Text of Plan #938
  WEEK 38  

  Monday  


The Adventures of Johnny Chuck  by Thornton Burgess

A New Home at Last

Home, no matter where it be,

Or it be big or small,

Is just the one place in the world

That dearest is of all.

J OHNNY CHUCK was thinking of this as he worked with might and main. It was a new house that he was building, but already he felt that it was home, and every time he thought of it he felt a queer little tugging at his heart. You see, while it was his home, it was Polly Chuck's home, too, and that made it doubly dear to Johnny Chuck, even before it was finished.

And where do you think Johnny was building his new home? It was clear way over on the edge of Farmer Brown's old orchard! Yes, Sir, after all the fuss Johnny Chuck had made over any other Chuck living on the Green Meadows, and after driving the old gray Chuck back to the Old Pasture, Johnny Chuck had left the Green Meadows himself!

It wasn't of his own accord that Johnny Chuck had left the Green Meadows. No, indeed! He loved them too well for that. But he loved Polly Chuck more, and although he had grumbled a little, he had followed her up to the old orchard, and now they were going to stay there. Sometimes Johnny shivered when he thought how near were Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown's boy and Bowser the Hound.

He had never been so far from his old home on the Green Meadows before, and it was all very strange up here. It was very lovely, too. Besides, it was in this very old orchard that Polly Chuck had been born, and she knew every part of it. Johnny felt better when he found that out. So he set to work to build a home, and this time he meant business. Polly Chuck could change her mind as many times as she pleased; that was going to be their home and that was where they were going to live.

Now Johnny Chuck had grown wise in the ways of the world since he first ran away from the home where he was born. Twice since then he had built a new home, and now this would be better than either of the others. He paid no heed to Polly, when she pouted because he did not dig where she wanted him to. He went from tree to tree, big old apple-trees they were, and at the very last tree, way down in a corner near a tumbled-down stone wall, he found what he wanted—two spreading roots gave him a chance to dig between them.

Polly watched him get ready for work and she pouted some more.

"It would be a lot nicer out in that grassy place, and a lot easier to dig," said she.

Johnny Chuck smiled and made the dirt fly. "It certainly would be easier to dig," said he, when he stopped for breath, "easier for me and easier for Bowser the Hound or for old Granny Fox, if either wanted to dig us out. Now, these old roots are just far enough apart for us to go in and out. They make a beautiful doorway. But Bowser the Hound cannot get through if he tries, and he can't make our doorway any larger. Don't you see how safe it is?"

Polly Chuck had to own up that it was safer than a home in the open could possibly be, and Johnny went on digging. He made a long hall down to the snuggest of bedrooms, deep, deep down under ground. Then he made a long back hall, and all the sand from this he carried out the front way. By and by he made a back door at the end of the back hall, and it opened right behind a big stone fallen from the old stone wall. You would never have guessed that there was a back door there.

His new house was finished now, and Johnny Chuck and Polly Chuck sat on the door-step and watched jolly, round, red Mr. Sun go to bed behind the Purple Hills and were happy.

 



The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

The Old Woman of Leeds


[Illustration]

There was an old woman of Leeds,

Who spent all her time in good deeds;

She worked for the poor

Till her fingers were sore,

This pious old woman of Leeds!

 


  WEEK 38  

  Tuesday  


Bobby and the Big Road  by Maud Lindsay

The Circus

O NE day it seemed as if everybody who lived in the country was going to town. At the first peep of day, they began to pass the little brown house. Such a rumbling of wagons and clatter of horses' hoofs, and calling of automobile horns Bobby had never heard before.

As soon as he had eaten his breakfast, he hurried out to watch the passers-by. And who do you think were the very first people he spied? The ox-wagon man, and his wife, and Johnny in the ox-wagon, with Towser following.

"Why, Johnny!" Bobby called in surprise. "Where are you going?"

"To see the circus parade," answered Johnny. "There's going to be an elephant, and a band and a drom-e—something. Aren't you going?"

"I don't know," said Bobby; but after Johnny had passed, he ran into the house to ask Mother and Father:

"Are we going to the circus parade? Johnny is going, and the ox-wagon man and his wife. There is going to be an elephant, and a band, and a drom-e—something."

Mother and Father looked at each other.

"How can I finish my apple-jelly that is all ready to be poured up into glasses, if I go to a circus parade?" asked Mother.

"And how shall I finish a picture in time for the morning's mail, as I have promised to do, if I go to a circus parade? And how can Bobby fill the wood-box, as I heard him say he was going to do the first thing this morning, if he goes to a circus parade?" asked Father.

Bobby's face grew very sober as he listened, but Father talked on.

"We can't go off to see circus parades or anything else and leave our work unfinished; but if we begin this very minute and do our very best, perhaps we'll get through in time to go."

So Mother hurried away to the kitchen and washed the jelly glasses and polished them until they shone, and began to strain the jelly, oh, so carefully, into them.

Father sat down at his table to finish the picture. He did not forget a single little turn or line that would make it prettier or better.

Bobby ran to the woodshed for an armful of wood, and then for another and another. He did not stop until the wood-box was filled to the top.

"Hurrah! My work is done," he called.

"Hurrah! My work is done," said Mother as she poured the last drop of jelly into the last jelly glass.

"Hip, hip, hurrah! My work is done," said Father, as he put the last touch to the picture. He wrapped it up all ready for the mail, and then hurried away to harness Greylocks to the buggy.

Everything was quiet on the Big Road when they drove out of their gate, and no travelers were to be seen anywhere.

"Oh, Father, do you suppose we'll be there in time?" asked Bobby when he noticed this.

Father shook the line over Greylocks' back. "If you want to see an elephant, and a band, and a dromedary, Greylocks," he said, "you will have to step lively."

Greylocks pricked up his ears, and hurried down the road as if he understood every word that Father said.

When they were nearly at the little town, they heard a burst of music.

"We are late," said Bobby; but no! they were just on time. Greylocks trotted into the street and the parade came in sight at the very same second.

The band, playing "Dixie," marched ahead. Next came an elephant with a long trunk, and then horses and riders in gay trappings, cages of wild animals, and chariots with drivers in splendid clothes.


[Illustration]

Next came an elephant with a long trunk.

Bobby was pleased with everything, but he kept watching for the dromedary. There it was at last. It was a very queer creature with a hump on its back, but Bobby liked the elephant better.

A balloon man was walking about on the sidewalk in the midst of the crowd, selling balloons, and Bobby's father bought him a red one.

Presently they spied Florence in her car with a blue balloon; and on the way home they passed Johnny with a green one.

Bobby waved his hand to Johnny. "I did come," he called, "and oh, Johnny, wasn't the elephant grand?"

Bobby thought Greylocks was just as fine a horse as any that he saw in the circus parade.

"If it hadn't been for Greylocks, we'd have missed everything," he said. "Wouldn't we, Father?"

 



Bobby and the Big Road  by Maud Lindsay

Letters

D RIP, drop, and splish, splash, the rain came pouring down. Bobby stood at the window and watched it dancing on the porch, and on the walk, and out on the Big Road.

"Rain, rain, go away,

Come again another day,"

he chanted, though he did not really mind the rain. No, indeed! He liked to hear it pattering on the roof, and to watch it splashing against the windows.


[Illustration]

He liked to watch it splashing against the windows.

There was plenty to do indoors. Father made a big cheery fire on the hearth with the wood and the kindling that the ox-wagon man had brought them. Mother popped a great skillet of pop corn; and when they had eaten the corn by the fireside, they all wrote letters. Bobby's letter was to Johnny. Mother really wrote it, but Bobby told her what to say:


"DEAR JOHNNY:

"The farmer who passes our house on his way to town brought me a big yellow pumpkin. Father and I made a Jack-o'-lantern out of it. The Jack-o'-lantern had two funny eyes, and a three-cornered nose, and a big mouth. I will draw you a picture of it. When it was finished, Mother put a lighted candle inside.


[Illustration]

"How are Buck and Bright and Towser and the bantie hen and the spotted calf?

"Your friend,         
"BOBBY.

"P. S.—Mother wrote this letter but I signed it myself.

"P. S.—I drew the picture, too."


The postman took the letter away that afternoon, and no sooner had it gone, than Bobby began to wonder if Johnny would answer it.

Mother and Father said that he must not be disappointed if he did not get an answer; but Bobby could not keep from expecting one, and, sure enough, an answer came.

It was Tuesday when he sent his letter, and Thursday afternoon the postman brought a letter with BOBBY RANDOLPH nicely printed on it.


"DEAR BOBBY (said the letter):

"Towser is lost. He got lost the day of the circus. I think he is dead.

"Good-bye,          
"JOHNNY."

Bobby's eyes filled with tears when Mother read him the sad news; and he would have gone right out to ask everybody who passed, to keep an eye open for the yellow dog but it was still raining and raining, and very few people were traveling on the Big Road.

"We might write a letter to Florence and tell her about Towser," suggested Mother. "If we try, we may have it ready for the postman when he rides back to town."

And this is what they wrote to Florence.


"DEAR FLORENCE:

"Johnny's dog Towser is lost. He is a yellow dog. He will come when you call him. Please look for him.

"Your friend,                       
"ROBERT LEE RANDOLPH, JR. (BOBBY)."

"It is right to put your whole name to a letter, Father says, but I think we'd better put 'Bobby,' too, don't you, Mother?" Bobby asked. That is the reason the letter had two names signed to it.

Bobby felt much happier when the letter to Florence had gone.

"Florence found her grandmother's knitting-needle the day of the party," he said, "and yellow dogs are easier to find than knitting-needles, aren't they, Mother?"

 



Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Bye, Baby Bunting


[Illustration]

 


  WEEK 38  

  Wednesday  


Fairy Tales Too Good To Miss—In the Meadow  by Lisa M. Ripperton

The House That Jack Built

[Illustration]

This is the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]

This is the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]

This is the rat,

That ate the malt,

That lay in the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]

This is the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt,

That lay in the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]


[Illustration]

This is the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]

This is the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt,

That lay in the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]

This is the maiden all forlorn,

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt,

That lay in the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]


[Illustration]

This is the man all tattered and torn,

That kissed the maiden all forlorn,

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt,

That lay in the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]

This is the priest all shaven and shorn,

That married the man all tattered and torn,

That kissed the maiden all forlorn,

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt,

That lay in the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]

This is the cock that crowed in the morn,

That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,

That married the man all tattered and torn,

That kissed the maiden all forlorn,

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt,

That lay in the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]

This is the farmer sowing his corn,

That kept the cock that crowed in the morn,

That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,

That married the man all tattered and torn,

That kissed the maiden all forlorn,

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt,

That lay in the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]

This is the horse and the hound and the horn,

That belonged to the farmer who sowed the corn,

That kept the cock that crowed in the morn,

That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,

That married the man all tattered and torn,

That kissed the maiden all forlorn,

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt,

That lay in the house that Jack built.


[Illustration]

 



The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

The Boy in the Barn


[Illustration]

A little boy went into a barn,

And lay down on some hay.

An owl came out, and flew about,

And the little boy ran away.

 


  WEEK 38  

  Thursday  


Among the Meadow People  by Clara Dillingham Pierson

The Frog Who Thought Herself Sick

[Illustration]

B Y the edge of the marsh lived a young Frog, who thought a great deal about herself and much less about other people. Not that it was wrong to think so much of herself, but it certainly was unfortunate that she should have so little time left in which to think of others and of the beautiful world.

Early in the morning this Frog would awaken and lean far over the edge of a pool to see how she looked after her night's rest. Then she would give a spring, and come down with a splash in the cool water for her morning bath. For a while she would swim as fast as her dainty webbed feet would push her, then she would rest, sitting in the soft mud with just her head above the water.

When her bath was taken, she had her breakfast, and that was the way in which she began her day. She did nothing but bathe and eat and rest, from sunrise to sunset. She had a fine, strong body, and had never an ache or a pain, but one day she got to thinking, "What if sometime I should be sick?" And then, because she thought about nothing but her own self, she was soon saying, "I am afraid I shall be sick." In a little while longer it was, "I certainly am sick."

She crawled under a big toadstool, and sat there looking very glum indeed, until a Cicada came along. She told the Cicada how sick she felt, and he told his cousins, the Locusts, and they told their cousins, the Grasshoppers, and they told their cousins, the Katydids, and then everybody told somebody else, and started for the toadstool where the young Frog sat. The more she had thought of it, the worse she felt, until, by the time the meadow people came crowding around, she was feeling very sick indeed.

"Where do you feel badly?" they cried, and, "How long have you been sick?" and one Cricket stared with big eyes, and said, "How dr-r-readfully she looks!" The young Frog felt weaker and weaker, and answered in a faint little voice that she had felt perfectly well until after breakfast, but that now she was quite sure her skin was getting dry, and "Oh dear!" and "Oh dear!"

Now everybody knows that Frogs breathe through their skins as well as through their noses, and for a Frog's skin to get dry is very serious, for then he cannot breathe through it; so, as soon as she said that, everybody was frightened and wanted to do something for her at once. Some of the timid ones began to weep, and the others bustled around, getting in each other's way and all trying to do something different. One wanted to wrap her in mullein leaves, another wanted her to nibble a bit of the peppermint which grew near, a third thought she should be kept moving, and that was the way it went.

Just when everybody was at his wits' end, the old Tree Frog came along. "Pukr-r-rup! What is the matter with you?" he said.

"Oh!" gasped the young Frog, weakly, "I am sure my skin is getting dry, and I feel as though I had something in my head."

"Umph!" grunted the Tree Frog to himself. "I guess there isn't enough in her head to ever make her sick; and, as for her skin, it isn't dry yet, and nobody knows that it ever will be."

But as he was a wise old fellow and had learned much about life, he knew he must not say such things aloud. What he did say was, "I heard there was to be a great race in the pool this morning."

The young Frog lifted her head quite quickly, saying: "You did? Who are the racers?"

"Why, all the young Frogs who live around here. It is too bad that you cannot go."

"I don't believe it would hurt me any," she said.

"You might take cold," the Tree Frog said; "besides, the exercise would tire you."

"Oh, but I am feeling much better," the young Frog said, "and I am certain it will do me good."

"You ought not to go," insisted all the older meadow people. "You really ought not."

"I don't care," she answered, "I am going anyway, and I am just as well as anybody."

And she did go, and it did seem that she was as strong as ever. The people all wondered at it, but the Tree Frog winked his eyes at them and said, "I knew that it would cure her." And then he, and the Garter Snake, and the fat, old Cricket laughed together, and all the younger meadow people wondered at what they were laughing.

 



A Book of Nursery Rhymes  by Francis D. Bedford

Little Bo-Peep

[Illustration]
 


  WEEK 38  

  Friday  


More Mother Stories  by Maud Lindsay

Irmgard's Cow

Irmgard was a little Swiss girl.

Her father was a guide, her brother was a herdsman, her sister was a dairymaid, and her mother was the dearest mother in the world, so Irmgard thought.

Irmgard had a cow. Yes, a cow of her very own. It was a present from her uncle who lived far away across the mountains.


[Illustration]

Irmgard had a cow. Yes, a cow of her very own.

He had sent the cow by her brother Peter, with a message which pleased Irmgard very much.

"Tell Irmgard," her uncle had said to Brother Peter, "that this cow is her own; and she must learn to milk, and churn, and print butter; for when I come at Christmas to see her I shall expect a pound of butter printed by her own little hands for my Christmas gift."

You can just imagine how Irmgard felt when she heard this! and her sister Rose promised to teach her how to do all these things, as soon as the cows came home from their summer pasture.

Now in Irmgard's country, when the winter snows melt, the herdsmen take the cows to pasture high up in the mountains, where the grass grows green and the cool winds blow.

The milkmaids go, too, to take care of the milk, and they all live happily in the highlands till the snow comes again in the fall.

Irmgard wanted her cow to go with the rest, of course; so the very first night after the cow came she told her all about it.

"The cows will be going to pasture very soon," she said to her, "and you will want to go, I know, so I will let you. You are my very own cow, but I will let you go where the little flowers bloom and the grass is so green. Brother Peter says it is a most wonderful place. You can see the snow on the mountain top, while you eat the grass on the mountain side. You must grow fat, too," said Irmgard, "and give a great deal of milk; for when you come back in the fall I shall milk you myself."

The cow chewed her cud, and switched her tail, as she listened, but Irmgard knew by her eyes that she was anxious to go.

It was a great day when the cows went to the pasture. All the cows in town went. They wore bells about their necks, and marched in a long line. Irmgard's cow had ribbons on her horns, and the little girl thought she was the prettiest cow in the whole line.

Irmgard watched the cows as long as they were in sight. Once her cow looked back and called "Moo! moo!" just as if she were saying good-by.

"Good-by," cried Irmgard.

"Good-by," said Brother Peter and Sister Rose, who were going, too; and away they all went, leaving Irmgard in the valley.

Summer was a busy time for Irmgard. She was her mother's chief helper when Sister Rose was away, and there was always something for her to do. The days slipped by so quickly that she was really astonished one evening in the early fall, when her father came in from a trip with some travelers and said:—

"I passed the cows on the road to-day. They will be here to-morrow."

"To-morrow!" cried Irmgard, dancing with delight.

"Yes, to-morrow," said her father,"and your cow"—but here he stopped and put his hand over his mouth.

"I can't tell. It is a secret," he said, when Irmgard looked at him in wonder.

"Oh! father, father! please tell!" begged Irmgard. "What is it about my cow?"

But her father would not tell. "I can't tell, even if you guess it," he said, "for Brother Peter and Sister Rose said to me again and again: 'Don't tell Irmgard  that her cow' "—

Irmgard could not keep from guessing. "My cow gives more milk than any other cow!" No, that was not it, she knew by her father's smile. "Her milk is the richest!" Still she was wrong.

"Oh! mother," she cried, "what do you think it can be?"

"I am not going to guess," said her mother, "because it is a secret; but perhaps you will dream it when you go to sleep, to-night."

So Irmgard went to sleep, and dreamed all night of cool pastures and green grass and cows, but she could not dream what the wonderful secret was.

Early the next morning she went out and sat by the roadside, and waited and watched,—waited and watched until it seemed to her as if she could not wait another minute; and just about then she heard a sound far up the road.

Tinkle, tinkle!  Irmgard knew what that meant. The cows were coming!

Tinkle, tinkle!  They were a little nearer.

Tinkle, tinkle!  There they came!

The leader cow stepped proudly in front. Then came Irmgard's Aunt Gundel's cows. They were very sleek and very fat.

The herdsmen nodded to the little girl. "Good morning, Irmgard," they said, and they smiled as if they knew the secret.

Then came her next-door neighbor's cows. He was with them himself, and he, too, looked at Irmgard.

"Good news for you," he called as he passed.

"Oh! what can it be? What can it be?" cried Irmgard. "Will they never come?"

At last her mother's cows came slowly down the path. There were six of them, and they greeted Irmgard with their soft, loving eyes. "We know," they seemed to say, "but we cannot tell."

Irmgard almost held her breath with excitement. There came Sister Rose (she was smiling) and Brother Peter (so was he) and her cow,—and close behind trotted the dearest, loveliest, frisky baby calf!

The secret was out, and Irmgard was the happiest little girl in Switzerland. Her cow had a calf.

 



The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Sunshine

Hick-a-more, Hack-a-more,

On the King's kitchen door,

All the King's horses,

And all the King's men,

Couldn't drive Hick-a-more, Hack-a-more,

Off the King's kitchen door.

 


  WEEK 38  

  Saturday  


The Sandman: More Farm Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The Calf Story

dropcap image NCE upon a time there was a farm-house, and it was painted white and had green blinds; and it stood not far from the road. In the fence was a wide gate, to let the wagons through to the barn. And the wagons, going through, had made a little track that led up past the kitchen door and past the shed and past the barn and past the orchard to the wheat-field.

In that farm-house lived Uncle Solomon and Uncle John; and little Charles and little John and their mother Aunt Deborah; and little Sam and his mother Aunt Phyllis. Uncle Solomon was Uncle John's father, and Uncle John was the father of little Charles and little John. And little Sam was Uncle Solomon's little boy.

One day in the summer, little Charles and little John were playing about not far from the kitchen door, and Uncle Solomon came along. He said, "Boys, I wish you would go to the barn and let the calf out into the cow-yard." So the little boys thought that would be fun, and they ran along past the shed, and up the place where the wagons went into the barn. And they both pushed hard on one of the big doors, and it slid back a little way, and they went in.

At one side of the barn, next to the cows' place, was a kind of pen. It had a fence of boards all around it, about as high as little John's head; and in one side of the fence was a gate. This pen was to put a horse or a cow or a calf in, and any horse or cow or calf that was in it wasn't tied at all, but was just loose, so it could walk around any way it wanted to. So they called the pen a loose-box, or a box stall; and it was about as big as a boy's little room that he sleeps in.

When the little boys went into the barn, a calf was in the loose-box, and they had to let the calf out into the cow-yard. So they opened the gate at the top of the sloping place that led down to the cow-yard, and then they opened the gate to the loose-box, and they saw the calf. It was just standing still, looking at them, with its big ears out straight. Little Charles called to the calf, and it came a very little way nearer, but it wouldn't come out and it wouldn't come near enough for little Charles to touch it. So he went into the loose-box to catch the calf, and little John stood by the gate.


[Illustration]

When little Charles went into the loose-box, the calf gave a jump over to the other side, and then it made another big jump and ran past little Charles, and out the gate of the loose-box, and knocked little John down. Then it ran out the gate to the sloping place, and down the sloping place to the cow-yard. Little John got up and laughed, for he wasn't hurt, and little Charles came out of the loose-box, and they both went to the doorway of the sloping place and looked down, and there was the calf standing by the wall, looking up at them.

So, while the little boys stood there, looking at the calf, little John thought of something. And he said, "Charles, I bet you can't ride that calf." And little Charles said, "I bet I can."

So little Charles went down into the cow-yard to ride the calf. And the calf waited by the wall until little Charles got pretty near, but not near enough to catch it, and then it made a big jump and kicked up its heels and went running past little Charles over to the other side of the cow-yard. And little Charles went over to that side to catch it, but it jumped past him again; and so he tried for a long time to catch the calf, and chased it back and forth across the cow-yard, but he couldn't catch it.

At last the calf was in the corner of the cow-yard, and it waited a little too long, so that when it tried to jump past little Charles, he caught it by the tail and jumped up on its back. But he had to hurry so, to get on, that he got on the wrong way around, with his face toward the calf's tail, and he was holding on to the calf's tail with both hands.

The calf didn't like to feel a boy on its back, and it jumped about and kicked up its heels and ran all about the cow-yard. And little Charles didn't dare to let go the calf's tail, because he was afraid he would fall off and hurt himself, the calf was jumping so hard. And he couldn't turn around with his face the right way, because he didn't dare to let go the tail. So the calf ran all around the cow-yard, with little Charles on its back holding to its tail with both hands, and the calf jumped and kicked, trying to throw little Charles off, but he held on tight. And little John stood in the doorway of the sloping place, and he thought it was a good joke and he laughed very hard. But little Charles didn't laugh. He wanted to get off the calf's back, but he didn't dare to, while the calf was jumping about so hard, and the calf wouldn't stop. So at last he called to little John and told him he must go and call Uncle Solomon.


[Illustration]

The calf jumped and kicked.

Then little John ran off as hard as he could, and he found Uncle Solomon and told him that little Charles wanted to get off the calf but he couldn't. And Uncle Solomon didn't know what he meant, but he went with little John to the barn, and stood in the doorway to the sloping place, and saw the calf jumping about with little Charles riding backwards and holding to its tail. He couldn't help laughing at first, but then he went down into the cow-yard and caught the calf, and little Charles got off. And Uncle Solomon told both the little boys that they must not ride on the backs of young animals, because young animals were not strong enough, and their bones weren't hard, and it might hurt them very much. So the little boys said they wouldn't do it again. Little Charles didn't want to, anyway.

Then Uncle Solomon went back, out the cow-yard gate, past the barn, to the garden, where he was working. And the little boys went back and played by the shed.

And that's all.

 



The Sandman: More Farm Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The Hatchet Story

dropcap image NCE upon a time there was a farm-house, and it was painted white and had green blinds; and it stood not far from the road. In the fence was a wide gate to let the wagons through to the barn. And the wagons, going through, had made a little track that led up past the kitchen door and past the shed and past the barn and past the orchard to the wheat-field.

One day, about the middle of summer, it was little John's birthday, when he was six years old; and he was out by the shed, playing. He had some grass and some hens' feathers that he had found, and he had stuck them in his hair, and he had put some mud on his face, and he was pretending that he was an Indian, with eagle's feathers in his hair and his face painted. So, while little John was a pretend Indian, hiding behind a little bush, Uncle John came walking along, and he held one hand behind him, and he called to little John.


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Then little John jumped up and gave a great yell, as loud as he could, and he ran at Uncle John. And Uncle John laughed to see the feathers in his hair and the mud on his face, and he said, "Here's a present for you, John." Then he held out the hand that had been behind him, and there was a little hatchet. And little John took the hatchet, and he was so excited and so pleased to get a real hatchet, that he hardly remembered to thank his father. But Uncle John knew, and he was glad that little John was pleased, so he laughed again, and told little John not to cut himself with the hatchet, and then he went away again.

So little John went back and hid behind his bush, and pretended that he was the Indian and the hatchet was his tomahawk, and he looked around to see what there was that could be pretend people. Now there was a place on the shed that Uncle John had just mended. It was a place where the wheels of the wagons had knocked off the boards, and Uncle John had put on some new boards that were bright. Little John saw these new boards, and they were very bright and shining in the sunlight, and he thought they would be good for pretend people.

So he began to crawl out the way he thought real Indians would do. He had his hatchet in one hand, and he crawled down as flat as he could in the grass, so that none of the pretend people could see him, and he went very slowly.


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He crawled down as flat as he could in the grass.

He crawled along from the bush, that was near the wall of the garden, as far as the little wagon track. There wasn't any grass in the wagon track, and there was only a little between the track and the shed. So, when little John got as far as the wagon track, he jumped up, and he made a great noise, the kind he thought Indians would make, and he ran right at the bright boards that he was pretending were people, and he waved his hatchet about and whacked it right into the boards, a lot of times.

Aunt Deborah was in the kitchen, getting dinner, and she heard little John yelling and she heard the noise of the whacks, and she ran right out, because she was afraid that little John was getting hurt. But when she saw him whacking the new boards with his hatchet, she was angry and sorry, and she called out to him, and made him stop whacking the boards. She said, "John, see what great cuts you are making in those nice new boards that your father has just put on."

And little John stopped being an Indian and looked and saw that he had made a lot of great cuts in the new boards, and he was sorry. Then he went with Aunt Deborah to the kitchen door, and into the house. And she took his new hatchet, and put it away until the afternoon of the next day, when he wouldn't be so excited about it. And then she washed the mud off his face, because it was almost dinner-time; but she didn't say any more about the boards.

When Uncle John came in to dinner, little John went up to him, and he said, "Father, I want to show you something." And Uncle John wondered what it was, but he went out again with little John. So little John led his father to the place where the new boards were, and he showed the great cuts where he had whacked with his hatchet, and he said, "I was pretending Indian, and I forgot. I'm sorry." Then Uncle John gave little John a pat on the head, and he smiled and said, "No great harm done, John. But be more careful." And little John said, "Yes, I will."

Then little John took hold of his father's hand, and they went in at the kitchen door to their dinner.

And that's all.

 



Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Ding, Dong, Bell


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  WEEK 38  

  Sunday  
 


The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Willy, Willy

Willy, Willy Wilkin

Kissed the maids a-milking,

Fa, la, la!

And with his merry daffing

He set them all a-laughing,

Ha, ha, ha!