Pinocchio  by Carlo Collodi

What Pinocchio Finds in the Dog-Fish

P INOCCHIO, having taken leave of his friend the Tunny, began to grope his way in the dark through the body of the Dog-fish, taking a step at a time in the direction of the light that he saw shining dimly at a great distance.

The farther he advanced the brighter became the light; and he walked and walked until at last he reached it: and when he reached it . . . what did he find? I will give you a thousand guesses. He found a little table spread out, and on it a lighted candle stuck into a green glass bottle, and seated at the table was a little old man. He was eating some live fish, and they were so very much alive that whilst he was eating them they sometimes even jumped out of his mouth.

At this sight Pinocchio was filled with such great and unexpected joy that he became almost delirious. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to say a thousand things, and instead he could only stammer out a few confused and broken words. At last he succeeded in uttering a cry of joy, and opening his arms he threw them round the little old man's neck, and began to shout:

"Oh, my dear papa! I have found you at last! I will never leave you more, never more, never more!"

"Oh, my dear papa! I have found you at last!"

"Then my eyes tell me true?" said the little old man, rubbing his eyes; "then you are really my dear Pinocchio?"

"Yes, yes, I am Pinocchio, really Pinocchio! And you have quite forgiven me, have you not? Oh, my dear papa, how good you are! . . . and to think that I, on the contrary . . . Oh! but if you only knew what misfortunes have been poured on my head, and all that has befallen me! Only imagine, the day that you, poor dear papa, sold your coat to buy me a Spelling-book that I might go to school, I escaped to see the puppet-show, and the showman wanted to put me on the fire that I might roast his mutton, and he was the same that afterwards gave me five gold pieces to take them to you, but I met the Fox and the Cat, who took me to the inn of the Red Craw-fish, where they ate like wolves, and I left by myself in the middle of the night, and I encountered assassins who ran after me, and I ran away, and they followed, and I ran, and they always followed me, and I ran, until they hung me to a branch of a Big Oak, and the beautiful Child with blue hair sent a little carriage to fetch me, and the doctors when they had seen me said immediately, 'If he is not dead, it is a proof that he is still alive'—and then by chance I told a lie, and my nose began to grow until I could no longer get through the door of the room, for which reason I went with the Fox and the Cat to bury the four gold pieces, for one I had spent at the inn, and the Parrot began to laugh, and instead of two thousand gold pieces I found none left, for which reason the judge when he heard that I had been robbed had me immediately put in prison to content the robbers, and then when I was coming away I saw a beautiful bunch of grapes in a field, and I was caught in a trap, and the peasant, who was quite right, put a dog-collar round my neck that I might guard the poultry-yard, and acknowledging my innocence let me go, and the Serpent with the smoking tail began to laugh and broke a blood-vessel in his chest, and so I returned to the house of the beautiful Child who was dead, and the Pigeon, seeing that I was crying, said to me, 'I have seen your father who was building a little boat to go in search of you,' and I said to him, 'Oh! if I had also wings,' and he said to me, 'Do you want to go to your father?' and I said, 'Without doubt! but who will take me to him?' and he said to me, 'I will take you,' and I said to him, 'How?' and he said to me, 'Get on my back,' and so we flew all night, and then in the morning all the fishermen who were looking out to sea said to me, 'There is a poor man in a boat who is on the point of being drowned,' and I recognised you at once, even at that distance, for my heart told me, and I made signs to you to return to land . . ."

"I also recognised you," said Geppetto, "and I would willingly have returned to the shore: but what was I to do! The sea was tremendous, and a great wave upset my boat. Then a horrible Dog-fish who was near, as soon as he saw me in the water, came towards me, and putting out his tongue took hold of me, and swallowed me as if I had been a little Bologna tart."

"And how long have you been shut up here?" asked Pinocchio.

"Since that day—it must be nearly two years ago: two years, my dear Pinocchio, that have seemed to me like two centuries!"

"And how have you managed to live? And where did you get the candle? And the matches to light it? Who gave them to you?"

"Stop, and I will tell you everything. You must know, then, that in the same storm in which my boat was upset a merchant vessel foundered. The sailors were all saved, but the vessel went to the bottom, and the Dog-fish, who had that day an excellent appetite, after he had swallowed me, swallowed also the vessel . . ."

"How?"

"He swallowed it in one mouthful, and the only thing that he spat out was the mainmast, that had stuck between his teeth like a fish-bone. Fortunately for me the vessel was laden with preserved meat in tins, biscuit, bottles of wine, dried raisins, cheese, coffee, sugar, candles, and boxes of wax matches. With this providential supply I have been able to live for two years. But I have arrived at the end of my resources: there is nothing left in the larder, and this candle that you see burning is the last that remains . . ."

"And after that?"

"After that, dear boy, we shall both remain in the dark."

"Then, dear little papa," said Pinocchio, "there is no time to lose. We must think of escaping . . ."

"Of escaping? . . . and how?"

"We must escape through the mouth of the Dog-fish, throw ourselves into the sea and swim away."

"You talk well: but, dear Pinocchio, I don't know how to swim."

"What does that matter? . . . I am a good swimmer, and you can get on my shoulders and I will carry you safely to shore."

"All illusions, my boy!" replied Geppetto, shaking his head, with a melancholy smile. "Do you suppose it possible that a puppet like you, scarcely a metre high, could have the strength to swim with me on his shoulders!"

"Try it and you will see!"

Without another word Pinocchio took the candle in his hand, and going in front to light the way, he said to his father:

"Follow me, and don't be afraid."

And they walked for some time and traversed the body and the stomach of the Dog-fish. But when they had arrived at the point where the monster's big throat began, they thought it better to stop to give a good look round and to choose the best moment for escaping.

Now I must tell you that the Dog-fish, being very old, and suffering from asthma and palpitation of the heart, was obliged to sleep with his mouth open. Pinocchio, therefore, having approached the entrance to his throat and, looking up, could see beyond the enormous gaping mouth a large piece of starry sky and beautiful moonlight.

"This is the moment to escape," he whispered, turning to his father; "the Dog-fish is sleeping like a dormouse, the sea is calm, and it is as light as day. Follow me, dear papa, and in a short time we shall be in safety."

They immediately climbed up the throat of the sea-monster, and having reached his immense mouth they began to walk on tiptoe down his tongue.

Before taking the final leap the puppet said to his father:

"Get on my shoulders and put your arms tight round my neck. I will take care of the rest."

As soon as Geppetto was firmly settled on his son's shoulders, Pinocchio, feeling sure of himself, threw himself into the water and began to swim. The sea was as smooth as oil, the moon shone brilliantly, and the Dog-fish was sleeping so profoundly that even a cannonade would have failed to wake him.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

Captain Smith Gains Authority

There was but little idle talk made by the members of the Council in deciding that Master Wingfield should be deprived of his office, and Master Ratcliffe set in his place.

Captain Smith was called upon to take his proper position in the government, and, what was more, to him they gave the direction of all matters outside the town, which was much the same as putting him in authority over even the President himself.

It was greatly to my pleasure that Captain Smith lost no time in exercising the power which had been given him. Nor was he at all gentle in dealing with those men who disdained to soil their hands by working, yet were willing to spend one day, and every day, searching for gold, without raising a finger toward adding to the general store, but at the same time claiming the right to have so much of food as would not only satisfy their hunger, but minister to their gluttony.

Nathaniel and I heard our master talking over the matter with the preacher, on the night the Council had given him full charge of everything save the dealings which might be had later with the London Company, therefore it was that we knew there would be different doings on the morrow.

Greatly did we rejoice thereat, for Jamestown had become as slovenly and ill-kempt a village as ever the sun shone upon.

Now it must be set down that these gentlemen of ours, when not searching for gold, were wont to play at bowls in the lanes and paths, that they might have amusement while the others were working, and woe betide the serving man or laborer, who by accident interfered with their sports.

On this day, after the conversation with Master Hunt, all was changed. Captain Smith began his duties as guardian and director of the village by causing it to be proclaimed through the mouth of Nicholas Skot, our drummer, that there would be no more playing at bowls in the streets of Jamestown while it was necessary that very much work should be performed, and this spoken notice also stated, that whosoever dared to disobey the command should straightway be clapped into the stocks.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

Disagreeable Measures of Discipline

Lest there should be any question as to whether my master intended to carry out this threat or no, William Laxon, one of the carpenters, was forthwith set to work building stocks in front of the tent where lived Master Ratcliffe, the new President of the Council. Nor was this the only change disagreeable to our gentlemen, which Captain Smith brought about. No sooner had Nicholas Skot proclaimed the order that whosoever played at bowls should be set in the stocks, than he was commanded to turn about and announce with all the strength of his lungs, so that every one in the village might hear and understand, that those who would not work should not have whatsoever to eat.

Verily this was a hard blow to the gentlemen of our company, who prided themselves upon never having done with their hands that which was useful.

One would have thought my master had made this rule for his own particular pleasure, for straightway those of the gentlemen who could least hold their tempers in check, gathered in the tent which Master Wingfield had taken for his own, and there agreed among themselves that if Captain Smith persisted in such brutal rule, they would overturn all the authority in the town, and end by setting the Captain himself in the stocks which William Laxon was then making.

It so chanced that Master Hunt overheard these threats at the time they were made, and, like a true friend and good citizen, reported the same to Captain Smith.

Whereupon my master chose a certain number from among those of the gentlemen who had become convinced that sharp measures were necessary if we of Jamestown would live throughout the winter, commanding that they make careful search of every tent, cave, hut or house in the village, taking therefrom all that was eatable, and storing it in the log house which had been put up for the common use.

Then he appointed Kellam Throgmorton, a gentleman who was well able to hold his own against any who might attempt to oppose him, to the office of guardian of the food, giving strict orders that nothing whatsoever which could be eaten, should be given to those who did not present good proof of having done a full day's labor.

Of course the people who lay sick were excused from such order, and Master Hunt was chosen to make up a list of those who must be fed, yet who were not able to work by reason of illness.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

Signs of Rebellion

Now it can well be understood that such measures as these caused no little in the way of rebellion, and during the two hours Nicholas Skot cried the proclamation through the streets and lanes of the village, the gentlemen who had determined to resist Captain Smith were in a fine state of ferment.

It was as if a company of crazy men had been suddenly let loose among us. Not content with plotting secretly against my master, they must needs swagger about, advising others to join them in their rebellion, and everywhere could be heard oaths and threats, in such language as was like to cause honest men's hair to stand on end.

For a short time Nathaniel Peacock and I actually trembled with fear, believing the house of logs would be pulled down over our heads, for no less than a dozen of the so called gentlemen were raging and storming outside; but disturbing Captain Smith not one whit. He sat there, furbishing his matchlock as if having nothing better with which to occupy the time; but, as can well be fancied, drinking in every word of mutiny which was uttered.

Then, as if he would saunter out for a stroll, the captain left the house, which was much the same as inviting these disorderly ones to attack him; but they lacked the courage, for he went to the fort without being molested.

 

Anonymous

My Lady Wind

My Lady Wind is very tall, As tall as she can be; Her hands can shake the tallest bough Upon the tallest tree, And even reach up to the sky, And twirl the clouds about, And rattle them for thundering, And shake the raindrops out. And yet so light, so light she steps Upon the flowers and grass, They only need to bow their heads To let my lady pass. You cannot see my Lady Wind, Though you can hear her plain, And watch her tread the clovers down That rise so quick again. And I know just how she would look, So tall and full of grace, With bright hair streaming out behind, And such a lovely face! My Lady Wind is grand and strong, And yet so full of glee, She almost says, "My little maid, Come, have a race with me."

 

Fifty Famous Stories Retold  by James Baldwin

Diogenes the Wise Man

A T Cor-inth, in Greece, there lived a very wise man whose name was Di-og´enes. Men came from all parts of the land to see him and hear him talk.

But wise as he was, he had some very queer ways. He did not believe that any man ought to have more things than he re-al-ly needed; and he said that no man needed much. And so he did not live in a house, but slept in a tub or barrel, which he rolled about from place to place. He spent his days sitting in the sun, and saying wise things to those who were around him.

At noon one day, Di-og-e-nes was seen walking through the streets with a lighted lantern, and looking all around as if in search of something.

"Why do you carry a lantern when the sun is shining?" some one said.

"I am looking for an honest man," answered Diogenes.

When Alexander the Great went to Cor-inth, all the fore-most men in the city came out to see him and to praise him. But Diogenes did not come; and he was the only man for whose o-pin-ions Alexander cared.

And so, since the wise man wonld not come to see the king, the king went to see the wise man. He found Diogenes in an out-of-the-way place, lying on the ground by his tub. He was en-joy-ing the heat and the light of the sun.

Diogenes and Alexander

When he saw the king and a great many people coming, he sat up and looked at Alexander. Alexander greeted him and said,—

"Diogenes, I have heard a great deal about your wisdom. Is there anything that I can do for you?"

"Yes," said Diogenes. "You can stand a little on one side, so as not to keep the sunshine from me."

This answer was so dif-fer-ent from what he expected, that the king was much sur-prised. But it did not make him angry; it only made him admire the strange man all the more. When he turned to ride back, he said to his officers,—

"Say what you will; if I were not Alexander, I would like to be Diogenes."

 

Outdoor Visits  by Edith M. Patch

Box Turtle

Box Turtle was a good name for him. He could keep his shell open or shut, somewhat like a box.

When he was scared he shut his shell and that was one way to hide.

There was a hinge in his under shell. The front end could move up to the front of his top shell. And the back end could move up to the back of his top shell. So his head and his tail and his four legs were all inside his shut shell.

The top shell was brown with yellow spots on it. The under shell was almost black and its yellow spots were bigger.

Box Turtle did not live in the water. He liked to walk on land.

When he walked, his shell was open so he could move his legs.

He put out his head and looked with his bright red eyes.

When Box Turtle was hungry he went to hunt for his food. He had many pleasant picnics.

He often caught young insects that had no wings and could not fly away. They were good meat for his dinner.

This turtle liked sweet food very much. But his head was too big to put into flowers. He could not drink nectar like a bee or a butterfly or a hummingbird.

Box Turtle had another way to get nectar. When he found some good clover blossoms he ate them. That was the way he could get the nectar that was inside the flower.

Don and Nan liked sweet food, too. When the blackberries were ripe they both went to pick some.

While they were near the bushes they saw Box Turtle. He picked berries that were near the ground. Some juice ran out of his mouth and changed the color of his face.

Nan asked, "Shall we leave all the low berries for the turtle?"

"Yes," said Don. "We will pick the berries that are too high for him to reach. We can leave the others for him. Then he can have some fun, too."

Box Turtle ate and ate and grew so fat he could not shut his shell!

 

Christina Georgina Rossetti

What Does the Bee Do?

What does the bee do? Bring home honey. And what does Father do? Bring home money. And what does Mother do? Lay out the money. And what does baby do? Eat up the honey.

 

The Burgess Bird Book for Children  by Thornton Burgess

Peter Sees Rosebreast and Finds Redcoat

"W HO'S that?" Peter Rabbit pricked up his long ears and stared up at the tops of the trees of the Old Orchard.

Instantly Jenny Wren popped her head out of her doorway. She cocked her head on one side to listen, then looked down at Peter, and her sharp little eyes snapped.

"I don't hear any strange voice," said she. "The way you are staring, Peter Rabbit, one would think that you had really heard something new and worth while."

Just then there were two or three rather sharp, squeaky notes from the top of one of the trees. "There!" cried Peter. "There! Didn't you hear that, Jenny Wren?"

"For goodness' sake, Peter Rabbit, you don't mean to say you don't know whose voice that is," she cried. "That's Rosebreast. He and Mrs. Rosebreast have been here for quite a little while. I didn't suppose there was any one who didn't know those sharp, squeaky voices. They rather get on my nerves. What anybody wants to squeak like that for when they can sing as Rosebreast can, is more than I can understand."

At that very instant Mr. Wren began to scold as only he and Jenny can. Peter looked up at Jenny and winked slyly. "And what anybody wants to scold like that for when they can sing as Mr. Wren can, is too much for me," retorted Peter. "But you haven't told me who Rosebreast is."

"The Grosbeak, of course, stupid," sputtered Jenny. "If you don't know Rosebreast the Grosbeak, Peter Rabbit, you certainly must have been blind and deaf ever since you were born. Listen to that! Just listen to that song!"

Peter listened. There were many songs, for it was a very beautiful morning and all the singers of the Old Orchard were pouring out the joy that was within them. One song was a little louder and clearer than the others because it came from a tree very close at hand, the very tree from which those squeaky notes had come just a few minutes before. Peter suspected that that must be the song Jenny Wren meant. He looked puzzled. He was puzzled. "Do you mean Welcome Robin's song?" he asked rather sheepishly, for he had a feeling that he would be the victim of Jenny Wren's sharp tongue.

"No, I don't mean Welcome Robin's song," snapped Jenny. "What good are a pair of long ears if they can't tell one song from another? That song may sound something like Welcome Robin's, but if your ears were good for anything at all you'd know right away that that isn't Welcome Robin singing. That's a better song than Welcome Robin's. Welcome Robin's song is one of good cheer, but this one is of pure happiness. I wouldn't have a pair of ears like yours for anything in the world, Peter Rabbit."

Peter laughed right out as he tried to picture to himself Jenny Wren with a pair of long ears like his. "What are you laughing at?" demanded Jenny crossly. "Don't you dare laugh at me! If there is any one thing I can't stand it is being laughed at."

"I wasn't laughing at you," replied Peter very meekly. "I was just laughing, at the thought of how funny you would look with a pair of long ears like mine. Now you speak of it, Jenny, that song is  quite different from Welcome Robin's."

"Of course it is," retorted Jenny. "That is Rosebreast singing up there, and there he is right in the top of that tree. Isn't he handsome?"

Peter looked up to see a bird a little smaller than Welcome Robin. His head, throat and back were black. His wings were black with patches of white on them. But it was his breast that made Peter catch his breath with a little gasp of admiration, for that breast was a beautiful rose-red. The rest of him underneath was white. It was Rosebreast the Grosbeak.

REDCOAT THE SCARLET TANAGER He is all red save his black wings and tail. ROSEBREAST THE GROSBEAK You cannot mistake this black and white bird with the rose‑colored breast for any one else. It is the Rose‑breasted Grosbeak.

"Isn't he lovely!" cried Peter, and added in the next breath, "Who is that with him?"

"Mrs. Grosbeak, of course. Who else would it be?" sputtered Jenny rather crossly, for she was still a little put out because she had been laughed at.

"I would never have guessed it," said Peter. "She doesn't look the least bit like him."

This was quite true. There was no beautiful rose color about Mrs. Grosbeak. She was dressed chiefly in brown and grayish colors with a little buff here and there and with dark streaks on her breast. Over each eye was a whitish line. Altogether she looked more as if she might be a big member of the Sparrow family than the wife of handsome Rosebreast. While Rosebreast sang, Mrs. Grosbeak was very busily picking buds and blossoms from the tree.

"What is she doing that for?" inquired Peter.

"For the same reason that you bite off sweet clover blossoms and leaves," replied Jenny Wren tartly.

"Do you mean to say that they live on buds and blossoms?" cried Peter. "I never heard of such a thing."

"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut! You can ask more silly questions than anybody of my acquaintance," retorted Jenny Wren. "Of course they don't live on buds and blossoms. If they did they would soon starve to death, for buds and blossoms don't last long. They eat a few just for variety, but they live mostly on bugs and insects. You ask Farmer Brown's boy who helps him most in his potato patch, and he'll tell you it's the Grosbeaks. They certainly do love potato bugs. They eat some fruit, but on the whole they are about as useful around a garden as any one I know. Now run along, Peter Rabbit, and don't bother me any more.

Seeing Farmer Brown's boy coming through the Old Orchard Peter decided that it was high time for him to depart. So he scampered for the Green Forest, lipperty-lipperty-lip. Just within the edge of the Green Forest he caught sight of something which for the time being put all thought of Farmer Brown's boy out of his head. Fluttering on the ground was a bird than whom not even Glory the Cardinal was more beautiful. It was about the size of Redwing the Blackbird. Wings and tail were pure black and all the rest was a beautiful scarlet. It was Redcoat the Tanager. At first Peter had eyes only for the wonderful beauty of Redcoat. Never before had he seen Redcoat so close at hand. Then quite suddenly it came over Peter that something was wrong with Redcoat, and he hurried forward to see what the trouble might be.

Redcoat heard the rustle of Peter's feet among the dry leaves and at once began to flap and flutter in an effort to fly away, but he could not get off the ground. "What is it, Redcoat? Has something happened to you? It is just Peter Rabbit. You don't have anything to fear from me," cried Peter.

The look of terror which had been in the eyes of Redcoat died out, and he stopped fluttering and simply lay panting.

"Oh, Peter," he gasped, "you don't know how glad I am that it is only you. I've had a terrible accident, and I don't know what I am to do. I can't fly, and if I have to stay on the ground some enemy will be sure to get me. What shall I do, Peter? What shall I do?"

Right away Peter was full of sympathy. "What kind of an accident was it, Redcoat, and how did it happen?" he asked.

"Broadwing the Hawk tried to catch me," sobbed Redcoat. "In dodging him among the trees I was heedless for a moment and did not see just where I was going. I struck a sharp-pointed dead twig and drove it right through my right wing."

Redcoat held up his right wing and sure enough there was a little stick projecting from both sides close up to the shoulder. The wing was bleeding a little.

"Oh, dear, whatever shall I do, Peter Rabbit? Whatever shall I do?" sobbed Redcoat.

"Does it pain you dreadfully?" asked Peter.

Redcoat nodded. "But I don't mind the pain," he hastened to say. "It is the thought of what may happen to me."

Meanwhile Mrs. Tanager was flying about in the tree tops near at hand and calling anxiously. She was dressed almost wholly in light olive-green and greenish-yellow. She looked no more like beautiful Redcoat than did Mrs. Grosbeak like Rosebreast.

"Can't you fly up just a little way so as to get off the ground?" she cried anxiously. "Isn't it dreadful, Peter Rabbit, to have such an accident? We've just got our nest half built, and I don't know what I shall do if anything happens to Redcoat. Oh, dear, here comes somebody! Hide, Redcoat! Hide!" Mrs. Tanager flew off a short distance to one side and began to cry as if in the greatest distress. Peter knew instantly that she was crying to get the attention of whoever was coming.

Poor Redcoat, with the old look of terror in his eyes, fluttered along, trying to find something under which to hide. But there was nothing under which he could crawl, and there was no hiding that wonderful red coat. Peter heard the sound of heavy footsteps, and looking back, saw that Farmer Brown's boy was coming. "Don't be afraid, Redcoat," he whispered. "It's Farmer Brown's boy and I'm sure he won't hurt you. Perhaps he can help you." Then Peter scampered off for a short distance and sat up to watch what would happen.

Of coarse Farmer Brown's boy saw Redcoat. No one with any eyes at all could have helped seeing him, because of that wonderful scarlet coat. He saw, too, by the way Redcoat was acting, that he was in great trouble. As Farmer Brown's boy drew near and Redcoat saw that he was discovered, he tried his hardest to flutter away. Farmer Brown's boy understood instantly that something was wrong with one wing, and running forward, he caught Redcoat.

"You poor little thing. You poor, beautiful little creature," said Farmer Brown's boy softly as he saw the cruel twig sticking through Redcoats' shoulder. "We'll have to get that out right away," continued Farmer Brown's boy, stroking Redcoat ever so gently.

Somehow at that gentle touch Redcoat lost much of his fear, and a little hope sprang in his heart. This was no enemy, but a friend. Farmer Brown's boy took out his knife and carefully cut off the twig on the upper side of the wing. Then, doing his best to be careful and to hurt as little as possible, he worked the other part of the twig out from the under side. Carefully he examined the wing to see if any bones were broken. None were, and after holding Redcoat a few minutes he carefully set him up in a tree and withdrew a short distance. Redcoat hopped from branch to branch until he was halfway up the tree. Then he sat there for some time as if fearful of trying that injured wing. Meanwhile Mrs. Tanager came and fussed about him and talked to him and coaxed him and made as much of him as if he were a baby.

Peter remained right where he was until at last he saw Redcoat spread his black wings and fly to another tree. From tree to tree he flew, resting a bit in each until he and Mrs. Tanager disappeared in the Green Forest.

"I knew Farmer Brown's boy would help him, and I'm so glad he found him," cried Peter happily and started for the dear Old Briar-patch.

 

The Aesop for Children  by Milo Winter

The Two Goats

Two Goats, frisking gayly on the rocky steeps of a mountain valley, chanced to meet, one on each side of a deep chasm through which poured a mighty mountain torrent. The trunk of a fallen tree formed the only means of crossing the chasm, and on this not even two squirrels could have passed each other in safety. The narrow path would have made the bravest tremble. Not so our Goats. Their pride would not permit either to stand aside for the other.

One set her foot on the log. The other did likewise. In the middle they met horn to horn. Neither would give way, and so they both fell, to be swept away by the roaring torrent below.

It is better to yield than to come to misfortune through stubbornness.

 

The Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said  by Padraic Colum

The Treasure of King Labraid Lorc

Part 1 of 2

K INGFISHER-ALL-BLUE used to sit on the branch that went furthest across the stream with his head bent down and looking as if he were trying to think his head off. Only in the most lonesome places, far from where the hens cackled and the geese gabbled and the cocks crew, would the Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said find him. And when he did find him Kingfisher-all-blue would not open his beak to say one word—no, not even when the Boy would say "Where did you get your beautiful color?" and "Why is your beak so big, little Kingfisher-all-Blue?"

Now one day when he had left behind him the hens that cackled, the geese that gabbled and the cocks that crew, and had left behind him too the old raven that built in the lone tree he came where Kingfisher-all-Blue sat upon the slenderest branch that went farthest across the stream. And when Kingfisher-all-Blue saw him he lifted up his head and he fixed his eye upon him and he cried out the one word "Follow." Then he went flying down the stream as if he were not a bird at all but a streak of blue fire.

Kingfisher-all-Blue went flying along the stream and the Boy Who Knew What the Birds said was able to follow him. They went on until the stream they followed came out on the sand of the sea-shore. Then Kingfisher-all-Blue seated himself on a branch that was just above where the grains of sand and the blades of grass mixed with each other and he fixed his eye on a mound of sand and clay. And when the Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said came beside him Kingfisher-all-Blue said the one word "Find."

Then the Boy Who Knew What the Birds said began to take the sand and clay from the mound. He worked all day at it and Kingfisher-all-Blue sat on the branch above and watched him. And at evening, when all the sand and clay had been taken away by him the Boy Who Knew What the Birds said came upon a stone that was as big and as round as the wheel of a cart.

And when he had brushed away the grains of sand that was on the round stone he saw a writing. The writing was in Ogham, but at that time even boys could read Ogham. And the Ogham writing said You Have Luck to Have Seen This Side of The Stone But You Will Have More Luck When You See the Other Side.

When he read that he looked up to where the bird sat, but Kingfisher-all-Blue only said "I am done with you now," and then he flew back along the stream like a streak of blue fire.

The Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said stayed near the stone until the dark was coming on. Then he thought he would go home and in the morning he would speak to Pracaun the Crow and ask her about the stone that Kingfisher-all-Blue had brought him to and what good luck there was at the other side of it.

Pracaun the Crow came to the standing stone in the morning and ate the boiled potato that the Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said brought her, and then the Boy spoke to her about the stone that Kingfisher-all-Blue had brought him to, and he asked what good luck there was at the other side of it.

"Kingfisher-all-Blue has brought you to good luck that none of the rest of us could have shown you," said Pracaun the Crow. "Under that round stone is the treasure of King Labraid Lorc."

"Who was King Labraid Lorc and what was his treasure?" said the Boy Who Knew What the Birds said.

"I will tell you first about King Labraid Lorc," said Pracaun the Crow. "He was King of this part of the country and of two lovely Islands that are now sunken deep in the sea. Mananaun Mac Lir who is Lord of the Sea was his friend and Labraid Lorc would have been a happy King only for—well, I'll tell you in a while what troubles he had.

No one knew where the King had come from. He was not born King of this part of the country nor of the lovely Islands that are now deep sunken under the sea. Mananaun who is Lord of the Sea had given him the Islands, or rather he had given him the two keys that had brought the Islands up from the bottom of the sea. Two silver keys they were, O lad. And when they were brought together they struck each other and rang like bells. And "Labraid Lorc is King, King of the two Fair Islands" is what they chimed out. As long as he held the keys the Islands would remain above the water. But if he put the keys away the Islands would sink back into the sea.

Once in every month the King had a man killed. This is how it was. He would have a man to shave his beard and to trim his hair. This man never came alive out of the King's Castle. As soon as the poor barber left the King's chamber and passed down the hall soldiers would fall upon him and kill him with their swords. Every time when the King's beard was shaved and his hair was trimmed a man was killed—twelve men in a year, a hundred and forty-four men in twelve years!

Now a warning came to a woman that her son would be called upon to be the next barber to the King. She was a widow and the young man was her only son. She was wild with grief when she thought that he would be killed by the soldiers' swords as soon as he had shaved the King's beard and trimmed the King's hair.

She went everywhere the King rode. She threw herself before him and asked for the life of her son. And at last the King promised that no harm would befall her son's life if he swore he would tell no person what he saw when he shaved the King's beard and trimmed the King's hair. After that he would be always the King's barber.

The widow's son came before the King and he swore he would tell no person what he saw when he shaved his beard and trimmed his hair. Then he went into the King's Chamber. And when he came out from it the King's soldiers did not fall upon him and kill him with their swords. The widow's son went home out of the Castle.

His mother cried over him with joy at seeing him back. The next day he went to work at his trade and his mother watched him and was contented in her mind. But the day after her son only worked by fits and starts, and the day after that he did no work at all but sat over the fire looking into the burning coals.

And after that the widow's son became sick and lay on his bed and no one could tell what was the matter with him. He became more and more ill and at last his mother thought that he had only escaped the soldiers' swords to come home and die in his house. And when she thought of that she said to herself that she would go see the Druid who lived at the back of the hill and beg him to come to see her son and strive to cure him. The Druid came and he looked into the eyes of the young man and he said "He has a secret upon his mind, and if he does not tell it he will die."

Then his mother told the Druid that he had sworn not to tell any person what he saw when he shaved the King's beard and trimmed the King's hair, and that what he saw was his secret. Said the Druid "If he wants to live he will have to sneak out his secret. But it need not be to any person. Let him go to the meeting of two roads, turn with the sun and tell his secret to the first tree on his right hand. And when he feels he has told his secret your son will get the better of his sickness."

 

Robinson Crusoe Written Anew for Children  by James Baldwin

I Explore My Cave Further

THE next day I brought out with me six big candles.

For you must know that I was a candle maker as well as a baker. Indeed, I made very good candles of goats' tallow, using some bits of old ropes for the wicks.

As I have just said, I took six candles with me, for I had made up my mind to learn more about the cave I had found.

I lit two of the candles, and went in. The poor old goat was dead, and it was no easy work to dig a hole right there and bury him.

After this unpleasant task was done, I went into the back part of the cave. The flame of the candles lighted up the darkness, and I could see quite plainly.

The narrow passage of which I have told you was no less than thirty feet long. In one place it was so low that I had to creep through on all fours.

But no sooner was I through this low place than I found myself in a splendid chamber. It was large enough to shelter a hundred men.

Indeed, it seemed like the great hall of some old English castle. I had never seen anything so grand.

The roof was at least twenty feet high. The light from my two candles shone upon the walls and made it look as though covered with thousand of bright stars.

Whether these were diamonds, or gold, or some other precious things, I did not know, and in fact I never learned.

The floor was dry and level. It was covered with white sand, which was very clean.

I was delighted. No better or safer storehouse could I have wished.

When I had looked at the room on every side and found that it was really the end of the cave, I went out and hurried back to my castle.

I found that I still had about sixty pounds of powder. This was the first thing that I carried to my new cavern. I took thither also the lead that I had for making bullets and small shot.

I felt now like one of the wonderful elves that you read about. They live, as you know, in rocks and in caves where none can get at them; and they have hidden treasures of gold and precious stones.

What if a hundred savages should hunt me? They could not come near me here. I was safe from all foes.

I fitted the cave up with whatever was needed to make it comfortable.

If the worst came to the worst, I meant to live there. And yet I did not wish to be obliged to do this.

When everything was safe and snug, I laid some green branches over the entrance and went back to my castle.

I was very glad when I sat down in my old kitchen again. For, after all, no other place was so much like home.

I had now been twenty-three years on this island. If it had not been for fear of savages, I would have been the happiest man in the world.

During all those years I had been very busy. I did not work all the time, as you know, but I amused myself in various ways.

I spent much time with Poll, the parrot. He soon learned to talk so well that it was a pleasure to hear him.

My dog had been my best friend and companion. He lived for sixteen years, and then died of old age.

As for my cats, the woods were full of them. All ran wild except the two that I kept in my castle. These were good mousers and fine pets.

I had also several tame fowls. These I had caught near the seashore when they were young. I cut their wing feathers short and taught them to eat from my hand.

I never knew what kind of birds they were, but they were large, almost as large as chickens. They lived among the hedge trees in front of my castle.

They made their nests there and kept me well supplied with eggs. I did not need to keep any other poultry.

Thus I lived very pleasantly in my island home. I would have been content to live there always if I could have felt safe from savages.

 

Lewis Carroll

The Walrus and the Carpenter

The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright— And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night. The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done— "It 's very rude of him," she said, "To come and spoil the fun!" The sea was wet as wet could be, The sands were dry as dry. You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky: No birds were flying overhead— There were no birds to fly. The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand: They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand: "If this were only cleared away," They said, "it would be grand!" "If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year, Do you suppose," the Walrus said, "That they could get it clear?" "I doubt it," said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear. "O Oysters, come and walk with us!" The Walrus did beseech. "A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach: We cannot do with more than four, To give a hand to each." The eldest Oyster looked at him, But never a word he said: The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head— Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed. But four young Oysters hurried up All eager for the treat: Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat— And this was odd, because, you know, They hadn't any feet. Four other Oysters followed them, And yet another four; And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more— All hopping through the frothy waves, And scrambling to the shore. The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so, And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low: And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row. "The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax— Of cabbages—and kings— And why the sea is boiling hot— And whether pigs have wings." "But wait a bit," the Oysters cried, "Before we have our chat; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!" "No hurry!" said the Carpenter. They thanked him much for that. "A loaf of bread," the Walrus said, "Is what we chiefly need: Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeed— Now, if you 're ready, Oysters dear, We can begin to feed." "But not on us!" the Oysters cried, Turning a little blue. "After such kindness, that would be A dismal thing to do!" "The night is fine," the Walrus said. "Do you admire the view? "It was so kind of you to come! And you are very nice!" The Carpenter said nothing but "Cut us another slice: I wish you were not quite so deaf— I've had to ask you twice!" "It seems a shame," the Walrus said, "To play them such a trick, After we've brought them out so far, And made them trot so quick!" The Carpenter said nothing but "The butter's spread too thick!" "I weep for you," the Walrus said: "I deeply sympathize." With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size, Holding his pocket handkerchief Before his streaming eyes. "O Oysters," said the Carpenter, "You 've had a pleasant run! Shall we be trotting home again?" But answer came there none— And this was scarcely odd, because They'd eaten every one.

 

The Discovery of New Worlds  by M. B. Synge

The Invention of Printing

"In times ere yet the Press had blest mankind Perish'd unknown the noblest works of mind." —M'Creery.

I T seems strange at first sight to connect the discovery of printing with the discovery of new worlds and the navigation of new seas. But it was just at this time that the invention of printing began to play its large part in the world's history. You can imagine how eagerly men would print in books the accounts of the new lands, and how their hearts would glow as they read of the adventures of the stout-hearted sailors who went on voyages of discovery.

The first book was printed in Europe just ten years before the death of Prince Henry the sailor.

But how did men read books before this? Everything was copied by hand. The old Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans wrote with sharply pointed instruments on sheets of dried skins, or papyrus made from reeds. They wrote on one side only and rolled it up. A long book would be perhaps thirty yards in length. These rolls or books were kept in jars or wooden boxes, a number of which formed a library. They could only be read by the learned: among the people there were no books at all.

Now two countries—Holland and Germany—claim the honour of having invented printing. Nobody quite knows which is right, so here are the two stories.

The men of Holland say that at Haarlem lived a man called Coster. One day he took a walk and cut letters on the bark of a beech-tree. He took them home and printed them on paper to amuse his children. Then he invented a kind of printing ink to put on the blocks of wood, so that they left a mark on the paper. Soon after this he made letters of tin and lead, getting some workmen to come and help him. One night, when Coster was out, one of his workers called John stole all the metal letters, and taking them to Germany, set up a press for himself.

But the Germans say that a man called Gutenberg invented printing at a city on the Rhine,—that he first thought of making pictures in wood and impressing them on paper by means of ink. Then he made letters or type of metal, and after seven years of hard work he printed a copy of the Bible. The secret of the printing-press soon escaped to other parts of Europe, and presses were set up everywhere. Venice, Spain, and France caught the printing fever, while England was not far behind them.

The story of how Caxton introduced printing into England is always interesting. News of Gutenberg's discovery reached him, and he went off to Germany to learn the art, knowing what a gain it would be to his country. For thirty-five years he laboured abroad, after which he returned in triumph to England, bringing with him his treasure—a printing-press and a book containing a history of Troy, which he had translated and printed with great labour.

"For my pen is worn, my hand weary, mine eyes dimmed with overmuch looking on the white paper, and my courage not so ready to labour as it hath been," he says pitifully in his preface.

There were no bookbinders in those days; so he bound the book himself, and very clumsy it must have looked. The wooden boards between which the leaves were fastened were as thick as the panel of a door. They were covered with leather. Outside on the cover were large brass nails with big heads, the back was stuck with glue laid on thickly, while the book was fastened with a thick clasp.

"No one can carry it about, much less read it," says one, speaking of the very early books printed by Caxton.

When other men would have ceased work, this man worked on. He printed book after book of English poetry for the people to read and know. He worked on till the day of his death.

"He was not slumbering when his call came, he was still labouring at the work for which he was born."

Caxton.

It was eventide, and the sun was sending its last red streaks of light into Caxton's little workshop, when four men entered, clothed in black, grave, sad, and downcast. The room looked deserted, papers lay about, the ink-blocks were dusty, a thin film had formed over the ink, the machinery looked oily and unused.

The four men drew in their stools, those stools on which they had sat through many a long day working to the end of some manuscript, encouraged by the master who would now direct them no more.

"Companions," said one, "this good work must not stop."

"Who is to carry it on?" asked one sadly.

"I am ready," cried the first speaker.

A cry of joy rose to the lips of the honest workmen.

"Yes," they said, "we will carry on the work briskly in our good master's house. Printing must go forward."

So the faithful workmen carried on the work of their master Caxton, and in the course of the next forty years they had printed four hundred volumes.

So after a time men could read the travels of Marco Polo, the records of the Portuguese explorers, the adventures of Columbus. Maps of the newly discovered regions could be printed, and men's minds opened to the wonders of the world around them.

 

Merry Tales  by Eleanor L. Skinner

The Hillman and the Housewife

Juliana H. Ewing

O NE day a hillman knocked at the door of a selfish housewife.

"Can you lend me a saucepan, good mother?" said he. "There's a wedding in the hill, and all the pots are in use."

Is he to have one?" asked the servant girl who had opened the door.

"Ay, to be sure," said the housewife. But when the maid was taking a saucepan from the shelf, the housewife whispered slyly to her, "Do not lend him a good pan; get the old one out of the cupboard. It leaks, and the hillmen are so neat and such nimble workers that they are sure to mend it before they send it home. So one does a good turn and saves sixpence from the tinker."

The maid fetched the old saucepan which had been laid by till the tinker's next visit and gave it to the dwarf, who thanked her and went away.

The saucepan was soon returned neatly mended and ready for use. At supper time the maid filled the pan with milk and set it on the fire for the children's supper, but in a few minutes the milk was so burned and smoked that no one could touch it. Even the pigs would not drink the wash into which the milk was thrown.

"Ah, you good-for-nothing girl!" cried the housewife as this time she filled the pan herself. "Your careless ways would ruin the richest. There's a whole quart of milk spoiled at once."

"A quart of milk costs twopence!" cried a queer small voice from the chimney corner.

The housewife had not left the saucepan for two minutes when the milk boiled over and was all burned and smoked as before.

"The pan must be dirty," cried the housewife in a rage; "and there are two full quarts of milk as good as thrown to the dogs. Oh, what dreadful waste!"

"Two quarts of milk cost fourpence!" cried the queer small voice.

After a long scrubbing, the saucepan was once more filled with milk and set on the fire, but in a little while the milk was burned and smoked again.

The housewife burst into tears at the waste, and cried out, "Never before did such a thing happen to me since I kept house! Three quarts of milk burned for one meal."

"Three quarts of milk cost sixpence!" cried the queer small voice. "You didn't save the tinker after all!"

Then the hillman himself came tumbling down the chimney and went off laughing through the door. But from that time the saucepan was as good as any other.

 

Walter de la Mare

The Window

Behind the blinds I sit and watch The people passing—passing by; And not a single one can see My tiny watching eye. They cannot see my little room, All yellowed with the shaded sun; They do not even know I'm here; Nor'll guess when I am gone.

 

The Bears of Blue River  by Charles Major

Lost in a Forest

Part 1 of 2

Balser's arm mended slowly, for it had been terribly bitten by the bear. The heavy sleeve of his buckskin jacket had saved him from a wound which might have crippled him for life; but the hurt was bad enough as it was, and Balser passed through many days and nights of pain before it was healed. He bore the suffering like a little man, however, and felt very "big" as he walked about with his arm in a buckskin sling.

Balser was impatient that he could not hunt; but he spent his time more or less satisfactorily in cleaning and polishing his gun and playing with the bear cubs, which his little brother Jim had named "Tom" and "Jerry." The cubs soon became wonderfully tame, and drank eagerly from a pan of milk. They were too small to know how to lap, so the boys put their hands in the pan and held up a finger, at which the cubs sucked lustily. It was very laughable to see the little round black fellows nosing in the milk for the finger. And sometimes they would bite, too, until the boys would snatch away their hands and soundly box the cubs on the ears. A large panful of milk would disappear before you could say "Christmas," and the bears' silky sides would stand out as big and round as a pippin. The boys were always playing pranks upon the cubs, and the cubs soon learned to retaliate. They would climb everywhere about the premises, up the trees, on the roofs of the barn and house, and over the fence. Their great delight was the milk-house and kitchen, where they had their noses into everything, and made life miserable for Mrs. Brent. She would run after them with her broomstick if they but showed their sharp little snouts in the doorway. Then off they would scamper, yelping as though they were nearly killed, and ponder upon new mischief. They made themselves perfectly at home, and would play with each other like a pair of frisky kittens, rolling over and over on the sod, pretending to fight, and whining and growling as if they were angry in real earnest. One day Balser and his little brother Jim were sitting on a log, which answered the purpose of a settee, under the eaves in front of the house. The boys were wondering what had become of Tom and Jerry, as they had not seen them for an hour or more, and their quietness looked suspicious.

"I wonder if those cubs have run away," said Balser.

"No," said Jim, "bet they won't run away; they've got things too comfortable here to run away. Like as not they're off some place plannin' to get even with us because we ducked them in the water trough awhile ago. They looked awful sheepish when they got out, and as they went off together I jus' thought to myself they were goin' away to think up some trick on us."

Balser and Jim were each busily engaged eating the half of a blackberry pie. The eave of the house was not very high, perhaps seven or eight feet from the ground, and Balser and Jim were sitting under it, holding the baby and eating their pie.

Hardly had Jim spoken when the boys heard a scraping sound from above, then a couple of sharp little yelps; and down came Tom and Jerry from the roof, striking the boys squarely on the head.

To say that the boys were frightened does not half tell it. They did not know what had happened. They fell over, and the baby dropped to the ground with a cry that brought her mother to the scene of action in a moment. The blackberry pie had in some way managed to spread itself all over the baby's face, and she was a very comical sight when her mother picked her up.

The bears had  retaliated upon the boys sooner than even Jim had anticipated, and they all had a great laugh over it; the bears seeming to enjoy it more than anybody else. The boys were ready to admit that the joke was on them, so they took the cubs back to the milk-house, and gave them a pan of rich milk as a peace-offering.

The scrapes these cubs got themselves and the boys into would fill a large volume; but I cannot tell you any more about them now, as I want to relate an adventure having no fun in it, which befell Balser and some of his friends soon after his arm was well.

It was blackberry time, and several children had come to Balser's home for the purpose of making a raid upon a large patch of wild blackberries that grew on the other side of the river, a half-hour's walk from Mr. Brent's cabin.

Soon after daybreak one morning, the little party, consisting of Balser and Jim, Tom Fox and his sister Liney (which is "short" for Pau-li -ne), and three children from the family of Mr. Neigh, paddled across the river in a canoe which Balser and his father had made form a large gum log, and started westward for the blackberry patch.

Tom and Jerry had noticed the preparations for the journey with considerable curiosity, and felt very much hurt that they were not to be taken along. But they were left behind, imprisoned in a pen which the boys had built for them, and their whines and howls of complaint at such base treatment could be heard until the children were well out of sight of the house.

The party hurried along merrily, little thinking that their journey home would be one of sadness; and soon they were in the midst of the blackberries, picking as rapidly as possible, and filling their gourds with the delicious fruit.

They worked hard all the morning, and the deerskin sacks which they had brought with them were nearly full.

Toward noon the children became hungry, and without a dissenting voice agreed to eat dinner.

They had taken with them for lunch a loaf of bread and a piece of cold venison, but Balser suggested that he should go into the woods and find a squirrel or two to help out their meal. In the meantime Tom Fox had started out upon a voyage of discovery, hoping that he, too, might contribute to the larder.

In a few minutes Balser's gun was heard at a distance, and then again and again, and soon he was back in camp with three fat squirrels.

Almost immediately after him came Tom Fox carrying something in his coonskin cap.

"What have you there, Limpy?" cried Liney.

The children called Tom "Limpy" because he always had a sore toe or a stone bruise on his heel.

"You'll never guess," answered Tom. All the children took a turn at guessing, and then gave it up.

"Turkey eggs," said Tom. "We'll have eggs as well as squirrel for dinner to-day."

"How will you cook them?" asked one of the Neigh children.

"I'll show you," answered Tom.

So now they were guessing how Limpy would cook the eggs, but he would not tell them, and they had to give it up.

The boys then lighted a fire from the flint-lock on the gun, and Balser, having dressed the squirrel, cut twigs as he had done when he and his father dined on Conn's Creek, and soon pieces of tender squirrel were roasting near the flame, giving forth a most tempting odour.

In the meantime Limpy had gone away, and none of the children knew where he was, or what he was doing.

Soon, however, he returned bearing a large flat rock eight or ten inches in diameter, and two or three inches thick. This rock he carefully washed and scrubbed in a spring, until it was perfectly clean. He then took coals from the fire which Balser had kindled, and soon had a great fire of his own, in the midst of which was the stone. After the blaze had died down, he made a bed of hot coals on which, by means of a couple of sticks, he placed the rock, and then dusted away the ashes.

"Now do you know how I'm going to cook the eggs?" he asked.

They, of course, all knew; and the girls greased the rock with the fat of the squirrel, broke the eggs, and allowed them to fall upon the hot stone, where they were soon thoroughly roasted, and the children had a delicious meal. After dinner they sat in the cool shade of the tree under which they dined, and told stories and asked riddles for an hour or two before they again began berry-picking. Then they worked until about six o'clock, and stopped to have another play before returning home.

They played "Ring around a rosey," "Squat where ye be," "Wolf," "Dirty dog," and then wound up with the only never-grow-old, "Hide-and-seek."

The children hid behind logs and trees, and in dense clumps of bushes. The boys would often climb trees, when, if "caught," the one who was "it" was sure to run "home" before the hider could slide halfway down his tree. Now and then a hollow tree was found, and that, of course, was the best hiding-place of all.

Beautiful little Liney Fox found one hollow tree too many; and as long as they lived all the children of the party remembered it and the terrible events that followed her discovery. She was seeking a place to hide, and had hurried across a small open space to conceal herself behind a huge sycamore tree. When she reached the tree and went around it to hide upon the opposite side, she found it was hollow at the root.

Balser was "it," and with his eyes "hid" was counting one hundred as rapidly and loudly as he could. He had got to sixty, he afterward said, when a shriek reached his ears. This was when Liney found the hollow tree. Balser at once knew that it was Liney's voice; for, although he was but a little fellow, he was quite old enough to have admired Liney's exquisite beauty, and to have observed that she was as kind and gentle and good as she was pretty.

So what wonder that Balser, whom she openly claimed as her best friend, should share not only in the general praise, but should have a boy's admiration for her all his own?

In persons accustomed to exercise the alertness which is necessary for a good hunter, the sense of locating the direction and position from which a sound proceeds becomes highly developed, and as Balser had been hunting almost ever since he was large enough to walk, he knew instantly where Liney was.

He hurriedly pushed his way through the bushes, and in a moment reached the open space of ground, perhaps one hundred yards across, on the opposite side of which stood the tree that Liney had found. Some twenty or thirty yards beyond the tree stood Liney. She was so frightened that she could not move, and apparently had become powerless to scream.

Balser hastened toward her at his utmost speed, and when he reached a point for which he could see the hollow side of the tree, imagine his horror and fright upon beholding an enormous bear emerging from the opening. The bear started slowly toward the girl, who seemed unable to move.

"Run, Liney! run for your life!" screamed Balser, who fearlessly rushed toward the bear to attract its attention from the girl, and if possible to bring it in pursuit of himself.

 

The Adventures of Unc' Billy Possum  by Thornton Burgess

Prickly Porky Makes Himself at Home

P ETER RABBIT'S party promised to be a great success. When old Mr. Toad, who had overheard Sammy Jay's plan, had told Peter Rabbit all about it, he had also told Peter that Reddy Fox and Shadow the Weasel were hiding in an old hollow log close by.

Peter had whispered the news in the ear of each of the little forest and meadow people and had told them how Prickly Porky was even then sitting with his back against the opening in the hollow log.

Every one had thought this the best joke ever, for, of course, they all knew that Reddy Fox and Shadow the Weasel could not get out past the thousand little spears hidden in the long coat of Prickly Porky.

Prickly Porky settled himself very comfortably and began to tell stories about his home, way up in the North Woods. Every few minutes he would rattle the thousand little spears in his coat, and though no one could see Reddy Fox and Shadow the Weasel inside the hollow log, every one could guess just how little shivers were running up and down the backbones of the two little scamps held prisoners there.

Prickly Porky told how in the cold, cold winter the snow piled up and piled up in his far northern home, until nearly all the forest folk who lived there had to make a long journey into the South, or else went into warm, snug hollows in the trees or caves in the rocks and slept the long winter through, just as Johnny Chuck does. He told how the Indians came through the great forest on big webbed shoes, that kept them from sinking into the snow, and hunted for Lightfoot the Deer, and how they never bothered Prickly Porky, but always treated him with the greatest respect. He told so many, many interesting things about the great North Woods, that all the little meadow people and forest folk gathered close around to listen, but every few minutes, while he was talking, he would shake his thousand little spears, and then every one would smile.

Inside the hollow log Reddy Fox was getting stiff and sore, because, you know, he didn't have room enough to even turn over. Worse still, he was so hungry that he could cry. You see, he had crept in there very early in the morning without any breakfast, because he had planned that when Sammy Jay should break up Peter Rabbit's party, he would steal all the good things he wanted. Now, he could smell them, and hear the others talking about the feast they were going to have, and he knew that not so much as a tiny, tiny crumb would be left for him, when Prickly Porky should choose to let him out.

Shadow the Weasel felt just as uncomfortable as Reddy Fox, and Shadow is very short-tempered. Every time Reddy moved and squeezed Shadow, Shadow would snap at him. Now, of course, they could hear everything that was said outside, and the things that were said were not pleasant to listen to. Bobby Coon and Billy Mink and Johnny Chuck and Little Joe Otter and Jimmy Skunk told about all the mean things and all the sharp tricks that Reddy Fox and Shadow had done. It made the two little prisoners so angry that they ground their teeth, but every time they made the least little movement, Prickly Porky would shake his thousand little spears and settle himself still more firmly against the opening in the hollow log. He certainly was enjoying himself. It tickled him almost to pieces to think how easily he had trapped smart Reddy Fox, the boaster.

So they waited all the long day for the coming of Unc' Billy Possum's family, and when at last they did arrive, there was the merriest surprise party ever seen. Only Sammy Jay, Blacky the Crow, Reddy Fox and Shadow the Weasel were unhappy, and of course no one cared for that.

 

Caroline Bowles Southey

Ladybird, Ladybird!

Ladybird, ladybird! fly away home! The field-mouse has gone to her nest, The daisies have shut up their sleepy red eyes, And the bees and birds are at rest. Ladybird, ladybird! fly away home! The glow-worm is lighting her lamp, The dew's falling fast, and your fine speckled wings Will flag with the close-clinging damp. Ladybird, ladybird! fly away home! Good luck if you reach it at last! The owl's come abroad, and the bat's on the roam, Sharp-set from their Ramazan fast. Ladybird, ladybird! fly away home! The fairybells tinkle afar! Make haste or they'll catch you, and harness you fast With a cobweb to Oberon's car. Ladybird, ladybird! fly away home! To your house in the old willow tree, Where your children so dear have invited the ant And a few cozy neighbors to tea. Ladybird, ladybird! fly away home! And if not gobbled up by the way, Nor yoked by the fairies to Oberon's car, You're in luck! and that's all I've to say!

 

Hurlbut's Story of the Bible  by Jesse Lyman Hurlbut

The Shepherd Boy Becomes a King

II Samuel i: 1, to iv: 12.

N the third day after the battle on Mount Gilboa, David was at his home in Ziklag, on the south of Judah, when a young man came into the town, running, with garments torn and earth on his head, as was the manner of those in deep grief. He hastened to David, and fell down before him. And David said to him, "From what place have you come?"

And the young man said, "Out of the camp of Israel I have escaped."

And David said to him, "What has taken place? Tell me quickly."

Then the man answered, "The men of Israel have been beaten in the battle; very many of them are slain, and the rest have fled away. King Saul is dead, and so is Jonathan, his son."

"How do you know that Saul and Jonathan are dead?" asked David.

And the young man said, "I happened to be on Mount Gilboa in the battle; and I saw Saul leaning upon his spear wounded, and near death, with his enemies close upon him. And he said to me, 'Come to me, and kill me, for I am suffering great pain.' So I stood beside him and killed him, for I saw that he could not live. And I took the crown that was on his head, and the bracelet on his arm, and I have brought them to you, my lord David."

Then David and all the men that were with him tore their clothes, and mourned, and wept, and took no food on that day, on account of Saul, and of Jonathan, and for the people of Israel who had fallen by the sword.

And David said to the young man who had brought to him the news, "Who are you? To what people do you belong?"

And he said, "I am no Israelite; I am an Amalekite."

"How was it," said David to him, "that you were not afraid to slay the king of Israel, the anointed of the Lord? You shall die for this deed."

And David commanded one of his men to kill him, because he had said that he had slain the king. He may have told the truth, but it is more likely that he was not in the battle, and that after the fighting he came upon the field to rob the dead bodies, and that he brought a false story of having slain Saul, hoping to have a reward. But as David would not slay the anointed king, even though he were his enemy, he would not reward, but would rather punish the stranger who claimed to have slain him.

And David wrote a song over the death of Saul and Jonathan. He taught it to the people of Judah, and called it

The Song of the Bow

Thy glory, O Israel, is slain upon thy high places! How are the mighty fallen! Tell it not in Gath. Publish it not in the streets of Ashkelon; Lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, Lest the daughters of the heathen triumph. Ye mountains of Gilboa. Let there be no dew nor rain upon you neither fields of offerings: For there the shield of the mighty was cast away as a vile thing. The shield of Saul, not anointed with oil. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, The bow of Jonathan turned not back, And the sword of Saul returned not empty. Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, And in their death they were not divided: They were swifter than eagles, They were stronger than lions. Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, Who clothed you in scarlet delicately, Who put ornaments of gold upon your apparel. On Jonathan, slain upon thy high places! I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan, Very pleasant has thou been unto me; Thy love to me was wonderful, Passing the love of women. How are the mighty fallen, And the weapons of war perished!"

After this, at the command of the Lord, David and his men went up from Ziglag to Hebron, in the middle of the tribe-land of Judah. And the men of Judah met together at Hebron, and they made David king over their tribe. And David reigned in Hebron, over the tribe of Judah, for seven years.

Hebron, where David went.

But Saul's uncle, Abner, who had been the chief over his house and over his army, was not willing to have the kingdom go out of the family of Saul. He made a son of Saul king over all the tribes in the north of the land. This king was called Ish-bosheth, a name which means "a worthless man." He was weak and helpless, except for the strong will and power of Abner, who had made him king. For six years seemingly under Ish-bosheth, but really under Abner, the form of a kingdom was kept up, while Ish-bosheth was living at Mahanaim, on the east of Jordan.

Thus for a time there were two kingdoms in Israel, that of the north under Ish-bosheth, and that of the south under David. But all the time David's kingdom was growing stronger, and Ish-bosheth's kingdom was growing weaker.

After a time Abner was slain by one of David's men, and at once Ish-bosheth's power dropped away. Then two men of his army killed him, and cut off his head, and brought it to David. They looked for a reward, since Ish-bosheth had been king against David. But David said, "As the Lord lives, who has brought me out of trouble, I will give no reward to wicked men, who have slain a good man in his own house, and upon his own head. Take these two murderers away, and kill them!"

So the two slayers of the weak king, Ish-bosheth, were punished with death, and the head of the slain man was buried with honor. David had not forgotten his promise to Saul to deal kindly with his children.

 

The Sandman: His Sea Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The Fire Story

NCE upon a time there was a wide river that ran into the ocean, and beside it was a little city. And in that city was a wharf where great ships came from far countries. And a narrow road led down a very steep hill to that wharf, and anybody that wanted to go to the wharf had to go down the steep hill on the narrow road, for there wasn't any other way. And because ships had come there for a great many years and all the sailors and all the captains and all the men who had business with the ships had to go on that narrow road, the flagstones that made the sidewalk were much worn. That was a great many years ago. The river and the ocean are there yet, as they always have been and always will be; and the city is there, but it is a different kind of a city from what it used to be. And the wharf is slowly falling down, for it is not used now; and the narrow road down the steep hill is all grown up with weeds and grass.

One day, in the long ago, the brig Industry  sailed away from that wharf, on a voyage to India. And she sailed down the wide river and out into the great ocean and on and on until the land was only a dim blue streak on the horizon; and farther on, and the land sank out of sight, and there was nothing to be seen, wherever Captain Solomon looked, but that great, big water, that was so blue and that danced and sparkled in the sunshine. For it was a beautiful afternoon and there was just a gentle wind blowing, so that the Industry  had every bit of sail set that could be set: mainsail and foresail and spanker, main-topsail, and fore-topsail, main-topgallantsail and fore-topgallantsail and main-royal and fore-royal and main-skysail and fore-skysail and staysails and all her jibs and a studdingsail on every yard, out on its boom. She was sailing very fast, and she was a pretty sight, with that cloud of canvas. She looked like a great white bird. I wish that you and I could have seen her.

And the crew didn't have much to do, when they had got all those sails set. They had already been divided into watches, so that every man knew what his duty would be, and when he would have to be on deck, ready to work, and when he could sleep. And they stood at the rail, mostly, and they leaned on it and looked out over the water in the direction of that little city that they were leaving behind them and that they wouldn't see again for nearly a year. They couldn't see the little city because it was down behind the roundness of the world; but they saw the sun, which was almost setting. And the sun sank lower and lower until it sank into the sea. And there were all sorts of pretty colors, in the west, which changed and grew dim, and disappeared. And the stars came out, one by one, and it was night.

Captain Solomon didn't have any of those many sails taken in, because he knew that it would be pleasant weather all night, and that the wind would be less rather than more. And it was such a beautiful night that he didn't go to bed early, but stayed on deck until it was very late; and he watched the stars and the water and he listened to the wash of the waves as the ship went through them and he saw the foam that she made; and he felt the gentle wind blowing on his cheek, and it all seemed very good to him. Captain Solomon loved the sea. Then, when it was very late, and they were just going to change the watch, he went into the cabin to go to bed.

Before he had got his clothes off, he heard a commotion on deck, and the mate came running down.

"The ship's on fire, sir," he said. "There's smoke coming out of the forward hatch."

Captain Solomon said something and threw on his clothes that he had taken off and ran out on deck. It was less than half a minute from the time the mate had told him. And he saw a little, thin column of smoke rising out of the forward hatchway, just as the mate had said. They had the hatch off by this time, and the sailors were all on deck. The hatchway is a square hole in the deck that leads down into the hold, where the things are put that the ship carries. It has a cover made of planks, and the cover fits on tightly and can be fastened down. It usually is fastened when the ship is going.

Captain Solomon spoke to the mate. "Put her about on the other tack," he said, "and head for Boston, while we fight it. If we get it under, as I think we will, we'll lose only a couple of hours. If we don't, we can get help there. We ought to make Boston by daylight."

"Aye, aye, sir," said the mate. And he gave the orders in a sharp voice, and most of the crew jumped for the sails and the ropes and pulled and hauled, and they soon had the ship heading for Boston. But the second mate and a few of the sailors got lanterns and lighted them.

And, when they had lighted their lanterns, the second mate jumped down the hatchway into the smoke, and four sailors jumped down after him. And they began tumbling about the bales of things; but they couldn't tumble them about very much, for there wasn't room, the cargo had been stowed so tightly. And the second mate asked Captain Solomon to rig a tackle to hoist some of the things out on deck.

"Doing it, now," answered Captain Solomon. "It'll be ready in half a minute."

And they got the tackle rigged right over the hatchway, and they let down one end of the rope to the second mate. This end of the rope that was let down had two great, iron hooks that could be hooked into a bale, one on each side. And the second mate and the sailors that were down there with him hooked them into a bale and yelled. Then a great many of the sailors, who already had hold of the other end of the rope, ran away with it, so that the bale came up as if it had been blown up through the hatchway. Then other sailors caught it, and threw it over to one side and unhooked the hooks, and they let them down into the hold again.

They got up a great many bales in this way, and they did it faster than the Industry  had ever been unloaded before. And the sailors that ran away with the rope sang as they ran.

"What shall we do with a drunken sailor?"

was the chanty that they sang. And, at last, the second mate and the four sailors came out of the hold, and they were choking with the smoke and rubbing their eyes.

"Getting down to it, sir," said the second mate, "but we couldn't stand any more."

So the first mate didn't wait, but he took the second mate's lantern and jumped down.

"Four men follow me!" he cried; and all the other sailors, who hadn't been down yet, jumped for the lanterns of the four sailors who had been down, and Captain Solomon laughed.

"That's the way to do it!" he cried. "That's the sort of spirit I like to see. We'll have it out in a jiffy. Four of you men at a time. You'll all have a turn. Man the pumps, some of you, and be ready to turn a stream down there if it's wanted."

So the four who had been nearest to the lanterns went down, and some of the others tailed on to the rope, and still others got the pumps ready and rigged a hose and put the end of it down the hatchway. But they didn't pump, because Captain Solomon knew that water would do harm to the cargo that wasn't harmed yet, and he didn't want to pump water into the hold unless he had to.

Then they all hurried some more and got out more bales, until the mate and his four men had to come up; but there were more men waiting to go down, and, this time, Captain Solomon led them.

He hadn't been there long before he called out. "Here she is!" he said. And the sailors hoisted out a bale that was smoking. As soon as it was on deck, out in the air, it burst into flames.

Captain Solomon had come up. "Heave it overboard!" he cried. And four sailors took hold of it and heaved it over the side into the water. The Industry  was sailing pretty fast and quickly left it astern, where it floated, burning, for a few minutes; then, as the water soaked into the bale, it got heavier, and sank, and the sailors saw the light go out, suddenly.

Captain Solomon drew a long breath. "Put her on her course again, Mr. Steele," he said to the mate. "We won't lose any more time. You can have this mess cleared up in the morning."

And the sailors jumped for the ropes, although they were pretty tired, and they swung the yards around, two at a time, with a chanty for each. The Industry  was sailing away for India again. And, the next day they cleared the smoke out of the hold, and they stowed the cargo that had been taken out in the night, and they put on the hatch and fastened it.

And that's all.

 

James Whitcomb Riley

A Song

There is ever a song somewhere, my dear; There is ever a something sings alway: There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear, And the song of the thrush when the skies are gray. The sunshine showers across the grain, And the bluebird trills in the orchard tree; And in and out when the eaves drip rain, The swallows are twittering ceaselessly. There is ever a song somewhere, my dear, In the midnight black, or the midday blue; The robin pipes when the sun is here, And the cricket chirrups the whole night through. The buds may grow and the fruit may grow, And the autumn leaves drop crisp and sear; But whether the sun, or the rain, or the snow, There is ever a song somewhere, my dear. There is ever a song somewhere, my dear, Be the skies above or dark or fair, There is ever a song that our hearts may hear— There is ever a song somewhere, my dear— There is ever a song somewhere.