The Adventures of Reddy Fox  by Thornton Burgess

Too Late Reddy Fox Hears

D RUMMER THE WOODPECKER was pounding out his danger signal so fast and so hard that his red head flew back and forth almost too fast to see. Rat-a-tat-tat-a-tat-tat, beat Drummer on the old tree trunk on the edge of the Green Forest. When he stopped for breath, he looked down into the scowling face of Farmer Brown's boy, who was hiding behind the old tree trunk.

Drummer didn't like the looks of that scowl, not a bit. And he didn't like the looks of the gun which Farmer Brown's boy had. He knew that Farmer Brown's boy was hiding there to shoot Reddy Fox, but Drummer was beginning to be afraid that Farmer Brown's boy might guess what all that drumming meant—that it was a warning to Reddy Fox. And if Farmer Brown's boy did guess that, why—why—anyway, on the other side of the tree there was a better place to drum. So Drummer the Woodpecker crept around to the other side of the tree and in a minute was drumming harder than ever. Whenever he stopped for breath, he looked out over the Green Meadows to see if Reddy Fox had heard his warning.

But if Reddy had heard, he hadn't heeded. Just to show off before all the little meadow and forest people, Reddy had waited until Bowser the Hound had almost reached him. Then, with a saucy flirt of his tail, Reddy Fox started to show how fast he could run, and that is very fast indeed. It made Bowser the Hound seem very slow, as, with his nose to the ground, he came racing after Reddy, making a tremendous noise with his great voice.

Now Reddy Fox had grown as careless as he had grown bold. Instead of looking sharply ahead, he looked this way and that way to see who was watching and admiring him. So he took no note of where he was going and started straight for the old tree trunk on which Drummer the Woodpecker was pounding out his warning of danger.

Now Reddy Fox has sharp eyes and very quick ears. My, my, indeed he has! But just now Reddy was as deaf as if he had cotton stuffed in his ears. He was chuckling to himself to think how he was going to fool Bowser the Hound and how smart every one would think him, when all of a sudden, he heard the rat-a-tat-tat-a-tat-tat of Drummer the Woodpecker and knew that that meant "danger!"

For just a wee little second it seemed to Reddy Fox that his heart stopped beating. He couldn't stop running, for he had let Bowser the Hound get too close for that. Reddy's sharp eyes saw Drummer the Woodpecker near the top of the old tree trunk and noticed that Drummer seemed to be looking at something down below. Reddy Fox gave one quick look at the foot of the old tree trunk and saw a gun pointed at him and behind the gun the freckled face of Farmer Brown's boy. Reddy Fox gave a little gasp of fright and turned so suddenly that he almost fell flat. Then he began to run as never in his life had he run before. It seemed as though his flying feet hardly touched the grass. His eyes were popping out with fright as with every jump he tried to run just a wee bit faster.

Bang! Bang! Two flashes of fire and two puffs of smoke darted from behind the old tree trunk. Drummer the Woodpecker gave a frightened scream and flew deep into the Green Forest. Peter Rabbit flattened himself under a friendly bramble bush. Johnny Chuck dove head first down his doorway.

Reddy Fox gave a yelp, a shrill little yelp of pain, and suddenly began to go lame. But Farmer Brown's boy didn't know that. He thought he had missed and he growled to himself:

"I'll get that fox yet for stealing my pet chicken!"

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Two Birds

There were two birds sat on a stone, Fa, la, la, la, lal, de; One flew away, and then there was one, Fa, la, la, la, lal, de; The other bird flew after, And then there was none, Fa, la, la, la, lal, de; And so the stone Was left alone, Fa, la, la, la, lal, de.

 

The Eskimo Twins  by Lucy Fitch Perkins

The Snow House

Menie and Monnie had never seen a clock in their whole lives. If they had they would have thought it was alive, and perhaps would have been afraid of it.

But people everywhere in the world get sleepy, so the Eskimos sometimes count their time by "sleeps." Instead of saying five days ago, they say "five sleeps" ago.

The night after the bear was killed it began to snow. The wind howled around the igloo and piled the snow over it in huge drifts.

The dogs were buried under it and had to be dug out, all but Nip and Tup. They stayed inside with the twins and slept in their bed.

The twins and their father and mother were glad to stay in the warm hut.

At last the snow stopped, the air cleared, and the twins and Kesshoo went out. Koolee stayed in the igloo.

She sat on her sleeping bench upon a pile of soft furs. A bear's skin was stretched up on the wall behind her. She had a cozy nest to work in.

The lamp stood on the bench beside her. She was making a beautiful new suit for Menie. It was made of fawn-skin as soft as velvet, and the hood and sleeves were trimmed with white rabbit's fur.

Her thimble was made of ivory, and her needle too. Her thread was a fine strip of hide. There was a bunch of such thread beside her.

Soon Kesshoo came in, bringing with him a dried fish and a piece of bear's meat, from the storehouse.

Koolee looked up from her sewing. "Isn't it five sleeps since you killed the bear?" she said.

Kesshoo counted on his fingers. "Yes," he said, "it is five sleeps."

"Then it is time to eat the bear's head," said Koolee. "His spirit is now with our fathers."

"Why not have a feast?" said Kesshoo. "There hasn't been any fresh meat in the village since the bear was killed, and I don't believe the rest have had anything to eat but dried fish. We have plenty of bear's meat still."

Koolee hopped down off the bench and put some more moss into the lamp.

"You bring in the meat," she said, "and tell the twins to go to all the igloos and invite the people to come at sunset."

"All right," Kesshoo answered, and he went out at once to the storehouse to get the meat.

Kesshoo could make wonderful snow houses. He had made a beautiful one when the first heavy snows of winter had come, and the family had lived in it while Koolee finished building the stone igloo. The twins had watched him make it. It seemed so easy they were sure they could do it too. Kesshoo said, "If you will run to all the igloos and tell the people to come at sunset to eat the bear's head, I will help you build the snow house for the dogs."

Menie and Monnie couldn't run. Nobody could. The snow was too deep. They went in every step above their knees. But they ploughed along and gave their message at each igloo.

Everybody was very glad to come, and Koko said, "I'll come right now and stay if you want me to."

"Come along," said the twins.

They went back to their own house, kicking the snow to make a path. Koko went with them. The snow was just the right kind for a snow house. It packed well and made good blocks.

While the twins were away giving the invitations, Kesshoo carried great pieces of bear's meat into the house.

Koolee put in the cooking pan all the meat it would hold, and kept the blaze bright in the lamp underneath to cook it.

Then Kesshoo took his long ivory knife and went out to help the twins with the snow house, as he had promised.

"See, this is the way," he said to them.

He took an unbroken patch of snow where no one had stepped. He made a wide sweep of his arm and marked a circle in the snow with his knife.

The circle was just as big as he meant the house to be. Then he cut out blocks of snow from the space inside the circle. He placed these big blocks of snow around the circle on the line he had marked with his knife.

When he got the first row done Menie said, "I can do that! Let me try."

He took the knife and cut out a block. It wasn't nice and even like his father's blocks.

"That will never do," his father said. "Your house will tumble down unless your blocks are true."

He made the sides of the block straight by cutting off some of the snow.

"Now all the other blocks in this row must be just like this one," he said.

Koko tried next. His block was almost right the first time. But then, as I have told you before, Koko was six.

Monnie tried the next one. I am sorry to say hers wouldn't do at all. It was dreadfully crooked. They took turns. Menie cut a new block while Koko placed the last one on the snow wall.

Kesshoo had to put on the top blocks to make the roof. Neither Koko nor Menie could do it right, though they tried and tried. It is a very hard thing to do.

When the blocks were all laid up and the dome finished, Kesshoo said, "Now, Monnie can help pack it with snow."

Monnie got the snow-shovel. The snow-shovel was made of three flat pieces of wood sewed together with leather thongs. It had an edge of horn sewed on with thongs, too.

Monnie threw loose snow on the snow house and spatted it down with the back of the shovel.

While she was doing this, Menie and Koko built a tunnel entrance for the dogs just like the big one on the stone house.

They worked so hard they were warm as toast, though it was as cold as our coldest winter weather; and when it was all finished Menie ran clear over it just to show how strong and well built it was.

When Menie called the dogs, the dogs thought they were going to be harnessed, so they hid behind the igloo and pretended they didn't hear. Koko and Menie followed them, but the moment they got near, the dogs bounded away. They went round to the front of the igloo and ran into the tunnel.

Koolee was just turning the meat in the pan with a pointed stick. There was a piece of bear's meat lying on the bench.

The dogs smelled the meat. They stuck their heads into the room, and when Koolee's back was turned, Tooky stole the meat!

Just then Koolee turned around. She saw Tooky. She shrieked, "Oh, my meat, my meat!" and whacked Tooky across the nose with the snow stick!

But Tooky was bound to have the meat. She ran out of the tunnel with it in her mouth, just as Menie and Koko got round to the front of the igloo once more.

"I-yi! I-yii" they screamed, "Tooky's got the meat!" Kesshoo caught up his dog-whip and came running from the storehouse.

The other two dogs wanted the meat too. They flew at Tooky and snarled and fought with her to get it.

Then Koolee's head appeared in the tunnel hole! Tooky was crouching in the snow in front of the tunnel, trying to fight off the other two dogs and guard the meat at the same time.

She wasn't doing a thing with her tail, but she was very busy with all the rest of her. Her tail was pointed right toward the tunnel.

The moment she saw it Koolee seized the tail with both hands and jerked it like everything! Tooky was so surprised she yelped. And when she opened her mouth to yelp, of course she dropped the meat.

Just at that instant Kesshoo's whip lash came singing about the ears of all three dogs.

"Snap, snap," it went. They jumped to get out of the way of the lash.

Then Koolee leaped forward and snatched the meat from under their noses, and scuttled back with it into the tunnel before you could say Jack Robinson.

It is dangerous to snatch meat away from hungry dogs. If Kesshoo hadn't been slashing at them with his whip, and if Menie and Koko hadn't been screaming at them with all their might, so the dogs were nearly distracted, Koolee might have been badly bitten.

Just then Monnie came up with some dried fish. She threw one of the fish over in front of the snow house.

The dogs saw it and leaped for it. Then she threw another into the snow hut itself. They went after that. She fed them all with dried fish until they were so full they curled up in the snow house and went to sleep.

 

Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Little Pussy

 

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

Lazy Jack

O NCE upon a time there was a boy whose name was Jack, and he lived with his mother on a common. They were very poor, and the old woman got her living by spinning, but Jack was so lazy that he would do nothing but bask in the sun in the hot weather, and sit by the corner of the hearth in the winter-time. So they called him Lazy Jack. His mother could not get him to do anything for her, and at last told him, on Monday, that if he did not begin to work for his porridge she would turn him out to get his living as he could.

This roused Jack, and he went out and hired himself for the next day to a neighbouring farmer for a penny; but as he was coming home, never having had any money before, he lost it in passing over a brook. "You stupid boy," said his mother, "you should have put it in your pocket."  "I'll do so another time," replied Jack.

On Wednesday, Jack went out again and hired himself to a cow-keeper, who gave him a jar of milk for his day's work. Jack took the jar and put it into the large pocket of his jacket, spilling it all, long before he got home. "Dear me!" said the old woman, "you should have carried it on your head."  "I'll do so another time," said Jack.

So on Thursday, Jack hired himself again to a farmer, who agreed to give him a cream cheese for his services. In the evening Jack took the cheese, and went home with it on his head. By the time he got home the cheese was all spoilt, part of it being lost, and part matted with his hair. "You stupid lout," said his mother, "you should have carried it very carefully in your hands."  "I'll do so another time," replied Jack.

On Friday, Lazy Jack again went out, and hired himself to a baker who would give him nothing for his work but a large tomcat. Jack took the cat, and began carrying it very carefully in his hands, but in a short time pussy scratched him so much that he was compelled to let it go. When he got home, his mother said to him, "You silly fellow, you should have tied it with a string, and dragged it along after you."  "I'll do so another time," said Jack.

So on Saturday, Jack hired himself to a butcher, who rewarded him by the handsome present of a shoulder of mutton. Jack took the mutton, tied it to a string, and trailed it along after him in the dirt, so that by the time he had got home the meat was completely spoilt. His mother was this time quite out of patience with him, for the next day was Sunday, and she was obliged to do with cabbage for her dinner. "You ninney-hammer," said she to her son; "you should have carried it on your shoulder."  "I'll do so another time," replied Jack.

On the next Monday, Lazy Jack went once more, and hired himself to a cattle-keeper, who gave him a donkey for his trouble. Jack found it hard to hoist the donkey on his shoulders, but at last he did it, and began walking slowly home with his prize. Now it happened that in the course of his journey there lived a rich man with his only daughter, a beautiful girl, but deaf and dumb. Now she had never laughed in her life, and the doctors said she would never speak till somebody made her laugh. This young lady happened to be looking out of the window when Jack was passing with the donkey on his shoulders, with the legs sticking up in the air, and the sight was so comical and strange that she burst out into a great fit of laughter, and immediately recovered her speech and hearing. Her father was overjoyed, and fulfilled his promise by marrying her to Lazy Jack, who was thus made a rich gentleman. They lived in a large house, and Jack's mother lived with them in great happiness until she died.

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Leg over Leg

Leg over leg, As the dog went to Dover; When he came to a stile, Jump, he went over.

 

Among the Forest People  by Clara Dillingham Pierson

The Bees and the Kingbird

T HERE was in the forest a great hollow tree where for years a swarm of Bees had made their home. To look at it in winter, one would never guess what a store of honey was sealed up within, but in summer the Bees were always passing in and out, and it was indeed a busy place. Then the workers had to gather honey and build the cells and look out for the Queen-Mother's many babies. The Queen-Mother had so much care of her eggs that she could really do nothing but attend to them. After they were ready in their cells, the Workers took care of them, and tucked in a lot of bread for the babies to eat when they were hatched. Then there was the bread-making to be done also, and all the Workers helped bring the pollen, or flower-dust, out of which it was made.

The Drones didn't do anything, not a thing, not a single thing, unless it were taking care of the Queen when she flew away from the tree. They had done that once, but it was long ago, before she had laid an egg and while she was still quite young. They were handsome great fellows, strong and well-formed, and if you didn't know about them, you might have thought them the pleasantest Bees in the tree. Of course you would not care for them after finding how lazy they were, for people are never liked just because they are fine-looking.

The Drones always found some excuse for being idle, and like many other lazy people they wanted the busy ones to stop and visit with them. "What is the hurry?" they would say. "There will be more honey that you can get to-morrow. Stop a while now."

But the Workers would shake their brown heads and buzz impatiently as they answered, "We can get to-morrow's honey when to-morrow comes, but to-day's honey must be gathered to-day."

Then the Drones would grumble and say that they didn't see the sense of storing up so much honey anyway. That also was like lazy people the world over, for however much they scold about getting the food, they are sure to eat just as much as anybody else. Sometimes lazy people eat even more than others, and pick for the best too.

On cloudy days, the Workers did stay at home in the tree, but not to play. They clung to the walls and to each other and made wax. It took much patience to make wax. When they were gathering honey there was so much that was interesting to be seen, and so many friends to meet, that it was really quite exciting; but when they made wax they had to hang for a long, long time, until the wax gathered in flakes over their bodies. Then it was ready to scrape off and shape into six-sided cells to hold honey or to be homes for the babies.

One sunshiny morning the Queen-Mother stopped laying her eggs and cried: "Listen! did you hear that?"

"What?" asked the Workers, crowding around her.

"Why, that noise," she said. "It sounded like a bird calling 'Kyrie! K-y-rie!' and I thought I heard a Worker buzzing outside a minute ago, but no one has come in. I am afraid—" and here she stopped.

"Of what are you afraid!" asked the Drones, who, having nothing to do but eat and sleep, were always ready to talk about anything and everything. The great trouble with them was that if you once began to talk they did not like to have you leave and go to work.

"Why," said the Queen-Mother, "I don't want to alarm you, but I thought it was a Kingbird."

"Well, what if it was?" said a big Drone. "There is only one of him and there are a great many of us."

"Yes," said the Queen-Mother, "but there may not be so many of us very long if he begins to watch the tree. I have lived much longer than you and I know how Kingbirds act."

This was true, for Queens live to be very old, and Drones never live long because they are so lazy.

"Well," said the big Drone, "we must find out about this. Just fly around and see if it is a Kingbird," he said to a Worker. "We must know about things before we act."

"Suppose you should go," she replied. "I have my leg-pockets full of pollen, and it ought to be made into bread at once. I never saw Larvæ so hungry as these last ones are."

"I only wish that I could go," said the big Drone, limping as he got out of her way; "but my fifth foot just stepped on my third foot, and I can hardly move."

When he said this, all the Workers smiled, and even the Queen-Mother had to turn away her head. The Drones looked as solemn as possible. It would not do for them to laugh at their brother. They did not want him to laugh at them when they made excuses for staying at home. They even pretended not to hear one of the Workers when she said that it was funny how some people couldn't use their wings if one of their feet hurt them.

"Yes," said another Worker, "and it is funny, too, how some people can get along very well on three legs when they have to, while others are too helpless to do anything unless they can use the whole six."

The Drones began to talk together. "I think that the whole swarm should fly at the Kingbird and sting him and drive him away," said one. "There is no sense in allowing him to perch outside our home and catch us as we pass in and out. I  say that we should make war upon him!" He looked very fierce as he spoke, buzzing and twitching his feelers at every step.

"Exactly!" cried another Drone. "If I had a sting, I would lead the attack. As it is, I may be useful in guarding the comb. It is a great pity that Drones have no stings." You would have thought, to hear him speak, that if he had been given a sting like those of the Workers, not all the Bees in the tree could keep him from fighting.

While the Drones were talking about war, some of the Workers sent to their Queen for advice. "Tell us," they said, "how to drive away the Kingbird. Should we try to sting him? You know it kills a Bee to sting anybody, and we don't want to if we can help it, yet we will if you say so."

The Queen-Mother shook her head. "You must not bother me about such things," she said. "I have all that I can do to get the eggs ready, and you must look after the swarm. Nobody else can do my work, and I have no time to do yours." As she spoke, she finished the one hundred and seventeenth egg of that day's lot, and before night came she would probably have laid more than a thousand, so you can see she was quite right when she said she had no time for other things.

This left the Workers to plan for themselves, and they agreed that a number of them should fly out together and see where the Kingbird was. Then they could decide about attacking him later. When one gave the signal, they dashed out as nearly together as possible.

After the Workers returned with honey and pollen, the Drones crowded around them, asking questions. "Where is he? What does he look like? Did he try to catch you?" The Workers would not answer them, and said: "Go and find out for yourself. We all came back alive." Then they went about their work as usual.

"I don't see how they dared to go," said a very young Bee who was just out of her cocoon and was still too weak to fly.

"Pooh!" said the big Drone. "You wouldn't see me hanging around this tree if I were not lame."

"There is no use in stopping work even if you are scared," said one of the Workers. She smiled as she spoke, and whispered something to the Queen-Mother as she passed her. The Queen-Mother smiled also.

"Why don't you Drones go for honey?" she said. "You must be getting very hungry."

"We don't feel very well," they answered. "Perhaps it would be better for our health if we were to keep quiet for a while and save our strength. We will lunch off some of the honey in the comb if we need food."

"Not a bit of it!" exclaimed the Workers. "Stay in the tree if you want to for your health, but don't you dare touch the honey we have gathered for winter, when the day is clear and bright like this." And whenever a Drone tried to get food from the comb they drove him away.

The poor Drones had a hard day of it, and at night they were so hungry they could hardly sleep. The next morning they peeped out, and then rushed away to the flowers for their breakfast. They stayed out all day, and when they returned at night they rushed swiftly into the tree again.

"There!" they said; "we escaped the Kingbird."

"What Kingbird?" asked a Worker.

"The one who was there yesterday," answered the Drones. "Has he been back to-day?"

"There was no Kingbird near the tree yesterday," said the Worker.

"What!" cried the Drones.

"No," said the Queen-Mother, "I was mistaken when I thought I heard him. The Workers told me after they had been out for honey. Perhaps they forgot to tell you."

But her eyes twinkled as she spoke, and all the Workers smiled, and for some reason the Drones did not know what to say.

 

A Book of Nursery Rhymes  by Francis D. Bedford

Simple Simon

 

Mother Stories  by Maud Lindsay

The Minstrel's Song

ONCE, long, long ago, there lived in a country over the sea a king called René, who married a lovely princess whose name was Imogen.

Imogen came across the seas to the king's beautiful country, and all his people welcomed her with great joy because the king loved her.

"What can I do to please thee to-day?" the king asked her every morning; and one day the queen answered that she would like to hear all the minstrels in the king's country, for they were said to be the finest in the world.

As soon as the king heard this, he called his heralds and sent them everywhere through his land to sound their trumpets and call aloud:—

"Hear, ye minstrels! King René, our gracious king, bids ye come to play at his court on May-day, for love of the Queen Imogen."

The minstrels were men who sang beautiful songs and played on harps; and long ago they went about from place to place, from castle to castle, from palace to cot, and were always sure of a welcome wherever they roamed.

They could sing of the brave deeds that the knights had done, and of wars and battles, and could tell of the mighty hunters who hunted in the great forests, and of fairies and goblins, better than a story book; and because there were no story books in those days, everybody, from little children to the king, was glad to see them come.

So when the minstrels heard the king's message, they made haste to the palace on May-day; and it so happened that some of them met on the way and decided to travel together.

One of these minstrels was a young man named Harmonius; and while the others talked of the songs that they would sing, he gathered the wild flowers that grew by the roadside.

"I can sing of the drums and battles," said the oldest minstrel, whose hair was white and whose step was slow.

"I can sing of ladies and their fair faces," said the youngest minstrel; but Harmonious whispered: "Listen! listen!"

"Oh! we hear nothing but the wind in the tree-tops," said the others. "We have no time to stop and listen."

Then they hurried on and left Harmonius; and he stood under the trees and listened, for he heard something very sweet. At last he knew that it was the wind singing of its travels through the wide world; telling how it raced over the blue sea, tossing the waves and rocking the white ships, and hurried on to the hills, where the trees made harps of their branches, and then how it blew down into the valleys, where all the flowers danced gayly in time to the tune.

Harmonius could understand every word:—

"Nobody follows me where I go, Over the mountains or valleys below; Nobody sees where the wild winds blow, Only the Father in Heaven can know."

That was the chorus of the wind's song. Harmonius listened until he knew the whole song from beginning to end; and then he ran on and soon reached his friends, who were still talking of the grand sights that they were to see.

"We shall see the king and speak to him," said the oldest minstrel.

"And his golden crown and the queen's jewels," added the youngest; and Harmonius had no chance to tell of the wind's song, although he thought about it time and again.

Now their path led them through the wood; and as they talked, Harmonius said:—

"Hush! listen!" But the others answered:—

"Oh! that is only the sound of the brook trickling over the stones. Let us make haste to the king's court."

But Harmonius stayed to hear the song that the brook was singing, of journeying through mosses and ferns and shady ways, and of tumbling over the rocks in shining waterfalls on its way to the sea.

"Rippling and bubbling through shade and sun, On to the beautiful sea I run; Singing forever, though none be near, For God in Heaven can always hear,"

sang the little brook. Harmonius listened until he knew every word of the song, and then he hurried on.

When he reached the others, he found them still talking of the king and queen, so he could not tell them of the brook. As they talked, he heard something again that was wonderfully sweet, and he cried: "Listen! listen!"

"Oh! that is only a bird!" the others replied. "Let us make haste to the king's court!"

But Harmonius would not go, for the bird sang so joyfully that Harmonius laughed aloud when he heard the song.

It was singing a song of green trees, and in every tree a nest, and in every nest eggs! Oh! the bird was so gay as it sang:—

"Merrily, merrily, listen to me, Flitting and flying from tree to tree, Nothing fear I, by land or sea, For God in Heaven is watching me."

"Thank you, little bird," said Harmonius; "you have taught me a song." And he made haste to join his comrades, for by this time they were near the palace.

When they had gone in, they received a hearty welcome, and were feasted in the great hall before they came before the king.

The king and queen sat on their throne together. The king thought of the queen and the minstrels; but the queen thought of her old home, and of the butterflies she had chased when she was a little child.

One by one the minstrels played before them.

The oldest minstrel sang of battles and drums, just as he had said he would; and the youngest minstrel sang of ladies and their fair faces, which pleased the court ladies very much.

Then came Harmonius. And when he touched his harp and sang, the song sounded like the wind blowing, the sea roaring, and the trees creaking; then it grew very soft, and sounded like a trickling brook dripping on stones and running over little pebbles; and while the king and queen and all the court listened in surprise, Harmonius' song grew sweeter, sweeter, sweeter. It was as if you heard all the birds in Spring. And then the song was ended.

Harmonius . . . touched his harp and sang.

The queen clapped her hands, and the ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the king came down from his throne to ask Harmonius if he came from fairyland with such a wonderful song. But Harmonius answered:—

"Three singers sang along our way, And I learned the song from them to-day."

Now, all the other minstrels looked up in surprise when Harmonius said this; and the oldest minstrel said to the king: "Harmonius is dreaming! We heard no music on our way to-day."

And the youngest minstrel said: "Harmonius is surely mad! We met nobody on our way to-day."

But the queen said: "That is an old, old song. I heard it when I was a little child; and I can name the singers three." And so she did. Can you?

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

Lucy Locket

Lucy Locket lost her pocket, Kitty Fisher found it; Nothing in it, nothing in it, But the binding round it.

 

The Sandman: More Farm Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The School 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, after breakfast, little Charles and little John started out of the kitchen door and walked down the little track, through the wide gate and along the road, the same way they went on Sundays. It was summer-time, but they were going to school. Little boys in the country went to school in the summer, part of the time. It was a long way to school and the little boys chased each other and played, and sometimes they stopped in a pleasant place and sat down. But they got to school early enough and they found eight other little boys playing about, outside the school-house. So they played with the other boys until they heard a little bell ringing, and they looked, and there was the school-teacher standing in the doorway. The school-teacher was Miss Mary, and she said, "Now, boys, I believe it is time for you to come in to your lessons." It was really late, but Miss Mary had forgotten about it.

So all the ten little boys stopped playing and walked into the school-house, in a line, one after another. And they walked so that their feet came down all together and made a great stamping noise. Miss Mary heard the noise, but she didn't say anything about it, and the little boys went to their seats and each one sat down at a desk. Then, when they had all sat down, Miss Mary sat at her desk, in front of them, and she took a little book and she read some poetry out loud. The little boys didn't care much about hearing poetry, but they kept still until she had finished reading.

When she had read the poetry, Miss Mary said the class in spelling might take their places and recite. So all the ten little boys got up and walked up nearer, and they sat down on a bench that was in front of Miss Mary's desk. They sat in a row, and they took turns trying to spell the words she said. Little Charles didn't spell very well that day, but little John spelled all the words right that Miss Mary asked him, except two. And one of the boys spelled every one of the words right, and there was another boy who didn't spell anything right. His name was James. And Miss Mary said, "James, I am sorry that you do not know your lesson. You may sit here by me and study it." So James sat down beside Miss Mary and studied his lesson.

Then Miss Mary went to a closet where she kept her own things, and she got out of it a coat and a hat and a sword that hung by straps from a belt. They were some things her father wore when he was a soldier. The coat was pretty thick and it was bright colours, and on the shoulders were some heavy kind of gold tassels. They call those tassels epaulettes. The hat was very heavy and made of some rough looking stuff that was something like fur. It was stiff and the top looked something like a bell turned upside down. The sword was in a scabbard. The scabbard is a case that the sword fits in exactly, and it covers up all the sharp part of the sword, everything but the handle. The handle of a sword they call the hilt. The scabbard hung by two straps from the belt, and the belt was very thick and wide and heavy.

When Miss Mary had got these things out of the closet, she called the boy who hadn't made any mistakes at all, and she said he might wear the hat and the sword. So she fastened the belt around his waist, and the straps were so long that the sword dragged on the floor. Then she put the hat on his head, and the hat was so big she had to put it on the back of his head, tilted. If she hadn't done that, the hat would have gone all the way down to his neck. Then that boy felt very proud, and he walked back and forth, with the hat on his head and the sword dragging along the floor.

Then she called little John, and she told him he might wear the coat. So she put the coat on little John, and it was so big that it covered him all up, and the sleeves came down so far that Miss Mary had to turn them up, and the long tails of the coat dragged along the floor a lot. So little John felt proud to wear that soldier coat, and he walked back and forth with the other boy, and the tails of the coat dragged on the floor behind him. And all the other boys watched little John and the other boy, and they wished they were wearing the soldier clothes.

Pretty soon little John got very hot in the thick coat, and he thought he had worn it long enough. And the other boy thought the hat was very hot and heavy, and the sword dragging on the floor made him tired. So they both went to Miss Mary again, and she took the things and put them back in the closet, and she said all the boys might go to their seats and study their arithmetic lesson. So the boys walked to their desks and sat down and began to study their arithmetic lesson.

While the boys were studying their arithmetic, Miss Mary sat at her desk and looked out of a window that was beside her. It was warm and pleasant, and she liked to see all the growing things outside, and to feel the wind that came blowing in, and it made her think she would like to read some poetry. So she got the poetry book that she had read out of, to the boys, and she opened it, and began to read the poetry to herself. And she forgot all about the boys.

When the boys thought they had studied their arithmetic long enough, they looked at Miss Mary and they saw that she had forgotten all about them. So, pretty soon, one boy got up and walked over to the corner of the room, the corner that was farthest away. It was a great enormous room, that was big enough for two hundred scholars, and there were only ten boys in it, so it was nearly empty. And then another boy got up and went over to that corner, and then the rest of them went there, one at a time. When they were all there, they got up on the tops of the desks, and the boy who had gone there first said, "Now!" And all the boys started at once, and they ran on the tops of the desks and made all the noise they could. They ran all the way across the room, on the tops of the desks, and then they came to a window that was open, and they jumped out of the window, one after another.

They jumped out of the window.

Ten boys running along on top of desks can make a lot of noise, and Miss Mary heard it. She hadn't noticed what the boys were doing, and when she looked up, she didn't see any boys, so she wondered what all that noise was. Then the boys came walking in at the door, in a line, and they all made a low bow to Miss Mary. And she said, "Boys, I do not remember giving you permission to take a recess." So the boys went to their seats again.

Then Miss Mary said the boys could all practise writing. She wrote the copy on the blackboard, very carefully. It was "See the wide Fields revive,"  "The Home is where the Heart is." And she said they might write that until their slates were all written over. So all the boys began to write "See the wide Fields revive,"  "The Home is where the Heart is," over and over, and Miss Mary took up her book again, and looked out of the window.

After a while, the boys got tired of writing that one thing so many times, and the slate pencils began to make a scratching, squeaking noise on the slates, and they squeaked so loud that Miss Mary wondered what that noise was, and she had to put the book away. Then she heard the boys recite some more lessons, and at last it was time for school to be over.

So Miss Mary rang the little bell, and the boys all got up and walked out and got their hats and went out of doors. Two of the boys were going the same way that little Charles and little John were going, so they all walked along together. And when they got to the farm-house where the two boys lived, those boys went in, and little Charles and little John went on alone. They walked along the road until they came to the farm-house, and they went in at the wide gate and up the little track and in at the kitchen door. And Aunt Deborah had some dinner all ready for them, and they were glad, for they were very hungry.

And that's all.

 

Mother Goose  by Frederick Richardson

Play Days

 

The Nursery Book of Bible Stories  by Amy Steedman

Joseph, the Dreamer

I

T HERE were many reasons why Jacob should love his son Joseph more than all his other sons, but there was one special reason above all. The little lad's mother had been more to him than any one else in all the wide world, and when she died, leaving Joseph and a new-born baby brother, Benjamin, all the love in the father's heart turned to his two little sons. The elder brothers were strong, grown-up men, quite able to look after themselves; it was on Joseph that all his father's tenderness, all his hopes, were fixed.

At first the other brothers took no notice of their father's preference; but as Joseph grew older they began to feel uneasy and envious, especially when Jacob made a beautiful coat for the boy, a coat of many pieces of cloth all of different colours joined together. So gay and beautiful a coat it was, that every one who saw him wearing it said, "This must be the son of a great chief."

But if the gay coat made them angry, they were more angry still when Joseph began to dream strange dreams and to tell them to his brothers. He must be full of wicked pride, they said, or how could he dream such dreams. There, in a cornfield, so Joseph said, his sheaf had stood upright, while all their sheaves had bowed down before it; and another time in his dream he had seen the sun and moon and eleven stars all doing reverence to him.

Joseph Telling His Dreams

Was he indeed going to rule over all of them? It was more than his brothers could bear, and they began to hate him with all their hearts.

It was hard for Joseph, because he had not meant to boast when he told them of his dreams. If he was proud of his coat of many colours, it was only because it was a gift from his father. He was a straight-forward, good-natured boy, clever and brave, and ready to take his turn in watching the flocks or helping his brothers with their work in the field.

But it grew day by day more difficult to keep the peace between them, and the only quiet times were when the elder brothers went farther afield to find new pasture for their flocks.

It was at one of these times when the brothers had been gone for some time that Jacob called Joseph to him and bade him go and find his brothers, and bring back news if they were safe and well.

Joseph was now a lad of about seventeen, and this would be the first journey he had taken by himself; so he was eager to show that he was to be trusted, and set out most cheerfully.

After some days he arrived at Shechem, where his father had told him he would find his brothers, but there were no signs of them there. Unwilling to return home without news, Joseph wandered about until he met a man, who directed him to a place farther on; and at last he caught sight of their tents in a field far ahead, and he hurried forward with a light heart to greet them.

It was a clear day and the shepherds' keen eyes could see far along the winding road that stretched out towards Shechem. So, long before Joseph arrived they saw his figure in the distance hastening towards them.

Perhaps it was the gay colour of his coat that first told them who it was, and perhaps it was the coat that reminded them of their hate and their envious feelings, and brought to their memory again those prideful dreams.

"Behold, this dreamer cometh," they said to one another. "Come now therefore, and let us slay him, and cast him into some pit, and we will say, Some evil beast hath devoured him: and we shall see what will become of his dreams."

With dark looks of hate they watched the gay figure coming so joyfully to meet them, and only one heart felt any pity for the boy. Reuben, the eldest brother, made up his mind quickly that he would save him if possible. Only he must set to work cunningly, for those other brothers were very determined men. What was the use of killing him outright? he suggested; why not put him into the pit close by and leave him there to die? (for he meant to come back and save Joseph after the others had gone).

Never dreaming of evil Joseph came on, and now he ran to them and began to give them his father's message. But the rough hands held out to him were not held out in welcome. The brothers seized the boy and savagely tore off his coat, as if the very sight of it hurt their eyes, and then they hurried him towards the pit which Reuben had pointed out.

Then Joseph knew that they meant to kill him. He knew that if they threw him into one of those deep narrow pits there was no chance of climbing up its steep sides, even if he were not immediately drowned in the water which often gathered there. Was he never to see his father and little brother again? nevermore to spend happy days in the green fields under the blue sky? It was useless to cry out or beg for pity, and Reuben was not there to help him. The pit was reached, strong hands pushed him forward, and into the blackness he fell, down, down, until with a terrible thud he reached the bottom. There was no water to break his fall, for the pit was dry.

There!—that was done! The cruel brothers went off to a little distance and began sullenly to eat their midday meal. But scarcely had they begun when they saw a company of travellers coming towards them, a long train of camels laden with spices, on their way down to Egypt.

Here was a splendid opportunity of making some money out of their evil plan. Instead of leaving Joseph to starve in the pit, they would fetch him out and sell him to these merchants, who would most likely give a good price for such a strong young slave.

Perhaps for a moment, when Joseph heard their voices at the pit's mouth, and when they drew him up and lifted him out into the sunshine again, he thought they were sorry and meant to be kind to him, but that thought soon vanished.

The Midianite merchants were waiting, and very soon a rope was bound round his hands and he was tied to the saddle of the man who had bought him, and he knew now that they had drawn him up from the pit only to sell him as a slave.

They sold Joseph to the Ishmaelites.

Meanwhile Reuben had been keeping out of sight, waiting to return and rescue Joseph as soon as it was safe to do so. Very cautiously he at last stole back. But alas! when he reached the pit he found that it was empty. What had happened? In his distress he forgot his caution; he no longer cared to hide his intentions from his brothers.

"The child is not; and I, whither shall I go?" he cried to them in bitter sorrow, when at last he found them.

With angry, sullen looks they told him that Joseph was now far away on his road to Egypt. He must keep their secret. There was but one thing to be done. Joseph's coat lay there, just as they had torn it off him: they would dip the coat in goat's blood and carry it to their father.

The poor, gay-coloured little coat, all bloodstained and torn, was brought and laid out before Jacob's eyes.

"This have we found," said the brothers: "know now whether it be thy son's coat or no."

Did he not indeed know that coat of many colours? Had not his heart been filled, many a time, with pride and love as he watched his boy wearing it with the gallant air of a young chieftain.

"It is my son's coat," he cried, with a bitter cry of grief; "an evil beast hath devoured him; Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces."

 

The Real Mother Goose  by Blanche Fisher Wright

When Jenny Wren Was Young

'Twas once upon a time, when Jenny Wren was young, So daintily she danced and so prettily she sung, Robin Redbreast lost his heart, for he was a gallant bird. So he doffed his hat to Jenny Wren, requesting to be heard. "Oh, dearest Jenny Wren, if you will but be mine, You shall feed on cherry pie and drink new currant wine, I'll dress you like a goldfinch or any peacock gay, So, dearest Jen, if you'll be mine, let us appoint the day." Jenny blushed behind her fan and thus declared her mind: "Since, dearest Bob, I love you well, I'll take your offer kind. Cherry pie is very nice and so is currant wine, But I must wear my plain brown gown and never go too fine."