Pinocchio  by Carlo Collodi

Pinocchio Becomes a Watch-Dog

P INOCCHIO, as you can imagine, began to cry and scream: but his tears and groans were useless, for there was not a house to be seen, and not a living soul passed down the road.

At last night came on.

Partly from the pain of the trap that cut his legs, and a little from fear at finding himself alone in the dark in the midst of the fields, the puppet was on the point of fainting. Just at that moment he saw a Firefly flitting over his head. He called to it and said:

"Oh, little Firefly, will you have pity on me and liberate me from this torture?"

"Poor boy!" said the Firefly, stopping and looking at him with compassion, "but how could your legs have been caught by those sharp irons?"

"I came into the field to pick two bunches of these muscatel grapes, and . . ."

"But were the grapes yours?"

"No. . . ."

"Then who taught you to carry off other people's property?"

"I was so hungry. . . ."

"Hunger, my boy, is not a good reason for appropriating what does not belong to us. . . ."

"That is true, that is true!" said Pinocchio, crying. "I will never do it again."

At this moment their conversation was interrupted by a slight sound of approaching footsteps. It was the owner of the field coming on tiptoe to see if one of the polecats that ate his chickens during the night had been caught in his trap.

His astonishment was great when, having brought out his lantern from under his coat, he perceived that instead of a polecat a boy had been taken.

"Ah, little thief!" said the angry peasant, "then it is you who carry off my chickens?"

"No, it is not I; indeed it is not!" cried Pinocchio, sobbing. "I only came into the field to take two bunches of grapes! . . ."

"He who steals grapes is quite capable of stealing chickens. Leave it to me, I will give you a lesson that you will not forget in a hurry."

Opening the trap he seized the puppet by the collar, and carried him to his house as if he had been a young lamb.

When he reached the yard in front of the house he threw him roughly on the ground, and putting his foot on his neck he said to him:

"It is late, and I want to go to bed; we will settle our accounts to-morrow. In the meanwhile, as the dog who kept guard at night died to-day, you shall take his place at once. You shall be my watch-dog."

And taking a great collar covered with brass knobs he strapped it tightly round his throat that he might not be able to draw his head out of it. A heavy chain attached to the collar was fastened to the wall.

"If it should rain to-night," he then said to him, you can go and lie down in the kennel; the straw that has served as a bed for my poor dog for the last four years is still there. If unfortunately robbers should come, remember to keep your ears pricked and to bark."

After giving him this last injunction the man went into the house, shut the door, and put up the chain.

Poor Pinocchio remained lying on the ground more dead than alive from the effects of cold, hunger, and fear. From time to time he put his hands angrily to the collar that tightened his throat and said, crying:

"It serves me right! . . . Decidedly it serves me right! I was determined to be a vagabond and a good-for-nothing. . . . I would listen to bad companions, and that is why I always meet with misfortunes. If I had been a good little boy as so many are; if I had been willing to learn and to work; if I had remained at home with my poor papa, I should not now be in the midst of the fields and obliged to be the watch-dog to a peasant's house. Oh, if I could be born again! But now it is too late, and I must have patience!"

Relieved by this little outburst, which came straight from his heart, he went into the dog-kennel and fell asleep.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

The Plans of the London Company

Then it was that Nathaniel declared he also would go on the voyage to Virginia, whether it pleased Captain Smith or no, and I, who should have set my face against his running away from home, spoke no word to oppose him, because it would please me to have him as comrade.

After this I went more than once to the house where Captain Smith lodged, and learned very much concerning what it was proposed to do toward building a town in the new world.

Both Nathaniel and I had believed it was the king who counted to send all these people over-seas; but I learned from my new master that a company of London merchants was in charge of the enterprise, these merchants believing much profit might come to them in the way of getting gold.

The whole business was to be under the control of Captain Bartholomew Gosnold, who, it was said, had already made one voyage to the new world, and had brought back word that it was a goodly place in which to settle and to build up towns. The one chosen to act as admiral of the fleet, for there were to be three ships instead of one, as I had fancied, was Captain Christopher Newport, a man who had no little fame as a seaman.

In due time, as the preparations for the voyage were being forwarded, I was sent by my master into lodgings at Blackwall, just below London town, for the fleet lay nearby, and because it was understood by those in charge of the adventure that I was in Captain Smith's service, no hindrance was made to my going on board the vessels.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

The Vessels of the Fleet

These were three in number, as I have already said: the Susan Constant, a ship of near to one hundred tons in size; the Goodspeed, of forty tons, and the Discovery, which was a pinnace of only twenty tons.

The "Susan Constant"

And now, lest some who read what I have set down may not be acquainted with the words used by seamen, let me explain that the measurement of a vessel by tons, means that she will fill so much space in the water. Now, in measuring a vessel, a ton is reckoned as forty cubic feet of space, therefore when I say the Susan Constant was one hundred tons in size, it is the same as if I had set down that she would carry four thousand cubic feet of cargo.

The "Goodspeed"

That he who reads may know what I mean by a pinnace, as differing from a ship, I can best make it plain by saying that such a craft is an open boat, wherein may be used sails or oars, and, as in the case of the Discovery, may have a deck over a certain portion of her length. That our pinnace was a vessel able to withstand such waves as would be met with in the ocean, can be believed when you remember that she was one half the size of the Goodspeed, which we counted a ship.

The "Discovery"

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

How I Earned My Passage

Captain Smith, my master, found plenty of work for me during the weeks before the fleet sailed. He had many matters to be set down in writing, and because of my mother's care in teaching me to use the quill, I was able, or so it seemed to me, to be of no little aid to him in those busy days, when it was as if he must do two or three things at the same time in order to bring his business to an end.

I learned during that time to care very dearly for this valiant soldier, who could, when the fit was on him, be as tender and kind as a girl, and again, when he was crossed, as stern a man as one might find in all London town.

Because of my labors, and it pleased me greatly that I could do somewhat toward forwarding the adventure, I had no time in which to search for my friend, Nathaniel Peacock, although I did not cease to hope that he would try to find me.

I had parted with him in the city, and he knew right well where I was going; yet, so far as I could learn, he had never come to Blackwall.

I had no doubt but that I could find him in the city, and it was in my mind, at the first opportunity, to seek him out, if for no other reason than that we might part as comrades should, for he had been a true friend to me when my heart was sore; but from the moment the sailors began to put the cargo on board the Susan Constant and the Goodspeed, I had no chance to wander around Blackwall, let alone journeying to London.

 

Robert Louis Stevenson

Foreign Lands

Up into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the trunk with both my hands And looked abroad on foreign lands. I saw the next door garden lie, Adorned with flowers, before my eye, And many pleasant places more That I had never seen before. I saw the dimpling river pass And be the sky's blue looking-glass; The dusty roads go up and down With people tramping in to town. If I could find a higher tree Farther and farther I should see, To where the grown-up river slips Into the sea among the ships, To where the roads on either hand Lead onward into fairy land, Where all the children dine at five, And all the playthings come alive.

 

Fifty Famous Stories Retold  by James Baldwin

Arnold Winkelried

A GREAT army was marching into Swit-zer-land. If it should go much farther, there would be no driving it out again. The soldiers would burn the towns, they would rob the farmers of their grain and sheep, they would make slaves of the people.

The men of Switzerland knew all this. They knew that they must fight for their homes and their lives. And so they came from the mountains and valleys to try what they could do to save their land. Some came with bows and arrows, some with scythes and pitch-forks, and some with only sticks and clubs.

But their foes kept in line as they marched along the road. Every soldier was fully armed. As they moved and kept close together, nothing could be seen of them but their spears and shields and shining armor. What could the poor country people do against such foes as these?

"We must break their lines," cried their leader; "for we cannot harm them while they keep together."

The bowmen shot their arrows, but they glanced off from the soldiers' shields. Others tried clubs and stones, but with no better luck. The lines were still un-bro-ken. The soldiers moved stead-i-ly onward; their shields lapped over one another; their thousand spears looked like so many long bris-tles in the sun-light. What cared they for sticks and stones and hunts-men's arrows?

"If we cannot break their ranks," said the Swiss, "we have no chance for fight, and our country will be lost!"

Then a poor man, whose name was Ar-nold Wink´el-ried, stepped out.

"On the side of yonder moun-tain," said he, "I have a happy home. There my wife and chil-dren wait for my return. But they will not see me again, for this day I will give my life for my country. And do you, my friends, do your duty, and Switzerland shall be free."

With these words he ran forward. "Follow me!" he cried to his friends. "I will break the lines, and then let every man fight as bravely as he can."

He had nothing in his hands, neither club nor stone nor other weapon. But he ran straight on-ward to the place where the spears were thickest.

"Make way for lib-er-ty!" he cried, as he dashed right into the lines.

A hundred spears were turned to catch him upon their points. The soldiers forgot to stay in their places. The lines were broken. Arnold's friends rushed bravely after him. They fought with whatever they had in hand. They snatched spears and shields from their foes. They had no thought of fear. They only thought of their homes and their dear native land. And they won at last.

Such a battle no one ever knew before. But Switzerland was saved, and Arnold Wink-el-ried did not die in vain.

 

Seaside and Wayside, Book One  by Julia McNair Wright

Mr. and Mrs. Crab Get a New Coat

Y OUR skin is soft and fine. As you grow more and more, your skin does not break. Your skin gets larger as your body grows.

Mr. Crab is in a hard shell. The shell will not stretch. It gets too tight, and what can Mr. Crab do then?

What do you do when your coat is too small?

Now I will tell you a strange thing. When Mr. Crab finds that his shell is too small, he takes it off, as you take off your coat.

He pulls his legs, his hands, and his back, out of his shell. He does that in his house in the sand.

You do not undress out of doors. You go to your room. So does Mr. Crab.

Spider Crab

Mr. Crab slips out of his shell. He pulls out his feet and hands, as if he took off his boots and his gloves. Then he is a poor, soft, cold thing. But over all his body is spread a skin, soft as paste, like glue and lime. In a few days it gets hard. It is as big as Mr. Crab, and just fits his shape. Here is a good, new shell!

When crabs get new shells we say they moult. This shell has the right colors—blue, brown, red, or gold. It has spots and rings.

Little Pinna Crab

When Mrs. Crab changes her shell, Mr. Crab stays near and tries to keep her from being hurt.

The young crabs have to change their shells often, they grow so fast.

Crabs that live in dark mud have dark brown or green shells. Some crabs have sand-colored shells—pale gray or brown shells, with close, fine specks like sand on them.

There are more kinds of crabs than you could count. They live in all parts of the world. This book tells you of only a few of them.

 

Edwin Arnold

The Swallow's Nest

Day after day her nest she moulded, Building with magic, love and mud, A gray cup made by a thousand journeys, And the tiny beak was trowel and hod.

 

The Burgess Bird Book for Children  by Thornton Burgess

Bob White and Carol the Meadow Lark

"B OB—BOB WHITE! Bob—Bob White! Bob—Bob White!" clear and sweet, that call floated over to the dear Old Briar-patch until Peter could stand it no longer. He felt that he just had to go over and pay an early morning call on one of his very best friends, who at this season of the year delights in whistling his own name—Bob White.

"I suppose," muttered Peter, "that Bob White has got a nest. I wish he would show it to me. He's terribly secretive about it. Last year I hunted for his nest until my feet were sore, but it wasn't the least bit of use. Then one morning I met Mrs. Bob White with fifteen babies out for a walk. How she could hide a nest with fifteen eggs in it is more than I can understand."

Peter left the Old Briar-patch and started off over the Green Meadows towards the Old Pasture. As he drew near the fence between the Green Meadows and the Old Pasture he saw Bob White sitting on one of the posts, whistling with all his might. On another post near him sat another bird very near the size of Welcome Robin. He also was telling all the world of his happiness. It was Carol the Meadow Lark.

CAROL THE MEADOW LARK You will know him by the black crescent on his yellow breast and the white outer feathers of his rather short tail when he flies.

Peter was so intent watching these two friends of his that he took no heed to his footsteps. Suddenly there was a whirr from almost under his very nose and he stopped short, so startled that he almost squealed right out. In a second he recognized Mrs. Meadow Lark. He watched her fly over to where Carol was singing. Her stout little wings moved swiftly for a moment or two, then she sailed on without moving them at all. Then they fluttered rapidly again until she was flying fast enough to once more sail on them outstretched. The white outer feathers of her tail showed clearly and reminded Peter of the tail of Sweetvoice the Vesper Sparrow, only of course it was ever so much bigger.

Peter sat still until Mrs. Meadow Lark had alighted on the fence near Carol. Then he prepared to hurry on, for he was anxious for a bit of gossip with these good friends of his. But just before he did this he just happened to glance down and there, almost at his very feet, he caught sight of something that made him squeal right out. It was a nest with four of the prettiest eggs Peter ever had seen. They were white with brown spots all over them. Had it not been for the eggs he never would have seen that nest, never in the world. It was made of dry, brown grass and was cunningly hidden is a little clump of dead grass which fell over it so as to almost completely hide it. But the thing that surprised Peter most was the clever way in which the approach to it was hidden. It was by means of a regular little tunnel of grass.

"Oh!" cried Peter, and his eyes sparkled with pleasure. "This must be the nest of Mrs. Meadow Lark. No wonder I have never been able to find it, when I have looked for it. It is just luck and nothing else that I have found it this time. I think it is perfectly wonderful that Mrs. Meadow Lark can hide her home in such a way. I do hope Jimmy Skunk isn't anywhere around."

Peter sat up straight and anxiously looked this way and that way. Jimmy Skunk was nowhere to be seen and Peter gave a little sigh of relief. Very carefully he walked around that nest and its little tunnel, then hurried over toward the fence as fast as he could go.

"It's perfectly beautiful, Carol!" he cried, just as soon as he was near enough. "And I won't tell a single soul!"

"I hope not. I certainly hope not," cried Mrs. Meadow Lark in an anxious tone. "I never would have another single easy minute if I thought you would tell a living soul about my nest. Promise that you won't, Peter. Cross your heart and promise that you won't."

Peter promptly crossed his heart and promised that he wouldn't tell a single soul. Mrs. Meadow Lark seemed to feel better. Right away she flew back and Peter turned to watch her. He saw her disappear in the grass, but it wasn't where he had found the nest. Peter waited a few minutes, thinking that he would see her rise into the air again and fly over to the nest. But he waited in vain. Then with a puzzled look on his face, he turned to look up at Carol.

Carol's eyes twinkled. "I know what you're thinking, Peter," he chuckled. "You are thinking that it is funny Mrs. Meadow Lark didn't go straight back to our nest when she seemed so anxious about it. I would have you to know that she is too clever to do anything so foolish as that. She knows well enough that somebody might see her and so find our secret. She has walked there from the place where you saw her disappear in the grass. That is the way we always do when we go to our nest. One never can be too careful these days."

Then Carol began to pour out his happiness once more, quite as if nothing had interrupted his song.

Somehow Peter never before had realized how handsome Carol the Meadow Lark was. As he faced Peter, the latter saw a beautiful yellow throat and waistcoat, with a broad black crescent on his breast. There was a yellow line above each eye. His back was of brown with black markings. His sides were whitish, with spats and streaks of black. The outer edges of his tail were white. Altogether he was really handsome, far handsomer than one would suspect, seeing him at a distance.

Having found out Carol's secret, Peter was doubly anxious to find Bob White's home, so he hurried over to the post where Bob was whistling with all his might. "Bob!" cried Peter. "I've just found Carol's nest and I've promised to keep it a secret. Won't you show me your nest, too, if I'll promise to keep that  a secret?"

Bob threw back his head and laughed joyously. "You ought to know, Peter, by this time," said he, "that there are secrets never to be told to anybody. My nest is one of these. If you find it, all right; but I wouldn't show it to my very best friend, and I guess I haven't any better friend than you, Peter." Then from sheer happiness he whistled, "—Bob White! Bob—Bob White!" with all his might.

Peter was disappointed and a little put out. "I guess," said he, "I could find it if I wanted to. I guess it isn't any better hidden than Mrs. Meadow Lark's, and I found that. Some folks aren't as smart as they think they are."

Bob White, who is sometimes called Quail and sometimes called Partridge, and who is neither, chuckled heartily. "Go ahead, old Mr. Curiosity, go ahead and hunt all you please," said he. "It's funny to me how some folks think themselves smart when the truth is they simply have been lucky. You know well enough that you just happened  to find Carol's nest. If you happen to find mine, I won't have a word to say."

Bob White took a long breath, tipped his head back until his bill was pointing right up in the blue, blue sky, and with all his might whistled his name, "Bob—Bob White! Bob—Bob White!"

As Peter looked at him it came over him that Bob White was the plumpest bird of his acquaintance. He was so plump that his body seemed almost round. The shortness of his tail added to this effect, for Bob has a very short tail. The upper part of his coat was a handsome reddish-brown with dark streaks and light edgings. His sides and the upper part of his breast were of the same handsome reddish-brown, while underneath he was whitish with little bars of black. His throat was white, and above each eye was a broad white stripe. His white throat was bordered with black, and a band of black divided the throat from the white line above each eye. The top of his head was mixed black and brown. Altogether he was a handsome little fellow in a modest way.

BOB WHITE No other bird is shaped like him.

Suddenly Bob White stopped whistling and looked down at Peter with a twinkle in his eye. "Why don't you go hunt for that nest, Peter?" said he.

"I'm going," replied Peter rather shortly, for he knew that Bob knew that he hadn't the least idea where to look. It might be somewhere on the Green Meadows or it might be in the Old Pasture; Bob hadn't given the least hint. Peter had a feeling that the nest wasn't far away and that it was on the Green Meadows, so he began to hunt, running aimlessly this way and that way, all the time feeling very foolish, for of course he knew that Bob White was watching him and chuckling down inside.

It was very warm down there on the Green Meadows, and Peter grew hot and tired. He decided to run up in the Old Pasture in the shade of an old bramble-tangle there. Just the other side of the fence was a path made by the cows and often used by Farmer Brown's boy and Reddy Fox and others who visited the Old Pasture. Along this Peter scampered, lipperty-lipperty-lip, on his way to the bramble-tangle. He didn't look either to right or left. It didn't occur to him that there would be any use at all, for of course no one would build a nest near a path where people passed to and fro every day.

And so it was that in his happy-go-lucky way Peter scampered right past a clump of tall weeds close beside the path without the least suspicion that cleverly hidden in it was the very thing he was looking for. With laughter in her eyes, shrewd little Mrs. Bob White, with sixteen white eggs under her, watched him pass. She had chosen that very place for her nest because she knew that it was the last place anyone would expect to find it. The very fact that it seemed the most dangerous place she could have chosen made it the safest.

 

The Aesop for Children  by Milo Winter

The Farmer and the Stork

A Stork of a very simple and trusting nature had been asked by a gay party of Cranes to visit a field that had been newly planted. But the party ended dismally with all the birds entangled in the meshes of the Farmer's net.

The Stork begged the Farmer to spare him.

"Please let me go," he pleaded. "I belong to the Stork family who you know are honest and birds of good character. Besides, I did not know the Cranes were going to steal."

"You may be a very good bird," answered the Farmer, "but I caught you with the thieving Cranes and you will have to share the same punishment with them."

You are judged by the company you keep.

 

The Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said  by Padraic Colum

The Stone of Victory

Part 2 of 3

"Cluck, cluck, cluck," said the Hen-grouse,

"Say no more," said the Cock-grouse, "for now I'm coming to what's wonderful in my story—"

The four youths were seated round the fire when a little man came into the Chamber. He carried a harp in his hands. He bowed low to each of the four of them. "I am MacDraoi, the Giant's Harper," he said, "and I have come to play music for you." "Not one tune do we want to hear from you," said Feet-in-the-Ashes. "Whether you want it or not, one you will hear," said the Harper, "and that tune is the Slumber Tune. I shall play it for you now. And if the whole world was before me when I play it, and if every one in it had the pains of deep wounds, the playing on my harp would make each and every one of them fall into a slumber." "That tune we must not hear," said the first of the three youths, "for if we fall into a slumber the Giant will see to it that we shall never awaken."

MacDraoi, the Giant's Harper put his harp to his chest and he began to play. Slumber came on the eyelids of the four who were at the fire. Three sprang up, but one stayed on his bench dead-sound-fast asleep. One yawned and fell down on the floor. One of the two that remained went towards the Harper, but on his way he fell across a bed and he remained on it. Then, out of the four, only one, Feet-in-the-Ashes, was left awake.

The Harper played on. Feet-in-the-Ashes put his fingers in his mouth and commenced to gnaw them. He gnawed the first two fingers down to their joints. But still his mouth kept open in a yawn and still the slumber kept heavy on his eyelids. He gnawed his third and his little finger. Then he put his right hand in his mouth and he bit at his thumb and he bit so sharply that his senses nearly all came back to him. With a kick he knocked the harp out of the Harper's hands. He caught MacDraoi then and turned him head below heels and left him hanging by his feet from a beam across the chamber. Then he went straight through the hall and out of the Castle.

A wet breeze was blowing and whatever sleep was on his eye it blew away. He walked on with the dark clouds of the night going behind him and the bright light of the day growing before him. "I'll turn back," said he, "when I hear a cock crowing, and whatever I find beside me then I'll take with me to remind myself of where I have been."

He found himself on a moor and he walked on until he was far on it. A cock crew. "Time to turn back," said Feet-in-the-Ashes. He looked round to see what he might bring with him and he saw on the ground a round stone.

"A round stone?" said the Hen-grouse.

"Yes," said the Cock-grouse, "a round black stone. He took it up, that round black stone, and he went back to the Castle, hungry for his breakfast."

In the Castle Chamber the three youths were still slumbering, one on the bench, one on the floor and one in a bed and MacDraoi the Harper was still hanging by his feet from the beam across the Chamber. "Lift me down from this, good lad," said the Giant's Harper.

"I will," said Feet-in-the-Ashes, "when my three companions awaken."

"They won't awaken," said MacDraoi the Harper.

"Then you can hang there," said Feet-in-the-Ashes.

"They won't awaken," said MacDraoi, "until I cause them to awaken, and I shall cause them to awaken if you lift me down from this."

"Will you promise by your head," said Feet-in-the-Ashes.

"By my head I promise," said the Giant's Harper.

Then Feet-in-the-Ashes lifted the Harper down from the rafters and set him upon his legs. MacDraoi took up the harp and he pulled the strings back-ways. The notes he drew out were so piercing that first one and then another and then a third of the three youths wakened up. Then, when they were on their feet MacDraoi, the Giant's Harper, slipped out of the house and went away. What happened to the Harper after that no one knows.

"Cluck, cluck," said the Hen-grouse, "and what did they do after that?"

"The next thing they had to do," said the Cock-grouse, drawing himself up, "was to fight. Yes, my lady, to fight." The Hen-grouse drooped her head and said no more, and the Cock-grouse went on valiantly—

Swords they drew out—the three youths who were with Feet-in-the-Ashes. They sharpened these swords. They marched off towards the moor with the swords in their hands. Feet-in-the-Ashes had no sword. All he had in his hand was a holly-stick.

When they came in sight of the Grey Castle they saw the Giant come rushing out of the gate. He was clad all in iron and he had a sword in one hand and a spear in the other. The four youths spread themselves out so that they might be able to close round the Giant. But for all his bigness the Giant was quick enough. He struck one of them with his spear and brought him down on his knees. He struck the other with his sword and brought him down on his side. He struck the other with his iron-covered hand and brought him down on his back. And all that was left now was Feet-in-the-Ashes with his holly-stick.

What could a youth with a holly-stick in his hand do against a Giant that had a spear and a sword in his hands and was besides that all covered with iron? Feet-in-the-Ashes turned and ran. He ran towards the Castle and went round it. And when he was at the east side the Giant was at the North and when he was at the south the Giant was at the East. Round and round the Castle they went and the Giant with his strength and his quickness was wearing out Feet-in-the-Ashes.

Feet-in-the-Ashes wanted something to fling at him. He took the stone out of his pocket—the round black stone. He held it in his hand. He made three circles in the air with it. He flung the stone. It struck the Giant on the breast and the iron rang as the stone struck it. Down fell the Giant. Feet-in-the-Ashes ran off to where his companions lay. Many times he looked back but he did not see the Giant following him. The three youths were lying in their wounds and in their pain. Feet-in-the Ashes took out his pot of balsam and rubbed them all over. Their wounds healed. First one stood up and then the second stood up and then the third stood up and the three were whole and well. "Where is the Giant?" each of them asked.

"Lying where he fell," said Feet-in-the-Ashes.

"And who threw him down?" said the first of the youths.

"I threw him down with a cast of a stone," said Feet-in-the-Ashes.

"Let us go and see," said the second of the youths. They went towards the west side of the Grey Castle like men following a bear who might turn on them. The Giant was lying still. "He is dead," said one, "He is dead indeed," said another. "He is dead forever," said a third. "He is dead by the cast of my stone," said Feet-in-the-Ashes.

They went up to where the Giant was and looked all over him. "There is the stone that overthrew him," said one of the youths, "that round black stone. Where did you get it?"

"On the moor," said Feet-in-the-Ashes.

"On the moor," said the others looking at him.

"Yes," said Feet-in-the-Ashes, "Picked it up this morning on the moor just as the cock crew."

One of the three youths took the round black stone in his hand. "I'll bring the stone with me," said he. "We'll go into the Castle now and see what our finding there will be."

They went into the Castle. The three youths told Feet-in-the-Ashes they would help him to find what he had come to seek—the three teeth out of the head of the King of Ireland. They searched and they searched all over the Castle. At last one of them opened an iron press and there on a shelf was a silver cup and in the cup were three teeth. Feet-in-the-Ashes knew they were what he had come for. He left the cup beside him.

They took provisions from the Giant's store, put them on the table and began to eat. But first one and then another and then the third of the three youths made an excuse and left the table. Feet-in-the-Ashes went on with his breakfast. Then he left the Castle to look for the three youths that had been his companions. He did not find them. He went down to the sea-shore. He saw his boat and the sails were raised on it. In the boat were the three youths and they were making ready to put out to sea. Feet-in-the-Ashes shouted to them. Then one of the youths came to the side of the deck and spoke back to him.

"You found the Stone of Victory without knowing it," said he, "and you let us take it in our hands. Now we cannot give it back to you for our lives depend on our keeping it and bringing it away. And," said he, "we fear to stay on the land with you because you have such luck that you could take the Stone from us. The boat we came in is gone. We take your boat and we think that you have such luck that you will find another way of getting off the island. Remember that what you came for was not the Stone of Victory but the King's teeth, and we helped to find them for you."

They had hoisted the sails and now a wind came and the boat that was from his grandmother's crutch was blown out of the harbour and Feet-in-the-Ashes was left without any companion on the Island.

 

Robinson Crusoe Written Anew for Children  by James Baldwin

I Sow Some Grain

THE first wet season began about the middle of February and lasted till the middle April.

The first dry season began about the middle of April and lasted till the middle of August.

The second wet season began about the middle of August and lasted till the middle October.

The second dry season began about the middle of October and lasted till the middle of February.

I could not have kept track of these thing easily if it had not been for my calendar.

Just before the first rainy season began I was one day rummaging among the shelves in my cave.

There I found the little bag that I had brought from the ship with some barley in it, as I have already told you.

I lifted it; it was almost empty.

I looked inside. I saw nothing there but some dust and chaff. The rats had been there, and had eaten the grains of barley.

The bag would be useful for something else. I took it outside and shook the dust and chaff upon he ground. It was a sunny place, close by the great rock.

About a month after this, I saw that something green was starting to grow at that place. I wondered what it was. It could not be grass, for the stalks were larger and stronger.

I had forgotten about the barley. But I took care that nothing should break the stalks down.

They grew fast, and were soon as high as my waist. Then I was surprised to see ten or twelve heads of green barley come out.

You cannot think how glad I was. I remembered, then, how I had shaken the bag of dust and chaff over that very spot.

But there was another surprise for me. I noticed in the wet ground a little nearer the rock some other green plants. These were not so tall as the barley stalks, and they did not seem to be the same.

I watched them for several days. Then I saw that they were stalks of rice. No doubt some grains of rice had been in the bag with the barley, and had fallen out with the dust and chaff.

You may be sure that I took good care of the grain. As soon as the barley was ripe I harvested it. There was only a handful or two; but I put it away where no rats could get to it. I wished to keep it safe and plant it again the next season.

I did the same way with the rice.

There was so little to begin with that it took a long time to grow a big crop. It was not until the fourth harvest that I could keep some of the barley for bread.

I found that the best place to plant the grain was not on the hillside, but in a moist spot not far from my summer home.

One day, as soon as the wet season was at an end, I made a visit to the country to see how my crops were growing.

There I saw something that surprised me.

You will remember the fence that I built around my summer house, or bower as I called it. It was made of two rows of tall stakes, with brush between.

Well, I now found that the stakes were still green, and that long shoots or twigs were growing from them. Some of these branches were already two or three feet long.

This pleased me very much. I cut and trained the growing branches into just such shapes as I wished.

They grew very fast, and soon the whole fence was covered with green leaves. Then I trained the long branches toward the top of a pole which I set up in the center of my bower.

In a few months the whole inclosure was covered with a green roof.

You cannot think how beautiful it was. The place was shady and cool, the pleasantest spot one could wish to have.

I did not know what kind of tree it was that grew in this wonderful way. But I cut some more stakes of the same sort and carried them home to my castle.

I set these stakes in a double row, about twenty inches outside of my first wall. In a few weeks they began to grow. They grew so fast that in two years they covered the whole space in front of my castle.

They were not only handsome to look at, but they helped to protect my castle.

 

Sydney Dayre

Remorse

I killed a robin. The little thing, With scarlet breast and glossy wing, That comes on the apple tree to sing. I flung a stone as he twittered there, I only meant to give him a scare, But off it went—and hit him square. A little flutter—a little cry— Then on the ground I saw him lie, I did n't think he was going to die. But as I watched him I soon could see He never would sing for you or me Any more in the apple tree. Never more in the morning light, Never more in the sunshine bright, Trilling his song in gay delight. And I'm thinking every summer day, How never, never can I repay The little life I took away.

 

The Discovery of New Worlds  by M. B. Synge

The Hardy Northmen

"The sea is their school of war, and the storm their friend."

T HE great Charlemagne was still ruling wisely and well over his mighty province, when a trouble arose on the coasts destined to have far-reaching results.

Away in the far north of the country we now call Norway, Sweden, and Denmark lived a hardy rugged race known as the Northmen or Danes. They were closely connected with the Angles and Saxons who had set sail for Britain years before and overrun it in the days of King Arthur. Like the Greeks of old, these people had passed through an age of legend. They had worshipped their god Odin or Woden, from whom we get the day of the week called Wednesday; the god Thor, from whom we get Thursday; and the god Frigga, from whom we get Friday.

In appearance these Northmen were broad, deep-chested, tall men, with the fair hair and blue eyes of the Saxons. Dressed in long stockings, high shoes, shirts, loose drawers, and low hats, they carried in times of war long shields, axes, spears, and swords.

But the sea was the home of these people—Vikings, as they were often called, from the word vic,  meaning a bay or fiord. The stern climate and barren soil of their inhospitable northern home drove them forth over the stormy waters to get a livelihood by pillage and plunder. Their black ships, standing high above the water, prow and stern ending in the head and tail of some strange animal, struck terror into the hearts of all who saw them, as they swept over the stormy seas in search of plunder and pillage.

So much did they trouble Charlemagne that an old story tells us how he took the young children of the Northmen and slew all those who were taller than his sword. Another story says he was sitting one day in his palace near the sea-side, when from his window he saw the flash of Viking sails far out at sea.

"These are no merchants," he cried, rising from his seat.

He watched till the ships were out of sight, then shedding bitter tears, he added: "I am very sorrowful, for I see what woes these men will bring on my subjects."

Charlemagne was right: they were to become a terror to all, and to play a large part in the history of the world. Little did he dream that they would conquer a large part of his kingdom, to be called, after themselves, Normandy. Little did Alfred the Great, King of England, dream that these very Northmen should one day sweep over his country, and that from these Vikings of olden times the English race should spring. Not since the Phœnicians had there been such a sea-going race of men, fearless and free, with a spirit of daring and a love of adventure that neither Greeks nor Romans had ever possessed.

Wondrous are the stories of these old Viking heroes, who would set forth with a few followers to discover new lands, fight strange people, and return home with rich plunder to their bleak north country. They soon sailed over to the islands of Orkney and Shetland at the north of Scotland, and away beyond to Iceland, and beyond that again to Greenland.

Charlemagne saw the Viking sails.

After the death of Charlemagne in 814 the Northmen became bolder. They sailed up the large rivers, and actually laid siege to Paris. One of their leaders was called Rollo, and many are the stories told of this famous old Viking. So stout was he that no horse could carry him, and he had to walk everywhere. When quite young he left his home and sailed about the seas, leading the life of a pirate.

The King of Norway wished to stop these sea rovers and robbers, and made strict laws against them. Rollo broke all these, and he was exiled for life from his native land. He collected a band of wild young men like himself, and sailed away from the home he was never to see again. The company of adventurers landed in France, and the king went forth with his army to meet them.

"Why have you come to France?" he asked them.

"To conquer it," was the stout reply.

"Would you not rather do homage to the king?" was the next question.

"No," shouted the whole band as one man.

So a battle was fought, in which the French were beaten, and the Vikings marched victoriously to Rouen, where Rollo was chosen to be chief.

After a time Rollo planned an expedition into the heart of France, and the king was so much alarmed that he offered to give Rollo that northern part of France called Normandy—the land of the Northmen. And from this time a change came over the wild Viking. He divided the new land among his followers, in return for which they were to follow him to battle when he summoned them. He became a Christian and a good ruler. He adopted the language of the country, and after a time there was no need for the terror-stricken people of the north to sob out their despairing petition—

"From the fury of the Northmen, save us, Lord."

 

Nursery Tales from Many Lands  by Eleanor L. and Ada M. Skinner

The Wee Bannock

One day an old woman made two fine oatmeal cakes and put them before the fire to toast.

"What fine bannocks!" said her husband when he saw them. "There is nothing I like better than a good oatmeal bannock."

He picked up one of the cakes, broke it in two, and began to eat it. Then

Out of the door the other  cake ran, Crying out, "Catch me if you can!"

When the old woman saw the other wee bannock running away she ran after it, but she could not catch it.

Down the road and over the hill rolled the wee bannock, until it came to a cottage where a farmer's wife was churning. She was almost ready to take the butter from the churn. Her boy Jack stood near, watching. The door of the cottage stood wide open. Something rolled in and wheeled around the kitchen as fast as it could go.

"Look, mother! What's that?" cried Jack.

"A wee bannock, lad," she said. "Come, we'll catch it and eat it with butter for dinner."

Away they started after the little cake. Jack upset the churn and the buttermilk ran all over the room. Then

Out of the door the wee bannock ran, Crying out, "Catch me if you can!"

Down the road and across the fields rolled a wee bannock. Soon it came to a mill. The miller was filling a sack with meal, and his boy was waiting to take it to the village. The door of the mill stood open. Something rolled in and wheeled around the mill as fast as it could go.

"Look, lad, a wee bannock!"said the miller. "Come, we'll catch it for dinner."

Away they started after the little cake. Jamie upset the sack and the meal poured out on the floor of the mill. Then

Out of the door the wee bannock ran, Crying out, "Catch me if you can!"

Down the road and through the village rolled the wee bannock. Soon it came to a blacksmith's shop. The smith was shoeing a horse for the farmer. The door of the shop stood open. Something rolled in and wheeled around the floor as fast as it could go.

"Oh, look! What's that?" cried the farmer.

"A wee bannock, man," said the blacksmith. "Come, we'll catch it and have a fine lunch."

Away they started after the little cake. It rolled around the anvil and then hid behind some iron in one corner of the shop.

"We'll move every bit of the iron," said the blacksmith. As they did so something slipped out from the heap, and

Out of the door the wee bannock ran, Crying out, "Catch me if you can!"

Down the road and up the hill rolled the wee bannock. Soon it came to a shepherd's cottage. The shepherd's wife was making porridge for supper, and the shepherd was mending his crook. The door of the cottage stood open. Something rolled in and wheeled around the room as fast as it could go.

"Look! What's that?" cried the shepherd.

"A wee bannock," said his wife. "We'll catch it and eat it with our porridge."

Away they started after the little cake. It rolled under the table and stood by the wall.

"Pull it out with your crook," said his wife, "and I'll throw my spoon at it."

The shepherd reached under the table with his crook. But when the wife took her spoon out of the pot she upset the porridge. Then

Out of the door the wee bannock ran, Crying out, "Catch me if you can!"

Down the hill rolled the wee bannock.

"I've had a long, long run," it said. "I'll rest until to-morrow, for I'm very tired. I'll sleep behind those bushes by the brook." And away it rolled.

What is this coming over the field?" said a sly fox who was under the bushes. "A wee bannock! A fine supper for me!"

He lay very still. The wee bannock rolled slowly toward the bushes. Snap! Down the fox's throat it went, and it hadn't time to cry out, "Catch me if you can!"

Scotch Nursery Tale

 

Walter de la Mare

Will Ever?

Will he ever be weary of wandering, The flaming sun? Ever weary of waning in lovelight, The white still moon? Will ever a shepherd come With a crook of simple gold, And lead all the little stars Like lambs to the fold? Will ever the Wanderer sail From over the sea, Up the river of water, To the stones to me? Will he take us all into his ship, Dreaming, and waft us far, To where in the clouds of the West, The Islands are?

 

Understood Betsy  by Dorothy Canfield Fisher

Betsy Starts a Sewing Society

Part 3 of 3

They had forgotten again that she was there, and turned around quickly to stare at her. Nobody could think of any answer to her very queer question. It had not occurred to any one that there could be  such a question.

Cousin Ann shifted her ground and asked another: "Why did you make these clothes, anyhow?"

They stared again, speechless. Why did she ask that? She knew why.

Finally little Molly said, in her honest, baby way, "Why, you  know why, Miss Ann! So 'Lias Brewster will look nice, and Mr. Pond will maybe adopt him."

"Well," said Cousin Ann, "what has that got to do with 'Lias knowing who did it?"

"Why, he wouldn't know who to be grateful to," cried Betsy.

"Oh," said Cousin Ann. "Oh, I see. You didn't do it to help 'Lias. You did it to have him grateful to you. I see. Molly is such a little girl, it's no wonder she didn't really take in what you girls were up to." She nodded her head wisely, as though now she understood.

But if she did, little Molly certainly did not. She had not the least idea what everybody was talking about. She looked from one sober, downcast face to another rather anxiously. What was the matter?

Apparently nothing was really the matter, she decided, for after a minute's silence Miss Ann got up with entirely her usual face of cheerful gravity, and said: "Don't you think you little girls ought to top off this last afternoon with a tea-party? There's a new batch of cookies, and you can make yourselves some lemonade if you want to."

They had these refreshments out on the porch, in the sunshine, with their dolls for guests and a great deal of chatter for sauce. Nobody said another word about how to give the clothes to 'Lias, till, just as the girls were going away, Betsy said, walking along with the two older ones, "Say, don't you think it'd be fun to go some evening after dark and leave the clothes on 'Lias's doorstep, and knock and run away quick before anybody comes to the door?" She spoke in an uncertain voice and smoothed Deborah's carved wooden curls.

"Yes, I do!" said Ellen, not looking at Betsy but down at the weeds by the road. "I think it would be lots of fun!"

Little Molly, playing with Annie and Eliza, did not hear this; but she was allowed to go with the older girls on the great expedition.

It was a warm, dark evening in late May, with the frogs piping their sweet, high note, and the first of the fireflies wheeling over the wet meadows near the tumble-down house where 'Lias lived. The girls took turns in carrying the big paper-wrapped bundle, and stole along in the shadow of the trees, full of excitement, looking over their shoulders at nothing and pressing their hands over their mouths to keep back the giggles. There was, of course, no reason on earth why they should giggle, which is, of course, the very reason why they did. If you've ever been a little girl you know about that.

One window of the small house was dimly lighted, they found, when they came in sight of it, and they thrilled with excitement and joyful alarm. Suppose 'Lias's dreadful stepfather should come out and yell at them! They came forward on tiptoe, making a great deal of noise by stepping on twigs, rustling bushes, crackling gravel under their feet and doing all the other things that make such a noise at night and never do in the daytime. But nobody stirred inside the room with the lighted window. They crept forward and peeped cautiously inside . . . and stopped giggling. The dim light coming from the little kerosene lamp with a smoky chimney fell on a dismal, cluttered room, a bare, greasy wooden table, and two broken-backed chairs, with little 'Lias in one of them. He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms, his pinched, dirty, sad little figure showing in the light from the lamp. His feet dangled high above the floor in their broken, muddy shoes. One sleeve was torn to the shoulder. A piece of dry bread had slipped from his bony little hand and a tin dipper stood beside him on the bare table. Nobody else was in the room, nor evidently in the darkened, empty, fireless house.

He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms.

As long as she lives Betsy will never forget what she saw that night through that window. Her eyes grew very hot and her hands very cold. Her heart thumped hard. She reached for little Molly and gave her a great hug in the darkness. Suppose it were little Molly asleep there, all alone in the dirty, dismal house, with no supper and nobody to put her to bed. She found that Ellen, next her, was crying quietly into the corner of her apron.

Nobody said a word. Stashie, who had the bundle, walked around soberly to the front door, put it down, and knocked loudly. They all darted away noiselessly to the road, to the shadow of the trees, and waited until the door opened. A square of yellow light appeared, with 'Lias's figure, very small, at the bottom of it. They saw him stoop and pick up the bundle and go back into the house. Then they went quickly and silently back, separating at the cross-roads with no good-night greetings.

Molly and Betsy began to climb the hill to Putney Farm. It was a very warm night for May, and little Molly began to puff for breath. "Let's sit down on this rock awhile and rest," she said.

They were half-way up the hill now. From the rock they could see the lights in the farmhouses scattered along the valley road and on the side of the mountain opposite them, like big stars fallen from the multitude above. Betsy lay down on the rock and looked up at the stars. After a silence little Molly's chirping voice said, "Oh, I thought you said we were going to march up to 'Lias in school and give him his clothes. Did you forget about that?"

Betsy gave a wriggle of shame as she remembered that plan. "No, we didn't forget it," she said. "We thought this would be a better way."

"But how'll 'Lias know who to thank?" asked Molly.

"That's no matter," said Betsy. Yes, it was Elizabeth-Ann-that-was who said that. And meant it, too. She was not even thinking of what she was saying. Between her and the stars, thick over her in the black, soft sky, she saw again that dirty, disordered room and the little boy, all alone, asleep with a piece of dry bread in his bony little fingers.

She looked hard and long at that picture, all the time seeing the quiet stars through it. And then she turned over and hid her face on the rock. She had said her "Now I lay me" every night since she could remember, but she had never prayed till she lay there with her face on the rock, saying over and over, "Oh, God, please, please, please  make Mr. Pond adopt 'Lias."

 

The Adventures of Prickly Porky  by Thornton Burgess

Sammy Jay Delivers His Message

S AMMY JAY has been the bearer of so many messages that no one knows better than he how to deliver one. He knows when to be polite, and no one can be more polite than he. First he went over to the home of Reddy and Granny Fox and invited them to come over to the hill where Prickly Porky lives and see the terrible creature which had frightened them so give Old Man Coyote a scare. Both Reddy and Granny promptly said they would do nothing of the kind, that probably Sammy was engaged in some kind of mischief, and that anyway they knew that there was no such creature without head, legs, or tail, and though they had been fooled once, they didn't propose to be fooled again.

"All right," replied Sammy, quite as if it made no difference to him. "You admit that smart as you are you were fooled, and we thought you might like to see the same thing happen to Old Man Coyote."

With this he flew on his way to the Green Meadows to look for Old Man Coyote, and as he flew he chuckled to himself. "They'll be there," he muttered. "I know them well enough to know that nothing would keep them away when there is a chance to see some one else frightened, especially Old Man Coyote. They'll try to keep out of sight, but they'll be there."

Sammy found Old Man Coyote taking a sun-bath. "Good morning, Mr. Coyote. I hope you are feeling well," said Sammy in his politest manner.

"Fairly, fairly, thank you," replied Old Man Coyote, all the time watching Sammy sharply out of the corners of his shrewd eyes. "What's the news in the Green Forest?"

"There isn't any, that is, none to amount to anything," declared Sammy. "I never did see such a dull summer. Is there any news down here on the Green Meadows? I hear Danny Meadow Mouse has found his lost baby."

"So I hear," replied Old Man Coyote. "I tried to find it for him. You know I believe in being neighborly."

Sammy grinned, for as he said this, Old Man Coyote had winked one eye ever so little, and Sammy knew very well that if he had found that lost baby, Danny Meadow Mouse would never have seen him again. "By the way," said Sammy in the most matter-of-fact tone, "as I was coming through the Green Forest, I saw Peter Rabbit over on the hill where Prickly Porky lives, and Peter seems to have been in some kind of trouble. He was so lame that he said he didn't dare try to go home to the Old Briar-patch for fear that he might meet some one looking for a Rabbit dinner, and he knew that, feeling as he did, he wouldn't be able to save himself. Peter is going to come to a bad end some day if he doesn't watch out."

"That depends on what you call a bad end," replied Old Man Coyote with a sly grin. "It might be bad for Peter and at the same time be very good for some one else."

Sammy laughed right out. "That's one way of looking at it," said he. "Well, I should hate to have anything happen to Peter, because I have lots of fun quarreling with him and should miss him dreadfully. I think I'll go up to the Old Orchard and see what is going on there."

Off flew Sammy in the direction of the Old Orchard, and once more he chuckled as he flew. He had seen Old Man Coyote's ears prick up ever so little when he had mentioned that Peter was over in the Green Forest so lame that he didn't dare go home. "Old Man Coyote will start for the Green Forest as soon as I am out of sight," thought Sammy. And that is just what Old Man Coyote did.

 

Anonymous

The Light-Hearted Fairy

Oh, who is so merry, so merry, heigh ho! As the light-hearted fairy, heigh ho, Heigh ho! He dances and sings To the sound of his wings, With a hey, and a heigh, and a ho! Oh, who is so merry, so airy, heigh ho! As the light-headed fairy, heigh ho, Heigh ho! His nectar he sips From the primroses' lips, With a hey, and a heigh, and a ho! Oh, who is so merry, so merry, heigh ho! As the light-footed fairy, heigh ho, Heigh ho! His night is the noon, And his sun is the moon, With a hey, and a heigh, and a ho!

 

Hurlbut's Story of the Bible  by Jesse Lyman Hurlbut

How the Idol Fell Down before the Ark

1 Samuel iv: 1, to vii: 1.

HILE the old priest Eli was still the judge, though he was now very feeble, the Philistines came up against Israel from the plain beside the sea. A battle was fought, and many of the Israelites were slain. Then the chiefs of the people said:

"We have been beaten in the battle, because the Lord was not with us. Let us take with us against our enemies the ark of the covenant from the Tabernacle, and then the Lord will be among us."

So they went to Shiloh, and they took out from the Holy of Holies in the Tabernacle (see Story 27) the ark of the covenant, and the two sons of Eli the priest went with the ark to care for it. When the ark was brought into the camp of the Israelites all the men of war gave a great shout, so that the earth rang with the sound.

And when the Philistines heard the shouting they wondered what caused it, and some one told them that it was because the God of the Israelites had come into their camp. The Philistines were afraid, and they said to each other:

"Woe unto us, for such a thing as this has never been seen! Who shall save us from this great God who sent plagues on the Egyptians? Let us be bold, and act like men, and fight, so that we may not be made servants to the Israelites, as they have been to us!"

The next day there was a great battle. The Philistines overcame the Israelites and slew thousands of them. They killed the two sons of Eli, and they took the ark of the Lord away with them into their own land.

On the day of the battle Eli, old and blind, was sitting beside the door of the Tabernacle, his heart trembling for the ark of the Lord. A man came from the army running, with his garments torn, and with earth on his head as a sign of sorrow. As the man came near the city and brought the news of the battle a great cry rose up from the people. When Eli heard the noise he said:

"What does this noise mean? What has happened?"

The man came before Eli, and said:

"I have just come from the army. There has been a great battle. Israel has fled before the Philistines, and very many of the people have been killed. Your two sons are dead, and the ark of God has been taken by the enemy."

When the old man heard this last word, that the ark of God was taken, he fell backward from his seat and dropped dead upon the ground. And all the land mourned and wept over the loss of the ark more than over the victory of the Philistines.

The Philistines took the ark of God down to Ashdod, one of their chief cities. They set it in the temple of Dagon, their fish-headed idol. The next morning, when they came into the temple, the image of Dagon was lying upon its face before the ark of the Lord. They stood the image up again; but on the next morning, not only was Dagon fallen down before the ark, but the hands and the head of Dagon had been cut off and were lying on the floor.

Besides all this, in the city of Ashdod, where the ark had been taken, all the people began to have boils and sores. They saw in this the hand of the God of Israel, and they sent the ark to Gath, another of their cities. There, too, the people broke out with boils and sores. They sent the ark to Ekron, but the people of that city said:

"We will not have the ark of God among us. Send it back to its own land, or we shall all die."

Then the rulers of the Philistines resolved to send back the ark of God into the land of Israel. They placed it upon a wagon, and before the wagon they yoked two cows. The cows had calves, but they tied the calves at home, in order to find whether the cows would go home to their calves or would take the ark away. But the cows took the road which led away from their own calves, straight up the hills toward the land of Israel, and they turned neither to the right hand nor the left.

The cows drew the ark up to the village of Beth-shemesh, where the people were reaping their wheat harvest on the hillsides. They saw the ark, and were glad. The cows stopped beside a great stone in the field. Then the men of Beth-shemesh cut up the wagon, and with it made a fire, and on the stone as an altar offered the two cows as an offering to the Lord.

But the men of Beth-shemesh opened the ark and looked into it. This was contrary to God's command, for none but the priests were allowed to touch the ark. God sent a plague upon the people of that place, and many of them died, because they did not deal reverently with the ark of God.

They were filled with fear and sent to the men of Kirjath-jearim, asking them to take the ark away. They did so, and for twenty years the ark stood in the house of a man named Abinadab in Kirjath-jearim.

They did not take the ark back to Shiloh, for after the death of Eli the place was deserted, the Tabernacle fell into ruins, and no man lived there again.

 

The Boxcar Children  by Gertrude Chandler Warner

Housekeeping

T HE next morning Jess was up before the others, as was fitting for a little housekeeper. That is, she was first if we except the dog, who had opened one eye instantly every time his little mistress stirred in her sleep. He sat watching gravely in the door of the car as Jess descended to get breakfast. She walked from the little waterfall quite a distance down the brook, looking at it with critical eyes.

"This will be the well," she said to herself, regarding a small but deep and quiet basin just below the falls. Below that she found a larger basin, lined with gravel, with flat stones surrounding it.

"This will be the washtub," she decided. "And now I must go back to the refrigerator." This was the strangest spot of all, for behind the little waterfall was a small quiet pool in which Jess had set the milk bottles the night before. Not a drop of water could get in, but all night long the cool running water had surrounded the bottles. They were now fairly icy to the touch. Jess smiled as she drew them out.

"Is it good?" asked Benny's voice. There he sat in the door of the car, swinging his legs, his arm around the shaggy dog.

"It's delicious!" declared Jess. "Cold as ice." She climbed up beside him as she spoke, bringing the breakfast with her. The other two children sat up and looked at it.

"Today, Jess," began Henry, "I will go back to town and try to get a job mowing lawns or something. Then we can afford to have something besides milk for breakfast."

Milk suited Benny very well, however, so the older children allowed him to drink rather more than his share. Henry did not waste any time talking. He brushed his hair as well as he could without a brush, rolled down his sleeves, and started for town with the second dollar.

"Glad you've got a dog, Jess," he called back, as he waved his straw hat.

The children watched him disappear around the curve and then turned to Jess expectantly. They were not mistaken. Jess had a plan.

"We'll explore," she began mysteriously. "We'll begin here at the car, and hunt all over these woods until we find a dump!"

"What's a dump?" inquired Benny.

"O Benny!" answered Violet. "You know what a dump is. All old bottles and papers and broken dishes."

"And wheels?" asked Benny interestedly. "Will there be any old wheels?"

"Yes, maybe," assented Violet. "But cups, Benny! Think of drinking milk out of a cup again!"

"Oh, yes," said Benny, politely. But it was clear that his mind was centered on wheels rather than cups.

The exploring party started slowly down the rusty track, with the dog hopping happily on three legs. The fourth paw, nicely bandaged with Jess' handkerchief, he held up out of harm's way.

"I think this is a spur track," said Jess. "They built it in here so they could load wood on the cars, and then when they had cut all the wood they didn't need the track any more."

This explanation seemed very likely, for here and there were stumps of trees and decaying chips. Violet took note of these chips, and remembered them some days later. In fact, both girls kept their eyes open, and pointed out things of interest to each other.

"Remember these logs, Violet, if we should ever need any," said Jess pointing.

"Blackberry blossoms!" returned Violet briefly, turning one over gently with her foot.

"Big flat stones!" remarked Jess, later on, as they came upon a great heap of them.

Here the track came out into the open sunshine, and broken pieces of rail showed clearly where it had joined the main track at some time in the past. And here from the top of the wooded hill the children could plainly see the city in the valley. They walked along the track, picking out a church steeple here and there, forgetting for a moment the object of their search.

"There's a wheel!" Benny cried triumphantly from behind.

The girls looked down, and with a glad cry of surprise Jess recognized a dump at the foot of the hill. They found it not composed entirely of ashes and tin cans, either, although both of these were there in great profusion. It was a royal dump, containing both cups and wheels.

"O Benny!" cried Jess, "if it hadn't been for you!" She hugged him, wheel and all, and began turning over the rubbish with great delight.

"Here's a white pitcher, Jess," Violet called, holding up a perfect specimen with a tiny chip in its nose.

"Here's a big white cup," said Jess delightedly, laying it aside.

"Want a teapot, Jessy?" inquired Benny, offering her an enormous blue enameled affair without a handle.

"Yes, indeed!"  cried Jess. "We can use that for water. I've found two cups and a bowl already. And Violet, we ought to be looking for spoons, too."

Violet pointed without speaking to her little pile of treasures. There were five iron spoons covered with rust.

"Wonderful!" pronounced Jess with rapture. Indeed, it is doubtful if collectors of rare and beautiful bits of porcelain ever enjoyed a search as much as did these adventurers in the dump heap.

Benny actually found four wheels, exactly alike, probably from the same cart, and insisted upon carrying them back. To please him, Jess allowed him to add them to the growing pile.

"Here's a big iron kettle," observed Violet. "But we won't really cook with a fire, will we, Jess?"

"We'll take it back, though," replied Jess with a knowing look. "We can pile lots of dishes in it."

They could, and did, but not until after Benny had discovered his beloved "pink cup." It was a tea-party cup of bright rose-color with a wreath of gorgeous roses on it, and a little shepherdess giving her lamb a drink from a pale blue brook. It had a perfectly good handle, gold into the bargain. Its only flaw was a dangerous crack through the lamb's nose and front feet. Jess made a cushion for it out of grass and laid it on top of the kettle full of treasures. All the things, even the wheels, were laid on a wide board which the two girls carried between them.

Benny discovered his beloved "pink cup"

Can you imagine the dishwashing when the gay party returned to the freight car? Children do not usually care for dishwashing. But never did a little boy hand dishes to his sister so carefully as Benny did. On their hands and knees beside the clear, cool little "washtub," the three children soaped and rinsed and dried their precious store of dishes. Jess scoured the rust from the spoons with sand. "There!" she said, drying the last polished spoon. The children sat back and looked admiringly at their own handiwork. But they did not look long. There was too much to be done.

"Jess," exclaimed Violet, "I'll tell you!" Violet seldom spoke so excitedly. Even Benny turned around and looked at her.

"Come and see what I noticed inside the car last night!"

Both children followed her, and peered in at the door.

"See, on the wall, right over on the other door, Jess." Now, all Jess could see were two thick chunks of wood nailed securely to the closed door opposite the open one. But she whirled around and around as fast as she could, clapping her hands. When she could get her breath, however, she skipped over to the board they had carried, dusted it nicely, and laid it carefully across the two wooden projections. It was a perfect shelf.

"There!" said Jess.

The children could hardly wait to arrange the shining new dishes on the shelf. Violet quietly gathered some feathery white flowers, a daisy or two, and some maidenhair ferns, which she arranged in a glass vase filled with water from the "well." This she put in the middle, with the broken edge hidden.

"There!" said Jess.

"You said 'there' three times, Jessy," remarked Benny, contentedly.

"So I did," replied Jess laughing, "but I'm going to say it again." She pointed and said, "There!"

Henry was coming up the path.

 

Robert Louis Stevenson

Foreign Lands

Up into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the trunk with both my hands And looked abroad on foreign lands. I saw the next door garden lie, Adorned with flowers, before my eye, And many pleasant places more That I had never seen before. I saw the dimpling river pass And be the sky's blue looking-glass; The dusty roads go up and down With people tramping in to town. If I could find a higher tree Farther and farther I should see, To where the grown-up river slips Into the sea among the ships, To where the roads on either hand Lead onward into fairy land, Where all the children dine at five, And all the playthings come alive.