The Adventures of Johnny Chuck  by Thornton Burgess

The School in the Old Orchard

Little Foxes, little Chucks, Little Squirrels, Mice and Mink, Just like little boys and girls, Go to school to learn to think.

Y OU didn't know that, did you? Well, it's a fact. Yes, Sir, it's a fact. All the babies born in the Green Forest or on the Green Meadows or around the Smiling Pool have to go to school just as soon as they are big enough to leave their own doorsteps. They go to the greatest school in the world, and it is called the School of Experience.

Old Mother Nature has charge of it, but the teachers usually are father and mother for the first few weeks, anyway. After that Old Mother Nature herself gives them a few lessons, and a very stern teacher she is. They just have  to learn her lessons. If they don't, something dreadful is almost sure to happen.

Of course Sammy Jay knew all this, because he had had to go to school when he was a little fellow. So Sammy was not much surprised when, from his snug hiding-place in one of the old apple-trees, he discovered that there was a school in Farmer Brown's old orchard. Johnny Chuck was the teacher and his three baby Chucks were the pupils. Sammy Jay was so interested in that funny little school in the old orchard that he quite forgot to think about mischief.

The very first lesson that the three little Chucks had to learn was obedience. Johnny Chuck was very particular about that. You see he knew that unless they learned this first of all, none of the other lessons would do them much good. They must first learn to mind instantly, without asking questions. Dear me, dear me, Johnny Chuck certainly did have his hands full, teaching those three little Chucks to mind! They were such lively little chaps, and there was so much that was new and wonderful to see, that it was dreadfully hard work to sit perfectly still, just because Johnny Chuck told them to. But if they didn't mind instantly, they were sure to have their ears soundly boxed, and sometimes were sent back to the house without a taste of the sweet, tender, young clover of which they were so fond.

After a few lessons of this kind, they found out that it was always best to obey instantly, and then Johnny began to teach them other things, things which it is very important that every Chuck should know.

First, there were signals. When Johnny whistled a certain way, it meant "A stranger in sight; possible danger!"

Then each little Chuck would sit up very straight and not move the teeniest, weeniest bit, so that from a little distance they looked for all the world like tiny stumps. But all the time their sharp little eyes would be looking this way and that way, to see what the danger might be. After a while Johnny would give another little whistle, which meant "Danger past." Then they would once more begin to fill their little stomachs with sweet, tender, young clover.

Sometimes, however, Johnny would whistle sharply. That meant "Run!" Then they would scamper as fast as they could along the nearest little path to the house under the old apple-tree in the far corner, and never once look around. They would dive head first, one after the other, in at the doorway, and not show their noses outside again until Johnny or Polly Chuck told them they could.

Then there was a still different whistle. It meant "Danger very near; lie low!" When they heard that, they flattened themselves right down in the grass just wherever they happened to be, and held their breath and didn't move until Johnny signaled that they might. Of course, there never was any real danger. Johnny was just teaching them, so that when danger did come, as it surely would, sooner or later, they would know just what to do.

It surely was a funny little school, and sometimes Sammy Jay had hard work to keep from laughing right out.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Boy and Girl

There was a little boy and a little girl Lived in an alley; Says the little boy to the little girl, "Shall I, oh, shall I?" Says the little girl to the little boy, "What shall we do?" Says the little boy to the little girl, "I will kiss you."

 

The Dutch Twins  by Lucy Fitch Perkins

The Day They Drove the Milk Cart

T HE next morning Kit and Kat woke up very early, without any one's calling them. You see, they were afraid they would be too late to go with the milk cart.

But Grandfather Winkle had only just gone out to get the milk ready, and they had plenty of time to dress while Grandmother got breakfast. Grandmother helped with the buttons and the hard parts.

Grandmother Winkle's kitchen was quite like the kitchen at home, only a little nicer. It had red tiles on the floor; and it had ever so many blue plates hanging around on the walls, and standing on edge in a row on the shelves. There was a warming-pan with a bright brass cover, hanging on the wall; and I wish you could have seen the pillows and the coverlet on the best bed!

Grandmother Winkle had embroidered those all herself, and she was very proud of them. When she had company, she always drew the curtains back so that her beautiful bed would be seen. She said that Kit and Kat were company, and she always left the curtains open when they came to visit her.

When the Twins were all dressed, Grandmother said,

"Mercy sakes! You have on your best clothes! Now that's just like a man to promise to take you out in your best clothes in a milk wagon! Whatever was Grandfather thinking about!"

Kit and Kat thought she was going to say that they couldn't go, so they dug their knuckles in their eyes and began to cry. But they hadn't got farther than the first whimper when Grandmother said,

"Well, well, we must fix it somehow. Don't cry now, that's a good Kit and Kat." So the Twins took their knuckles out of their eyes and began to smile.

Grandmother went to the press and brought out two aprons. One was a very small apron. It wouldn't reach to Kit's knees. But she put it on him and tied it around his waist.

"This was your Uncle Jan's when he was a little boy," she said. "It's pretty small, but it will help some."

Kit wished that Uncle Jan had taken it with him when he went to America. But he didn't say so.

Then Grandmother took another apron out of the press. It looked as if it had been there a long time.

"Kat, you must wear this," she said. "It was your mother's when she was a little girl."

Now, this apron was all faded, and it had patches on it of different kinds of cloth. Kat looked at her best dress. Then she looked at the apron. Then she thought about the milk cart. She wondered if she wanted to go in the milk cart badly enough to wear that apron over her Sunday dress! She stuck her finger in her mouth and looked sidewise at Grandmother Winkle.

Grandmother didn't say a word. She just looked firm and held up the apron.

Very soon Kat came slowly—very slowly—and Grandmother buttoned the apron up behind, and that was the end of that.

The Twins could hardly eat any breakfast, they were in such a hurry to go. As soon as they had taken the last spoonful, and Grandfather Winkle had finished his coffee, they ran out into the place where the dogs were kept, to help Grandfather harness them.

There were two black and white dogs. Their names were Peter and Paul.

The wagon was small, just the right size for the dogs; and it was painted blue. The bright brass cans full of milk were already in; and there was a little seat for Kat to sit on.

When the last strap was fastened, Grandfather lifted Kat up and set her on the seat. She held on with both hands.

Then Grandfather gave the lines to Kit, and a little stick for a whip, and told him to walk slowly along beside the dogs. He told him to be sure not to let go of the lines.

Grandfather walked behind, carrying some milk cans.

Grandmother stood in the door to see them off; and, as they started away, Kat took one hand off the cart long enough to wave it to her. Then she held on again; for the bricks in the pavement made the cart joggle a good deal.

"We must go first to Vrouw de Vet," Grandfather called out. "She takes one quart of milk. Go slowly."

At first Kit went slowly. But pretty soon there was a great rattling behind him; and Hans Hite, a boy he knew, drove right past him with his dog cart! He drove fast; and, as he passed Kit, he stuck out his tongue and called out,

"Milk for sale! Milk for sale! A milk cart drawn by a pair of snails!"

Kit forgot all about going slowly.

"Get up!" he said to the dogs, and he touched them with his long stick.

Peter and Paul "got up." They jumped forward and began to run!

Kit ran as fast as his legs would go beside the dogs, holding the lines. But the dogs had four legs apiece, and Kit had only two; so you see he couldn't keep up very well.

Kat began to scream the moment that Peter and Paul began to run. The dogs thought that something that made a dreadful noise was after them, and they ran faster than ever. You see, Grandfather Winkle never in the world screamed like that, and Peter and Paul didn't know what to make of it. So they ran and ran and ran.

Kat held on the best she could, but she bounced up ever so far in the air every time the cart struck a bump in the street. So did the milk cans; and when they came down again, the milk splashed out.

Kat didn't always come down in the same spot. All the spots were hard, so it didn't really matter much which one she struck as she came down.

But Kat didn't think about that; she just screamed. And Peter and Paul ran and ran, and Kit ran and ran, until he couldn't run any more; he just sat down hard on the pavement and slid along. But he didn't let go of the lines!

When Kit sat down, it jerked the dogs so hard that they stopped suddenly. But Kat didn't stop; she went right on. She flew out over the front of the cart and landed on the ground, among all of Peter and Paul's legs! Then she stopped going, but she didn't stop screaming.

And, though Kit was a boy, he screamed some too. Then Peter and Paul pointed their noses up in the air and began to howl.

Way back, ever so far, Grandfather was coming along as fast as he could; but that wasn't very fast.

All the doors on the street flew open, and all the good housewives came clattering out to see what was the matter. They picked Kat up and told her not to cry, and wiped her eyes with their aprons, and stood Kit on his feet, and patted the dogs; and pretty soon Peter and Paul stopped barking, and Kit and Kat stopped screaming, and then it was time to find out what had really happened.

Neither of the Twins had any broken bones; the good housewives wiggled all their arms and legs, and felt of their bones to see. But shocking things had happened, nevertheless! Kat had torn a great hole in the front of her best dress; and Kit had worn two round holes in the seat of his Sunday clothes, where he slid along on the pavement; and, besides that, the milk was slopped all over the bottom of the cart!

Just then Grandfather came up. If it hadn't been that his pipe was still in his mouth, I really don't know what he might not have said!

He looked at the cart, and he looked at the Twins. Then he took his pipe out of his mouth and said sternly to Kit,

"Why didn't you do as I told you?"

"I did," said Kit, very much scared. "You told me to be sure to hold tight to the lines, and I did! I never let go once."

"Yes, and look at his clothes," said one of the women. She turned him around and showed Grandfather the holes.

"I told you to go slowly," said Grandfather. "Now look at the cart, and see what you've done by not minding,—spoiled your best clothes and Kat's, and spilled the milk! Go back to Grandmother."

"But I couldn't mind twice at one time," said Kit. "I was minding about not letting go."

"Oh dear," sobbed Kat, "I wish we were four and a half feet high now! If we were, this never would have happened."

Grandfather took the dogs and went on to Vrouw de Vet's, without another word.

The Twins took each other's hands, and walked back to Grandmother's house. Quite a number of little boys and girls in wooden shoes clattered along with them. Grandmother heard all the noise, and ran to the door to see what was the matter.

"Laws a mercy me, I told you so!" she cried, the moment she saw them. "Look at your clothes! See how you've torn them!"

"I can't  see the holes in mine," said Kit.

"But I can," said Kat. And then all the children talked at once; and what with wooden shoes and the tongues all going, Grandmother clapped her hands over her ears to shut out the noise. Then she took Kit and Kat into the kitchen and shut the door. She put on her glasses and got down on the floor so she could see better.

Then she turned Kit and Kat all around and looked at the holes. "O! my soul!" she said. She took off the aprons and the torn clothes and put the Twins to bed while she mended.

She got out a pair of Grandfather's oldest velveteen breeches that had been patched a great deal, and found a good piece to patch with. Then she patched the holes in Kit's breeches so neatly that one had to look very carefully indeed to see that there had ever been any holes there at all.

Then she patched Kat's dress; and, when it was all done, she shook it out and said to herself,

"Seems to me those Twins have been quiet for a long time."

She went over to the cupboard bed; and there were Kit and Kat fast asleep; with their cheeks all stained with tears and dirt. Grandmother Winkle kissed them. Kit and Kat woke up, and Grandmother dressed them in their Sunday clothes again, and washed their faces and made them feel as good as new.

By and by Grandfather Winkle came home from going about with the milk. Grandmother Winkle scrubbed the cart and made it all clean again; and by noon you would never have known, unless you had looked very, very closely—much more closely than would be polite—that anything had happened to the Twins or the milk cart, or their clothes or anything.

After they had eaten their dinner, and the dogs were rested and Grandfather had smoked his pipe he said,

"Kit, if you think you can mind, I will take you and Kat both home in the dog cart." Kit and Kat both nodded their heads very hard. "Only, I'll do the driving myself," said Grandfather Winkle. And he did.

He put Kit and Kat both on the seat, and he walked slowly beside the cart. They went out on the road beside the canal toward home. They got there just as the sun was getting low in the west, and Vrouw Vedder was going out to feed her chickens.

 

Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Winter

 

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

The Old Woman and Her Pig

N old woman found a crooked sixpence while sweeping her door-yard. "What shall I do with this sixpence?" she said. "I will go to the market and buy a pig."

Then the old woman went to the market and bought a pig. On her way home she came to a stile and then the pig would not go over the stile.

"Pig, pig, get over the stile, Or I can not get home tonight."

But the pig would not.

Then she went a little further and met a dog; and she said to the dog:

"Dog, dog, bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile; And I can not get home tonight."

But the dog would not.

Then she went a little farther and met a stick; and she said to the stick:

"Stick, stick, beat the dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile; And I can not get home tonight."

But the stick would not.

Then she went a little farther and met a fire; and she said to the fire:

"Fire, fire, burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile; And I can not get home tonight."

But the fire would not.

Then she went a little farther and met some water; and she said to the water:

"Water, water, quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile; And I can not get home tonight."

But the water would not.

Then she went a little farther and met an ox; and she said to the ox:

"Ox, ox, drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile; And I can not get home tonight."

But the ox would not.

Then she went a little farther and met a butcher; and she said to the butcher:

"Butcher, butcher pen ox; Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile; And I can not get home tonight."

But the butcher would not.

Then she went a little farther and met a rope; and she said to the rope:

"Rope, rope, whip butcher; Butcher won't pen ox; Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile; And I can not get home tonight."

But the rope would not.

Then she went a little farther and met a rat; and she said to the rat:

"Rat, rat, gnaw rope; Rope won't whip butcher; Butcher won't pen ox; Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile; And I can not get home tonight."

But the rat would not.

Then she went a little farther and met a cat; and she said to the cat:

"Cat, cat, bite rat; Rat won't gnaw rope; Rope won't whip butcher; Butcher won't pen ox; Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile; And I can not get home tonight."

But the cat said to her, "If you will get me a saucer of milk, I will bite the rat." Then the old woman gave a wisp of hay to a cow that was near, and the cow gave her a saucer of milk. Then the old woman gave the saucer of milk to the cat and this is what happened:

The cat began to bite the rat; the rat began to gnaw the rope; the rope began to whip the butcher; the butcher began to pen the ox; the ox began to drink the water; the water began to quench the fire; the fire began to burn the stick; the stick began to beat the dog; the dog began to bite the pig; the pig got over the stile; and the old woman got home that night.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

When

When I was a bachelor I lived by myself; And all the bread and cheese I got I laid up on the shelf. The rats and the mice They made such a strife, I was forced to go to London To buy me a wife. The streets were so bad, And the lanes were so narrow, I was forced to bring my wife home In a wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow broke, And my wife had a fall; Down came wheelbarrow, Little wife and all.

 

Among the Forest People  by Clara Dillingham Pierson

The Ruffed Grouse's Story

T HE Ruffed Grouse cocked his crested head on one side and looked up through the bare branches to the sky. It was a soft gray, and in the west were banks of bluish clouds. "I think it will snow very soon," said he. "Mrs. Grouse, are the children all ready for cold weather?"

"All ready," answered his cheerful little wife. "They have had their thickest feathers on for quite a while. The Rabbits were saying the other day that they had never seen a plumper or better clothed flock than ours." And her beautiful golden-brown eyes shone with pride as she spoke.

Indeed, the young Ruffed Grouse were a family of whom she might well be proud. Twelve healthy and obedient children do not fall to the lot of every Forest mother, and she wished with a sad little sigh that her other two eggs had hatched. She often thought of them with longing. How lovely it would have been to have fourteen children! But at that moment her brood came crowding around her in fright.

"Some cold white things," they said, "came tumbling down upon us and scared us. The white things didn't say a word, but they came so fast that we think they must be alive. Tell us what to do. Must we hide?"

"Why, that is snow!" exclaimed their mother. "It drops from the clouds up yonder quite as the leaves drop from the trees in the fall. It will not hurt you, but we must find shelter."

"What did I tell you, Mrs. Grouse?" asked her husband. "I was certain that it would snow before night. I felt it in my quills." And Mr. Grouse strutted with importance. It always makes one feel so very knowing when he has told his wife exactly what will happen.

"How did you feel it in your quills?" asked one of his children. "Shall I feel it in my quills when I am as old as you are?"

"Perhaps," was the answer. "But until you do feel it you can never understand it, for it is not like any other feeling that there is."

Then they all started for a low clump of bushes to find shelter from the storm. Once they were frightened by seeing a great creature come tramping through the woods towards them. "A man!" said Mr. Grouse. "Hide!" said Mrs. Grouse, and each little Grouse hid under the leaves so quickly that nobody could see how it was done. One might almost think that a strong wind had blown them away. The mother pretended that she had a broken wing, and hopped away, making such pitiful sounds that the man followed to pick her up. When she had led him far from her children, she, too, made a quick run and hid herself; and although the man hunted everywhere, he could not find a single bird.

You know that is always the way in Grouse families, and even if the man's foot had stirred the leaves under which a little one was hiding, the Grouse would not have moved or made a sound. The children are brought up to mind without asking any questions. When their mother says, "Hide!" they do it, and never once ask "Why?" or answer, "As soon as I have swallowed this berry." It is no wonder that the older ones are proud of their children. Any mother would be made happy by having one child obey like that, and think of having twelve!

At last, the whole family reached the bushes where they were to stay, and then they began to feed near by. "Eat all you can," said Mr. Grouse, "before the snow gets deep. You may not have another such good chance for many days." So they ate until their little stomachs would not hold one more seed or evergreen bud.

All this time the snowflakes were falling, but the Grouse children were no longer afraid of them. Sometimes they even chased and snapped at them as they would at a fly in summer-time. It was then, too, that they learned to use snow-shoes. The oldest child had made a great fuss when he found a fringe of hard points growing around his toes in the fall, and had run peeping to his mother to ask her what was the matter. She had shown him her own feet, and had told him how all the Ruffed Grouse have snow-shoes of that kind grow on their feet every winter.

"We do not have to bother about them at all," she said. "They put themselves on when the weather gets cold in the fall, and they take themselves off when spring comes. We each have a new pair every year, and when they are grown we can walk easily over the soft snow. Without them we should sink through and flounder."

When night came they all huddled under the bushes, lying close together to keep each other warm. The next day they burrowed into a snow-drift and made a snug place there which was even better than the one they left; the soft white coverlet kept the wind out so well. It was hard for the little ones to keep quiet long, and to amuse them Mr. Grouse told how he first met their mother in the spring.

"It was a fine, sunshiny day," he said, "and everybody was happy. I had for some time been learning to drum, and now I felt that I was as good a drummer as there was in the forest. So I found a log (every Ruffed Grouse has to have his own place, you know) and I jumped up on it and strutted back and forth with my head high in the air. It was a dusky part of the forest and I could not see far, yet I knew that a beautiful young Grouse was somewhere near, and I hoped that if I drummed very well she might come to me."

"I know!" interrupted one of the little Grouse. "It was our mother."

"Well, it wasn't your mother then, my chick," said Mr. Grouse, "for that was long, long before you were hatched."

"She was our mother afterwards, anyway," cried the young Grouse. "I just know she was!"

Mr. Grouse's eyes twinkled, but he went gravely on. "At last I flapped my wings hard and fast, and the soft drumming sound could be heard far and near. 'Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump; thump-thump-rup-rup-rup-rup-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r.' I waited, but nobody came. Then I drummed again, and after that I was sure that I heard a rustling in the leaves. I drummed a third time, and then, children, there came the beautiful young Grouse, breaking her way through the thicket and trying to look as though she didn't know that I was there."

"Did she know?" cried the little Grouse.

"You must ask your mother that," he answered, "for it was she who came. Ah, what happy days we had together all spring! We wandered all through this great Forest and even made some journeys into the edge of the Meadow. Still, there was no place we loved as we did the dusky hollow by the old log where we first met. One day your mother told me that she must begin housekeeping and that I must keep out of the way while she was busy. So I had to go off with a crowd of other Ruffed Grouse while she fixed her nest, laid her eggs, and hatched out you youngsters. It was rather hard to be driven off in that way, but you know it is the custom among Grouse. We poor fellows had to amuse ourselves and each other until our wives called us home to help take care of the children. We've been at that work ever since."

"Oh!" said one of the young Grouse. "Oh, I am so glad that you drummed, and that she came when she heard you. Who would we have had to take care of us if it hadn't happened just so?"

That made them all feel very solemn, and Mr. Grouse couldn't answer, and Mrs. Grouse couldn't answer, and none of the little Grouse could answer because, you see, it is one of the questions that hasn't any answer. Still, they were all there and happy, so they didn't bother their crested heads about it very long.

 

A Book of Nursery Rhymes  by Francis D. Bedford

Twinkle, Twinkle

 

More Mother Stories  by Maud Lindsay

Pattie's New Dress

When Pattie was a little girl, long, long ago, many of the things that we buy now from stores were made at home. There were home-made carpets, and home-made stockings, and home-made dollies, and when Pattie needed a warm new dress, her Grandmother said:—

"I'll spin the wool for it."

"And I'll weave the cloth," said Rachel, who was the oldest girl in the family.

"And I'll make the dress," said the little girl's mother, "by the new pattern that Miss Evangelina Page has just brought home from her cousin's. She was telling me about it yesterday, and it will fit Pattie I know."

The sheep had given the wool from their backs for Pattie's new dress. It was as soft as down, and as white as milk, and as beautiful as snow, so Pattie thought. Grandmother carded it fine and smooth, fastened it on her spindle and sent the spinning wheel whirling round.

"Zummmmmmmmm," sang the wheel as it turned, "Zummmmmmmmm." Pattie's Brother Joe said it sounded as if there were bees in the room. "Zummmmmmmmmmmmm."

"A hum and a whirl, a twist and a twirl, that is the way good yarn is spun," said Grandmother as she drew the thread out from the fleecy wool.

Pattie stood by to watch her spin, with a smile on her lips, and a laugh in her eyes, and more questions on the tip of her rosy tongue than Grandmother had time to answer.

"Will there be a pocket in my new dress?" she asked, "and buttons down the back? And oh, Grandmother, what color is it going to be?"

"I know," said Brother Joe who had just come in from the woods with a bundle of walnut bark, "the color of a—chestnut."

"Brown, brown, brown," cried Pattie; and sure enough, when her Mother dipped the yarn into the dye which she made with the walnut bark, it came out a beautiful brown just as Pattie had guessed.

"Brown, brown, brown," cried Pattie, when her mother dipped the yarn into the dye.

Then Sister Rachel fastened the yarn into the loom and began to weave. The treadle went up and the treadle went down with a click and a clack, such a merry sound, and away sprang the shuttle to carry the thread under and over, and in and out. The cloth grew as if by magic in the loom, and when it was almost woven Pattie was sent to get the pattern.

She was delighted to go on such an errand and she told everybody she met about her new dress.

"Good morning," she said, "I am going to have a new brown dress. Mother is going to begin it this very day, just as soon as I get the pattern from Miss Evangelina Page."

Everybody was glad to hear about it too. Even the old pedler, who drove about from house to house selling pans and buckets, said he had not heard such good news since the day that Peggy Carter's speckled hen, down at the Crossroads, came off her nest with fifteen chickens.

The pedler had known Pattie ever since she was a baby, and he let her ride in his wagon all the way from her Aunt Susan's house to Miss Evangelina's gate.

Miss Evangelina Page had more patterns than anybody in town and nothing pleased her more than to lend them. As soon as she heard what Pattie wanted she put on her spectacles and got the pattern out of her top bureau drawer.

"Cousin Mary Ann Carter's Peggy had a dress made by this very pattern," she said, as she rolled it up in a neat little bundle and tied a pink string around it.

"Did it have a pocket?" asked Pattie.

"Yes, indeed," said Miss Evangelina, "Two of them, bound with red braid, and—oh, yes, you tell your mother that I say she must be sure to cut the ruffles on the bias."

Pattie did not know what that meant, but she said the message over and over and when she got home she had not forgotten a word of it. Rachel had taken the cloth out of the loom and Mother was all ready to begin the dress. Snip, snip, snip went her scissors sharp, and stitch, stitch, stitch flew her shining needle. Long after Pattie was in bed and fast asleep that night, she was busy sewing. Grandmother and Rachel helped too, and the dress was finished the very next day.

It had pockets, two of them, bound with red braid, and ruffles on the skirt, and buttons down the back like a row of red berries. Pattie wore it when she carried the pattern back to Miss Evangelina Page, and everybody she met had something to say about it. Jack Frost had come in the night and the wintry winds had begun to blow, but she did not care.

"I'm warm as toast in my new woolen dress," said little girl Pattie.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Sing, Sing

Sing, sing, what shall I sing? Cat's run away with the pudding-string! Do, do, what shall I do? The cat has bitten it quite in two.

 

The Sandman: More Farm Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The Sunday Story

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 morning, the old rooster crowed very early and little John woke and was just going to jump up and dress. But he remembered that it was Sunday morning and he didn't have to get up so early. So he lay there in bed and watched the shiny things going up and down and along on the walls the way they do when it isn't very light; and little Charles watched them, too, but he didn't see the same ones that little John saw. And after awhile, Aunt Deborah came in and put little John's Sunday clothes and little Charles's Sunday clothes on the bed, and she told the little boys to get up. So they both jumped out of bed and dressed and went down-stairs and had their breakfast.

When little John had had his breakfast, he went to the closet and got his frock. His frock was a long kind of a coat that slipped on over his head and hung down almost to his feet, and covered his clothes all up. He tied the string around his neck, and then he went out to the cow-yard and let the cows out, and drove them to the pasture. The cows had been waiting a long time, and they were in a hurry to get to the pasture. So little John had to hurry to keep up with them; and when the cows were in the pasture, little John had to hurry back, because it was almost time for him to start for church. And he took off his frock and cleaned his shoes and washed his face and hands, and then he and little Charles started out the kitchen door and down the little track and out the gate and along the road, on their way to church. They had to walk to church, because there wasn't room in the carriage for all the people.

While the little boys were getting ready to go to church, Uncle John went out to the barn, and he got the horses out of their stalls. The horses had had their breakfasts, and he rubbed them down with a brush and then with some straw, so that they were all shiny. Then he put on the harness and led the horses out to the shed and hitched them to the carryall; and he led them to the door of the farm-house and fastened them to a post that was there. It wasn't the kitchen door, but the biggest door, that they used on Sundays and for company.

Then, pretty soon, Uncle Solomon came out, and Aunt Phyllis and Aunt Deborah. And Aunt Phyllis and Aunt Deborah had on their black dresses, and Uncle Solomon had on his black coat and Uncle John had on his black coat, and Uncle Solomon and Uncle John were both very uncomfortable. Then Aunt Phyllis and Aunt Deborah got into the carryall and sat on the back seat, and Uncle Solomon got in and sat on the front seat. And Uncle John unhitched the horses and got in beside Uncle Solomon. And under the seat was a basket that had some luncheon in it. Then they started and the horses walked down the little track and through the wide gate into the road and along the road on the way to church.

When the little boys had walked along the road for awhile, going to church, pretty soon they came near another farm-house, and there were two boys waiting for them. So those two boys came out and went along with little Charles and little John, and after awhile they came near another house, and there were three little boys waiting. And they all went along together, so there were seven little boys. Pretty soon they got tired of walking along quietly, and they began to chase each other and to throw stones at things, and they weren't as quiet as little boys ought to be on Sunday. But it was a long way to church.

After awhile, the boys came where the houses were closer together, and they stopped chasing each other and throwing stones, and walked quietly again, for they didn't want any of the grown-up people to see them doing those things. And then they came where the houses were so close together that it was a village, and they were almost at the church. But a village isn't like a city, and the houses aren't very close together. There are fields all around. When they had come to the village, they heard a carriage coming up behind them, and they looked around, and there was the carryall, with Uncle Solomon and Uncle John and Aunt Deborah and Aunt Phyllis. And Aunt Deborah and Aunt Phyllis waved their hands to the boys, and Uncle John said, "Hello, boys. Better hurry along now." And the little boys all hurried along, so that they shouldn't be late to church.

Uncle John drove the horses along until they came to the church. It was just a kind of square wooden house with long windows and a tall steeple that was pointed, and a sloping roof. It was painted white and had long green blinds, like the farm-house; and people called it a meeting-house. Behind the meeting-house was a long shed that was all open on one side. The shed was a great deal longer than the meeting-house, and there was room in it for a great many carriages. For most of the people had to come a long way, and they came in wagons and in carryalls, and they left the horses and wagons and carryalls in the shed while they went into the meeting-house.

So Uncle John drove the horses into the shed, and all the people got out of the carryall, and Uncle John took the bridles off the horses' heads, and put halters on, and tied them to the rack. When that was done, the little boys were just coming along, and they all went in together to church, and walked down the middle aisle to their pew and the other little boys went to the pews where their fathers and mothers were.

The pew where Uncle Solomon and Uncle John sat was almost square, and it had high wooden sides. The sides were so high that little John couldn't see the other people when he was sitting down. He couldn't even see the minister, and the minister stood in a high place that had stairs going up to it, winding around.

When all the people had sat down and it was time for the church to begin, the minister walked up the winding stairs and all the people stood up and they sang. There wasn't any organ to help them sing, but there was a bass viol up in a gallery at the back of the church, and a man played the bass viol, and another man played a kind of a trumpet. A bass viol is a great enormous fiddle or violin, and one end of it rests on the floor and the man stands up to play it. When they had done singing, the minister prayed for a long time, and then they all sang again, and after awhile the minister began to preach a sermon. Little John didn't know what the minister was preaching about, and he couldn't see anything but the walls of the pew and the heads of the people who sat just in front of him, in the next pew, and the minister's voice, going along so even, made him very sleepy. He tried to keep awake, just doing nothing. Then he began to play pretend games with himself, to keep awake better, but that didn't keep him awake long, and pretty soon he was sound asleep, with his head leaning against Aunt Deborah. She saw that he was asleep, but she didn't wake him or let Uncle Solomon know that he was asleep.

After awhile, the minister got through preaching, and that woke little John. Then the people all sang again and the minister prayed another long time, and at last, church was all over. Then the people all got up and walked out.

When the people went out of church, Aunt Deborah and Aunt Phyllis waited on the steps for a little while and talked to some other people, and then they went over to the shed where the horses were tied, and they got into the carryall. Aunt Deborah got out the basket and opened it, and she took out some crackers and some turnovers, and she gave two crackers and a turnover to little Charles, and two crackers and a turnover to little John. And the little boys took their crackers and turnovers and they ran across the road to a big pump that was there and they pumped some water on the crackers to make them soft.

Then they ran back and went to an old stage-coach that was outside the shed. This old stage-coach wasn't used any more, and the little boys liked to sit in it and eat their luncheon and play that the coach was really going. A lot of other boys went there, too, and some sat inside and those that couldn't get inside sat up on the top. And they all ate their luncheon. Some had crackers and some had bread and some had gingerbread and some had apples. And they swapped bites with each other. Little John gave another boy a bite of his turnover, and that other boy gave little John a bite of gingerbread. They were very big bites. When they had all finished their luncheons, they played stage-coach for awhile, and then they got down and ran around until it was time for church again.

They played stage‑coach for awhile.

This time, church didn't last quite so long as it did the first time, but little John thought it was very long. All the people sang, and the minister prayed and preached another sermon, and little John went to sleep again. But at last it was all over and everybody got up and went out. Then Uncle John took the halters off the horses' heads and put on the bridles, and they all got into the carryall and the horses backed the carryall out of the shed and started along the road to the farm-house. But little Charles and little John walked along the road with a lot of other boys.

When the little boys got to the farm-house and turned in at the wide gate Uncle John was just coming from the barn. He had taken the harness off the horses and had tied the horses in their stalls, and he was going into the house to dinner. So little Charles and little John went in at the kitchen door, and they brushed the dust off their clothes and off their shoes, and they washed their faces and hands and sat down to eat their dinner. Aunt Deborah had made a milk cake for them. It was a cake that they liked very much, and they ate as much as she would let them, and they thought it was very nice.

And that's all.

 

Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Pease Porridge

 

The Nursery Book of Bible Stories  by Amy Steedman

Gideon, the Soldier

T HE people of Israel were in sore distress. Their smiling land, that land "flowing with milk and honey," was laid waste, they were robbed of their harvests, and they went in terror of their lives. The fierce Midianite robbers had come swarming from the east like a cloud of locusts, and just as locusts devour the green, good land, so these Midianites had overrun the country and devoured everything which their greedy eyes desired and their powerful hands could grasp.

The people who lived in the quiet valleys and plains had fled to the hills for safety, leaving their cornfields and vineyards, and seeking shelter in caves and rocky dens. They dared not try to fight the robbers, for the Midianites far outnumbered them. It was a reign of red terror, as if hungry wolves had come to menace the peaceful land.

There was one man, however, who had not fled before the enemy and who kept on steadily at his work, reaping his corn and gathering in his grapes. This was Gideon, a young landowner who looked after his father's land. He was the youngest of a family of brothers, all of them so tall and straight and strong and good to look at that they might have been the sons of a king.

But of all these brothers Gideon alone was now left. The others had all been killed by the fierce robbers who had invaded the land, and it was his part now to defend the home and carry on the work. He never dreamed of running away and leaving his fair cornfields and terraced vineyards to fall into the greedy, grasping hands of the wolfish enemy. The Midianite robbers would not find him an easy prey when they came. Still he worked cautiously, and when the harvest was gathered in he hid it in a secret cave which he had prepared.

It was a bitter thing to live always in fear of the enemy, and Gideon almost felt as if God had forsaken His people. He knew what wonderful things God had done in the past years, when the people of Israel had escaped from Egyptian slavery: how He had made a passage for them through the Red Sea, and broken down the walls of Jericho before them, and led them into the flowery land of peace and plenty. But why, then, did He work no wonders now, and free them from this dreadful tyranny?

He was thinking these thoughts one day as he toiled near the grove of trees which grew just above his vineyard, when he looked up and saw some one there, sitting under an oak tree. It was a friend and not a foe, for the greeting fell gently on his ear, "The Lord is with thee, thou mighty man of valour."

Was it a message from God? Perhaps this was an angel messenger, but Gideon answered bitterly, for he did not think that God was with him.

"If the Lord be with us, why then is all this befallen us?" he asked. "Where be all his miracles which our fathers told us of, saying, Did not the Lord bring us up from Egypt? But now the Lord hath forsaken us, and delivered us into the hands of the Midianites."

Quickly then the angel's answer came. It was he, Gideon, who was to show the people that God could still work miracles and that He had not forsaken His people. It was he who should lead them to victory and drive forth the robbers out of the land.

It was a splendid call to arms, and Gideon answered it at once as a soldier obeys the call of his king.

The Call of Gideon

But before fighting the foe there was evil at home to be battled with. The people had been worshipping a false god, and Gideon's first act was to sweep away all that belonged to that false worship. The indignant people talked of punishment, but even while they spoke news came that more of the robber nations were on their way to harry the land, and this was Gideon's opportunity. Splendid in his youth and strength, king-like in his daring, he stood out before the people and blew a great blast upon his trumpet, calling upon the people to gather themselves together for the defence of their land and to follow him, their captain.

It was a bold thing to think of withstanding that great army which was coming thundering upon its relentless way. Gideon himself knew that it was a forlorn hope unless God was surely on their side. He must make quite certain of that before setting out, so he humbly prayed that God would give him a sign. He would put a fleece of wool out on the ground at night, and if in the morning the fleece was wet with dew while the ground around was dry, then he would know that God had indeed chosen him to lead His people to victory.

The fleece was laid out, and when Gideon came in the morning he found it all soaked with dew, while not a drop had fallen upon the dry hard ground around. Still he wanted to be even more sure, and so again he prayed to God, and asked that this time the fleece might be dry and the dew fall only upon the ground. If this happened he would ask for no other sign, but would believe with all his heart.

Again God listened patiently to His soldier servant, and again He granted his prayer. This time, when in the early morning Gideon went out to find his fleece, it was lying there quite dry, while everything around was heavy with dew.

So now with every doubt at rest Gideon set to work to prepare for battle. The people had answered his trumpet call and had gathered together in thousands; but many of them had come in fear and trembling, and Gideon wanted no cowards or half-hearted men in his army. God was able to save by many or by few, and He meant to show that it was by His arm that the victory would be won. So He bade Gideon tell all the faint-hearted and frightened men to return to their hiding-places, and all the unfit ones to go home, and at last the army melted away until only three hundred picked men were left to fight the great armies of the Midianites and the Amalekites.

The little army took up its position secretly upon a hill which overlooked the plain where the enemy was encamped; and when night came down and wrapped hill and plain in darkness, God's message came to Gideon and bade him go down secretly, taking his servant with him, to find out what was happening in the camp below.

The vast plain was covered with tents; thousands and thousands of camels, on which the robbers had come riding so proudly, were resting there now like a great gray sea stretched out towards the horizon. It seemed as hopeless to think of turning back this great swarm of people as of stopping the incoming tide. But there was no doubt or fear in Gideon's heart.

Very silently in the darkness of the night he stole down the hill and crept closer and closer to the enemy camp. Like two gray shadows he and his faithful servant drew nearer and nearer, until at last they could hear the voices of two men who were talking in one of the dark tents set at the outer edge of the great camp.

The men had both been asleep, and one had been dreaming, but the dreamer had awakened his companion to listen to the frightening dream which had disturbed him. Gideon could distinctly hear his terror-stricken voice telling how he had seen a cake of barley bread come rolling down the hill into the camp, where nothing could stop it, until it even reached the royal tent and laid it flat. The man who listened to the dream was terrified too, and declared that it meant the overthrow of their people by the sword of Gideon, that man of Israel who dwelt on the hillside and had defied them.

Gideon had heard enough; and so, as silently as they had come, the two shadows flitted back and climbed up the hill to their camp. There was no time to be lost. Before the enemy could regain confidence the blow must be struck. Gideon had everything planned for the attack, and now he explained to his men exactly what they were to do.

Each man was to carry in one hand his trumpet, and in the other an empty earthen pitcher with a lighted torch inside. They were to carry these pitchers so that no gleam of light should show, and were to creep quietly down to the edge of the enemies' camp below. Then, when they were all come close to the camp Gideon would blow his trumpet, and at that signal all those three hundred men were to blow their trumpets too and break the pitchers which they held in their hands, so that the light of the torches should suddenly blaze out. There was only one more order to give, and that was to tell them the battle cry which was to carry them on to victory—

"The sword of the Lord and of Gideon."

Swiftly, then, those three hundred picked men crept down the hill. No mountain mist rolling into the valley could have moved more silently, and not a gleam from the hidden torches lit up the darkness.

There was silence in the great camp below. Sentries had just been changed, and the rest of the army was peacefully sleeping—when suddenly one long clear trumpet call shattered the stillness like the thrust of a spear piercing a solid wall of blackness. Instantly a wild blare of answering trumpets broke in from every side, and the darkness was lit up by hundreds of flaring torches, while a mighty shout rose up to heaven: "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon."

"They blew the trumpets, and brake the pitchers that were in their hands."

No wonder the enemy in their surprise and terror thought that a great army was upon them. It seemed as if the very night itself was full of fire and crashing sound. They rushed from their tents, they fled this way and that, not knowing friend from foe, but madly hacking their way with their swords in blind terror.

It was a great victory for the Israelites. Both the robber kings were taken and slain, and the people who survived that terrible stampede were driven back into their own land.

Who now in all the land was as great a hero as the brave young captain, the victorious Gideon? The people in their gratitude and devotion were ready to pay him any honour, even to making him their king.

"Rule thou over us," they shouted, "both thou, and thy son, and thy son's son also: for thou hast delivered us from the hand of Midian."

But Gideon would have none of this. It was to God that the glory was due, and God was their King.

"I will not rule over you," he declared, "neither shall my son rule over you."

And then, like the trumpet call in the great battle, his voice rang out: "The Lord, He shall rule over you."

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

London Bridge

London Bridge is broken down, Dance over my Lady Lee; London Bridge is broken down, With a gay lady. How shall we build it up again? Dance over my Lady Lee; How shall we build it up again? With a gay lady. Build it up with silver and gold, Dance over my Lady Lee; Build it up with silver and gold, With a gay lady. Silver and gold will be stole away, Dance over my Lady Lee; Silver and gold will be stole away, With a gay lady. Build it up with iron and steel, Dance over my Lady Lee; Build it up with iron and steel, With a gay lady. Iron and steel will bend and bow, Dance over my Lady Lee; Iron and steel will bend and bow, With a gay lady. Build it up with wood and clay, Dance over my Lady Lee; Build it up with wood and clay, With a gay lady. Wood and clay will wash away, Dance over my Lady Lee; Wood and clay will wash away, With a gay lady. Build it up with stone so strong, Dance over my Lady Lee; Huzza! 'twill last for ages long, With a gay lady.