The Adventures of Johnny Chuck  by Thornton Burgess

Why Johnny Chuck Didn't Fight

Anger is an awful thing; It never stops to reason. It boils right over all at once, No matter what the season.

I T was so with Johnny Chuck. The minute he caught sight of the strange Chuck over by the lone elm-tree, anger filled his heart and fairly boiled over, until he was in a terrible rage. Of course it was foolish, very foolish indeed. The strange Chuck hadn't said or done anything to make Johnny Chuck angry, not the least thing in the world, excepting to come down on to the Green Meadows. Now the Green Meadows are very broad, and there is room for many Chucks. It was pure selfishness on the part of Johnny Chuck to want to drive away every other Chuck.

But anger never stops to reason. It didn't now. Johnny Chuck hurried as fast as his short legs could take him towards the lone elm-tree, and in his mind was just one thought—to drive that strange Chuck off the Green Meadows and to punish him so that he never, never would dare even think of coming back. So great was Johnny's anger that every hair stood on end, and as he ran he chattered and scolded.

"I'll fix him! These are my Green Meadows, and no one else has any business here unless I say so! I'll fix him! I'll fix him!"

Then Johnny would grind his teeth, and in his eyes was the ugliest look. He wasn't nice to see, not a bit nice. The Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind didn't know what to make of him. Could this be the Johnny Chuck they had known so long, the good-natured, happy Johnny Chuck whom everybody loved? They drew away from him, for they didn't want anything to do with any one in such a frightful temper. But Johnny Chuck didn't even notice, and if he had he wouldn't have cared. That is the trouble with anger. It crowds out everything else, when it once fills the heart.

When Johnny had first seen the stranger, he had thought right away that it was the old gray Chuck with whom he had had such a terrible fight the day before and whom he whipped. Perhaps that was one reason for Johnny Chuck's terrible anger now, for the old gray Chuck had tried to drive Johnny Chuck off the Green Meadows.

But when he had to stop for breath and sat up to look again, he saw that it wasn't the old gray Chuck at all. It was a younger Chuck and much smaller than the old gray Chuck. It was smaller than Johnny himself.

"He'll be all the easier to whip," muttered Johnny, as he started on again, never once thinking of how unfair it would be to fight with one smaller than himself. That was because he was so angry. Anger never is fair.

Pretty soon he reached the lone elm-tree. The stranger wasn't to be seen! No, Sir, the stranger wasn't anywhere in sight. Johnny Chuck sat up and looked this way and looked that way, but the stranger was nowhere in sight.

"Pooh!" said Johnny Chuck, "He's afraid to fight! He's a coward. But he can't get away from me so easily. He's hiding, and I'll find him and then—" Johnny didn't finish, but he ground his teeth, and it wasn't a pleasant sound to hear.

So Johnny Chuck hunted for the stranger, and the longer he hunted the angrier he grew. Somehow the stranger managed to keep out of his sight. He was almost ready to give up, when he almost stumbled over the stranger, hiding in a little clump of bushes. And then a funny thing happened. What do you think it was?

Why, all the anger left Johnny Chuck. His hair no longer stood on end. He didn't know why, but all of a sudden he felt foolish, very foolish indeed.

"Who are you?" he demanded gruffly.

"I—I'm Polly Chuck," replied the stranger, in a small, timid voice.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Intery, Mintery

Intery, mintery, cutery corn, Apple seed and apple thorn; Wire, brier, limber-lock, Five geese in a flock, Sit and sing by a spring, O-u-t, and in again.

 

Bobby and the Big Road  by Maud Lindsay

The Ride

B OBBY did not have to wait long for his second wish to come true, for the very next week he heard the honk-honk of an automobile horn and Florence's car stopped at the gate. Florence and her father and mother, and a baby brother who had one tooth, and a jolly chauffeur were in the car. They had come to take Bobby for a ride.

Mother and Father were glad to have Bobby go, and in less time than it takes to tell it, he was riding away.

The automobile went so fast that before Bobby could tell Florence half the things he knew about the road, they had reached places that he had never seen before!

They came to a clear shining creek with a stone bridge across it; and beyond that a big farmhouse with fields of waving corn on either side. And by and by they passed a meadow where red cows and white cows were feeding on the green grass. Florence's papa said they belonged to the milkman who brought milk to town every day.

"Why, I know him!" said Bobby in surprise, when he heard this.

Still farther on they came to a little log cabin by the road. Bright-colored flowers grew in the dooryard, and on the doorstone sat a little lame boy playing on a French harp.

"It's Johnny! I know it is Johnny! Please stop,—please stop," said Bobby.

The chauffeur stopped the car as quickly as he could and Bobby jumped out and ran back to the cabin.

"I'm Bobby," he called to the little lame boy. "You sent me a bantie egg."

"I've got the picture-book yet," said Johnny in great excitement; and it would have been hard to tell which was the better pleased to see the other, Bobby or Johnny. By this time Florence's papa had come back to see what was the matter; and when he heard what good friends Bobby and Johnny were, he asked the ox-wagon man's wife to let Johnny go for a ride, too.

 

Bobby and the Big Road  by Maud Lindsay

The Secret

F ATHER and Mother had a secret from Bobby. They told him about it one morning at the breakfast table.

"Three pickaninnies in a peanut shell, I know something that I will not tell,"

Father said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh, Father, what is it?" asked Bobby; but Father would not say another word.

"Do you know, Mother?" asked Bobby.

"Yes," said Mother, "but it is a secret."

"Shall I ever know?" asked the little boy.

"Oh, yes," said Father. "If you will go and sit on the stone by the gate, and look toward town at about twelve o'clock, I think you will see the secret coming up the Big Road."

Dear me, how long it was before twelve o'clock! All the morning Bobby kept asking his mother, "Is it nearly twelve o'clock, Mother? Is it nearly twelve?"

And when at last she said, "Only half an hour to wait," he went right out and sat down on the stone to watch.

Almost everybody who passed spoke to him, for by this time he knew many of the people who traveled up and down the Big Road.

He knew a little old lady and gentleman who drove a fat dappled pony. One day when a rug had fallen from their carriage, he had run a long way to give it back to them.

He knew the farmer whose wagon made such a rumble-jumble on the Big Road. Once Bobby had helped the farmer pick up some potatoes that had jolted from his wagon.

And Bobby was great friends with the milkman who came every day with cans of fresh milk. He gave the milkman water to drink when the weather was hot.

As for the rest of the travelers, he nodded and smiled at all of them, so it was no wonder that they had something to say to him.

"Good-morning, Bobby. What is making you so glad to-day?" called a young gentleman, who rode by on a sleek black horse.

"Better come and help me make hay. I need an extra hand," said the farmer from his high wagon-seat.

"Keep your ears open, and you'll hear the partridge calling 'Bob White' in the fields pretty soon," said a merry-faced man, who liked to walk on the Big Road as much as Bobby and Father and Mother did.

But though Bobby had so many friends to talk to him the half-hour dragged by very slowly.

"Surely it must be twelve o'clock now," he thought; and he went to the house to ask his mother the time. No, it was still ten minutes before twelve.

"I will come out and tell you when it is twelve," promised Mother.

So Bobby went back to the stone to watch. He counted up to a hundred to pass the time away, and said all the Mother Goose rhymes he knew, and was beginning on his A B C's when Mother came out.

"Twelve o'clock," said she, "and if I am not mistaken, the secret is coming up the road."

"Why that's just a horse and buggy," said Bobby.

"But who is in the buggy?" asked Mother.

Bobby looked again. Why, it was Father driving up the road all by himself! What did it mean?

"I guess the secret was too heavy to carry," said Bobby, "and he had to get a buggy to bring it in."

But when Father drove up to the gate what do you think he said?

"Well, Bobby, how do you like our horse and buggy?"

 

Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Banbury Cross

 

The Tale of Tom Kitten  by Beatrix Potter

The Tale of Tom Kitten

O NCE upon a time there were three little kittens, and their names were Mittens, Tom Kitten, and Moppet.

They had dear little fur coats of their own; and they tumbled about the doorstep and played in the dust.

B UT one day their mother—Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit—expected friends to tea; so she fetched the kittens indoors, to wash and dress them, before the fine company arrived.

F IRST she scrubbed their faces (this one is Moppet).

T HEN she brushed their fur (this one is Mittens).

T HEN she combed their tails and whiskers (this is Tom Kitten).

Tom was very naughty, and he scratched.

M RS. TABITHA dressed Moppet and Mittens in clean pinafores and tuckers; and then she took all sorts of elegant uncomfortable clothes out of a chest of drawers, in order to dress up her son Thomas.

T OM KITTEN was very fat, and he had grown; several buttons burst off. His mother sewed them on again.

W HEN the three kittens were ready, Mrs. Tabitha unwisely turned them out into the garden, to be out of the way while she made hot buttered toast.

"Now keep your frocks clean, children! You must walk on your hind legs. Keep away from the dirty ash-pit, and from Sally Henny Penny, and from the pig-stye and the Puddle-Ducks."

M OPPET and Mittens walked down the garden path unsteadily. Presently they trod upon their pinafores and fell on their noses.

When they stood up there were several green smears!

"L ET us climb up the rockery, and sit on the garden wall," said Moppet.

They turned their pinafores back to front, and went up with a skip and a jump; Moppet's white tucker fell down into the road.

T OM KITTEN was quite unable to jump when walking upon his hind legs in trousers. He came up the rockery by degrees, breaking the ferns, and shedding buttons right and left.

H E was all in pieces when he reached the top of the wall.

Moppet and Mittens tried to pull him together; his hat fell off, and the rest of his buttons burst.

W HILE they were in difficulties, there was a pit pat paddle pat! and the three Puddle-Ducks came along the hard high road, marching one behind the other and doing the goose step—pit pat, paddle pat! pit pat, waddle pat!

T HEY stopped and stood in a row, and stared up at the kittens. They had very small eyes and looked surprised.

T HEN the two duck-birds, Rebeccah and Jemima Puddle-Duck, picked up the hat and tucker and put them on.

M ITTENS laughed so that she fell off the wall. Moppet and Tom descended after her; the pinafores and all the rest of Tom's clothes came off on the way down.

"Come! Mr. Drake Puddle-Duck," said Moppet—"Come and help us to dress him! Come and button up Tom!"

M R. DRAKE PUDDLE-DUCK advanced in a slow sideways manner, and picked up the various articles.

B UT he put them on himself!  They fitted him even worse than Tom Kitten.

"It's a very fine morning!" said Mr. Drake Puddle-Duck.

A ND he and Jemima and Rebeccah Puddle-Duck set off up the road, keeping step—pit pat, paddle pat! pit pat, waddle pat!

T HEN Tabitha Twitchit came down the garden and found her kittens on the wall with no clothes on.

S HE pulled them off the wall, smacked them, and took them back to the house.

"My friends will arrive in a minute, and you are not fit to be seen; I am affronted," said Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit.

S HE sent them upstairs; and I am sorry to say she told her friends that they were in bed with the measles; which was not true.

Q UITE the contrary; they were not in bed: not  in the least.

Somehow there were very extraordinary noises over-head, which disturbed the dignity and repose of the tea party.

A ND I think that some day I shall have to make another, larger, book, to tell you more about Tom Kitten!

A S for the Puddle-Ducks—they went into a pond.

The clothes all came off directly, because there were no buttons.

A ND Mr. Drake Puddle-Duck, and Jemima and Rebeccah, have been looking for them ever since.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Caesar's Song

Bow-wow-wow! Whose dog art thou? Little Tom Tinker's dog, Bow-wow-wow!

 

Among the Meadow People  by Clara Dillingham Pierson

The Earthworm Half-Brothers

E ARLY one wet morning, a long Earthworm came out of his burrow. He did not really leave it, but he dragged most of his body out, and let just the tip-end of it stay in the earth. Not having any eyes, he could not see the heavy, gray clouds that filled the sky, nor the milkweed stalks, so heavy with rain-drops that they drooped their pink heads. He could not see these things, but he could feel the soft, damp grass, and the cool, clear air, and as for seeing, why, Earthworms never do have eyes, and never think of wanting them, any more than you would want six legs, or feelers on your head.

This Earthworm had been out of his burrow only a little while, when there was a flutter and a rush, and Something flew down from the sky and bit his poor body in two. Oh, how it hurt! Both halves of him wriggled and twisted with pain, and there is no telling what might have become of them if another and bigger Something had not come rushing down to drive the first Something away. So there the poor Earthworm lay, in two aching, wriggling pieces, and although it had been easy enough to bite him in two, nothing in the world could ever bite him into one.

After a while the aching stopped, and he had time to think. It was very hard to decide what he ought to do. You can see just how puzzling it must have been, for, if you should suddenly find yourself two people instead of one, you would not know which one was which. At this very minute, who should come along but the Cicada, and one of the Earthworm pieces asked his advice. The Cicada thought that he was the very person to advise in such a case, because he had had such a puzzling time himself. So he said in a very knowing way: "Pooh! That is a simple matter. I thought I was two Cicadas once, but I wasn't. The thinking, moving part is the real one, whatever happens, so that part of the Worm which thinks and moves is the real Worm."

"I am the thinking part," cried each of the pieces.

The Cicada rubbed his head with his front legs, he was so surprised.

"And I am the moving part," cried each of the pieces, giving a little wriggle to prove it.

"Well, well, well, well!" exclaimed the Cicada, "I believe I don't know how to settle this. I will call the Garter Snake," and he flew off to get him.

A very queer couple they made, the Garter Snake and the Cicada, as they came hurrying back from the Snake's home. The Garter Snake was quite excited. "Such a thing has not happened in our meadow for a long time," he said, "and it is a good thing there is somebody here to explain it to you, or you would be dreadfully frightened. My family is related to the Worms, and I know. Both of you pieces are Worms now. The bitten ends will soon be well, and you can keep house side by side, if you don't want to live together."

"Well," said the Earthworms, "if we are no longer the same Worm, but two Worms, are we related to each other? Are we brothers, or what?"

"Why," answered the Garter Snake, with a funny little smile, "I think you might call yourselves half-brothers." And to this day they are known as "the Earthworm half-brothers." They are very fond of each other and are always seen together.

A jolly young Grasshopper, who is a great eater and thinks rather too much about food, said he wouldn't mind being bitten into two Grasshoppers, if it would give him two stomachs and let him eat twice as much.

The Cicada told the Garter Snake this one day, and the Garter Snake said: "Tell him not to try it. The Earthworms are the only meadow people who can live after being bitten in two that way. The rest of us have to be one, or nothing. And as for having two stomachs, he is just as well off with one, for if he had two, he would get twice as hungry."

 

A Book of Nursery Rhymes  by Francis D. Bedford

Song of Spring

 

The Story-Teller  by Maud Lindsay

The King's Servant

T HERE was once upon a time a faithful servant whose name was Hans. He served the king his master so long and so well that one day the king said to him: "Speak, Hans, and tell me what three things do you most desire that I may give them to you as a reward for your faithfulness."

It did not take Hans long to answer the king. "If you please, your majesty," he said, "I should like best in all the world to go to see my mother; to have a horse on which to ride upon my journey; and to taste the food that lies hidden in the silver dish that comes each day to your majesty's table."

And when the king heard this he made haste to send for the silver dish and lifting the lid with his own hand he bade Hans taste of the food inside. What this food was, neither I nor anybody else can tell you, but no sooner had Hans tasted it than he understood what everything in the world was saying, from the birds in the tree-tops to the hens in the king's poultry yard.

"Good-bye, Hans," they called as Hans mounted the horse which the king gave him and rode away through the gate.

"Good-bye," said Hans, and he cantered off in fine style down the king's highway.

Before he had ridden far, however, he heard such a moaning and complaining by the roadside that he stopped his horse to see what the matter was; and—do you believe it?—it was the ant people whose ant-hill stood in the way, right where Hans was about to ride.

"See, see!" they cried, running to and fro in great alarm. "This giant of a man on his terrible horse will ride over our new house and crush us to death."

"Not I," said Hans. "If so much as one of you gets under my horse's hoofs it will be your fault and not mine;" and getting down from his horse he led him around the ant-hill and into the road on the other side.

"One good turn deserves another," cried the ant people running to and fro in great joy. "You have helped us, and we will help you some day;" and they were still saying this when Hans mounted his horse and rode away.

Now before long Hans came to a great forest and as he rode under the spreading branches of the trees he heard a cry for help in the woods.

"What can this be?" said Hans; but the very next minute he saw two young birds lying beneath a tree, beating their wings upon the ground and crying aloud:

"Alas! Alas! Who will put us into the nest again?"

"I, the king's servant and my mother's son; I will put you into the nest again," said Hans, and he was as good as his word.

"One good turn deserves another," called the birds when they were safe in their nest once more. "You have helped us, and we will help you some day."

Hans laughed to hear them, for though it was easy for him to help them he could not think what they might do for him.

Trot, trot, and gallop, gallop he rode through the forest till he came to a stream of water beside which lay three panting fishes.

"We shall surely die unless we can get into the water," they cried.

Their breath was almost gone and their voices were no louder than the faintest whisper, but Hans understood every word that they said; and he jumped from his horse and threw them into the stream.

"One good turn deserves another," they cried as they swam merrily away. "You have helped us, and we will help you some day."

Now it so happened that Hans came by and by to the land of a very wicked king who broke his promises as easily as if they were made of spun glass and who never thought of anybody but himself.

No sooner had Hans come into the land than the king stopped him and would not let him go on.

"No one shall pass through my kingdom," he said, "till he has done one piece of work for me."

Hans was not afraid of work. "Show it to me that I may do it at once," he said; "for I am hastening to see my mother."

Then the king took Hans into a room as large as a meadow where some of all the seeds in the world was stored. There were lettuce-seeds, and radish-seeds, flaxseeds and grains of rice, fine seeds of flowers and small seeds of grass, all mixed and mingled till no two alike lay together.

Hans had never seen so many seeds in all his life before; and when he had looked at them the king bade him sort them, each kind to itself.

"The lettuce-seed must be here, and the radish-seed there; the flax-seed in this corner and the grains of rice in another; the fine seeds of flowers must be in their place, and the small seeds of grass all ready for planting before you can pass through my kingdom and go on your way," he said; and when he had spoken he went out of the room and locked the door behind him.

Poor Hans! He sat down on the floor and cried—the tears rolled down his cheeks I do assure you—for he said to himself:

"If I live to be a hundred years old I can never do this thing that the king requires. I shall never see my mother or the good king, my master, again."

How long he sat there, neither I nor anybody else can tell you, but by and by he saw a little black ant creeping in through a crack in tile floor. Behind it came another and another, like soldiers marching; one by one they came, till the whole floor was black with hundreds and hundreds of the ant people.

"You helped us, and we have come to help you," they said; and they set to work at once to sort the seed as the king required.

By the next day when the king came in to inquire how Hans was getting on, the work was done. The lettuce-seed was here and the radish-seed was there, the flax-seed in one corner, and the grains of rice in another; the fine seeds of flowers were in their place and the small seeds of grass were all ready for planting.

The king was astonished. He could scarcely believe his eyes; but he would not let Hans go.

"Such a fine workman must do one other piece of work before he passes through my kingdom," he said; and he took Hans out in the open country and pointed to an orchard far away.

"Bring me one golden apple that grows in that orchard and you shall go free," he said.

"Ah, what an easy task is this," said Hans, and he set off at once to the orchard.

But, alack, when he had come to the orchard gate it was guarded by a fiery dragon, the like of which he had never seen in all his life! "Come and be devoured!" it cried, as Hans came into sight.

Poor Hans! He sat down by the roadside and held his head between his hands and cried—the tears rolled down his cheeks I do assure you—for he said to himself:

"If I go into the orchard I shall be eaten alive by the dragon, and if I do not go I shall never see my mother or the good king, my master, again."

How long he sat there, neither I nor anybody else can tell you, but by and by he saw two birds flying through the air. Nearer and nearer they came till at last they reached the spot where Hans sat and lighted at his feet. And they were the very birds that Hans had helped. Their wings had grown strong enough by this time to carry them wherever they wanted to go and they flapped them joyfully as they cried:

"One good turn deserves another. You helped us, and we have come to help you."

It was no trouble for them to fly into the orchard high above the dragon's head; and almost before Hans knew they were gone they were back again bringing with them the golden apple that the king desired.

He was astonished when Hans took it to him. He could scarcely believe his eyes; but he would not let Hans go.

Instead he took a ring from his finger and threw it to the very bottom of the sea.

"Go and fetch me that ring," he said, "and you shall be free as the birds and the bees; but until it is upon my finger again you shall not pass through my kingdom."

Poor Hans! He sat down on the seashore and cried—the tears rolled down his cheeks I do assure you—for he said to himself:

"Who can do a task like this? I must either drown or stay here all the days of my life. I shall never see my mother or the good king, my master, again."

How long he sat there, neither I nor anybody else can tell you, but by and by three little fishes came swimming to the shore.

"One good turn deserves another," they called, for they were the very fish that Hans had thrown into the stream. "You helped us, and we have come to help you."

Then down they went to the very bottom of the sea where the king's ring lay. One of them took it in his mouth and so brought it safely to Hans who ran with it to the king.

One of them took it in his mouth, and so brought it safely to Hans.

And when the king saw the ring he knew that he must let Hans go; he did not dare to keep him any longer.

So Hans mounted his horse and rode joyfully to his mother's home where he stayed till the time came when he must return to the good king, his master, which he did by another road.

He worked well and was happy serving his master faithfully, and making friends with birds and beasts, all the days of his life; but never again did he go to the wicked king's country. And I for one think he showed his good sense by that.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

As I Was Going Along

As I was going along, along, A-singing a comical song, song, song, The lane that I went was so long, long, long, And the song that I sang was so long, long, long, And so I went singing along.

 

The Sandman: His House Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The Clearing-Up Story

O NCE upon a time there was a little boy, and he was almost five years old, and his name was David. 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 when he was playing.

They had been building a new house in the field next to David's house, and it was all done. Even the last coat of paint was dry.

David knew, because he had tried it with his finger to see. He had tried it three times, and the first two times it wasn't dry, but the last time it was.

And the carpenters had gone, and the painters had gone, but they had left great messes and piles of stuff that had been swept out of the house, and heaps of the sawed-off ends of boards, and some good boards, and piles of broken laths and plaster and the little pieces that they had sawed off the laths, and some broken saw-horses, and a lot of other rubbish.

One morning David heard the rattle of a wagon; and he looked and saw a wagon stop at the new house, and he saw the nice foreman that he knew, and there were two other men.

And the men jumped out, and the foreman jumped out, and David hurried to go over there. He hurried so fast that he forgot to take his cart, and he forgot to call his cat, but his cat came just the same, and she ran on ahead, with her bushy tail sticking straight up in the air.

And when the foreman saw the cat, he knew that David couldn't be far off, and he looked up and he saw him.

"Hello, Davie," he said. "I'm glad to see you."

"Hello," David said. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to sort of clear up the place, Davie. Don't you think it needs it? And I going to have all this rubbish carried off or burned up."

David nodded, but he didn't say anything and he reached up, and he put his little hand into the foreman's big one.

Then the two men who had come with the foreman began to pick out the boards that were good.

There were some great heavy planks which were covered with plaster and spattered with paint, but they were good planks and could be used again.

The men took these planks, one man at each end, and they brought them to the wagon and they put them in.

When they had brought all the planks, they separated the long boards from the little short ends of boards, and they brought the long boards to the wagon and they put them on top of the planks.

Then they piled the little short ends of boards near the cellar door. It was a great pile of wood that the people who moved into the house could have to burn.

Then they found a couple of saw-horses that were pretty good, and they put them on top of the boards in the wagon, and the wagon was loaded with as much as one horse ought to pull.

So the foreman told one of them to go along with that load, and to hurry back, and he would stay there and help the other man do a little clearing up.

And the man climbed into the seat, and drove off.

"Now, Davie," the foreman said, "I've got to help my man, and I can't stay here with you and do nothing, although I should like to."

"What are you going to do?" David asked.

"Oh, we're going to put all the rubbish that will burn over there on the bare spot, where it can't set anything afire. All the stuff that we can't burn we'll rake up into piles, and when the wagon comes back, we'll take it away. And there's a little gravel over there that is hardly worth taking, and we'll leave it for the graders to use."

"What are the graders?" asked David. "What do they do?"

"Oh, the graders are sort of rough gardeners. They spread the dirt around where it is wanted, and they make it the right height all along the foundation, and smooth it off, and they make the walks up to the front door and the back door, and they spread gravel on the walks. Sometimes they make terraces or banks, but they won't do that here. It will be a nice slope from the house down to the field, all around."

David looked at the house, which stood high on its foundation, and he saw that there was a great hole between the ground and the front steps. He supposed that the graders would fill up that hole.

He nodded.

"I'll get my cart," he said, "and then I'll help you."

So he ran all the way home, and his cat saw him running and she ran too, faster than David ran, and she ran right up on to the piazza.

But David didn't go there. He took up the handle of his cart, and he ran back again.

And his cat saw that she had made a mistake, and she ran faster than ever and she passed David, and she was running so fast that her bushy tail didn't stick up in the air at all, but straight out behind.

And David came where the foreman was standing, waiting for him, and the foreman showed him where he wanted the rubbish piled to be burned, far from the house.

And the foreman and David worked together, and they piled the rubbish into the cart and when it was full, they dragged the cart over to the place, and they emptied the rubbish out of it.

Then the foreman took a match out of his pocket, and he scratched the match on his trousers-leg, and he lighted the pile of rubbish.

And a little thin column of smoke went up, and then it blazed, and then it crackled, and the foreman and David went back for another load.

The foreman and David worked for a long time, getting loads of rubbish, and dragging them over to the fire.

Burning Rubbish

Then the foreman would take up the cart, all filled with little odds and ends of sticks and with shavings and with twigs and the ends of laths, and he would turn the cart upside down over the fire, and empty all that stuff out.

Then David would drag the cart back.

The other man was working with a rake all this long time, raking over the places where the foreman and David had been, and he raked the pieces of plaster and the other stuff that wouldn't burn into little heaps.

Suddenly they heard the rattle of the wagon, and they all looked up. And the wagon stopped, and the man who had been driving jumped off, and the horse just stood where he had stopped, and he breathed hard and looked after the man, and he pricked his ears forward.

Then the foreman told the men to get all that stuff into the wagon, and he waved his hand toward the heaps of rubbish that had been raked up.

So the man held out his hand toward the horse, and he whistled, and the horse came, and he followed the men to the farthest pile of rubbish.

And the men took shovels and shoveled the stuff into the wagon in no time. Then they walked along to the next heap, and the horse came after.

And they shoveled that stuff into the wagon, and they walked along to the next heap, and the horse came after.

And so they did until they had shoveled in the last heap; and the horse walked into the road, dragging the wagon after him, and there he stopped.

The foreman and David had picked up all the little odds and ends of things which would burn, and had put them on the fire.

The fire had been blazing up high, but now it wasn't blazing so high, and it was almost burned out.

And the two men stood still, leaning on their shovels, and looked all about.

And the foreman stood still, and he looked all about.

And David stood still, leaning on the handle of his cart, and he looked all about, because he saw the others looking; but he didn't see anything in particular.

The foreman turned to David and sighed.

"Well, Davie," he said, "I guess that'll be about all."

David nodded and looked over to the fire, which was not much more than a heap of red coals and white ashes.

The foreman saw where he was looking.

"The fire'll be all right," he said. "It's about out. Now I'll take just one more look around."

So the foreman walked all around the house, slowly, and he looked carefully to make sure that he had not forgotten anything.

And he looked at the cellar door and at the places where the heaps of rubbish had been, and all around the foundations of the house, and at the great hole under the front steps where the steps didn't come down to the ground, and at the fire last of all.

The fire had all burned out to white ashes, and every swirl of the wind made the ashes fly about.

Then the foreman came where David was.

"Now we're going, Davie," he said. "We'll come back some day to build another house next to this one. Will you help us then?"

"Yes," said David, "I'll help you as much as I can. When are you going to build it?"

"Oh, I don't know," the foreman said, "but I should think it would be before long. Somebody's going to move into this house in a few days. We're much obliged to you for helping us build this."

"You're welcome," said David.

Then the foreman shook David's hand.

"Good-bye, Davie," he said. "Don't forget us."

"Good-bye," said David.

Then the foreman climbed up to the seat of the wagon. The other men were up there already.

And all the men waved their hands, and the horse started.

David stood and watched them until they turned the corner.

Then he picked up his shovel and his hoe and threw them into his cart, and began to walk home, dragging his cart, with his shovel and his hoe rattling in the bottom of it.

And his cat came running, and she ran ahead, with her bushy tail sticking straight up in the air.

And that's all of this story.

 

The Sandman: His House Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The Setting-Out Story

O NCE upon a time there was a little boy, and he was almost five years old, and his name was David. 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 when he was playing.

One morning he was playing in the thin woods behind his house.

He had his cart and his shovel and his hoe, and he was walking slowly along, kicking the dead leaves and looking up at the leaves on the trees.

Not nearly all the leaves had fallen from the trees yet, but those leaves that were still on the trees had turned to all kinds of pretty colors: red and yellow and a great many pretty browns which looked alive. And some leaves were red and yellow together, and some were still green with red and yellow spots on them, and some leaves had not changed their color at all, but were green all over.

And the squirrels were very busy hunting chestnuts and they didn't pay much attention to David.

Suddenly there was a great scurrying, and every squirrel went racing up the nearest tree, and David's cat came running, with her bushy tail sticking straight up in the air, and she ran a little way ahead of David, and she flopped over on her back in a little pile of leaves, and she began playing with the leaves.

David laughed at her. "Funny kitty!" he said.

Then he turned and went on talking, but he wasn't talking to his cat and he wasn't talking to himself.

His pretend playmate had come, and it was the boy, this time, and he had brought the cat.

So David and that pretend little boy played together for a long time.

Sometimes they dragged the cart together, and sometimes they stopped and hunted for chestnuts, and they put into the cart the chestnuts that they found.

And after a while they came into that part of the woods which was behind the new house.

And David heard some men talking together up at the new house, and he looked and saw them squatting down beside the house, and two of the men had shovels.

So David and the pretend little boy hurried to go to the new house, to see what the men were doing, and they dragged the cart, and the shovel and the hoe and the chestnuts all rattled about together in the bottom of it; and the cat went running on ahead.

But, when David got there, the pretend little boy had gone, for David had forgotten about him.

And David stopped a little way from the men, and looked about.

The grading men must have got their work all finished, for the ground all about didn't look at all as it had when the foreman and David had left it.

There weren't any signs of the rubbish, and the dirt was up higher on the foundation in a nice straight line, and it sloped down to the field all around, and it had been made all smooth.

David wondered about the great hole that was under the front steps, and he went around there and looked, and the hole wasn't there any more, but the ground came up to the steps, and a man was raking gravel smooth, to make a front walk like the one that went into David's house.

David didn't say anything, and the man didn't say anything either, but kept on raking.

So David went back to the place where the men were, with the shovels.

Those men were digging a round hole in the ground, about big enough for David to sit in and stretch his legs out straight.

And when they had the hole dug, another man came, carrying a little tree.

There were a whole pile of little trees out near the road, and they all had their roots tied up in bagging, or a kind of coarse cloth.

The tree which the man was carrying was a little Christmas tree. He had taken the cloth off of the roots, and he was cutting off, with his knife, some of the ends of roots.

Then he put it in the hole, carefully, and the men spread the roots out all around in the bottom of the hole, and they sifted some dark-colored dirt all about them, and they worked it in between the fine roots with their fingers, and they pressed it down hard.

The man who had put the tree in was holding on to it all the time, so that it should grow up straight.

And when the roots were all right and the dirt was pressed down hard, he let go of the tree and took up the end of a hose that was lying on the ground, right behind him.

David hadn't noticed the hose before. It came from a shiny hose-faucet, and the hose-faucet stuck out of the house just above the foundation, half way along the side.

The man let water run from the hose into the dirt that had just been put around the roots of the tree, and he let it run for a long time.

And when the top of the hole was just a puddle of mud, he stopped the water and dropped the hose, and the men scattered a little dark-colored dirt that was dry over the top of it.

That dark-colored dirt is called loam, and it is the best kind of dirt to make things grow.

David saw that from the house down to where the path would be to the back door was already covered with the same dark colored dirt.

The other side of the path was nice and smooth, but it looked sort of raw and the dirt was a yellow color.

Just beside the road was a great pile of dark-colored dirt, and there was a two-wheeled cart backed up to the pile, and a man was shoveling the dirt into the cart.

When the cart was filled, the man tossed his shovel on top of the dirt and started walking along.

"Come along, Jack," he said.

The horse had had his ears pricked forward, and when the man said that, he started and followed the man to the end of the yellow dirt.

There he stopped, and the man took his shovel off the cart and threw it on the ground. And he took the backboard out of the cart, and he put his knee on the cart, and the top tipped back and slid all that dirt out in a heap on the ground.

Then the horse walked along two steps, and the man took his shovel and scraped out what was left in the cart, and he tipped the top of the cart back again and he put the backboard in.

And he got up into the cart, and the horse turned around and walked back to the pile to get another load.

David wanted to ask somebody some questions about the dirt, but he didn't know any of the men, and they all seemed to be very busy.

So he just watched; and he saw another man come, and he had a shovel, and he spread around the dirt in the heap that the cart had just dumped until it was pretty even and smooth.

And the horse came, bringing another load, and that was dumped, and the man spread that around with his shovel.

David went nearer, and the man saw him.

"Are you going to plant some little trees?" David asked.

"We're going to sow grass seed here," the man answered, "when this is all covered with loam."

Then another load of loam came, and he was busy with his shovel, and David went back to watch the other men plant trees.

They were planting more little Christmas trees near that first one, five trees in a kind of a clump, and David watched them dig the holes and put the trees in, and spread the roots about, and put dirt on them, and stamp the dirt down hard, and put the water in.

And when the Christmas trees were all planted, they put another kind at the back corner of the house.

Then they went to the front corner of the house, and one of them said that there was the place for the lilac bushes.

And he got the lilac bushes and cut off a part of the roots while the other men were digging the holes, and they planted the lilac bushes in the holes, but they didn't do it so carefully as they had with the other kinds of trees.

And when they had the holes filled up and the water turned off, and the planting of lilac bushes all finished, they stopped and leaned on their shovels and looked around, to see what else they had to do.

The loam was all over the yellow dirt, and the last load was just being spread around.

So some of the men went to get the grass seed. That grass seed was in green bags.

And they took up bags of grass seed and began walking slowly along over the ground, and they took up handfuls of the grass seed and scattered it in the air so that it fell evenly over the ground.

And they sowed the seed all among the trees they had just planted, and all over the smooth dirt, and wherever they wanted the grass to grow; but they didn't sow it in the paths.

Then two other men came, and they were dragging a great heavy stone roller behind them.

It was so heavy that the two men had to walk very slowly, each dragging it by one handle.

And they went to and fro over the ground where the grass seed had been sown, and they rolled it down smooth and hard and shiny.

Before the roller men had got through, the others had gone and put on their coats and gathered up their tools and David knew that they were through their work.

So he went where he had left his cart, and he looked for the pretend little boy, but he had gone away, and David couldn't find him. And he looked for his cat, and he couldn't see her either.

So he took up the handle of his cart, and he walked along to his house, dragging his cart, with his shovel and his hoe and the chestnuts all rattling together in the bottom of it.

And that's all.

 

Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Bonny Lass

 

The Nursery Book of Bible Stories  by Amy Steedman

St. Paul, the Servant of Christ

Part 1 of 2

T HREE years had passed since Saul—who was now known as Paul—had come proudly riding along the road that led from Jerusalem to Damascus, full of power and importance, backed by his guard of soldiers. Now he was stealing back that same way alone and friendless, fleeing for his life. Then he had been the hunter, now he was himself the hunted.

Others might think it a sad change, but St. Paul knew it was a glorious one. There was no fear in his heart, only a great joy; he did not feel in the least lonely, for he had found the best Friend of all, and he rejoiced to have the honour of suffering for his King.

There, at Jerusalem, he knew he would find many friends. St. Peter, the disciple of Jesus, might be there, and the old fisherman saint would tell him all he longed to hear about the wonderful life of the King, and would even repeat the very words which Jesus had spoken. These words now seemed to St. Paul more precious than any gold or silver.

No great welcome, however, awaited him at Jerusalem. His name was still held in terror by those poor, persecuted Christians. It seemed but yesterday that they had seen him watch with triumphant eyes the sufferings of St. Stephen, and it was difficult to believe that he was now their friend. The learned men and the rulers, too, looked upon him with suspicion. Here was a man who had been the keenest of all in persecuting the Christians, and now he came preaching their religion. The simplest and safest plan would be to have nothing to do with him at all.

And so St. Paul found no welcome at Jerusalem, and he made up his mind to return to Tarsus, his native town, and carry the good news to more distant lands. The Master had said, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature." Strangers and foreigners were to have a share in Christ's kingdom as well as the Jews. It was a dark world, full of evil and the power of Satan. St. Paul held in his hand the lighted torch which was to carry light into distant countries whose names even he did not know. At that very time Roman soldiers were landing on a far-away little gray island of the north, and holding it with a firm, conquering grip. It was a far cry from Tarsus to Britain, but gleams from the lighted torch were to reach even there in time.

Meanwhile St. Paul began his missionary work in places round about Palestine. There was little glory and much suffering in that work which he was doing for his Master. Many a time he was cruelly beaten, and with bruised, torn back, was thrown out of the city where he had been trying to tell the people about their King. Sometimes his wonderful words and the charm of his speaking held men spellbound, and the light spread in a marvellous way; and then again would come a check, and the very people who had listened to him and applauded him were ready to stone him to death.

It was necessary all this time for St. Paul to work with his hands as well as his head, that he might earn enough money for his daily bread, and he was a splendid worker as well as a preacher. His trade was tent-making, and as he sat and wove the strong haircloth, his thoughts would go wandering to those distant lands to which he longed to carry the light. How splendid it would be to go the whole length and breadth of the great Roman Empire—even to Rome itself, that queen city of the world.

Then one night as he lay asleep he dreamed a dream, and saw by his bedside a man from Macedonia, that country across the sea, who came with a message of invitation.

"Come over and help us," said the dream figure. The words rang in St. Paul's ears as he awoke, and the dream decided him. He would travel still farther afield; he would leave Asia, and cross over to Europe.

The Jews were not greatly loved in Roman cities, and St. Paul found many difficulties and dangers awaiting him. Once at the great town of Philippi he and his companion, Silas, were set upon by the crowd, and very roughly handled. There was every sign of a riot, and the Roman magistrates gave orders to the soldiers to beat the two Jews with rods, and to quiet the people. So St. Paul and St. Silas were dragged off to the market-place, stripped to the waist, and tied to the common whipping-post. In vain they declared they were Roman citizens, and not slaves. No one listened to them, and they were flogged in a terrible way, and afterwards thrown into the common jail, a place more fit for beasts than men. Here in the dark dungeon hole they lay, their feet fastened into the wooden stocks fixed in the wall, that there might be no chance of their escape.

Tortured and half-dead, in that noisome prison St. Paul and his companion never let go their courage for one moment. It was for their King they suffered, and that made all suffering easy. In the darkness they sang the old Jewish psalms they knew so well, and the sound of their singing went floating away to the other prison cells. It was a strange, almost awesome thing to hear music in that dreadful place, and the other prisoners listened in terrified wonder.

Night came on. The crowds that had gathered in the market-place around the whipping-post were scattered, and the rioters had gone home. All was quiet; not even a breath of wind stirred the still air, when suddenly a strange shiver seemed to pass over the city, a curious trembling in earth and air. Then came a low, rumbling sound, and a great rocking, as walls swayed and fell, doors burst open, and the very foundations of the great prison shook.

It was an earthquake. The head jailer, leaping to his feet, rushed to his prison wards. The doors were open, as he feared; the stocks were loosened from the walls. All the prisoners must have escaped, and that would mean death for him. In despair, he drew his sword to put an end to himself at once.

But St. Paul had seen the glittering sword and the jailer's despairing face, and guessed what he meant to do.

"Do thyself no harm," he cried, "for we are all here."

Hurriedly the jailer called for a light, and sprang into the prison. It was quite true—not one of the prisoners had attempted to escape; and in his relief and thankfulness he threw himself down at St. Paul's feet, and cried out, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" It had suddenly flashed upon him that what these men had preached was true, and that they were indeed the servants of the true King.

The Phillippian Jailer

"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved," came the swift answer.

Then, later, in the jailer's house, when the two prisoners had had their wounds washed and dressed, and had been carefully fed, the whole family listened while St. Paul spoke to them, and told them how they too might serve the King. So the light of Christ shone into another dark place.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Hector Protector

Hector Protector was dressed all in green; Hector Protector was sent to the Queen. The Queen did not like him, No more did the King; So Hector Protector was sent back again.