The Secret Garden  by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Across the Moor

S HE slept a long time, and when she awakened Mrs. Medlock had bought a lunchbasket at one of the stations and they had some chicken and cold beef and bread and butter and some hot tea. The rain seemed to be streaming down more heavily than ever and everybody in the station wore wet and glistening waterproofs. The guard lighted the lamps in the carriage, and Mrs. Medlock cheered up very much over her tea and chicken and beef. She ate a great deal and afterward fell asleep herself, and Mary sat and stared at her and watched her fine bonnet slip on one side until she herself fell asleep once more in the corner of the carriage, lulled by the splashing of the rain against the windows. It was quite dark when she awakened again. The train had stopped at a station and Mrs. Medlock was shaking her.

"You have had a sleep!" she said. "It's time to open your eyes! We're at Thwaite Station and we've got a long drive before us."

Mary stood up and tried to keep her eyes open while Mrs. Medlock collected her parcels. The little girl did not offer to help her, because in India native servants always picked up or carried things and it seemed quite proper that other people should wait on one.

The station was a small one and nobody but themselves seemed to be getting out of the train. The station-master spoke to Mrs. Medlock in a rough, good-natured way, pronouncing his words in a queer broad fashion which Mary found out afterward was Yorkshire.

"I see tha's got back," he said. "An' tha's browt th' young 'un with thee."

"Aye, that's her," answered Mrs. Medlock, speaking with a Yorkshire accent herself and jerking her head over her shoulder toward Mary. "How's thy Missus?"

"Well enow. Th' carriage is waitin' outside for thee."

A brougham stood on the road before the little outside platform. Mary saw that it was a smart carriage and that it was a smart footman who helped her in. His long waterproof coat and the waterproof covering of his hat were shining and dripping with rain as everything was, the burly station-master included.

When he shut the door, mounted the box with the coachman, and they drove off, the little girl found herself seated in a comfortably cushioned corner, but she was not inclined to go to sleep again. She sat and looked out of the window, curious to see something of the road over which she was being driven to the queer place Mrs. Medlock had spoken of. She was not at all a timid child and she was not exactly frightened, but she felt that there was no knowing what might happen in a house with a hundred rooms nearly all shut up—a house standing on the edge of a moor.

"What is a moor?" she said suddenly to Mrs. Medlock.

"Look out of the window in about ten minutes and you'll see," the woman answered. "We've got to drive five miles across Missel Moor before we get to the Manor. You won't see much because it's a dark night, but you can see something."

Mary asked no more questions but waited in the darkness of her corner, keeping her eyes on the window. The carriage lamps cast rays of light a little distance ahead of them and she caught glimpses of the things they passed. After they had left the station they had driven through a tiny village and she had seen whitewashed cottages and the lights of a public house. Then they had passed a church and a vicarage and a little shop-window or so in a cottage with toys and sweets and odd things set out for sale. Then they were on the highroad and she saw hedges and trees. After that there seemed nothing different for a long time—or at least it seemed a long time to her.

At last the horses began to go more slowly, as if they were climbing up-hill, and presently there seemed to be no more hedges and no more trees. She could see nothing, in fact, but a dense darkness on either side. She leaned forward and pressed her face against the window just as the carriage gave a big jolt.

"Eh! We're on the moor now sure enough," said Mrs. Medlock.

The carriage lamps shed a yellow light on a rough-looking road which seemed to be cut through bushes and low growing things which ended in the great expanse of dark apparently spread out before and around them. A wind was rising and making a singular, wild, low, rushing sound.

"It's—it's not the sea, is it?" said Mary, looking round at her companion.

"No, not it," answered Mrs. Medlock. "Nor it isn't fields nor mountains, it's just miles and miles and miles of wild land that nothing grows on but heather and gorse and broom, and nothing lives on but wild ponies and sheep."

"I feel as if it might be the sea, if there were water on it," said Mary. "It sounds like the sea just now."

"That's the wind blowing through the bushes," Mrs. Medlock said. "It's a wild, dreary enough place to my mind, though there's plenty that likes it—particularly when the heather's in bloom."

On and on they drove through the darkness, and though the rain stopped, the wind rushed by and whistled and made strange sounds. The road went up and down, and several times the carriage passed over a little bridge beneath which water rushed very fast with a great deal of noise. Mary felt as if the drive would never come to an end and that the wide, bleak moor was a wide expanse of black ocean through which she was passing on a strip of dry land.

"I don't like it," she said to herself. "I don't like it," and she pinched her thin lips more tightly together.

The horses were climbing up a hilly piece of road when she first caught sight of a light. Mrs. Medlock saw it as soon as she did and drew a long sigh of relief.

"Eh, I am glad to see that bit o' light twinkling," she exclaimed. "It's the light in the lodge window. We shall get a good cup of tea after a bit, at all events."

It was "after a bit," as she said, for when the carriage passed through the park gates there was still two miles of avenue to drive through and the trees (which nearly met overhead) made it seem as if they were driving through a long dark vault.

They drove out of the vault into a clear space and stopped before an immensely long but low-built house which seemed to ramble round a stone court. At first Mary thought that there were no lights at all in the windows, but as she got out of the carriage she saw that one room in a corner up-stairs showed a dull glow.

The entrance door was a huge one made of massive, curiously shaped panels of oak studded with big iron nails and bound with great iron bars. It opened into an enormous hall, which was so dimly lighted that the faces in the portraits on the walls and the figures in the suits of armor made Mary feel that she did not want to look at them. As she stood on the stone floor she looked a very small, odd little black figure, and she felt as small and lost and odd as she looked.

A neat, thin old man stood near the manservant who opened the door for them.

"You are to take her to her room," he said in a husky voice. "He doesn't want to see her. He's going to London in the morning."

"Very well, Mr. Pitcher," Mrs. Medlock answered. "So long as I know what's expected of me, I can manage."

"What's expected of you, Mrs. Medlock," Mr. Pitcher said, "is that you make sure that he's not disturbed and that he doesn't see what he doesn't want to see."

And then Mary Lennox was led up a broad staircase and down a long corridor and up a short flight of steps and through another corridor and another, until a door opened in a wall and she found herself in a room with a fire in it and a supper on a table.

Mrs. Medlock said unceremoniously:

"Well, here you are! This room and the next are where you'll live—and you must keep to them. Don't you forget that!"

It was in this way Mistress Mary arrived at Misselthwaite Manor and she had perhaps never felt quite so contrary in all her life.

 

Fifty Famous People  by James Baldwin

Speaking a Piece

T WO children, brother and sister, were on their way to school. Both were very small. The boy was only four years old, and the girl was not yet six.

"Come, Edward, we must hurry," said the sister. "We must not be late."

With one hand the little boy clung to his sister's arm, and with the other he held his primer.

This primer was his only book, and he loved it. It had a bright blue cover, which he was careful not to soil. And in it were some odd little pictures, which he never grew tired of looking at.

Edward could spell nearly all the words in his primer, and he could read quite well.

The school was more than a mile from their home, and the children trotted along as fast as their short legs could carry them.

At a place where two roads crossed, they saw a tall gentleman coming to meet them. He was dressed in black, and had a very pleasant face.

"Oh, Edward, there is Mr. Harris!" whispered the little girl. "Don't forget your manners."

They were glad to see Mr. Harris, for he was the minister. They stopped by the side of the road and made their manners. Edward bowed very gracefully, and his sister curtsied.

"Good morning, children!" said the minister; and he kindly shook hands with both.

"I have something here for little Edward," he said. Then he took from his pocket a sheet of paper on which some verses were written.

"See! It is a little speech that I have written for him. The teacher will soon ask him to speak a piece at school, and I am sure that he can learn this easily and speak it well"

Edward took the paper and thanked the kind minister.

"Mother will help him learn it," said his sister.

"Yes, I will try to learn it," said Edward.

"Do so, my child," said the Minister; "and I hope that when you grow up you will become a wise man and a great orator."

Then the two children hurried on to school.

The speech was not hard to learn, and Edward soon knew every word of it. When the time came for him to speak, his mother and the minister were both there to hear him.

He spoke so well that everybody was pleased. He pronounced every word plainly, as though he were talking to his schoolmates.

Would you like to read his speech? Here it is:—

Pray, how shall I, a little lad, In speaking make a figure? You're only joking, I'm afraid— Just wait till I am bigger. But since you wish to hear my part, And urge me to begin it, I'll strive for praise with all my heart, Though small the hope to win it. I'll tell a tale how Farmer John A little roan colt bred, sir, Which every night and every morn He watered and he fed, sir. Said Neighbor Joe to Farmer John, "You surely are a dolt, sir, To spend such time and care upon A little useless colt, sir." Said Farmer John to Neighbor Joe, "I bring my little roan up Not for the good he now can do, But will do when he's grown up." The moral you can plainly see, To keep the tale from spoiling, The little colt you think is me— I know it by your smiling. And now, my friends, please to excuse My lisping and my stammers; I, for this once, have done my best, And so—I'll make my manners.

The little boy's name was Edward Everett. He grew up to become a famous man and one of our greatest orators.

 

A. A. Milne

Buckingham Palace

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace— Christopher Robin went down with Alice. Alice is marrying one of the guard. "A soldier's life is terrible hard," Says Alice. They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace— Christopher Robin went down with Alice. We saw a guard in a sentry-box. "One of the sergeants looks after their socks," Says Alice. They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace— Christopher Robin went down with Alice. We looked for the King, but he never came. "Well, God take care of him, all the same," Says Alice. They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace— Christopher Robin went down with Alice. They've great big parties inside the grounds. "I wouldn't be King for a hundred pounds," Says Alice. They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace— Christopher Robin went down with Alice. A face looked out, but it wasn't the King's. "He's much too busy a-signing things," Says Alice. They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace— Christopher Robin went down with Alice. "Do you think the King knows all about me?" "Sure to, dear, but it's time for tea," Says Alice.

 

Our Island Story  by H. E. Marshall

The Romans Come Again

C AESAR must have felt that he had not really conquered the Britons for, as soon as he arrived safely in France, he began to gather together another army. In the spring of the following year, he again sailed over to Britain. He came now not with eighty, but with eight hundred ships and many thousands of men. But this time there was no one to meet him when he landed. The Britons indeed had heard of his coming, and had gathered in great force to resist him. But, when they saw such a huge number of ships, their hearts were filled with fear, and they fled into the forests and hills to hide.

It must have been a wonderful sight, in the eyes of the ancient Britons, to see so many ships sailing on the sea all at once. They knew scarcely anything of the great lands which lay beyond the blue sea surrounding their little island. They had not even dreamed that the whole world contained as many ships as they now saw. So it was not surprising that at first they were afraid and fled. But they did not lose courage for long. They soon returned and many battles were fought.

The Romans seemed to think that they won all these battles, but the Britons were not at all sure of it. Certainly a great many people on both sides were killed. If the Britons had been less brave than they were, they would have been very badly beaten, for the Romans wore strong armour and carried shields made of steel, while the Britons had little armour, if any at all, and their shields were made of wood covered with skins of animals. The Roman swords too were strong and sharp, while those of the Britons were made of copper. Copper is a very soft metal, and swords made of it are easily bent and so made useless.

The Britons at this time were divided into many tribes, each following their own chief. They often used to quarrel among themselves. Now, however, they joined together against their great enemy and chose a brave man, called Cassivellaunus, to be their leader.

Cassivellaunus led the Britons so well, and Cæsar found it such a difficult task to conquer them, that at last he was glad to make peace again and sail back to his own country.

He did not like to go away as if he had been defeated, so he sent messengers to the British chief, saying, "If you let me take some of your warriors back to Rome as a sign that you are now Roman subjects and will not rebel against me, I will go away."

The Britons were only too glad to be rid of Cæsar and his soldiers at any price. They gave him some British soldiers to take back to Rome, and even promised to pay him a certain sum of money every year.

But it almost seemed as if Neptune had been doing battle for his beloved Albion with his winds and waves. For while Cæsar had been fighting the Britons, such fierce storms arose that his ships were thrown upon the rocky shore and many of them dashed to pieces. Indeed so few of his ships remained fit to put to sea again that Cæsar could not take all his soldiers away at one time. As many went as could, and the ships came back again for the others.

Cæsar did not leave any soldiers in Britain at all, so it does not seem as if he had really conquered the land. These things happened in the year 54 B.C., that is, fifty-four years before Christ was born. All Christian lands count time from the year in which Christ was born, because His coming is the most wonderful thing which has ever happened. Anything that took place before Christ was born is said to be in such and such a year B.C. Everything which has taken place since then is said to be A.D. or Anno Domini, which means, "in the year of our Lord." For instance, this book is written in the year 1905 A.D. or 1905 years after the birth of Christ.

 

Holiday Shore  by Edith M. Patch

Low Tide

W HILE the tide is high, water covers much of Holiday Shore. Bright-colored fish swim among the rocks. Snails crawl about eating plants. Pink and blue starfishes hunt for clams, while seaweeds nod their red and green fronds. Plantlike animals attached to stones spread their legs and tentacles (flexible organs of touch) to catch food.

When the tide is low, all this is changed. Seaweeds hang limp and motionless from Holiday Cliff. Little fish hide in wet cracks and big fish swim away in the bay. Many snails hide under stones, and so do the starfishes and crabs. The shore seems to lie asleep, waiting for the tide to return.

But the animals that burrow in the fine sand are not asleep. Those holes over there were dug by clams and if you stamp your foot near them the clams will squirt water and you will know that they are awake. Those wrinkled lumps of mud were brought up by long green worms that live in burrows under the sand.

If you dig farther out, you will find sand dollars. They are circular flat creatures with very thick shells covered with silky brown spines. In deeper water they live on the bottom. Codfish and haddock visit Holiday Bay just to get meals of sand dollars.

There are pools on the shore where creatures swim, crawl, and eat, no matter how low the tide may be. These are hollows or basins worn in the rock near the foot of Holiday Cliff. When the tide goes out, water still remains in these hollows. That is why we call them "tide pools."

Let us visit one of these pools while the rest of the shore is free from water.

The rocks around the pool are covered with thick bunches of brownish-green seaweed. In the water float some bright purple sheets. They are the fronds of seaweed called "dulse," which many people like to eat. If you go to grocery stores in seashore towns, you may find baskets of dried dulse for sale. It has a musty, salty taste and it will make you very thirsty if you eat any of it.

On the rocks at the bottom of the pool are hard, rough patches of pink. They are made by a strange seaweed that covers itself with colored lime. Some seaweeds spread out on flat stones. Others, like those in that corner, form lacy fronds of lime.

Those plants that look like huge brown leaves have drifted in from Holiday Bay. The biggest seaweeds in this Eastern bay have fronds that are two or three feet long. But if you visit the coast of Washington, you may find seaweeds called kelp that sometimes are hundreds of feet in length. One of them has a cluster of fronds fastened to a big, hollow ball. This ball is on the end of a stem so long that it reaches to the bottom of the bay. There it anchors the kelp to a stone. Sailors sometimes have thought that these long, twisting stems were brown sea serpents.

Seaweeds, of course, are not really weeds. They have no roots or true leaves. They never have flowers or seeds. Seaweeds belong to a very ancient group of plants called algæ (al-jee). Algæ began to live in the sea millions of years before there were grasses or trees or plants of most other kinds on land. Even now, most algæ live in the sea or in streams and shallow ponds of fresh water.

Those sharp, rough shells fastened to rocks in our tide pool belong to animals called barnacles. Barnacles often live on rocks so high that they are left dry by the low tide. Then they close their shells and wait for the water to cover them before they can have anything to eat.

There in the pool, too, are tubes built by little worms with red gills. They cannot come out and crawl away, like the worms you found burrowing in the beach.

What are those pretty, checkered mats? They are the homes of creatures so plantlike in appearance that they have been given a name meaning "moss animals." Some of their relatives live on the seaweeds that float in Holiday Bay.

Sponges also are animals, even though they look like plants in the pool. Some are green, while others are yellow or pink. Each sponge has a great many tiny mouths, through which it sucks in water and food. When it has eaten as much as it can, it sends the water out through another larger hole.

In a shady corner of the pool are some large sea anemones (a-nem'-o-nies). Some of them have been scared by a crab. They have shut their mouths and drawn in their tentacles and now look like red and green tomatoes sitting in the water. Other anemones were not frightened by the crab. They sit in the shelter of the floating seaweeds with their mouths open and their fluffy tentacles out, ready to catch food.

Some sea anemones in a corner of the tide pool.

Though it is pretty and flowerlike and is named for a flower, the sea anemone is an animal. It is a relative of the corals that build banks and reefs in the sea near Florida. Other relatives are the pale pink jellyfish that swim in the shallows of Holiday Bay.

Some sea anemones cover their bodies with pieces of broken shell. When they close their mouths you can hardly tell them from rubbish that has been caught in a crack.

Some sea anemones cover themselves with pieces of shell.

How do sea anemones eat? Watch this big one when a little fish swims near. His tentacles wave and stretch. Three of them catch the fish and sting it so it cannot swim. Then other tentacles get to work. They pull and push the little fish into the anemone's mouth. He will eat all of it but the fat before he is ready for another meal.

At one end of the tide pool the bottom is covered with sand. There lies a long purple creature with branched tentacles at one end. Five double rows of suckers run the whole length of his body. As he stays there undisturbed his body grows longer and longer, till it looks like a huge purple worm. If you pick him up, however, his body becomes short and stiff. He does not bite or sting.

This queer creature is a sea cucumber. It is a distant cousin of the starfish, even though it looks more like a worm.

The sea cucumber is a relative of the starfish even though he looks like a worm.

There are other sea cucumbers in Holiday Bay, but most of them live in the mud or sand. They swallow a lot of it every day, to get the bits of food it contains. That means a great deal of work for a little meal—but they are sure of getting something to eat.

The strangest animal in the tide pool is the little white tunicate, or sea squirt. When a baby, he swims freely about in the bay. He has a head, eyes, and a long tail. Down his back runs a piece of gristle like that which in higher animals comes before the backbone is developed. It means that the baby sea squirt is related to fish and frogs.

But this gristle never becomes a backbone. After swimming about for a while, the sea squirt settles down on a stone. He fastens himself by his head, and loses his eyes and tail. Soon he looks like a little vase with two spouts.

Sea squirts look like little vases with two spouts.

Into one spout he sucks water containing food. From the other he sends the water out after he has taken all he can eat. The animal that once seemed to have the promise of a backbone now lives and eats like a sponge!

One sea squirt in the pool near Holiday Shore even buds much as a plant does and forms colonies somewhat like those of the "bread-crumb" sponge.

But why call him sea squirt? Pick up a pebble to which one of these little animals is attached. Squeeze him suddenly. Watch him squirt water two or three feet across the pool. Could you give him a better name than the one he has?

If you go to a tide pool on the Pacific coast, what will you expect to see?

You will find barnacles, seaweeds, and snails. The barnacles will not be quite like those on Holiday Shore. The seaweeds will be bigger. Some of them even may be kelp that waves have washed in from the bay.

You will see many moss animals and creatures that resemble them, though they are really relatives of the corals. You will find purple clams on the shore above the pool, and yellow or red sponges in it. You may think that many of the animals are much like those in the pool on Holiday Shore.

You will find purple clams on the rocks above the pool.

Yet you will find many things that are different. Most of the sea anemones are green; more of the sponges are red. The crabs are purple with green spots. Their shells are longer than those of the crabs in the pool near Holiday Cliff.

Western sea cucumbers are very large, but their tentacles are short. The commonest one often lives in pools. He is long and red, with purple and orange lumps on his skin. If you pick him up, he becomes so slimy and limp that he may slip out of your hands.

Many of the starfish are purple, too. Instead of living in the pools, they like to crawl between cobbles, where they are covered by clumps of damp seaweed. Sometimes you may find five or six, all crowded into one corner.

The most common sea squirt in Western pools is bright red, with a tough, wrinkled skin. Often it is so dirty that you may think its color is brown. A big one will squirt five or six feet if you squeeze him quickly and firmly.

We may spend a long time watching the animals and plants of either a Western or an Eastern tide pool. Even then we shall miss many of them unless we hunt with a microscope. Every sea plant and animal we have met in this chapter begins its life as a very tiny creature that spends its days floating or swimming. Some plants, called diatoms, never do grow big enough to be seen without a microscope.

These young and tiny animals and plants are eaten by their big neighbors. When sea squirts suck and barnacles wave their legs, they are carrying animals too small to be seen into their hungry mouths. Moss animals feed in the same way, and so do worms and clams.

What do the tiny animals eat? Some eat their still tinier neighbors. But those neighbors must also have food. Where do they get their meals?

The affair really starts with plants—both the little ones that float all their lives, and larger ones like scums and seaweeds.

Plants cannot think, neither can they feel as animals do. But they do one thing that no animal can do—they make their own food.

A seaweed or a diatom eats water (which is made of oxygen and hydrogen) and a gas called carbon dioxide that is contained in the water. You know this gas, which gives soda water its "bitey" taste.

Next, the plant uses sunlight. With the sunlight that comes into a tide pool, green cells in a seaweed turn the water and gas into one of the many kinds of sugar. Then they change that sugar into still other foods, such as starch.

In this work, part of the carbon dioxide is not used. So the seaweed or diatom throws it away in the water. That part is the gas called oxygen. Snails, crabs, sea anemones and other sea animals breathe this gas. Some people believe that no animals could live in the sea until plants had time to throw away a lot of oxygen for them to breathe.

Here, then, Holiday Shore's food chain begins. Plants are nourished by the food they make from gas and water during the day while the sun shines. Sunlight, like dissolved gas, is more plentiful in shallow water near shore than in the deep waters of the ocean. Also, the shore offers protection for animals like barnacles, snails, and crabs.

Now you see why Holiday Shore is such a good place to find plants and certain animals of the sea. It gives them more food, more light, and more shelter than they would find on the bottom of the deep ocean, or even in Holiday Bay. It is because they find the sort of home they need there that animals and plants of so many kinds live on the rocks, in the pools, and even in the sand that make up Holiday Shore.

 

William Blake

To the Evening Star

Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening, Now, while the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown Put on, and smile upon our evening bed! Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest the Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes, And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon, Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide, And the lion glares thro' the dun forest: The fleeces of our flocks are cover'd with Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.

 

The Burgess Animal Book for Children  by Thornton Burgess

More of Peter's Long-Legged Cousins

A T sun-up the next morning Peter Rabbit and Jumper the Hare were on hand promptly for their next lesson. Old Mother Nature smiled as she saw the eager curiosity shining in their eyes. She didn't wait for them to ask questions. "Yesterday," said she, "I told you about your water-loving cousin, the Marsh Rabbit. You have another relative down there in the Sunny South who is almost as fond of the water. Some folks call him the Swamp Rabbit. Others call him the Swamp Hare. The latter is really the best name for him, because he is a true Hare. He lives in swamps instead of marshes, but he is a splendid swimmer and fond of the water. When he is chased by an enemy he makes for the nearest pond or stream."

This cousin of Peter Rabbit is a famous swimmer.

"How big is he?" asked Jumper.

"Just about your size, Jumper," replied Old Mother Nature. "If anything, he is a little bit heavier. But because his hair lies much smoother than yours, you probably would look a little bit bigger if you were sitting beside him. As with his cousin, the Marsh Rabbit, the hair on his feet is thin. His toes are rather long and he can spread them widely, which is a great help in swimming. He doesn't have to take to the water as his little cousin does, for he is a very good runner. But he does take to it as the easiest way of getting rid of those who are chasing him. The Marsh Rabbit and the Swamp Hare are the only members of your family in all the Great World who are fond of the water and who are at home in it. Now, who shall I tell you about?"

"Our biggest cousins," cried Peter and Jumper together. "The ones you told us yesterday are bigger than Jumper," added Peter. "It is hard to believe that there can be any much bigger than he."

Old Mother Nature's eyes twinkled. "It is often hard to believe things you know nothing about," said she. "Compared with these other relatives, Jumper really isn't big at all. He seems big to you, Peter, but if he should meet his cousin, Snow White the Arctic Hare, who lives way up in the Frozen North, I am quite sure Jumper would feel small. Snow White looks very much like Jumper in his winter coat, for he is all white save the tips of his ears, which are black."

Here he is at home with his friends in the far North.

"Does he wear a white coat all year round?" asked Peter eagerly.

"When he lives so far north that there is snow and ice for most of the year, he does," replied Old Mother Nature. "But when he lives far enough south for the snow to disappear for a little while in the summer, he changes his white coat for one of gray."

"But how can he live so far north that the snow and ice seldom melt?" asked Peter, looking very much puzzled. "What can he find to eat?"

"Even way up there there is moss growing under the snow. And in the short summer other plants grow. During the long winter Snow White digs down through the snow to get these. He also eats the bark and twigs of little stunted trees. But big as he is, you have a cousin who is still bigger, the biggest of all the family."

"Who is he?" Jumper and Peter cried together.

"He is called White-tailed Jack," replied Old Mother Nature. "And he lives chiefly on the great plains of the Northwest, though sometimes he is found in the mountains and forests. He is sometimes called the Prairie Hare. In winter his coat is white, but in summer it is a light brown. Summer or winter his tail is white, wherein he is much like you, Peter. It is because of this that he is called White-tailed Jack."

"Is his tail as short as mine?" asked Peter eagerly.

Old Mother Nature laughed right out. "No, Peter," she replied. "It wouldn't be called a long tail by any other animal, but for a member of your family it really is long, and when White-tailed Jack is running he switches it from side to side. His hind legs are very long and powerful, and he can make a single jump of twenty feet without half trying. Not even Old Man Coyote can catch him in a straightaway race. You think Jumper's ears are long, Peter, but they are short compared to the ears of White-tailed Jack. Not only are his ears long, but they are very big. When he squats in his form and lays his ears back they reach way over his shoulders. Like the other members of the Hare family he doesn't use holes in the ground or hollow logs. He trusts to his long legs and to his wonderful speed to escape from his enemies. Among the latter are Howler the Wolf, Old Man Coyote, Eagles, Hawks and Owls. He is so big that he would make five or six of you, Peter."

Peter drew a long breath. "It is dreadfully hard to believe that I can have a cousin as big as that," he exclaimed. "But of course if you say it is so, it is so," he hastened to add. "Have I any other cousins anywhere near as big?"

Old Mother Nature nodded. "There are some others very like White-tailed Jack, only not quite as big," said she. "They have just such long hind legs, and just such great ears, but their coats are different, and they live on the great plains farther south. Some of them live so far south that it is warm all the year round. One of these latter is Antelope Jack, whose home is in the Southwest."

"Tell us about him," begged Peter.

"To begin with," replied Old Mother Nature, "he is a member of the big Jack Rabbit or Jack Hare branch of your family. None of this branch should be called a Rabbit. All the members are first cousins to Jumper and are true Hares. All have big ears, long, rather thin necks, and long legs. Even their front legs are comparatively long. Antelope Jack is probably next in size to White-tailed Jack. Strange to say, although he lives where it is warm for most of the year, his coat is very largely white. His back is a yellowish-brown and so is his throat. But his sides are white. The surprising thing about him is that he has the power of making himself seem almost wholly white. He can make the white hair spread out at will by means of some special little muscles which I have given him, so that the white of his sides at times almost seems to meet on his back. When he does this in the sun it makes flashes of white which can be seen a long way. By means of this Antelope Jack and his friends can keep track of each other when they are a long distance apart. There is only one other animal who can flash signals in this way, and that is the Antelope of whom I will tell you some other time. It is because Jack flashes signals in this way that he is called Antelope Jack. In his habits he is otherwise much like the other members of his family. He trusts to his long legs and his wonderful powers of jumping to keep him out of danger. He is not as well known as his commoner cousin, plain Jack Rabbit. Everybody knows Jack Rabbit."

Peter shook his head. "I don't," said he very meekly.

"Then it is time you did," replied Old Mother Nature. "If you had ever been in the Far West you would know him. Everybody out there knows him. He isn't quite as big as Antelope Jack but still he is a big fellow. He wears a brownish coat much like Jumper's, and the tips of his long ears are black. His tail is longer than Jumper's, and when he runs he carries it down."

"I don't carry mine down," Peter piped up.

Old Mother Nature laughed right out. "True enough, Peter, true enough," said she. "You couldn't if you wanted to. It isn't long enough to carry any way but up. Jack has more of a tail than you have, just as he has longer legs. My, how he can run! He goes with great bounds and about every tenth bound he jumps very high. This is so that he can get a good look around to watch out for enemies."

"Who are his enemies?" asked Peter.

"Foxes, Coyotes, Hawks, Eagles, Owls, Weasels, and men," replied Old Mother Nature. "In fact, he has about as many enemies as you have."

"I suppose when you say men, you mean hunters," said Peter.

Old Mother Nature nodded. "Yes," said she, "I mean those who hunt him for fun and those who hunt him to get rid of him."

Peter pricked up his ears. "What do they want to get rid of him for? What harm does he do?" he asked.

"When he lives far away from the homes of men he does no harm," replied Old Mother Nature. "But when he lives near the homes of men he gets into mischief, just as you do when you visit Farmer Brown's garden." Old Mother Nature looked very severe when she said this and Peter hung his head.

"I know I ought to keep away from that garden," said Peter very meekly, "but you have no idea what a temptation it is. The things in that garden do taste so good."

Old Mother Nature turned her head to hide the twinkle in her eyes. When she turned toward Peter again her face was severe as before. "That is no excuse, Peter Rabbit," said she. "You should be sufficiently strong-minded not to yield to temptation. Yielding to temptation is the cause of most of the trouble in this world. It has made man an enemy to Jack Rabbit. Jack just cannot keep away from the crops planted by men. His family is very large, and when a lot of them get together in a field of clover or young wheat, or in a young orchard where the bark on the trees is tender and sweet, they do so much damage that the owner is hardly to be blamed for becoming angry and seeking to kill them. Yes, I am sorry to say, Jack Rabbit becomes a terrible nuisance when he goes where he has no business. Now I guess you have learned sufficient about your long-legged cousins. I've a great deal to do, so skip along home, both of you."

"If you please, Mother Nature, may we come again to-morrow?" asked Peter.

"What for?" demanded Old Mother Nature. "Haven't you learned enough about your family?"

"Yes," replied Peter, "but there are lots and lots of things I would like to know about other people. If you please, I would like to come to school to you every day. You see, the more I learn about my neighbors, the better able I will be to take care of myself."

"All right, Mr. Curiosity," replied Old Mother Nature good-naturedly, "come again to-morrow morning. I wouldn't for the world deny any one who is really seeking for knowledge."

So Peter and Jumper politely bade her good-by and started for their homes.

 

A First Book in American History  by Edward Eggleston

Columbus after the Discovery of America

Columbus was very kind to the natives. At one time a poor savage was captured by the sailors and brought to Columbus, who was standing on the high after-castle of the ship. The terrified Indian sought to gain his favor by presenting the great man with a ball of cotton yarn. Columbus refused the present, but he put upon the Indian's head a pretty colored cap; he hung bells in his ears, and tied strings of green beads about his arms. Then he sent the simple creature ashore, where his friends were afterward seen admiring his ornaments.

At another time the sailors picked up an Indian who was crossing in an open canoe a wide tract of water from one island to another. This man had a piece of cassava bread and a gourd of water for his sea stores. He also had a bit of red paint with which to decorate his face before appearing among strangers, and a string of beads procured from the white men. He was rowing to a neighboring island to carry the news of the coming of the Spaniards. His canoe was taken on board, he was fed with the best food of the ship, and put ashore at his destination.

Gourd Bottle

Having got one of his vessels ashore on the coast of Haiti [ha'-tee], which he called Hispaniola [his-pan-ee-o'-lah], Columbus built a fort of the timber from the wrecked vessel and left here a little colony.

But now he began to think of carrying home the good news of his great discovery. In January, 1493, he set sail for Spain. On the 12th of January, when all were looking forward to a joyful return, a terrific storm threatened to wreck the ship and to bury in the ocean all memory of the great discovery. Prayers were said and vows were made, for the safety of the ship.

To preserve the memory of his discovery if all else should be lost, Columbus wrote two accounts of it, which he inclosed [spelling: enclosed?] in cakes of wax and put into two barrels. One of these was thrown into the sea; the other was set upon the stern of the vessel, that it might float off if the ship should go down. He hoped that one of these barrels might drift to the coast of Europe and be found.

Columbus at length reached the islands called the Azores. Here, when the storm had abated, some of his men went ashore to perform their vows at a little chapel, and were made prisoners by the Portuguese governor. Having got out of this difficulty, Columbus put to sea and met another gale, which split his sails and threatened to wreck the vessel. He finally came to anchor in a Portuguese port, where he no doubt felt some exultation in showing what Portugal had lost by refusing his offers.

In April he reached Barcelona [bar-say-lo'-nah], a Spanish city, and made his entry in a triumphal procession. At the head marched the Indians whom he had brought back with him. These were well smeared with paint and decorated with the feathers of tropical birds and with golden ornaments. Then parrots and stuffed birds were borne in the procession with articles of gold. Columbus followed, escorted by Spanish knights proud to do him honor. Ferdinand and Isabella received him under a canopy of gold brocade. As a mark of special honor, they caused him to sit down while he related his discoveries.

Columbus Returns in Triumph

This was the happiest moment in the troubled life of Columbus. He who had been thought insane was now the most honored man in Spain.

The rest of his story is mostly a story of misfortunes. The people in his first colony on the island of Hispaniola quarreled among themselves and maltreated the Indians, until the latter fell on them and killed them all. The second colony was also unfortunate. Columbus was not a wise governor, and he had many troubles in trying to settle a new country with unruly and avaricious people.

An officer sent out to inquire into the disorders in the colony sent Columbus home in chains. The people were shocked at this treatment of the great navigator, and so were the king and queen, who ordered the chains removed. When Columbus appeared before Isabella and saw tears in her eyes, he threw himself on his knees, while his utterance was choked by his sobs.

Columbus in Chains

After this he was not permitted to return to his colony; but in 1502 he made his fourth voyage to America, trying to find a way to get through the mainland of South American in order to reach India, which he thought must lie just beyond. He was at length forced to run his worm-eaten vessel aground near the shore of the island of Jamaica [ja-may'-cah]. Thatched cabins were built on the deck of the stranded ship, and here Columbus, a bed-ridden invalid, lived miserably for a year.

One faithful follower, named Diaz [dee-ath'], traded a brass basin, a coat, and his two shirts, to an Indian chief for a canoe, in which after horrible suffering Diaz reach Hispaniola. Meantime the men on the wrecked ship got provisions from the Indians in exchange for trinkets. Some of the men ran away from Columbus and lived with the savages.

The Indians now got tired of providing food in exchange for toys, and Columbus and his men were at the point of starvation. Knowing that an eclipse of the moon was about to take place, he told the Indians that a certain god would punish them if they did not provide for him, and, as a sign, he said the moon would lose its light and change color that very night. No sooner did the eclipse appear, than the Indians brought him all the provisions at hand, and the Spaniards did not lack after that.

Help at length reached Columbus, and he returned to Spain broken in health and spirits. Queen Isabella, who had been his best friend, died soon after his return. Columbus died on the 20th of May, 1506. He believed to the last that he had discovered the eastern parts of Asia. He never knew that he had found a new continent.

Columbus before Isabella

 

Anonymous

The Salcombe Seaman's Flaunt to the Proud Pirate

A lofty ship from Salcombe came, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; She had golden trucks, that shone like flame, On the bonny coasts of Barbary. "Masthead, masthead," the captains hail, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; "Look out and round, d'ye see a sail?" On the bonny coasts of Barbary. "There's a ship that looms like Beachy Head," Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; "Her banner aloft it blows out red," On the bonny coasts of Barbary. "Oh, ship ahoy, and where do you steer?" Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; "Are you man-of-war, or privateer?" On the bonny coasts of Barbary. "I am neither one of the two," said she, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; "I'm a pirate, looking for my fee," On the bonny coasts of Barbary. "I 'm a jolly pirate, out for gold:" Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; "I will rummage through your after hold," On the bonny coasts of Barbary. The grumbling guns they flashed and roared, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; Till the pirate's masts went overboard, On the bonny coasts of Barbary. They fired shots till the pirate's deck, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; Was blood and spars and broken wreck, On the bonny coasts of Barbary. "O do not haul the red flag down," Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; "O keep all fast until we drown," On the bonny coasts of Barbary. They called for cans of wine, and drank, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; They sang their songs until she sank, On the bonny coasts of Barbary. Now let us brew good cans of flip, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; And drink a bowl to the Salcombe ship, On the bonny coasts of Barbary. And drink a bowl to the lad of fame, Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we; Who put the pirate ship to shame, On the bonny coasts of Barbary.

 

Stories of Siegfried Told to the Children  by Mary Macgregor

Siegfried Comes Home

The walls of the old castle rang. King Siegmund, his knights and liegemen, all were welcoming Prince Siegfried home. They had not seen their hero-prince since he had been sent long years before to be under the charge of Mimer the blacksmith.

He had grown but more fair, more noble, they thought, as they gazed upon his stalwart limbs, his fearless eyes.

And what tales of prowess clustered around his name! Already their Prince had done great deeds as he had ridden from land to land.

The King and his liegemen had heard of the slaughter of the terrible dragon, of the capture of the great treasure, of the defiance of the warlike and beautiful Brunhild. They could wish for no more renowned prince than their own Prince Siegfried.

Thus Siegmund and his subjects rejoiced that the heir to the throne was once again in his own country.

In the Queen's bower, too, there was great joy. Sieglinde wept, but her tears were not those of sadness. Sieglinde wept for very gladness that her son had come home safe from his wonderful adventures.

Now Siegmund wished to give a great feast in honour of his son. It should be on his birthday which was very near, the birthday on which the young Prince would be twenty-one years of age.

Far and wide throughout the Netherlands and into distant realms tidings of the feast were borne. Kinsmen and strangers, lords and ladies all were asked to the banquet in the great castle hall where Siegmund reigned supreme.

It was the merry month of June when the feast was held, and the sun shone bright on maidens in fair raiment, on knights in burnished armour.

Siegfried was to be knighted on this June day along with four hundred young squires of his father's realm. The Prince was clad in gorgeous armour, and on the cloak flung around his shoulders jewels were seen to sparkle in the sunlight, jewels made fast with gold embroidery worked by the white hands of the Queen and her fair damsels.

In games and merry pastimes the hours of the day sped fast away, until the great bell of the Minster pealed, calling the gay company to the house of God for evensong. Siegfried and the four hundred squires knelt before the altar, ere they were knighted by the royal hand of Siegmund the King.

Knighted by the royal hand of Siegmund the King

The solemn service ended, the new-made knights hastened back to the castle, and there in the great hall a mighty tournament was held. Knights who had grown grey in service tilted with those who but that day had been given the grace of knighthood. Lances splintered, shields fell before the mighty onslaughts of the gallant warriors, until King Siegmund bade the tilting cease.

Then in the great hall feasting and song held sway until daylight faded and the stars shone bright.

Yet no weariness knew the merry-makers. The next morning, and for six long summer days, they tilted, they sang, they feasted.

When at length the great festival drew to a close, Siegmund in the presence of his guests gave to his dear son Siegfried many lands and strong castles over which he might be lord.

To all his son's comrades, too, the King gave steeds and costly raiment, while Queen Sieglinde bestowed upon them freely coins of gold. Such abundant gifts had never before been dreamed of as were thus lavished by Siegmund and Sieglinde on their guests.

As the rich nobles looked upon the brave young Prince Siegfried, there were some who whispered among themselves that they would fain have him to rule in the land.

Siegfried heard their whispers, but in no wise did he give heed to the wish of the nobles.

Never, he thought, while his beautiful mother and his bounteous father lived, would he wear the crown.

Indeed Siegfried had no wish to sit upon a throne, he wished but to subdue the evil-doers in the land. Or better still he wished to go forth in search of new adventure. And this right soon he did.

 

The Aesop for Children  by Milo Winter

The Stag and His Reflection

A Stag, drinking from a crystal spring, saw himself mirrored in the clear water. He greatly admired the graceful arch of his antlers, but he was very much ashamed of his spindling legs.

"How can it be," he sighed, "that I should be cursed with such legs when I have so magnificent a crown."

At that moment he scented a panther and in an instant was bounding away through the forest. But as he ran his wide-spreading antlers caught in the branches of the trees, and soon the Panther overtook him. Then the Stag perceived that the legs of which he was so ashamed would have saved him had it not been for the useless ornaments on his head.

We often make much of the ornamental and despise the useful.

 

M. Betham Edwards

A Child's Prayer

God make my life a little light, Within the world to glow— A tiny flame that burneth bright, Wherever I may go. God make my life a little flower, That bringeth joy to all, Content to bloom in native bower, Although its place be small. God make my life a little song, That comforteth the sad, That helpeth others to be strong, And makes the singer glad.

 

The Discovery of New Worlds  by M. B. Synge

Round the World

"The far-famed ship Victoria men shall sight Anchored in safest waters by Seville, When she had girdled ocean-plain profound, And circled earth in one continuous round." —Camoens.

I T was the 28th of November 1520, when three ships sailed out into the open sea. Two had already deserted, and basely made for home to spread ill reports about the stout-hearted Magellan.

They now sailed northward along the far coast of South America to escape the intense cold. The violent sudden tempests of the Atlantic had given place to steady winds, which drove them gently over the calm surface of the Pacific Ocean. This lasted for three months and twenty days. But during this time their sufferings were intense. Once more a Sea of Darkness must be crossed. The brave hearts despaired as day after day passed away, week after week, month after month, and their straining eyes could catch no sight of land. As they sailed on and on over the immense waste of waters, the great size of the world began to dawn on them. It was so much larger than any one had ever imagined. They had thought on leaving the shores of America that they would soon find the coast of Asia or India.

All December and January they sailed on. Daily their sufferings became more intense. The old historian tells us the heartrending details.

"Having consumed all their biscuits and other victuals," he says, "they fell into such necessity that they were forced to eat the biscuit powder that remained, now full of worms. They did eat skins and pieces of leather which were folded about certain great ropes of the ships. But these skins being made very hard by reason of the sun, rain, and wind, they hung them by a cord in the sea for the space of four or five days to soften them. By reason of the famine and unclean feeding, some of their gums grew so over their teeth that they died."

Indeed nineteen died and thirty more lay too ill to do any work. Still they sailed on over this ever-lasting stretch of water—vast beyond all knowing. Still that iron will of the commander never bent. With resolute eyes Magellan gazed westward for that land that he knew they must reach sooner or later, for the world, he knew, was round.

At last, after ninety-eight days of weary sailing, they came upon some islands where they could get fresh vegetables and fruit, and end their acute sufferings. After ten days' refreshment they left the islands, and sailed on in search of more land. They soon reached another group, which were afterwards named the Philippine Islands, after Philip of Spain, who was born six years after their discovery.

Though no Europeans had been here before, yet traders from China were here; and Magellan soon realised the importance of the place. He must be near the famous Spice Islands, too, for the natives brought spice to exchange, as well as bananas and cocoa-nuts.

With the good supply of food the sick sailors soon grew better; and for some time Magellan cruised about the islands, making friends as well as Christians of the natives. The Easter services were performed on one of the islands with great ceremony, a cross and crown of thorns was presented to the native king, to be set up on the highest mountain in the island, that all might see and worship.

Thus April passed away in teaching the natives, trading, and establishing the power of Spain everywhere.

But on one island his religious enthusiasm carried Magellan too far. Deciding to subdue a troublesome chief, Magellan landed on one of the islands. It was early dawn on the morning of April 27, 1521. He at once sent a message to the king to beg him to pay tribute to Spain, or he should learn how lances wounded. The answer was defiant. If the Spaniards had lances, the islanders had reeds and stakes hardened by fire.

With forty-eight armed men Magellan stepped ashore, to be met by hundreds and thousands of natives. The fight was desperate and against fearful odds. Again and again Magellan was wounded, until at last, says the old historian who fought by his side all through that last day,—"at last the Indians threw themselves upon him with iron-pointed bamboo spears and every weapon they had and ran him through,—our mirror, our light, our comforter, our true guide,—until they killed him."

So died Magellan, in a miserable skirmish, at the last. With a dauntless courage, in the face of tremendous odds, he had accomplished his work. He had sailed westward over the unknown part of the ocean to a part already reached by Europeans going eastward, thus proving once and for ever that the world was round. The foaming straits at the foot of South America will ever bear his name, which is one of the most famous in the history of discovery.

And who took home the great news?

The little ship Victoria alone. On the 16th May, with starvation thinning her ranks, one mast gone, her timbers strained and worn, she cleared the Cape of Good Hope on her homeward way, and a friendly current bore her over the equator. So starving were the sailors—of whom there were but eighteen left—that they had to stop at the Cape de Verde Islands to recruit. And it was not till September 8 that the welcome shores of Spain hove in sight, and the famine-stricken Spaniards stepped ashore to tell the story of their three years' voyage. It was a story without equal in its sufferings and misery, its failure and success,—a story without equal in the annals of history, for it told of the first circumnavigation of the globe by Magellan.

 

Gods and Heroes  by Robert Edward Francillon

The First Man; or, The Story of Prometheus and Pandora

O NE of the Titans left two sons, Prometheus and Epimetheus. Prometheus means Forethought, and Epimetheus means Afterthought. Now Prometheus was not big and strong like the other Titans, but he was more clever and cunning than all of them put together. And he said to himself, "Well, the gods have shown themselves stronger than we. We can't conquer them by fighting, that's clear. But there are cleverer ways of winning than by fighting, as they shall see."

So Prometheus dug up a good-sized lump of clay, more than six feet long, and nearly four feet round. And now, said he to himself, "I only want just one little spark of Heavenly Fire."

Now the Heavenly Fire is only to be found in the sky; and Jupiter had ordered that no Titan was ever to enter the sky again. But Prometheus was much too clever to find any difficulty about that. The great goddess Minerva, who is the goddess of Wisdom, happened to be on a visit to the earth just then, so Prometheus called upon her and said:—

"Great goddess, I am only a poor, beaten Titan, and I have never seen the sky. But my father and my father's father used to live there in the good old times, and I should like, just once, to see the inside of the beautiful blue place above the clouds which was once their home. Please, great goddess, let me go in just once, and I'll promise to do no harm."

Now Minerva did not like to break the rule. But she was very trusting and very good-natured, because she was very wise; and besides, Prometheus looked such a poor little creature, so different from all the other Titans and Giants, that she said:—

"You certainly don't look as if you could do us any harm, even if you tried. Very well—you shall have a look at the sky, and I'll show you round."

So she told Prometheus to follow her up Mount Olympus; but she did not notice a little twig that he carried in his hand: and if she had noticed it, she would not have thought it mattered. Wise people don't notice all the little things that cunning people do. Then she opened the golden gate of the sky, and let him in. She was very kind, and showed him everything. He went over the palace of the gods, and saw Jupiter's great ivory throne, and his eagle, and the brew-house where the nectar is made. He looked at the places behind the clouds, where they keep the rain and snow. Then they looked at all the stars; and at last they came to the Stables of the Sun. For you must know that the sun is a great fiery car, drawn by four white horses from the east to the west, and is put away in a stable during the night-time, where the four horses eat wheat made of gold.

"Now you have seen everything," said Minerva; "and you must go."

"Thank you," said Prometheus. And he went back to earth again. But just as he was leaving, he touched one of the wheels of the sun with his little twig, so that a spark came off upon the end.

The spark was still there when he got home. He touched his lump of clay with the spark of Heavenly Fire—and, lo and behold, the lump of clay became a living man!

"There!" said Prometheus. "There's Something that will give the gods more trouble than anything that ever was made!"

It was the First Man.

Jupiter very soon found out what Prometheus had done, and was very vexed and annoyed. He forgave Minerva, who was his favorite daughter, but he said to the god of Fire: "Make something that will trouble the man even more than the man will trouble me."

So the god of Fire took another lump of clay, and a great deal of Heavenly Flame, and made the First Woman.

All the gods admired her very much, for she had been made very nicely—better than the man. Jupiter said to her, "My child, go to Prometheus and give him my compliments, and tell him to marry you." The gods and goddesses thought it a good idea, and all of them made her presents for her wedding. One gave her beauty, another wit, another fine clothes, and so on; but Jupiter only gave her a little box, which was not to be opened till her wedding-day.

Prometheus was sitting one day at his door, thinking how clever he was, when he saw, coming down Olympus, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. As soon as she came close—

"Who are you?" he asked. "From where do you come?"

"My name is Pandora," said she. "And I am come from the skies to marry you."

"With all my heart," said Prometheus. "You will be a very nice wife, I am sure. But—let me see—Pandora means 'All Gifts,' doesn't it? What have you got to give me, to keep house upon?"

"The gods have given me everything!" said Pandora. "I bring you Beauty, Wit, Love, Wisdom, Health, Wealth, Virtue, Fine Clothes—in a word, everything that you can wish for."

"And that little box—what have you in that?" asked he.

"Oh, that's only a little box that Jupiter gave me—I don't know what's in that, for it is not to be opened till after we're married. Perhaps it is diamonds."

"Who gave it you?" asked he.

"Jupiter," said Pandora.

"Oho!" thought the cunning Prometheus. "Secret boxes from Jupiter are not to my fancy. My dear," he said to Pandora, "on second thoughts, I don't think I will marry you. But as you've had so much trouble in coming, I'll send you to my brother Epimetheus, and you shall marry him. He'll do just as well."

So Pandora went on to Epimetheus, and he married her. But Prometheus had sent him a private message not to open the box that had been given by Jupiter. So it was put away, and everything went on very well for a long time.

But, at last, Pandora happened to be alone in the house; and she could not resist the temptation to just take one little peep into the box to see what was inside. Such a little box could not hold any harm: and it might be the most beautiful present of all. Anyhow, she could do no harm by lifting the lid; she could easily shut it up again. She felt she was doing what would displease Epimetheus, and was rather ashamed of her curiosity, but—well, she did open the box. And then—out there flew thousands and thousands of creatures, like a swarm of wasps and flies, buzzing and darting about with joy to be free. Out at the window, and over the world they flew. Alas! they were all the evil things that are in the world to torment and hurt mankind. Those flies from Pandora's box were War, Pain, Grief, Anger, Sickness, Sorrow, Poverty, Death, Sin. What could she do? She could not get them back into the box again; she could only scream and wring her hands. Epimetheus heard her cries, and did all he could: he shut down the lid, just in time to keep the very last of the swarm from flying away. By good luck, it was the only one worth keeping—a little creature called Hope, who still lives in the box to comfort us when the others are stinging us, and to make us say, "There is good in everything—even in the box of Pandora."

But Jupiter, when he heard how Prometheus had refused to marry Pandora, and had tried to outwit him again, was very angry indeed. He sent down one of the gods, who took Prometheus and carried him to Mount Caucasus, and bound him to the highest and coldest peak with chains. And a vulture was sent to gnaw his heart forever.

So cunning could not conquer the strength of the gods after all.

I have something to say about this story, which you may not quite understand now, but which you will, some day, when you read it again. Think how Man is made of dead common clay, but with one spark of Heavenly Fire straight from the sky. Think how Woman is made, with less clay, but with more of the Heavenly Fire. Think of that "Afterthought," which saved Hope when there was nothing else to be saved, and think of the Pain sent to gnaw the heart of Prometheus, who used all his cleverness to make himself great in wrong-doing.

You will be glad to hear that, a long time afterwards, the greatest and best man in all Mythology came and killed the vulture, and set Prometheus free. You will read all about it in time. But I want you to know and remember the man's name. It was Hercules.

 

Rachel Lyman Field

Doorbells

You never know with a doorbell Who may be ringing it— It may be Great-Aunt Cynthia To spend the day and knit; It may be a peddler with things to sell (I'll buy some when I'm older), Or the grocer's boy with his apron on And a basket on his shoulder; It may be the old umbrella-man Giving his queer, cracked call, Or a lady dressed in rustly silk, With card-case and parasol. Doorbells are like a magic game, Or the grab-bag at a fair— You never know when you hear one ring Who may be waiting there!

 

Fairy Tales Too Good To Miss—Beside the Sea  by Lisa M. Ripperton

The Old Hag's Long Leather Bag

O NCE on a time, long, long ago, there was a widow woman who had three daughters. When their father died, their mother thought they never would want, for he had left her a long leather bag filled with gold and silver. But he was not long dead, when an old Hag came begging to the house one day and stole the long leather bag filled with gold and silver, and went away out of the country with it, no one knew where.

So from that day, the widow woman and her three daughters were poor, and she had a hard struggle to live and to bring up her three daughters.

But when they were grown up, the eldest said one day: "Mother, I'm a young woman now, and it's a shame for me to be here doing nothing to help you or myself. Bake me a bannock and cut me a callop, till I go away to push my fortune."

The mother baked her a whole bannock, and asked her if she would have half of it with her blessing or the whole of it without. She said to give her the whole bannock without.

So she took it and went away. She told them if she was not back in a year and a day from that, then they would know she was doing well, and making her fortune.

She traveled away and away before her, far farther than I could tell you, and twice as far as you could tell me, until she came into a strange country, and going up to a little house, she found an old Hag living in it. The Hag asked her where she was going. She said she was going to push her fortune.

Said the Hag: "How would you like to stay here with me? For I want a maid."

"What will I have to do?" said she.

"You will have to wash me and dress me, and sweep the hearth clean; but on the peril of your life, never look up the chimney," said the Hag.

"All right," she agreed to this.

The next day, when the Hag arose, she washed her and dressed her, and when the Hag went out, she swept the hearth clean, and she thought it would be no harm to have one wee look up the chimney. And there what did she see but her own mother's long leather bag of gold and silver? So she took it down at once, and getting it on her back, started away for home as fast as she could run.

But she had not gone far when she met a horse grazing in a field, and when he saw her, he said: "Rub me! Rub me! for I haven't been rubbed these seven years."

But she only struck him with a stick she had in her hand, and drove him out of her way.

She had not gone much farther when she met a sheep, who said: "O, shear me! Shear me! for I haven't been shorn these seven years."

But she struck the sheep, and sent it scurrying out of her way.

She had not gone much farther when she met a goat tethered, and he said: "O, change my tether! Change my tether! for it hasn't been changed these seven years."

But she flung a stone at him, and went on.

Next she came to a lime-kiln, and it said: "O, clean me! Clean me! for I haven't been cleaned these seven years."

But she only scowled at it, and hurried on.

After another bit she met a cow, and it said: "O, milk me! Milk me! for I haven't been milked these seven years."

She struck the cow out of her way, and went on.

Then she came to a mill. The mill said: "O, turn me! Turn me! for I haven't been turned these seven years."

But she did not heed what it said, only went in and lay down behind the mill door, with the bag under her head, for it was then night.

When the hag came into her hut again and found the girl gone, she ran to the chimney and looked up to see if she had carried off the bag. She got into a great rage, and she started to run as fast as she could after her.

She had not gone far when she met the horse, and she said: "O, horse, horse of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

"Ay," said the horse, "it is not long since she passed here."

So on she ran, and it was not long till she met the sheep, and said she: "Sheep, sheep of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

"Ay," said the sheep, "it is not long since she passed here."

So she goes on, and it was not long before she met the goat, and said she: "Goat, goat of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

"Ay," said the goat, "it is not long since she passed here."

So she goes on, and it was not long before she met the lime-kiln, and said she: "Lime-kiln, lime-kiln of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and with all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

"Ay," said the lime-kiln, "it is not long since she passed here."

So she goes on, and it was not long before she met the cow, and said she, "Cow, cow of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

"Ay," said the cow, "it is not long since she passed here."

So she goes on, and it was not long before she met the mill, and said she: "Mill, mill of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

And the mill said: "Yes, she is sleeping behind the door."

She went in and struck her with a white rod, and turned her into a stone. She then took the bag of gold and silver on her back, and went away back home.

A year and a day had gone by after the eldest daughter left home, and when they found she had not returned, the second daughter got up, and she said: "My sister must be doing well and making her fortune, and isn't it a shame for me to be sitting here doing nothing, either to help you, Mother, or myself. Bake me a bannock," said she, "and cut me a callop, till I go away to push my fortune."

The mother did this, and asked her would she have half the bannock with her blessing or the whole bannock without.

She said the whole bannock without, and she set off. Then she said: "If I am not back here in a year and a day, you may be sure that I am doing well and making my fortune," and then she went away.

She traveled away and away on before her, far farther than I could tell you, and twice as far as you could tell me, until she came into a strange country, and going up to a little house, she found an old Hag living in it. The old Hag asked her where she was going. She said she was going to push her fortune.

Said the Hag: "How would you like to stay here with me? For I want a maid."

"What will I have to do?" says she.

"You'll have to wash me and dress me, and sweep the hearth clean; and on the peril of your life never look up the chimney," said the Hag.

"All right," she agreed to this.

The next day, when the Hag arose, she washed her and dressed her, and when the Hag went out she swept the hearth, and she thought it would be no harm to have one wee look up the chimney. And there what did she see but her own mother's long leather bag of gold and silver? So she took it down at once, and getting it on her back, started away for home as fast as she could run.

But she had not gone far when she met a horse grazing in a field, and when he saw her, he said: "Rub me! Rub me! for I haven't been rubbed these seven years."

But she only struck him with a stick she had in her hand, and drove him out of her way.

She had not gone much farther when she met the sheep, who said: "O, shear me! Shear me! for I haven't been shorn in seven years."

But she struck the sheep, and sent it scurrying out of her way.

She had not gone much farther when she met the goat tethered, and he said: "O, change my tether! Change my tether! for it hasn't been changed in seven years."

But she flung a stone at him, and went on.

Next she came to the lime-kiln, and that said: "O, clean me! Clean me! for I haven't been cleaned these seven years."

But she only scowled at it, and hurried on.

Then she came to the cow, and it said: "O, milk me! Milk me! for I haven't been milked these seven years."

She struck the cow out of her way, and went on.

Then she came to the mill. The mill said: "O, turn me! Turn me! for I haven't been turned these seven years."

But she did not heed what it said, only went in and lay down behind the mill door, with the bag under her head, for it was night.

When the Hag came into her hut again and found the girl gone, she ran to the chimney and looked up to see if she had carried off the bag. She got into a great rage, and she started to run as fast as she could after her. She had not gone far when she met the horse, and she said: "O, horse, horse of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

"Ay," said the horse, "it is not long since she passed here."

So on she ran, and it was not long until she met the sheep, and said she: "O, sheep, sheep of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

"Ay," said the sheep, "it is not long since she passed here."

So she goes on, and it was not long before she met the goat, and said: "Goat, goat of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

"Ay," said the goat, "it is not long since she passed here."

So she goes on, and it was not long before she met the lime-kiln, and said she: "Lime-kiln, lime-kiln of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

"Ay," said the lime-kiln, "it is not long since she passed here."

So she goes on, and it was not long before she met the cow, and says she: "Cow, cow of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

"Ay," said the cow, "it is not long since she passed here."

So she goes on, and it was not long before she met the mill, and said she: "Mill, mill of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

And the mill said: "Yes, she is sleeping behind the door."

She went in and struck her with a white rod, and turned her into a stone. She then took the bag of gold and silver on her back and went home.

When the second daughter had been gone a year and a day, and she hadn't come back, the youngest daughter said: "My two sisters must be doing very well indeed, and making great fortunes when they are not coming back, and it's a shame for me to be sitting here doing nothing, either to help you, Mother, or myself. Make me a bannock and cut me a callop, till I go away and push my fortune."

The mother did this and asked her would she have half of the bannock with her blessing or the whole bannock without.

She said: "I will have half of the bannock with your blessing, Mother."

The mother gave her a blessing and half a bannock, and she set out. She traveled away and away on before her, far farther than I could tell you, and twice as far as you could tell me, until she came into a strange country, and going up to a little house, she found an old Hag living in it. The Hag asked her where she was going. She said she was going to push her fortune.

Said the Hag: "How would you like to stay here with me? For I want a maid."

"What will I have to do?" said she.

"You'll have to wash me and dress me, and sweep the hearth clean; and on the peril of your life never look up the chimney," said the Hag.

"All right," she agreed to this.

The next day, when the Hag arose, she washed her and dressed her, and when the Hag went out she swept the hearth, and she thought it would be no harm to have one wee look up the chimney, and there what did she see but her own mother's long leather bag of gold and silver? So she took it down at once, and getting it on her back, started away for home as fast as she could run.

When she got to the horse, the horse said: "Rub me! Rub me! for I haven't been rubbed these seven years."

"O, poor horse, poor horse," she said, "I'll surely do that." And she laid down her bag, and rubbed the horse.

Then she went on, and it wasn't long before she met the sheep, who said: "O, shear me! Shear me! for I haven't been shorn these seven years."

"O, poor sheep, poor sheep," she said, "I'll surely do that," and she laid down the bag, and sheared the sheep.

On she went till she met the goat, who said: "O, change my tether! Change my tether! for it hasn't been changed these seven years."

"O, poor goat, poor goat," she said, "I'll surely do that," and she laid down the bag, and changed the goat's tether.

Then she went on till she met the lime-kiln. The lime-kiln said: "O, clean me! Clean me! for I haven't been cleaned these seven years."

"O, poor lime-kiln, poor lime-kiln," she said, "I'll surely do that," and she laid down the bag and cleaned the lime-kiln.

Then she went on and met the cow. The cow said: "O, milk me! Milk me! for I haven't been milked these seven years."

"O, poor cow, poor cow," she said, "I'll surely do that," and she laid down the bag and milked the cow.

At last she reached the mill. The mill said: "O, turn me! Turn me! for I haven't been turned these seven years."

"O, poor mill, poor mill," she said, "I'll surely do that," and she turned the mill too.

As night was on her, she went in and lay down behind the mill door to sleep.

When the Hag came into her hut again and found the girl gone, she ran to the chimney to see if she had carried off the bag. She got into a great rage, and started to run as fast as she could after her.

She had not gone far until she came up to the horse and said: "O, horse, horse of mine, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

The horse said: "Do you think I have nothing to do only watch your maids for you? You may go somewhere else and look for information."

Then she came upon the sheep. "O sheep, sheep of mine, have you seen this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

The sheep said: "Do you think I have nothing to do only watch your maids for you? You may go somewhere else and look for information."

Then she went on till she met the goat. "O goat, goat of mine, have you seen this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

The goat said: "Do you think I have nothing to do only watch your maids for you? You can go somewhere else and look for information."

Then she went on till she came to the lime-kiln. "O lime-kiln, lime-kiln, did you see this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

Said the lime-kiln: "Do you think I have nothing to do only to watch your maids for you? You may go somewhere else and look for information."

Next she met the cow. "O cow, cow of mine, have you seen this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

The cow said: "Do you think I have nothing to do only watch your maids for you? You may go somewhere else and look for information."

Then she got to the mill. "O mill, mill of mine, have you seen this maid of mine, with my tig, with my tag, with my long leather bag, and all the gold and silver I have earned since I was a maid?"

The mill said: "Come nearer and whisper to me."

She went nearer to whisper to the mill, and the mill dragged her under the wheels and ground her up.

The old Hag had dropped the white rod out of her hand, and the mill told the young girl to take this white rod and strike two stones behind the mill door. She did that, and her two sisters stood up. She hoisted the leather bag on her back, and the three of them set out and traveled away and away till they reached home.

The mother had been crying all the time while they were away, and was now ever so glad to see them, and rich and happy they all lived ever after.

 

Seaside and Wayside, Book One  by Julia McNair Wright

A Look at Mrs. Wasp

M RS. WASP'S color is blue-black. She has yellow marks.

She has four thin wings. Two are large and two are small.

The front wings are the large ones. Her wings lie close to her sides when her body is at rest.

The wasp looks as if she had two wings, not four.

The two under ones are hooked to the upper ones.

Her eyes are set close to her head. They are large.

Mrs. Wasp

They have a notch or dent in them. She has two long wands, called feelers, on her head. They are made in joints. She touches things with them.

Her body is in three parts. The first part is the head, with the eyes and mouth.

The next part is thick and short. The hind part is long and slim. These two join at a point. It looks as if the hind part might drop off, but it never does.

Mrs. Wasp has a long, sharp sting in her tail. The wasp's sting is like two fine saws. A drop of poison runs through it from a bag.

You need not fear Mrs. Wasp. She does not sting if you let her alone.

She has six legs. The legs and wings are set on the part of the body that is next the head. She uses her front legs for hands. The body of the wasp is hard, and made of rings like scales.

Mrs. Wasp uses her jaws to cut up wood for paper. She does not need them to eat with.

She eats honey. When her baby eats spiders and caterpillars, it does not chew them. It sucks out their juice. People say that wasps bite fruit and spoil it. That is when they make a hole in the fruit to suck out the juice. Wasps kill bees for their honey. They are cross and fight.

All wasps are not of the same color. There is a wasp of rust-red color. Some are blue-black, some have yellow marks.

 

Anonymous

Frost Pictures

Pictures on the window, Painted by Jack Frost, Coming at the midnight, With the moon are lost; Here a row of fir-trees, Standing straight and tall; There a rapid river, And a waterfall. Here a branch of coral From the briny sea; There a weary traveller Resting 'neath a tree; Here a grand old iceberg, Floating slowly on; There a mighty forest Of the torrid zone. Here a swamp, all tangled,— Rushes, ferns and brake; There a rugged mountain, Here a little lake. Then a breath, the lightest Floating in the air, Jack Frost catches quickly, And imprints it there. And thus you are painting, Little children, too, On your life's fair window Always something new; But your little pictures Will not pass away Like those Jack Frost's fingers Paint each winter day. Each kind word or action Is a picture bright; Every duty mastered Is lovely in the light; But each thought of anger, Every word of strife, Blemishes the picture, Stains the glass of life. Then be very careful, Every day and hour, Lest unseemly touches Trace your window o'er; Let the lines be always Made by kindness bright,— Paint your glass with pictures Of the true and right.

 

Hurlbut's Story of the Bible  by Jesse Lyman Hurlbut

The Last Days of Solomon's Reign

I Kings x: 1, to xi: 43.

NDER King Solomon the land of Israel arose to greatness as never before and never afterwards. All the countries around Israel, and some that were far away, sent their princes to visit Solomon. And every one who saw him wondered at his wisdom and his skill to answer hard questions. It was said that King Solomon was the wisest man in all the world. He wrote many of the wise sayings in the Book of Proverbs, and many more that have been lost. He wrote more than a thousand songs. He spoke of trees, and of animals, and of birds, and of fishes. From many lands people came to see Solomon's splendor in living and to listen to his wise words.

In a land more than a thousand miles from Jerusalem, on the south of Arabia, in the land of Sheba, the queen heard of Solomon's wisdom. She left her home, with a great company of her nobles, riding on camels and bearing rich gifts; and she came to visit King Solomon. The queen of Sheba brought to Solomon many hard questions, and she told him all that was in her heart. Solomon answered all her questions, and showed her all the glory of his palace, and his throne, and his servants, and the richness of his table, and the steps by which he went up from his palace to the house of the Lord. And when she had heard and seen all, she said:

"All that I heard in my own land of your wisdom and your greatness was true. But I did not believe it until I came and saw your kingdom. And not half was told me; for your wisdom and your splendor are far beyond what I had heard. Happy are those who are always before you to hear your wisdom! Blessed be the Lord thy God, who has set thee on the throne of Israel!"

And the queen of Sheba gave to Solomon great treasures of gold, and sweet-smelling spices, and perfumes; and Solomon also made to her rich presents. Then she went back to her own land.

The Queen of Sheba comes to see Solomon.

Solomon's great palace, where he lived in state, stood on the southern slope of Mount Moriah, a little lower than the Temple. Its pillars of cedar were very many, so that they stood like a forest; and on that account it was called "The House of the Forest of Lebanon." From this palace a wide staircase of stone led up to the Temple, and Solomon and his princes walked up these stairs when they went to worship.

But there was a dark side as well as a bright side to the reign of Solomon. His palaces, and the walled cities that he built to protect his kingdom on all sides, and the splendor of his court, cost much money. To pay for these he laid heavy taxes upon his people, and from all the tribes he compelled many of the men to work on buildings, to become soldiers in his army, to labor in his fields, and to serve in his household. Before the close of Solomon's reign the cry of the people rose up against Solomon and his rule, on account of the heavy burdens that he had laid upon the land.

Solomon was very wise in affairs of the world, but he had no feeling for the poor of the land, nor did he love God with all his heart. He chose for his queen a daughter of Pharoah, the king of Egypt, and he built for her a splendid palace. And he married many other women who were the daughters of kings. These women had worshipped idols in their own homes, and to please them, Solomon built on the Mount of Olives a temple of idols, in full view of the Temple of the Lord. So images of Baal, and the Asherah, and of Chemosh, the idol of the Moabites, and of Molech, the idol of the Ammonites, stood on the hill in front of Jerusalem; and to these images King Solomon himself offered sacrifices. How great was the shame of the good men in Israel when they saw their king surrounded by idol-priests, and bowing down upon his face before images of stone!

The Lord was very angry with Solomon for all this, and the Lord said to Solomon, "Since you have done these wicked things, and have not kept your promise to serve me, and because you have turned aside from my commands, I will surely take away the kingdom of Israel from your son, and will give it to one of your servants. But for the sake of your father, David, who loved me and obeyed my commands, I will not take away from your son all the kingdom, but I will leave to him, and to his children after him, one tribe."

The servant of King Solomon, of whom the Lord spoke, was a young man of the tribe of Ephraim, named Jeroboam. He was a very able man, and in the building of one of Solomon's castles he had charge over all the work done by the men of his tribe. One day a prophet of the Lord, named Ahijah, met the young Jeroboam as he was going out of Jerusalem. Ahijah took off his own mantle, which was a new one, and tore it into twelve pieces. Ten of these pieces he gave to Jeroboam, saying to him:

"Take these ten pieces, for thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel, I will tear the kingdom out of the hand of Solomon's son, and will give ten tribes to you. But Solomon's son shall have one tribe for my servant David's sake, and for the sake of Jerusalem. You shall reign over ten of the tribes of Israel, and shall have all that you desire. And if you will do my will, saith the Lord, then I will be with you, and will give to your children and children's children to rule long over this land."

When King Solomon heard what the prophet Ahijah had said and done, he tried to kill Jeroboam. But Jeroboam fled into Egypt, and stayed there until the end of Solomon's reign.

Solomon reigned in all forty years, as David had reigned before him. He died, and was buried on Mount Zion, and Rehoboam, his son, became king in his place.

Sometimes the reign of Solomon has been called "the Golden Age of Israel," because it was a time of peace, and of wide rule, and of great riches. But it would be better to call it "the Gilded Age," because under all the show and glitter of Solomon's reign there were many evil things, a king allowing and helping the worship of idols, a court filled with idle and useless nobles, and the poor of the land heavily burdened with taxes and labor. The empire of Solomon was ready to fall in pieces, and the fall soon came.

 

Winnie-the-Pooh  by A. A. Milne

Pooh Goes Visiting and Gets into a Tight Place

E DWARD BEAR, known to his friends as Winnie-the-Pooh, or Pooh for short, was walking through the forest one day, humming proudly to himself. He had made up a little hum that very morning, as he was doing his Stoutness Exercises in front of the glass: Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,  as he stretched up as high as he could go, and then Tra-la-la, tra-la—oh, help—la,  as he tried to reach his toes.

After breakfast he had said it over and over to himself until he had learnt it off by heart, and now he was humming it right through, properly. It went like this:

Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, Rum-tum-tiddle-um-tum. Tiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle, Tiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle, Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um.

Well, he was humming this hum to himself, and walking along gaily, wondering what everybody else was doing, and what it felt like, being somebody else, when suddenly he came to a sandy bank, and in the bank was a large hole.

"Aha!" said Pooh. (Rum-tum-tiddle-um-tum.)  "If I know anything about anything, that hole means Rabbit," he said, "and Rabbit means Company," he said, "and Company means Food and Listening-to-Me-Humming and such like. Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um." 

So he bent down, put his head into the hole, and called out:

"Is anybody at home?"

There was a sudden scuffling noise from inside the hole, and then silence.

"What I said was, 'Is anybody at home?' " called out Pooh very loudly.

"No!" said a voice; and then added, "You needn't shout so loud. I heard you quite well the first time."

"Bother!" said Pooh. "Isn't there anybody here at all?"

"Nobody."

Winnie-the-Pooh took his head out of the hole, and thought for a little, and he thought to himself, "There must be somebody there, because somebody must have said  'Nobody.' " So he put his head back in the hole, and said:

"Hallo, Rabbit, isn't that you?"

"No," said Rabbit, in a different sort of voice this time.

"But isn't that Rabbit's voice?"

"I don't think  so," said Rabbit. "It isn't meant  to be."

"Oh!" said Pooh.

He took his head out of the hole, and had another think, and then he put it back, and said:

"Well, could you very kindly tell me where Rabbit is?"

"He has gone to see his friend Pooh Bear, who is a great friend of his."

"But this is  Me!" said Bear, very much surprised.

"What sort of Me?"

"Pooh Bear."

"Are you sure?" said Rabbit, still more surprised.

"Quite, quite sure," said Pooh.

"Oh, well, then, come in."

So Pooh pushed and pushed and pushed his way through the hole, and at last he got in.

"You were quite right," said Rabbit, looking at him all over. "It is  you. Glad to see you."

"Who did you think it was?"

"Well, I wasn't sure. You know how it is in the Forest. One can't have anybody  coming into one's house. One has to be careful. What about a mouthful of something?"

Pooh always liked a little something at eleven o'clock in the morning, and he was very glad to see Rabbit getting out the plates and mugs; and when Rabbit said, "Honey or condensed milk with your bread?" he was so excited that he said, "Both," and then, so as not to seem greedy, he added, "But don't bother about the bread, please." And for a long time after that he said nothing . . . until at last, humming to himself in a rather sticky voice, he got up, shook Rabbit lovingly by the paw, and said that he must be going on.

"Must you?" said Rabbit politely.

"Well," said Pooh, "I could stay a little longer if it—if you—" and he tried very hard to look in the direction of the larder.

"As a matter of fact," said Rabbit, "I was going out myself directly."

"Oh, well, then, I'll be going on. Good-bye."

"Well, good-bye, if you're sure you won't have any more."

"Is  there any more?" asked Pooh quickly.

Rabbit took the covers off the dishes, and said, "No, there wasn't."

"I thought not," said Pooh, nodding to himself. "Well, good-bye. I must be going on."

So he started to climb out of the hole. He pulled with his front paws, and pushed with his back paws, and in a little while his nose was out in the open again . . . and then his ears . . . and then his front paws . . . and then his shoulders . . . and then—

"Oh, help!" said Pooh. "I'd better go back."

"Oh, bother!" said Pooh. "I shall have to go on."

"I can't do either!" said Pooh. "Oh, help and  bother!"

Now by this time Rabbit wanted to go for a walk too, and finding the front door full, he went out by the back door, and came round to Pooh, and looked at him.

"Hallo, are you stuck?" he asked.

"N-no," said Pooh carelessly. "Just resting and thinking and humming to myself."

"Here, give us a paw."

Pooh Bear stretched out a paw, and Rabbit pulled and pulled and pulled. . . .

"Ow!"  cried Pooh. "You're hurting!"

"The fact is," said Rabbit, "you're stuck."

"It all comes," said Pooh crossly, "of not having front doors big enough."

"It all comes," said Rabbit sternly, "of eating too much. I thought at the time," said Rabbit, "only I didn't like to say anything," said Rabbit, "that one of us was eating too much," said Rabbit, "and I knew it wasn't me,"  he said. "Well, well, I shall go and fetch Christopher Robin."

Christopher Robin lived at the other end of the Forest, and when he came back with Rabbit, and saw the front half of Pooh, he said, "Silly old Bear," in such a loving voice that everybody felt quite hopeful again.

"I was just beginning to think," said Bear, sniffing slightly, "that Rabbit might never be able to use his front door again. And I should hate  that," he said.

"So should I," said Rabbit.

"Use his front door again?" said Christopher Robin. "Of course he'll use his front door again."

"Good," said Rabbit.

"If we can't pull you out, Pooh, we might push you back."

Rabbit scratched his whiskers thoughtfully, and pointed out that, when once Pooh was pushed back, he was back, and of course nobody was more glad to see Pooh than he  was, still there it was, some lived in trees and some lived underground, and—

"You mean I'd never  get out?" said Pooh.

"I mean," said Rabbit, "that having got so  far, it seems a pity to waste it."

Christopher Robin nodded.

"Then there's only one thing to be done," he said. "We shall have to wait for you to get thin again."

"How long does getting thin take?" asked Pooh anxiously.

"About a week, I should think."

"But I can't stay here for a week!"

"You can stay  here all right, silly old Bear. It's getting you out which is so difficult."

"We'll read to you," said Rabbit cheerfully. "And I hope it won't snow," he added. "And I say, old fellow, you're taking up a good deal of room in my house—do  you mind if I use your back legs as a towel-horse? Because, I mean, there they are—doing nothing—and it would be very convenient just to hang the towels on them."

"A week!" said Pooh gloomily. "What about meals?"

"I'm afraid no meals," said Christopher Robin, "because of getting thin quicker. But we will  read to you."

Bear began to sigh, and then found he couldn't because he was so tightly stuck; and a tear rolled down his eye, as he said:

"Then would you read a Sustaining Book, such as would help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?"

So for a week Christopher Robin read that sort of book at the North end of Pooh, and Rabbit hung his washing on the South end . . . and in between Bear felt himself getting slenderer and slenderer. And at the end of the week Christopher Robin said, "Now!"

So he took hold of Pooh's front paws and Rabbit took hold of Christopher Robin, and all Rabbit's friends and relations took hold of Rabbit, and they all pulled together. . . .

And for a long time Pooh only said "Ow!" . . .

And "Oh!" . . .

And then, all of a sudden, he said "Pop!"  just as if a cork were coming out of a bottle.

And Christopher Robin and Rabbit and all Rabbit's friends and relations went head-over-heels backwards . . . and on the top of them came Winnie-the-Pooh—free!

So, with a nod of thanks to his friends, he went on with his walk through the forest, humming proudly to himself. But, Christopher Robin looked after him lovingly, and said to himself, "Silly old Bear!"

 

Phoebe Cary

A Legend of the Northland

Away, away in the Northland, Where the hours of the day are few, And the nights are so long in winter That they cannot sleep them through; Where they harness the swift reindeer To the sledges, when it snows; And the children look like bear's cubs In their funny, furry clothes: They tell them a curious story— I don't believe 'tis true; And yet you may learn a lesson If I tell the tale to you. Once, when the good Saint Peter Lived in the world below, And walked about it, preaching, Just as he did, you know, He came to the door of a cottage, In traveling round the earth, Where a little woman was making cakes, And baking them on the hearth; And being faint with fasting, For the day was almost done, He asked her, from her store of cakes, To give him a single one. So she made a very little cake, But as it baking lay, She looked at it, and thought it seemed Too large to give away. Therefore she kneaded another, And still a smaller one; But it looked, when she turned it over, As large as the first had done. Then she took a tiny scrap of dough, And rolled and rolled it flat; And baked it thin as a wafer— But she couldn't part with that. For she said, "My cakes that seem too small When I eat of them myself, Are yet too large to give away." So she put them on the shelf. Then good Saint Peter grew angry, For he was hungry and faint; And surely such a woman Was enough to provoke a saint. And he said, "You are far too selfish To dwell in a human form, To have both food and shelter, And fire to keep you warm. "Now, you shall build as the birds do, And shall get your scanty food By boring, and boring, and boring, All day in the hard, dry wood." Then up she went through the chimney, Never speaking a word, And out of the top flew a woodpecker, For she was changed to a bird. She had a scarlet cap on her head, And that was left the same, But all the rest of her clothes were burned Black as a coal in the flame. And every country schoolboy Has seen her in the wood, Where she lives in the trees till this very day, Boring and boring for food. And this is the lesson she teaches: Live not for yourself alone, Lest the needs you will not pity Shall one day be your own. Give plenty of what is given to you, Listen to pity's call; Don't think the little you give is great, And the much you get is small. Now, my little boy, remember that, And try to be kind and good, When you see the woodpecker's sooty dress, And see her scarlet hood. You mayn't be changed to a bird though you live As selfishly as you can; But you will be changed to a smaller thing— A mean and selfish man.