The Adventures of Reddy Fox  by Thornton Burgess

Drummer the Woodpecker Drums in Vain

O NCE upon a time, before he had grown to think himself so very, very smart, Reddy Fox would never, never have thought of running without watching out in every direction. He would have seen that thing that looked like the barrel of a gun sticking out from behind the old tree towards which he was running, and he would have been very suspicious, very suspicious indeed. But now all Reddy could think of was what a splendid chance he had to show all the little meadow and forest people what a bold, smart fellow he was.

So once more Reddy sat down and waited until Bowser the Hound was almost up to him. Just then Drummer the Woodpecker began to make a tremendous noise—rat-a-tat-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat-tat! Now everybody who heard that rat-a-tat-tat-tat knew that it was a danger signal. Drummer the Woodpecker never drums just that way for pleasure. But Reddy Fox paid no attention to it. He didn't notice it at all. You see, he was so full of the idea of his own smartness that he didn't have room for anything else.

"Stupid thing!" said Drummer the Woodpecker to himself. "I don't know what I am trying to warn him for, anyway. The Green Meadows and the Green Forest would be better off without him, a lot better off! Nobody likes him. He's a dreadful bully and is all the time trying to catch or scare to death those who are smaller than he. Still, he is  so handsome!" Drummer cocked his head on one side and looked over at Reddy Fox.

Reddy was laughing to see how hard Bowser the Hound was working to untangle Reddy's mixed-up trail.

"Yes, Sir, he certainly is handsome," said Drummer once more.

Then he looked down at the foot of the old tree on which he was sitting, and what he saw caused Drummer to make up his mind. "I surely would miss seeing that beautiful red coat of his! I surely would!" he muttered. "If he doesn't hear and heed now, it won't be my fault!"

Then Drummer the Woodpecker began such a furious rat-a-tat-tat on the trunk of the old tree that it rang through the Green Forest and out across the Green Meadows almost to the Purple Hills.

Down at the foot of the tree a freckled face on which there was a black scowl looked up. It was the face of Farmer Brown's boy.

"What ails that pesky woodpecker?" he muttered. "If he doesn't keep still, he'll scare that fox!"

He shook a fist at Drummer, but Drummer didn't appear to notice. He kept right on, rat-a-tat-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat-tat!

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

To Market

To market, to market, to buy a fat pig. Home again, home again, jiggety jig. To market, to market, to buy a fat hog, Home again, home again, jiggety jog. To market, to market, to buy a plum bun, Home again, home again, market is done.

 

The Eskimo Twins  by Lucy Fitch Perkins

The Twins Go Fishing

Everything was still and cold. It was so still you could almost hear the silence, and so bright that the twins had to squint their eyes. In the air there was a faint smell of cooking meat.

Menie sniffed. "I'm so hungry I could eat my boots," he said.

"There are better things to eat than boots," Monnie answered. "What would you like best of everything in the world if you could have it?"

"A nice piece of blubber from a walrus or some reindeer tallow," said Menie.

"Oh, no," Monnie cried. "That isn't half as good as reindeer's stomach, or fishes' eyes! Um-m—how I love fishes' eyes! I tell you, Menie, let's get something to eat and then go fishing, before the sun goes down!"

"All right," said Menie. "Let's see if Mother won't give us a piece of bear's fat! That is almost as good as blubber or fishes' eyes."

Over the fire pan there was a rack, and from the rack a stone pan hung down over the lamp flame. It was tied by leather thongs to the rack. In the pan a piece of bear's meat was simmering. The fire was not big enough to cook it very well, but there was a little steam rising from it, and it made a very good smell for hungry noses.

"We're hungry enough to eat our boots," Menie said to his mother.

"You must never  eat your boots; you have but one pair!" his mother answered. She pinched Menie's cheek and laughed at him.

Then she cut two chunks of fat from a piece of bear's meat which lay on the bench. She gave one to each of the twins. "Eat this, and soon you can have some cooked meat," she said. "It isn't quite done yet."

"We don't want to wait for the cooked meat," cried Monnie. "We want to go fishing before the sun is gone. Give us more fat and we'll eat it outside."

"You may go fishing if your father will go with you and cut holes for you in the ice," said her mother.

Koolee cut off two more pieces of fat. The twins took a piece in each hand. Then their mother reached down their own little fishing rods, which were stuck in the walls of the igloo. The twins had bear's meat in both hands. They didn't see how they could manage the fishing rods too.

But Menie thought of a way. "I'll show you how," he said to Monnie. He held one chunk of meat in his teeth! In his left hand he held the fishing rod, in his right he carried the other piece of meat!

Monnie did exactly what Menie did, and then they crawled down into the tunnel.

Kesshoo was hanging the dogs' harnesses up on a tall pole, where the dogs could not get them. The pole was eight feet long, and it was made of the tusk of a narwhal. The harnesses were made of walrus thongs and the dogs would eat them if they had a chance. That was the reason Kesshoo hung them out of reach. The twins ran to their father at once. They began to tell him that they wanted to go fishing right away before the sun went down but their mouths were so full they couldn't get the words out!

"Mm-m-m-m," Menie began, chewing with all his might!

Then Monnie did a shocking thing! She swallowed her meat whole, she was in such hurry! It made a great lump going down her throat! It almost choked her. But she shut her eyes, jerked her head forward, and got it down!

"Will you make two holes in the ice for us to fish through?" she said. She got the words out first! Then she took another bite of meat.

"Have you got your lines ready, and anything for bait?" asked their father.

By this time Menie had swallowed his mouthful too. He said, "We can take a piece of bear's meat for bait. The lines and hooks are ready."

Kesshoo looked at the lines. The rods were very short. They were made of driftwood with a piece of bone bound to the end by tough thongs.

There was a hole in the end of the bone, and through this hole the line was threaded. The line was made of braided reindeer thongs. On the end of the line was a hook carved out of bone.

"Your lines are all right," said Kesshoo. "Come along."

He led the way down to the beach. The twins came tumbling after him, and I am sorry to tell you they gobbled their meat all the way! After the twins came Nip and Tup. The ice was very thick. Kesshoo and the twins and the pups walked out on it quite a distance from the shore.

Kesshoo cut two round holes in the ice. One was for Menie and one for Monnie. The holes were not big enough for them to fall into.

By this time the twins had eaten all their meat except some small pieces which they saved for bait. They each put a piece of meat on the hook. Then they squatted down on their heels and dropped the hooks into the holes.

Kesshoo went back to the village, and left them there. "Don't stay out too long," he called back to them.

Slowly, slowly it sank until only a little bit of the red rim showed; then that too was gone. Great splashes of red color came up in the sky over the place where it had been.

Still the twins sat patiently by their holes. It grew darker and darker. The colors faded. The stars began to twinkle, but the twins did not move. Nip and Tup ran races on the ice, and rolled over each other and barked.

At last—all of a sudden—there was a fearful jerk on Monnie's line! It took her by surprise. The little rod flew right out of her hands! Monnie flung herself on her stomach on the ice and caught the rod just as it was going down the hole! She held on hard and pulled like everything.

"I believe I've caught a whale,"  she panted.

But she never let go! She got herself right side up on the ice, somehow, and pulled and pulled on her line.

"Let me pull him in!" cried Menie. He tried to take her rod.

"Get away," screamed Monnie. "I'll pull in my own fish."

Menie danced up and down with excitement, still holding his own rod. The pups danced and barked too. Monnie never looked at any of them. She kept her eyes fixed on the hole and pulled.

At last she shrieked, "I've got him, I've got him!" And up through the hole came a great big codfish!

My! how he did flop around on the ice! Nip and Tup were scared. They ran for home at the first flop.

"Let's go home now," said Monnie. "I want to show my fine big fish to Mother."

But Menie said, "Wait a little longer till I catch one! I'll give you one eye out of my fish if you will."

Monnie waited. She put another piece of meat on her hook and dropped it again into the hole. After a while she said, "You can keep your old eye if you get it. It's so dark the fish can't see to get themselves caught anyway. I'm cold. I'm going home."

Menie got up very slowly and pulled up his line.

As they turned toward the shore, Monnie cried out, "Look, look! The sky is on fire!" It looked like it, truly!

Great white streamers were flashing from the Edge of the World, clear up into the sky! They danced like flames. Sometimes they shot long banners of blue or green fire up to the very stars. Overhead the sky shone red as blood. The stars seemed blotted out.

The twins had seen many wonderful things in the sky, but never such color as this. Their eyes grew as round and big and popping as those of Monnie's codfish, while they watched the long banners join themselves into a great waving curtain of color that hung clear across the heavens.

"What is it? Oh, what is it?" they gasped. They were too astonished to move, and they were a good deal frightened, too. They never knew the sky could act like that.

Monnie felt her black hair rise under her little fur hood. She seized Menie's coat. "Do you suppose the world is going to be burned up?" she said.

Just then they heard a voice calling, "Menie, Monnie, where are you?"

"Here we are," they answered. Their teeth were chattering with cold and fright, and they ran up the slope and flung themselves into their mother's arms.

"Oh, Mother, what is the matter with the sky?" they gasped.

Then Koolee looked up too. The long streamers were still flinging themselves up toward the red dome overhead.

We call this the "aurora," or "northern lights," and know that electricity causes it, but the twins' mother couldn't know that. She told them just what had been told her when she was a little girl.

She said, "That is the dance of the Spirits of the Dead! Haven't you ever seen it before?"

"Not like this," said the twins. "This is so big, and so red!"

"The sky is not often so bright," said Koolee. "Some say it is the spirits of little children dancing and playing together in the sky! They will not hurt you. You need not be afraid. See how they dance in a ring all around the Edge of the World! They look as if they were having fun."

"It goes around the Edge of the World just like the flames around our lamp," said Menie. "Maybe it's the Giants' lamp!"

Menie and Monnie believed in Giants. So did their mother. They thought the Giants lived in the middle of the Great White World, where the snow never melts.

The thought of the Giants scared them all. The twins gave the fish to their mother, and then they all three scuttled up the snowy slope toward the bright window of their igloo just as fast as they could go. When they got inside they found some hot bear's meat waiting for them, and Monnie had both the eyes from her fish to eat. But she gave one to Menie.

When they were warmed and fed, they pulled off their little fur suits, crawled into the piles of warm skins on the sleeping bench, and in two minutes were sound asleep.

 

Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

One Misty Moisty Morning

 

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

The Wee, Wee Man

O NCE upon a time, when all the big folks were wee folks, and it is so long a time since that you could never count the years, there lived a wee, wee man, and he had a huge, huge cow.

One morning very early out went the wee, wee man to milk his huge, huge cow, and to her he said:—

"Hold still, my cow, my pretty, Hold still, my pretty, my cow, And you shall have for dinner A cake of milk white dough."

But the huge, huge cow would not stand still. She jumped and she danced and she kicked, tipping over the milking stool and spilling all the milk.

So the wee, wee man cried out in a loud voice:—

"Hold still, my cow, my dearie, And fill my bucket with milk, And if you are not contrary, I'll give you a gown of silk."

But the huge, huge cow would not stand still.

"Now, look at that," said the wee, wee man.

"What is a wee, wee man to do, With such a huge, huge cow as you?"

Then off he went to his grandmother's house, and to his grandmother he said:—

"Cow will not stand still. Wee, wee man cannot milk her."

"Take a stick and shake it at her," said his grandmother. So off went the wee, wee man to the hazel tree for a stick, and to the tree he said:—

"Break, stick, break, And I'll give you a cake."

But the stick would not break, and the wee, wee man went back to his grandmother's house, saying:—

"Grandmother, grandmother, stick will not break. Huge, huge cow will not stand still. Wee, wee man cannot milk her."

"Then go to the butcher and bid him tie the cow," said his grandmother.

So off went the wee, wee man to the Butcher, and to the Butcher he said:—

"Butcher, tie the huge, huge cow. She is good for naught for she dances now."

But the Butcher was just sweeping his shop, and he would not tie the cow, so the wee, wee man went back to his grandmother's house, saying:—

"Grandmother, grandmother, Butcher will not come. Stick will not break. Huge, huge cow will not stand still. Wee, wee man cannot milk her. What is wee, wee man to do?"

"I know not," said his grandmother, but just then along came a little girl with a cup in her hand.

"Please give me milk to make a cake," said the little girl, "my mother would bake to-day."

"Run," said the grandmother to the wee, wee man, "tell the huge, huge cow there's a pretty little lady with long yellow hair waiting for a cup of milk."

So the wee, wee man ran as fast as his wee, wee legs would carry him, and he said to the cow:—

"You'll not stand for the cake or the gown of silk. Will you give pretty lady a cup of milk?"

"MOO, MOO," said the huge, huge cow in a huge, huge voice, "that I will."

So she stood very still, and neither jumped, nor danced, nor kicked over the milking stool; and that is how the wee, wee man milked his huge, huge cow after all.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Old Chairs To Mend

If I'd as much money as I could spend, I never would cry old chairs to mend; Old chairs to mend, old chairs to mend; I never would cry old chairs to mend. If I'd as much money as I could tell, I never would cry old clothes to sell; Old clothes to sell, old clothes to sell; I never would cry old clothes to sell.

 

Among the Forest People  by Clara Dillingham Pierson

The Night Moth with a Crooked Feeler

T HE beautiful, brilliant Butterflies of the Meadow had many cousins living in the forest, most of whom were Night Moths. They also were very beautiful creatures, but they dressed in duller colors and did not have slender waists. Some of the Butterflies, you know, wear whole gowns of black and yellow, others have stripes of black and white, while some have clear yellow with only a bit of black trimming the edges of the wings.

The Moths usually wear brown and have it brightened with touches of buff or dull blue. If they do wear bright colors, it is usually only on the back pair of wings, and when the Moth alights, he slides his front pair of wings over these and covers all the brightness. They do not rest with their wings folded over their heads like the Butterflies, but leave them flat or wrap them around their bodies. All day long, when the sun is shining, the Moths have to rest on trees and dead leaves. If they were dressed in yellow or red, any passing bird would see them, and there is no telling what might happen. As it is, their wings are so nearly the color of leaves or bark that you might often look right at them without seeing them.

Yet even among Moths there are some more brightly colored than others, and when you find part of the family quietly dressed you can know it is because they have to lay the eggs. Moths are safer in dull colors, and the egg-layers should always be the safest of all. If anything happened to them, you know, there would be no Caterpillar babies.

One day a fine-looking Cecropia Moth came out of her cocoon and clung to the nearest twig while her wings grew and dried and flattened. At first they had looked like tiny brown leaves all drenched with rain and wrinkled by somebody's stepping on them. The fur on her fat body was matted and wet, and even her feelers were damp and stuck to her head. Her six beautiful legs were weak and trembling, and she moved her body restlessly while she tried again and again to raise her crumpled wings.

She had not been there so very long before she noticed another Cecropia Moth near her, clinging to the under side of a leaf. He was also just out of the chrysalis and was drying himself. "Good morning!" he cried. "I think I knew you when we were Caterpillars. Fine day to leave the cocoon, isn't it?"

"Lovely," she answered. "I remember you very well. You were the Caterpillar who showed me where to find food last summer when the hot weather had withered so many of the plants."

"I thought you would recall me," he said. "And when we were spinning our cocoons we visited together. Do you remember that also?"

Miss Cecropia did. She had been thinking of that when she first spoke, but she hoped he had forgotten. To tell the truth, he had been rather fond of her the fall before, and she, thinking him the handsomest Caterpillar of her acquaintance, had smiled upon him and suggested that they spin their cocoons near together. During the long winter she had regretted this. "I was very foolish," she thought, "to encourage him. When I get my wings I may meet people who are better off than he. Now I shall have to be polite to him for the sake of old friendship. I only hope that he will make other acquaintances and leave me free. I must get into the best society."

All this time her neighbor was thinking, "I am so glad to see her again, so glad, so glad! When my wings are dry I will fly over to her and we will go through the forest together." He was a kind, warm-hearted fellow, who cared more for friendship than for beauty or family.

Meanwhile their wings were growing fast, and drying, and flattening, so that by noon they could begin to raise them above their heads. They were very large Moths and their wings were of a dark gray, with white and brick-red stripes and pink-violet tips. There were black spots near the tips of their front wings and four other white and brick-red spots. On their legs and fat bodies the white and brick-red fur was long and thick. They were very beautiful and strong-looking. When the Cecropias rest, they spread their wings out flat, and do not slide the front pair over the others as their cousins, the Sphinxes, do. The most wonderful of all, though, are their feelers.

The Butterflies have stiff feelers on their heads with little knobs on the ends, or sometimes with part of them thick like tiny clubs. The Night Moths have many kinds of feelers, most of them being curved, and those of the Cecropias look like brown feathers pointed at the end.

Miss Cecropia's feelers were perfect, and she waved them happily to and fro. Those of her friend, she was troubled to see, were not what they should have been. One of them was all right, the other was small and crooked. "Oh, dear," she said to herself, "how that does look! I hope he will not try to be attentive to me." He did not mind it much. He thought about other things than looks.

As night came, a Polyphemus Moth fluttered past. "Good evening!" cried he. "Are you just out? There are a lot of Cecropias coming out to-day."

Miss Cecropia felt quite agitated when she heard this, and wondered if she looked all right. Her friend flew over to her just as she raised her wings for flight. "Let me go with you," he said.

While she was wondering how she could answer him, several other Cecropias came along. They were all more brightly colored than she. "Hullo!" cried one of them, as he alighted beside her. "First-rate night, isn't it?"

He was a handsome fellow, and his feelers were perfect; but Miss Cecropia did not like his ways, and she drew away from him just as her friend knocked him off the branch. While they were fighting, another of the strangers flew to her. "May I sit here?" he asked.

"Yes," she murmured, thinking her chance had come to get into society.

"I must say that it served the fellow right for his rudeness to you," said the stranger, in his sweetest way; "but who is the Moth who is punishing him—that queer-looking one with the crooked feeler?"

"Sir," said she, moving farther from him, "he is a friend of mine, and I do not think it matters to you if he is queer-looking."

"Oh!" said the stranger. "Oh! oh! oh! You have a bad temper, haven't you? But you are very good-looking in spite of that." There is no telling what he would have said next, for at this minute Miss Cecropia's friend heard the mean things he was saying, and flew against him.

It was not long before this stranger also was punished, and then the Moth with the crooked feeler turned to the others. "Do any of you want to try it?" he said. "You must understand that you cannot be rude before her." And he pointed his right fore leg at Miss Cecropia as she sat trembling on the branch.

"Her!" they cried mockingly, as they flew away. "There are prettier Moths than she. We don't care anything for her."

Miss Cecropia's friend would have gone after them to punish them for this impoliteness, but she clung to him and begged him not to. "You will be killed, I know you will," she sobbed. "And then what will become of me?"

"Would you miss me?" he asked, as he felt of one of his wings, now broken and bare.

"Yes," she cried. "You are the best friend I have. Please don't go."

"But I am such a homely fellow," he said. "I don't see how you can like me since I broke my wing."

"Well, I do like you," she said. "Your wing isn't much broken after all, and I like  your crooked feeler. It is so different from anybody else's." Miss Cecropia looked very happy as she spoke, and she quite forgot how she once decided to go away from him. There are some people, you know, who can change their minds in such a sweet and easy way that we almost love them the better for it. One certainly could love Miss Cecropia for this, because it showed that she had learned to care more for a warm heart and courage than for whole wings and straight feelers.

Mr. Cecropia did not live long after this, unfortunately, but they were very, very happy together, and she often said to her friends, as she laid her eggs in the best places, "I only hope that when my Caterpillar babies are grown and have come out of their cocoons, they may be as good and as brave as their father was."

 

A Book of Nursery Rhymes  by Francis D. Bedford

My Johnnie

 

Mother Stories  by Maud Lindsay

Giant Energy and Fairy Skill

LONG, long ago, when there were giants to be seen, as they might be seen now if we only looked in the right place, there lived a young giant who was very strong and very willing, but who found it hard to get work to do.

The name of the giant was Energy, and he was so great and clumsy that people were afraid to trust their work to him.

If he were asked to put a bell in the church steeple, he would knock the steeple down, before he finished the work. If he were sent to reach a broken weather vane, he would tear off part of the roof in his zeal. So, at last, people would not employ him and he went away to the mountains to sleep; but he could not rest, even though other giants were sleeping as still as great rocks under the shade of the trees.

Young Giant Energy could not sleep, for he was too anxious to help in the world's work; and he went down into the valley, and begged so piteously for something to do that a good woman gave him a basket of china to carry home for her.

"This is child's play for me," said the giant as he set the basket down at the woman's house, but he set it down so hard that every bit of the china was broken.

"I wish a child had brought it for me," answered the woman, and the young giant went away sorrowful. He climbed the mountain and lay down to rest; but he could not stay there and do nothing, so he went back to the valley to look for work.

There he met the good woman. She had forgiven him for breaking her china, and had made up her mind to trust him again; so she gave him a pitcher of milk to carry home.

"Be quick in bringing it," she said, "lest it sour on the way."

The giant took the pitcher and made haste to run to the house; and he ran so fast that the milk was spilled and not a drop was left when he reached the good woman's house.

The good woman was sorry to see this, although she did not scold; and the giant went back to his mountain with a heavy heart.

Soon, however, he was back again, asking at every house:—

"Isn't there something for me to do?" and again he met the good woman, who was here, there and everywhere, carrying soup to the sick and food to the hungry.

When she met the young Giant Energy, her heart was full of love for him; and she told him to make haste to her house and fill her tubs with water, for the next day was wash day.

Then the giant made haste with mighty strides towards the good woman's house, where he found her great tubs; and, lifting them with ease, he carried them to the cistern and began to pump.

He pumped with such force and with so much delight, that the tubs were soon filled so full that they ran over, and when the good woman came home she found her yard as well as her tubs full of water.

The young giant had such a downcast look, that the good woman could not be angry with him; she only felt sorry for him.

"Go to the Fairy Skill, and learn," said the good woman, as she sat on the doorstep. "She will teach you, and you will be a help in the world after all."

"Oh! how can I go?" cried the giant, giving a jump that sent him up over the tree tops, where he could see the little birds in their nests.

"Don't go so fast," said the good woman. "Stand still and listen! Go through the meadow, and count a hundred daffodils; then turn to your right, and walk until you find a mullein stalk that is bent. Notice the way it bends, and walk in that direction till you see a willow tree. Behind this willow runs a little stream. Cross the water by the way of the shining pebbles, and when you hear a strange bird singing you can see the fairy palace and the workroom where the Fairy Skill teaches her school. Go to her with my love and she will receive you."

The young giant thanked the good woman, stepped over the meadow fence, and counted the daffodils, "One, two, three," until he had counted a hundred. Then he turned to the right, and walked through the long grass to the bent mullein stalk, which pointed to the right; and after he had found the brook and crossed by way of the shining pebbles, he heard a strange bird singing, and saw among the trees the fairy palace.

He never could tell how it looked; but he thought it was made of sunshine, with the glimmer of green leaves reflected on it, and that it had the blue sky for a roof.

That was the palace; and at one side of it was the workshop, built of strong pines and oaks; and the giant heard the hum of wheels, and the noise of the fairy looms, where the fairies wove carpets of rainbow threads.

When the giant came to the door, the doorway stretched itself for him to pass through. He found Fairy Skill standing in the midst of the workers; and when he had given her the good woman's love, she received him kindly. Then she set him to work, bidding him sort a heap of tangled threads that lay in a corner like a great bunch of bright-colored flowers.

Then she set him to work, bidding him sort a heap of tangled threads.

This was hard work for the giant's clumsy fingers, but he was very patient about it. The threads would break, and he got some of them into knots; but when Fairy Skill saw his work, she said:—

"Very good for to-day;" and touching the threads with her wand, she changed them into a tangled heap again. The next day the giant tried again, and after that again, until every thread lay unbroken and untangled.

Then Fairy Skill said "Well done," and led him to a loom and showed him how to weave.

This was harder work than the other had been; but Giant Energy was patient, although many times before his strip of carpet was woven the fairy touched it with her wand, and he had to begin over.

At last it was finished, and the giant thought it was the most beautiful carpet in the world.

Fairy Skill took him next to the potter's wheel, where cups and saucers were made out of clay; and the giant learned to be steady, to shape the cup as the wheel whirled round, and to take heed of his thumb, lest it slip.

The cups and saucers that were broken before he could make beautiful ones would have been enough to set the queen's tea table!

Fairy Skill then took him to the goldsmith, and there he was taught to make chains and bracelets and necklaces; and after he had learned all these things, the fairy told him that she had three trials for him. Three pieces of work he must do; and if he did them well, he could go again into the world, for he would then be ready to be a helper there.

"The first task is to make a carpet," said Fairy Skill, "a carpet fit for a palace floor."

Giant Energy sprang to his loom, and made his silver shuttle glance under and over, under and over, weaving a most beautiful pattern.

As he wove, he thought of the way by which he had come; and his carpet became as green as the meadow grass, and lovely daffodils grew on it. When it was finished, it was almost as beautiful as a meadow full of flowers!

Then the fairy said that he must turn a cup fine enough for a king to use. And the giant made a cup in the shape of a flower; and when it was finished, he painted birds upon it with wings of gold. When she saw it, the fairy cried out with delight.

"One more trial before you go," she said. "Make me a chain that a queen might be glad to wear."

So Giant Energy worked by day and by night and made a chain of golden links; and in every link was a pearl as white as the shining pebbles in the brook. A queen might well have been proud to wear this chain.

After he had finished, Fairy Skill kissed him and blessed him, and sent him away to be a helper in the world, and she made him take with him the beautiful things which he had made, so that he might give them to the one he loved best.

The young giant crossed the brook, passed the willow, found the mullein stalk, and counted the daffodils.

When he had counted a hundred, he stepped over the meadow fence and came to the good woman's house.

The good woman was at home, so he went in at the door and spread the carpet on the floor, and the floor looked like the floor of a palace.

He set the cup on the table, and the table looked like the table of a king; and he hung the chain around the good woman's neck, and she was more beautiful than a queen.

And this is the way that young Giant Energy learned to be a helper in the world.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Robin and Richard

Robin and Richard were two pretty men, They lay in bed till the clock struck ten; Then up starts Robin and looks at the sky, "Oh, brother Richard, the sun's very high! You go before, with the bottle and bag, And I will come after on little Jack Nag."

 

The Sandman: More Farm Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The Fishing 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 day in the winter, when it was cold, Uncle Solomon said to Uncle John, "Well, John, I guess we might get some pickerel to-night." And Uncle John said, "Yes, father, I guess we might."

So Uncle John went out to the shed, and he got little John's sled. On the sled he put Uncle Solomon's axe and all the wood the sled would hold. Then he went to the barn and got the two fish-lines that were on a little shelf in the corner, and he unwound the lines from the sticks they were on, to see that there weren't any knots or kinks in them, and that they were strong enough. Then he put a little piece of red flannel on each hook for bait. The pickerel were so greedy and so hungry in the winter that they would bite at the red flannel without stopping to see whether it was good to eat or not. Then Uncle John put the fish-lines with the axe and the wood on the sled, and he went into the house.

All the people in that farm-house had supper early in the winter, because it got dark so soon, and there wasn't much to do. When they had eaten their supper, Uncle Solomon and Uncle John and little Charles and little John all put on their thick coats, and around their necks they wound long scarfs that they called comforters. They wound these comforters around their necks once, and then over their ears and the tops of their heads, and tied them under their chins, and the ends hung down, with tassels on them. Aunt Deborah and Aunt Phyllis had knit the comforters of wool, and they kept Uncle Solomon and Uncle John and the little boys very warm. Then they all put on their caps and their thick mittens and started.

Uncle Solomon walked ahead, carrying the lantern. Then came the two little boys, dragging the sled with the wood on it, and Uncle John walked behind, with the fish-lines in his pocket. They went down the little track, out the wide gate, into the road, and along the road until they came to the place where the road went near the pond. Then they turned down there, and went out on the ice that was thick all over the pond. Uncle Solomon walked along until he came to a place that he thought was a good place for fishing, and there he stopped and put the lantern down on the ice.

When Uncle Solomon stopped, they all stopped, and Uncle John took the wood and began to build a fire. Uncle Solomon took his axe and began to cut a hole in the ice. He cut a round hole, and it took some time to cut it, because the ice was so thick. When he had cut all the way around, he pushed with the handle of his axe on the round piece of ice that was left in the middle, and he pushed it down into the water, under the other ice. So there was a round hole with no ice over it.

By the time Uncle Solomon had got the hole cut and the ice pushed down, Uncle John had built the fire and lighted it from the lantern, and it blazed up and made a great light. Then Uncle Solomon and Uncle John took the two fish-lines and let the hooks with the pieces of red flannel on them down into the water, through the hole. They didn't have any bites for a long time; but after awhile the fish had seen the light of the fire and had come swimming over to see what it was, and they began to bite. So, pretty soon, Uncle Solomon felt a great bite, and he pulled up his line quickly, and there was a big pickerel on the hook, and it was as long as little John's sled. Uncle Solomon took the pickerel off the hook very carefully, because pickerel are very cross fish and they have sharp teeth and bite very hard. Then he let little Charles take that fish-line and fish with it.

Pretty soon after Uncle Solomon had caught that pickerel, Uncle John felt a great bite, and he pulled up his line quickly, and there was another big pickerel, but it wasn't quite so big as Uncle Solomon's. And Uncle John took that pickerel off the hook very carefully, and then he let little John take his fish-line and fish with it.

He let little Charles take that fish-line.

So the two little boys fished through the hole in the ice, and the fire was burning and making a light all around, and keeping them warm.

After they had been fishing for awhile, little Charles felt a bite and tried to pull his line in quickly, but the pickerel pulled so hard that he couldn't. So Uncle Solomon took hold and helped little Charles, and they pulled in a pickerel that was bigger than Uncle John's, and almost as big as Uncle Solomon's. And in a little while, little John felt a bite, and he caught a pickerel, too. And little John's pickerel was just big enough for him to pull it in all alone.

By the time little John had caught his pickerel, the fire had almost burned out, and it was time to go home again. So Uncle John fastened all the pickerel on a twig that he had broken off a tree on the bank, and he put them all on the sled, and he put Uncle Solomon's axe on the sled. Then Uncle Solomon took up the lantern and started walking over the ice, and the two little boys walked behind him. Then came Uncle John, dragging the sled, because the little boys were too tired to drag the sled, going home. They walked along to the shore that was the nearest to the road, and they turned into the road and went along the road until they came to the farm-house. And they turned in at the wide gate and walked up the little track to the kitchen door. And the little boys went right in and took off their coats and caps and mittens and the other clothes and went to bed, and Uncle John put the sled away, and the axe, and he gave the pickerel to Aunt Deborah.

The next day, all the people in that farm-house had the biggest pickerel of all for breakfast, and it was very nice. And for dinner, they had the other three pickerel, and they were very nice.

And that's all.

 

Ring o' Roses  by L. Leslie Brooke

The Man in the Moon

The Man in the Moon Came tumbling down, And asked his way to Norwich;

They told him south, And he burnt his mouth With eating cold pease-porridge.

 

The Nursery Book of Bible Stories  by Amy Steedman

The Two Brothers, Jacob and Esau

I T had indeed been a shining road of happiness which Rebekah had trod since she had left her far distant home to become the wife of Isaac, and perhaps the greatest happiness of all had come when her twin babies were born, and they told her that God had sent her two little sons.

Now, although the babies were twins they were not in the least alike, and the older they grew the more different they became. Esau, the elder, was a big strong boy, fond of working in the open air, a keen hunter, loving all kinds of out-of-door sports. He was rough-looking, too, beside his smooth-faced, gentle brother Jacob, who was a thoughtful, quiet boy, quite content to do indoor work, and caring very little for rough games or the excitement of hunting.

It was Jacob who was his mother's favourite. She had always loved him best. It displeased her to think that Esau with his rough ways and rough looks was to be lord of all, was to have his father's blessing as well as the birthright, and that Jacob, her quiet, beautiful boy, should have nothing. There was always an echo in her heart of God's words, "the elder shall serve the younger."

But if his mother loved Jacob best, it was on Esau that all his father's hopes and love were fixed. Isaac delighted in the wild adventures and strength of his hunter son. He loved the strong hairy hands which were so skilful in the use of weapons, and the rough looks of his son only filled him with pride. When Esau entered he brought with him the wild fragrance of the woods and hills which clung even to his clothes, and it rejoiced his father's heart.

In many ways it was Jacob who was the cleverer of the two boys; but it was this very cleverness which sometimes led him into crooked ways and taught him to take a mean advantage of his brother. So one day, when Esau had been out hunting and came home hungry and faint, Jacob offered him food, a dish of red pottage cooked and ready, if for it he would give up his birthright. Esau was too hungry and too careless to think what that meant. He did not indeed deserve the birthright if he was willing to give it away so easily. But he only thought how hungry he was, and that he might die if he did not have food, and so Jacob's crooked plan was successful.

Now, although Jacob had managed to get the birthright, there was something else he wanted, something which his mother, too, thought of day and night. Whichever of the two sons received their father's blessing he it was who would be master of all, who would inherit all the good things, and carry on the family name. It was of this blessing that Jacob and his mother thought continually, and at last the time came when it must be decided once for all.

Isaac had grown very old and knew he had not much longer to live, and he called Esau, his beloved elder son, and told him to go out hunting and to prepare some venison for him, the special dish which he loved.

"Make me savoury meat, such as I love," he said, "that my soul may bless thee before I die."

Rebekah, listening at the tent door, knew what that meant. She watched Esau set out to do his father's bidding, and then she called quickly to Jacob. There was not a moment to be lost. He must go at once to the flock that was feeding in the field close by, and bring her two kids. She would make of them the savoury meat, and he would then take the dish to his father and pretend that he was Esau. The poor old father was almost blind now; he would not be able to tell the difference.

But Jacob hesitated. He did not think it was a safe plan. Suppose that his father should touch him and feel his smooth skin. Why, he would know at once that it was not Esau.

"Go and do as I tell thee," said his mother. He might leave it all to her; she had planned everything. And after cooking the food, she took the hairy skins of the kids and put them on Jacob's hands and on his neck; and she dressed him, too, in some of his brother's clothes. Then she sent him in quickly to his father, with the smoking dish of savoury meat in his hands.

The blind old father could not see who it was, he could only stretch out groping hands to feel if this was really his son Esau. Somehow he had an uneasy idea that the voice did not sound like Esau's voice.

"Come near, I pray thee, that I may feel thee, my son," he said, "whether thou be my very son Esau or not."

Those groping hands felt carefully over Jacob's hairy neck and hands. Yes, it must be Esau, but he would make quite sure.

"Art thou my very son Esau?" he asked.

And Jacob answered, "I am."

The food was eaten, and again Isaac called his son to come near to him, and as Jacob bent down to kiss him the old man smelt the sweet earthy fragrance of Esau's borrowed clothes. That smell was a delight to him, and he blessed his son with a wonderful blessing.

"See, the smell of my son is as the smell of a field which the Lord hath blessed," he began, "therefore God give thee of the dew of heaven and the fatness of the earth."

"So he blessed him."

Jacob was to be lord of all. The blessing was his now, and no one could take it away. He had only been just in time; the blessing was scarcely ended, and he had only just left the tent, when Esau came hurrying in.

Then the trick was discovered.

"Thy brother hath come with subtilty and taken away thy blessing," said Isaac, trembling with grief. And when he heard that, there burst from Esau an exceeding bitter cry.

Surely that cry must have hurt his mother's heart, surely Jacob must have hated his own mean ways when he heard that terrible cry of grief.

Already his crooked ways were bringing their punishment. He dared not stay any longer in his home, but must flee away into a distant land, to his mother's people, where he would be safe from Esau's anger.

Alone in the desert, with only a stone for his pillow, he dreamed that God's angels came down the golden stairs of heaven to bring him a message of comfort; but there was little comfort for one who was banished from home, and who knew that he deserved his punishment. He repented sorely now, and God forgave him and allowed him to enjoy the blessing; but all his life he suffered for his deceit, and paid in sorrow for the evil he had done.

Jacob's Dream

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

A Man and a Maid

There was a little man, Who wooed a little maid, And he said, "Little maid, will you wed, wed, wed? I have little more to say, So will you, yea or nay, For least said is soonest mended-ded, ded, ded." The little maid replied, "Should I be your little bride, Pray what must we have for to eat, eat, eat? Will the flame that you're so rich in Light a fire in the kitchen? Or the little god of love turn the spit, spit, spit?"