother recited a poem that she had learned when she was a little girl. It was called "The Sea Gull," and it made Harriet look at the gulls with new wonder to think how fearless they were on the stormy waves and the night-black sea.

After a time Marjorie came running up, and Father said:—

"You must introduce me to your new friend, Harriet."

So Harriet said, "This is Marjorie, Daddy and Mother."

And Marjorie shook hands with Harriet's Father and Mother, and then Father and the little girls had a game of romps.

Father was a galloping horse with each little girl taking a turn as a rider on his back. And when Father made-believe that his drivers had worn him out, although they teased him to play with them longer, he galloped back to his seat beside Mother, and tumbling the little girls into the sand, he exclaimed:—

"Shoo! Shoo! You insatiable tyrants! I've got to get to work on this book."

So Marjorie and Harriet went back to their shovels, and they had such a good time that they were quite surprised when Harriet's Mother called:—

"Come, dear, it 's time for us to get ready to go home. We don't want to wait till the cars are crowded, as they will be later."

Harriet was sorry to say good-bye to Marjorie, but there was no help for it.

Soon the little bare feet were rubbed with the towel, the rompers came off and the shoes and stockings went on, the suitcase was packed, and Father, Mother, and Harriet were walking to the car.

Very soon after they were settled in the car Harriet fell asleep in Father's arms. The salt air and the play and the no afternoon nap had made her so sleepy that she only half-waked up when they got to their corner.

Father carried her over his shoulder to their home. And Mother undressed her and laid her in her little bed and she did not know anything about what was happening to her, she was so  sleepy!

So that is the end of the Second Story about Harriet and what she did on Saturday.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Bat, Bat

Bat, bat, Come under my hat, And I'll give you a slice of bacon; And when I bake I'll give you a cake If I am not mistaken.

 

The Sandman: His House Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The Mason Story

O NCE upon a time there was a little boy and he was almost five years old. And there weren't any other children near for him to play with, so he used to play happily all by himself.

He had his cat and his cart and his shovel and his hoe, and he always wore his overalls.

One morning he was sitting right down in the gravel of his front walk, the walk that led to the front door of the house that he lived in, and he had been digging in the gravel. The hole that he was digging was square.

And he had picked the dirt all over with a big nail, and pried it loose, and then he had pretended that his shovel was a big iron scoop that could scoop the dirt out just the way the big scoop did when it was dragged by the horses.

For he had been watching the men dig a cellar in the field next to his house.

And his cat was there, rolling in the gravel and playing with the air.

Pretty soon his mother looked out of a window, and then she came running out.

"My dear little boy," she said, "what are you digging?"

The little boy got up, and the cat scampered away a few feet, with her bushy tail straight up in the air.

"I'm digging a cellar for a house," said the little boy.

"Oh," said his mother. "Well, don't you think you'd better build the house over near the sand-pile? People coming in might not see this house, and they might kick it over and walk on it. But the masons have come to work on the real cellar."

"The masons?" the little boy asked.

"The men to build the cellar wall. You may go and watch them if you like."

The little boy nodded again. Then he put his shovel into his cart, and took hold of the handle of the cart. Then he looked back.

"Good-bye," he said.

"Good-bye, my dear little son," his mother said.

And she watched him trudging away, dragging his cart, with his shovel and his hoe rattling in the bottom of it.

And his cat ran on ahead, with her bushy tail sticking straight up in the air.

The little boy saw a man hoeing slowly at something in a big shallow wooden box.

And the something that he was hoeing at was all white and it slopped here and there; and the hoe was all white, and the outside of the box was all covered with slops of the same white stuff, and the man's shoes were white, too, and the bottoms of his overalls.

And there was a pile of new sand that looked all moist and just right to play in.

There was another man standing at the edge of the cellar and looking down into it.

The cellar itself was so deep now that the little boy could just see the tops of the hats of the men who were working in it.

The man who had been looking down into the cellar heard the shovel and the hoe rattling in the cart and looked up.

"Hello!" he called.

"Hello," said the little boy. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just looking to see if the men do their work right. Come over here and I'll show you."

So the little boy left his cart beside the pile of sand and walked over to where the man was.

And the man met him and took hold of his hand; and they walked together to the edge of the cellar and looked down into it, and the man stooped down and kneeled on one knee, with his arm half around the little boy so that he wouldn't fall in.

In the cellar the little boy saw a great many big stones that lay all about the middle, where they had been dumped; and there were six men working around the edge of the cellar building the wall.

In part of the cellar the wall had been begun and was about two feet high; but in another part there was nothing but the smooth dirt at the bottom, and the smooth sides of the cellar that went straight up.

And two of the men were digging a trench in the smooth bottom of the cellar where the wall would be.

When they had the shallow trench dug for a few feet, one of the men put down his shovel and went to the pile of stones.

And he found some stones that were the size he wanted, each of them just about as big as he could carry in one hand. And he took two of these and went to the trench and put them in.

Then he went to the pile and got two more, and he put them in the trench, too. And so he did until the bottom of the trench was all covered.

Then he got smaller stones and threw them in on top of the bigger ones; and, on top of those, still smaller stones that were flattish.

The flat stones filled the trench up nearly to the top, and he didn't put in any more, but took up his shovel again and helped the other man dig.

Then two of the other men came, and they looked at the trench to see if it was all right.

Then they went to the pile of big stones and they picked out one of the biggest, and they took their big iron crowbars and put the points of the bars under the stone, to move it.

The little boy wondered.

"What are they going to do?" he asked. "Are they going to move it? Can they move it?"

The man nodded.

"Easy enough," he said. "You watch."

And the men pried with their crowbars, and the big stone started from its place and rolled down from the pile. And the men got it over to the trench, sometimes prying it with their crowbars and sometimes rolling it with their hands, and they set it in its place on top of the small flat stones.

Then one of the men shut one of his eyes and squinted along the wall that was done to see if the stone was just in the right place; and the other man moved the stone with his crowbar just a little until it was in exactly the right place.

Then they went to the pile again and got another big stone in the same way, and they got it over to the trench and set it in its place beside the first.

Then the men went to the pile again, and they picked out a stone that was nearly as big as the bottom stones, and they hammered it with great hammers and split off some thin, flat pieces.

That was to make it fit better in the place where it was to go. The ground all about the wall was covered with thin, flat pieces that had been hammered off other stones.

And they got a great thick board, and they put one end of the board on top of the bottom stones which they had just put in the trench, and they put the other end of the board on the ground in front of the stone which they had been hammering, and they rolled the stone slowly up the board until it came to the end.

And they rolled it off the end upon the bottom stones, and got it into its place with their crowbars.

And where it did not fit well enough, they put in thin, flat pieces that they picked up from the ground.

The man who knelt on one knee at the edge of the cellar told the little boy about it as the men worked.

And, when the men had put in the little flat pieces of stone, one of them looked up and smiled at the little boy and said that they called the thin, flat pieces "chocks."

"Not woodchucks," he said, "but just chocks."

The little boy smiled and nodded. He had never seen a woodchuck, but there was a picture of one in his animal-book. It wasn't a very good picture.

"I guess," he said, "that they are stone-chucks."

All the men who heard him laughed. And they went to work again, and the little boy turned to the man who was holding him.

"I've got to go now," he said, "and play in that pile of sand."

"All right," said the man. "You play there just as long as you want to."

So the little boy went over to the man who was hoeing the white stuff. It wasn't so white as it had been and it was thicker, just about like nice mud.

And his cat came up from somewhere. The little boy didn't know where she had been, but he didn't pay any attention to her. He just stood and watched the man.

"What are you making?" he asked at last.

"I'm making mortar," the man said. "They put it in the cracks of the wall, to hold it together."

"Oh," said the little boy. "Well, would you like to have me help you?"

Making Mortar

"You might bring me a load of sand," said the man, "if you want to. I shall have to put in more sand."

So the little boy went to his cart, and he threw out his hoe. He wasn't careful where he threw it, and the handle of the hoe hit the cat.

And the cat ran home as fast as she could go. But the little boy didn't know it, he was so busy.

And he backed the cart up to the sand-pile, and he took his shovel and shoveled sand into the cart until the man said that was enough.

Then he took hold of the handle and pulled. It was heavier than he thought it would be, but he pulled it over to the box of mortar. It was only a few steps.

Then the man told him to shovel it in, a little at a time.

And the little boy shoveled it in slowly, and he felt very proud, for he was helping to make real mortar.

And he kept on shoveling until the man said that was enough.

The man hoed the mortar for a few minutes, and then he took up a queer-looking thing that he said was his hod.

It was made of two boards that were put together like a V with the point down and another board was nailed across one end, but the other end was left open.

It was a kind of a trough and a stick like a broom-handle stuck down from the middle of it.

And the man filled this hod with mortar, and he turned around and put the hod across one shoulder with the bottom of the trough resting on his shoulder.

And he took hold of the stick, and he walked off, down a ladder into the cellar.

And he dumped the mortar out of the hod on to a board near the men who were building the wall. Then he came up again.

The little boy watched him until he had come up out of the cellar. And he asked the man whether he would want any more sand, but the man said that he wouldn't for some time.

So the little boy went and played in the sand-pile for a long time, and, while he was playing, his cat came and rubbed against him. Then the little boy got up.

"I've got to go now," he said to the mortar man. "Good-bye."

"Good-bye," said the man. "Come again."

"Yes," said the little boy, "I will."

And he put his shovel and his hoe into his cart, and he took hold of the handle of the cart, and he walked off, with his shovel and his hoe rattling behind him.

And, his cat ran on ahead, with her bushy tail sticking straight up in the air.

And that's all of this story.

 

Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Cock and Hen

 

The Nursery Book of Bible Stories  by Amy Steedman

The Coming of the King

I T was springtime and the fields of Palestine were all decked with their spring flowers. The silver gray of the olive trees shone above a sea of scarlet anemones, the tender green of the vines was as fair as the flowers themselves. Round about the little village of Nazareth spring had smiled very kindly upon the land, and buds were unfolding on every side to meet her smile. The very name of the little village meant "flowery."

There, in one of the little square houses built of white stone, a maiden was sitting sewing, and she seemed to belong to the spring and the flowers. No slender lily of the field was fairer than she, no white flower was purer than the heart of this village maiden. She was thinking happy thoughts as she sewed alone in her room that glad spring day, but she little knew that it was to be the most wonderful day of her life.

Suddenly, in the midst of her work, she felt she was not alone, and she stopped and looked up. There before her stood an angel, Gabriel, God's messenger, who was looking kindly down upon her. He called her by her name, Mary, and bade her not be afraid. But there was no fear in Mary's heart, she was not even startled. Her thoughts were so often with God that His messenger was welcome at any time.

"Hail, thou that art highly favoured," the angel Gabriel was saying, "the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women."

Mary looked up, wondering. She could not understand the meaning of these gracious words, but soon the wonderful truth dawned upon her. The angel told her that God had chosen her to be the mother of the Son of God, the Saviour and King, whose name was to be called "Jesus," for He would save His people from their sins.

There was no thought of self in Mary's heart. She did not say she was only a poor maiden unfit to be the mother of the King of Heaven. She was ready for God to use her as He would; she was His handmaid ready to fulfil His will.

It was in the happy springtime that the angel brought this message to Mary, but it was in the cold dark days of winter that the angel's promise came true.

Joseph, the village carpenter, Mary's promised husband, knew all about the angel's message, for God had told him too about the coming of the King, and had bidden him be a faithful guardian to his young wife.

Together one cold winter day they journeyed up to the little hill town of Bethlehem, to put their names upon the census roll, as the Roman governor had commanded. All the people had been ordered to go to their native cities to give in their names, and both Joseph and Mary belonged to Bethlehem, the city of David, for they were descendants of the shepherd king.

It had been a long journey, and Mary was tired, although she rode upon the shaggy back of the ass which Joseph so carefully led. It was late, and the winding white road that led to the city gates was almost deserted, for they were the last travellers to come in. Already the twilight was darkening into night, and the stars began to hang out their silver lamps in the deep dark blue overhead.

At last the inn was reached, and Joseph inquired anxiously about a lodging. It was too late; every room was full, they could not possibly be taken in. Every house in the little town was crowded. The only thing to do was to shelter themselves for the night in one of the stable caves, where oxen and asses, camels and mules, were crowded together.

And it was here, in a poor stable, that very night, that Mary's Baby, the King of Heaven, was born. Such a poor welcome it seemed for a King! Only a handful of hay for His bed, only a wooden manger for His cradle, only a few swaddling bands to wrap round His little limbs, only His poor sweet mother to wait on Him, and the breath of the ox and the ass to warm Him.

But although no one in Bethlehem knew that a King had been born that night, although no bells rang out, no grand illumination marked His coming, yet His stars shone down in silent splendour, His angels sang His song of welcome, and Mary's heart was full of joy. She knew that it was God's Son she held in her arms, that the angel's promise had been fulfilled.

Outside the town, on the slopes of the hill, shepherds were watching their flocks, just as the shepherd boy David had done in the same fields long years before; and to them the herald angels sang their song, telling the news of the Baby's birth, while the golden gates of Heaven swung wide and showed the glory within.

Soon the shepherds were kneeling in the little stable, worshipping the King; and as they knelt they told the young mother of all that they had seen out on the hillside, and repeated to her the angels' message: "Peace on earth, goodwill to men."

Later on, another company of men knelt to do homage to the Baby King. They were no rough shepherds from the hills this time, but stately men in rich robes who had journeyed from a far-distant land, led by a star to the place where the young Child lay. They brought to Him precious gifts, gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and laid them at His feet; but far more precious than any gifts was the worshipping love which both they and the humble shepherds offered to God as they knelt before Mary's son, the King of Heaven.

"They saw the young child with Mary His mother."

All these wonderful happenings were treasured up in His mother's heart, and filled her thoughts as she rocked her little son in her arms. Most mothers think a great deal about the name they mean to give their babies, but Mary had no need to think of that. Long ago the angel had told her that He was to be called "Jesus;" and so as soon as it was possible, she carried Him to the great Temple, just as we carry our babies to church, there to give them to God to be His children.

It was a very common sight in the Temple to see a mother bringing her baby to the priest, while the father carried the lamb or pigeons which it was the rule to offer as a thanksgiving; and there was nothing special to mark the little company from Bethlehem as they entered the Temple, Mary carrying her Baby in her arms, and Joseph holding in his hand the basket in which were two white doves.

But there, in the Temple, two of God's servants, Simeon and Anna, were waiting to see the Baby King. They did not look for any earthly pomp or grandeur, rich robes or royal state. Simeon, the old man, knew that the poor looking woman was indeed a queen, the mother of the Lord, that the Baby she held so lovingly in her arms was the King of Heaven. So he took the child in his arms and thanked God as he called Him a light sent to lighten the whole world and to be the glory of His people Israel.

Surely this was all a happy time for the gentle mother. But there were anxious days in store for her. Herod, the cruel king, had heard of the visit of those Wise Men, and was uneasy in his mind. He knew that God had promised to send a great Deliverer, a King to rule His people; but he thought it would be an earthly king, and he feared that his throne was in danger. The Wise Men had talked of a wonderful new star which had appeared, a star which marked a royal birth, and they had gone to Bethlehem to look for the new-born King. He had bidden them come back and tell him if they found the Child. But day after day passed, and there was no sign of the return of the travellers. God had warned them that Herod was planning mischief against the Baby King, and so they had gone quietly home another way.

Full of anger, King Herod realized that he had been mocked by those wise travellers, and he determined to carry through a cruel plan. He sent his soldiers to the peaceful little town and ordered them to kill every baby in Bethlehem. In that way the Baby King could not possibly escape, he thought.

But long before the soldiers appeared, God warned Joseph, the faithful guardian, that he must take the Baby and His mother and steal secretly away from the threatened danger. And Joseph did not lose a moment. He saddled the ass, and placed Mary and the Baby carefully on its back, and then started out by night down the winding road which led to safety. The fear of the cruel king might drive them far from home, but the Baby lay soft and warm in His mother's arms, where no evil could touch Him.

All His life angels were very close to Him. It was an angel who had brought God's message to His mother that glad spring day. Angels had sung His welcome on the Bethlehem hills. It was an angel who had warned Joseph to flee away before Herod's cruel soldiers could arrive. So, surely, in that night journey and all the dangers that awaited them, angels must have hovered very close around the travellers and held the Child and His gentle mother safe in the shelter of their shining wings.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Hark! Hark!

Hark, hark! the dogs do bark! Beggars are coming to town: Some in jags, and some in rags, And some in velvet gown.