Pinocchio  by Carlo Collodi

The Fight between Pinocchio and His Companions

W HEN he arrived on the shore Pinocchio looked out to sea; but he saw no Dog-fish. The sea was as smooth as a great crystal mirror.

"Where is the Dog-fish?" he asked, turning to his companions.

"He must have gone to have his breakfast," said one of them, laughing.

"Or he has thrown himself on to his bed to have a little nap," added another, laughing still louder.

From their absurd answers and silly laughter Pinocchio perceived that his companions had been making a fool of him, in inducing him to believe a tale with no truth in it. Taking it very badly he said to them angrily:

"And now may I ask what fun you could find in deceiving me with the story of the Dog-fish?"

"Oh, it was great fun!" answered the little rascals in chorus.

"And in what did it consist?"

"In making you miss school, and persuading you to come with us. Are you not ashamed of being always so punctual and so diligent with your lessons? Are you not ashamed of studying so hard?"

"And if I study hard what concern is it of yours?"

"It concerns us excessively, because it makes us appear in a bad light to the master."

"Why?"

"Because boys who study make those who, like us, have no wish to learn seem worse by comparison. And that is too bad. We too have our pride! . . ."

"Then what must I do to please you?"

"You must follow our example and hate school, lessons, and the master—our three greatest enemies."

"And if I wish to continue my studies?"

"In that case we will have nothing more to do with you, and at the first opportunity we will make you pay for it."

"Really," said the puppet, shaking his head, "you make me inclined to laugh."

"Eh, Pinocchio!" shouted the biggest of the boys, confronting him. "None of your superior airs: don't come here to crow over us! . . . for if you are not afraid of us, we are not afraid of you. Remember that you are one against seven of us."

"Seven, like the seven deadly sins," said Pinocchio with a shout of laughter.

"Listen to him! He has insulted us all! He called us the seven deadly sins! . . ."

"Pinocchio! beg pardon . . . or it will be the worse for you! . . ."

"Cuckoo!" sang the puppet, putting his forefinger to the end of his nose scoffingly.

"Pinocchio! it will end badly! . . ."

"Cuckoo!"

"You will get as many blows as a donkey! . . ."

"Cuckoo!"

"You will return home with a broken nose! . . ."

"Cuckoo!"

"Ah, you shall have the cuckoo from me!" said the most courageous of the boys. "Take that to begin with, and keep it for your supper to-night."

And so saying he gave him a blow on the head with his fist.

Gave him a blow on the head with his fist.

But it was give and take; for the puppet, as was to be expected, immediately returned the blow, and the fight in a moment became general and desperate.

Pinocchio, although he was one alone, defended himself like a hero. He used his feet, which were of the hardest wood, to such purpose that he kept his enemies at a respectful distance. Wherever they touched they left a bruise by way of reminder.

The boys, becoming furious at not being able to measure themselves hand to hand with the puppet, had recourse to other weapons. Loosening their satchels they commenced throwing their school-books at him—grammars, dictionaries, spelling-books, geography books, and other scholastic works. But Pinocchio was quick and had sharp eyes, and always managed to duck in time, so that the books passed over his head and all fell into the sea.

Imagine the astonishment of the fish! Thinking that the books were something to eat they all arrived in shoals, but having tasted a page or two, or a frontispiece, they spat it quickly out and made a wry face that seemed to say: "It isn't food for us; we are accustomed to something much better!"

The battle meantime had become fiercer than ever, when a big crab, who had come out of the water and had climbed slowly up on to the shore, called out in a hoarse voice that sounded like a trumpet with a bad cold:

"Have done with that, you young ruffians, for you are nothing else! These hand-to-hand fights between boys seldom finish well. Some disaster is sure to happen! . . ."

Poor crab! He might as well have preached to the wind. Even that young rascal Pinocchio, turning round, looked at him mockingly and said rudely:

"Hold your tongue, you tiresome crab! You had better suck some liquorice lozenges to cure that cold in your throat. Or better still, go to bed and try to get a reaction!"

Just then the boys, who had no more books of their own to throw, spied at a little distance the satchel that belonged to Pinocchio, and took possession of it in less time than it takes to tell.

Amongst the books there was one bound in strong cardboard with the back and points of parchment. It was a Treatise on Arithmetic. I leave you to imagine if it was big or not!

One of the boys seized this volume, and aiming at Pinocchio's head threw it at him with all the force he could muster. But instead of hitting the puppet it struck one of his companions on the temple, who, turning as white as a sheet, said only:

"Oh, mother, help . . . I am dying! . . ." and fell his whole length on the sand. Thinking he was dead the terrified boys ran off as hard as their legs could carry them, and in a few minutes they were out of sight.

But Pinocchio remained. Although from grief and fright he was more dead than alive, nevertheless he ran and soaked his handkerchief in the sea and began to bathe the temples of his poor schoolfellow. Crying bitterly in his despair he kept calling him by name and saying to him:

"Eugene! . . . my poor Eugene! . . . open your eyes and look at me! . . . why do you not answer? I did not do it, indeed it was not I that hurt you so! believe me, it was not! Open your eyes, Eugene . . . If you keep your eyes shut I shall die too. . . . Oh! what shall I do? how shall I ever return home? How can I ever have the courage to go back to my good mamma? What will become of me? . . . Where can I fly to? . . . Oh! how much better it would have been, a thousand times better, if I had only gone to school! . . . Why did I listen to my companions? they have been my ruin. The master said to me, and my mamma repeated it often: "Beware of bad companions!" But I am obstinate . . . a wilful fool. . . . I let them talk and then I always take my own way! and I have to suffer for it. . . . And so, ever since I have been in the world, I have never had a happy quarter of an hour. Oh dear! what will become of me, what will become of me, what will become of me? . . ."

And Pinocchio began to cry and sob, and to strike his head with his fists, and to call poor Eugene by his name. Suddenly he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

He turned and saw two carabineers.

"What are you doing there lying on the ground?" they asked Pinocchio.

"I am helping my schoolfellow."

"Has he been hurt?"

"So it seems."

"Hurt indeed!" said one of the carabineers, stooping down and examining Eugene closely.

"This boy has been wounded in the temple. Who wounded him?"

"Not I," stammered the puppet breathlessly.

"If it was not you, who then did it?"

"Not I," repeated Pinocchio.

"And with what was he wounded?"

"With this book." And the puppet picked up from the ground the Treatise on Arithmetic, bound in cardboard and parchment, and showed it to the carabineer.

"And to whom does this book belong?"

"To me."

"That is enough: nothing more is wanted. Get up and come with us at once."

"But I . . ."

"Come along with us! . . ."

"But I am innocent. . . ."

"Come along with us!"

Before they left, the carabineers called some fishermen, who were passing at that moment near the shore in their boat, and said to them:

"We give this boy who has been wounded in the head into your charge. Carry him to your house and nurse him. To-morrow we will come and see him."

They then turned to Pinocchio, and having placed him between them they said to him in a commanding voice:

"Forward! and walk quickly! or it will be the worse for you."

Without requiring it to be repeated, the puppet set out along the road leading to the village. But the poor little devil hardly knew where he was. He thought he must be dreaming, and what a dreadful dream! He was beside himself. He saw double: his legs shook: his tongue clung to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a word. And yet in the midst of his stupefaction and apathy his heart was pierced by a cruel thorn—the thought that he would have to pass under the windows of the good Fairy's house between the carabineers. He would rather have died.

They had already reached the village when a gust of wind blew Pinocchio's cap off his head and carried it ten yards off.

"Will you permit me," said the puppet to the carabineers, "to go and get my cap?"

"Go, then; but be quick about it."

The puppet went and picked up his cap . . . but instead of putting it on his head he took it between his teeth and began to run as hard as he could towards the seashore.

The carabineers, thinking it would be difficult to overtake him, sent after him a large mastiff who had won the first prizes at all the dog-races. Pinocchio ran, but the dog ran faster. The people came to their windows and crowded into the street in their anxiety to see the end of the desperate race. But they could not satisfy their curiosity, for Pinocchio and the dog raised such clouds of dust that in a few minutes nothing could be seen of either of them.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

Reading the London Company's Orders

An hour later, when those who had just come from the shore had been refreshed with food, I noted with much of anxiety that all the gentlemen of the company, not only such as belonged on board the Susan Constant, but those from the Speedwell, gathered in the great cabin of our ship, and, looking out ever so cautiously, while the door of Captain Smith's room was ajar, I saw them gather around the big table on which, as if it were something of greatest value, was placed a box made of some dark colored wood.

It was Master Hunt who opened this, and, taking out a paper, he read in a voice so loud that even my master, as he lay in his narrow bed, could hear the names of those who were chosen by the London Company to form the Council for the government of the new land of Virginia.

These are the names as he read them: Bartholomew Gosnold, Edward Wingfield, Christopher Newport, John Smith, John Ratcliffe, John Martin and George Kendall.

My heart seemingly leaped into my throat with triumph when I thus heard the name of my master among those who were to stand as leaders of the company, and so excited had I become that that which Master Hunt read from the remainder of the paper failed to attract my attention.

I learned afterward, however, that among the rules governing the actions of this Council, was one that a President should be chosen each year, and that matters of moment were to be determined by vote of the Council, in which the President might cast two ballots.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

Captain Smith a Member of the Council

It was when Master Hunt ceased reading that I believed my master would be set free without delay, for of a verity he had the same right to take part in the deliberations as any other, since it was the will of the London Company that he should be one of the leaders; but much to my surprise nothing of the kind was done.

Captain Kendall, seeing the door of my master's room slightly open, arose from the table and closed it, as if he were about to say something which should not be heard by Captain Smith.

I would have opened the door again, but that my master bade me leave it closed, and when an hour or more had passed, Master Hunt came in to us, stating that it had not yet been decided by the other members of the Council whether Captain Smith should be allowed to take part in the affairs, as the London Company had decided, or whether he should be sent home for judgment when the fleet returned. But meanwhile he was to have his liberty.

Then it was that Master Hunt, talking like the true man he ever showed himself to be, advised Captain Smith to do in all things, so far as the other members of the Council permitted, as if nothing had gone awry, claiming that before we had been many days in this land, those who had brought charges against him would fail of making them good.

Had I been the one thus so grievously injured, the whole company might have shipwrecked themselves before I would have raised a hand, all of which goes to show that I had not learned to rule my temper.

Captain Smith, however, agreed with all Master Hunt said, and then it was that I was sent forward once more. My master went on deck for the first time since we had left Martinique, walking to and fro swiftly, as if it pleased him to have command of his legs once more.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

Captain Smith Forced To Remain Aboard

If Master Hunt and Master Wingfield had been able to bring the others around to their way of thinking, Captain Smith would have taken his rightful place in the Council without delay. Instead of which, however, he remained on board the ship idle, when there was much that he could have done better than any other, from the day on which we came in sight of Virginia, which was the twenty-sixth day of April, until the fifteenth day of June.

During all this time, those of the Council who were his enemies claimed that they could prove he had laid plans to murder all the chief men, and take his place as king; but yet they did not do so, and my master refused to hold any parley with them, except that he claimed he was innocent of all wrong in thought or in act.

When the others of the fleet set off to spy out the land, my master remained aboard the ship, still being a prisoner, except so far that he wore no fetters, and I would not have left him save he had commanded me sharply, for at that time, so sore was his heart, that even a lad like me could now and then say some word which might have in it somewhat of cheer.

During this time that Captain Smith was with the company and yet not numbered as one of them, the other gentlemen explored the country, and more than once was Nathaniel Peacock allowed to accompany them, therefore did I hear much which otherwise would not have been told me.

And what happened during these two months when the gentlemen were much the same as quarreling among themselves, I shall set down in as few words as possible, to the end that I may the sooner come to that story of our life in the new village, which some called James Fort, and others James Town, after King James of England.

 

Abbie Farwell Brown

Friends

How good to lie a little while And look up through the tree! The Sky is like a kind big smile Bent sweetly over me. The Sunshine flickers through the lace Of leaves above my head, And kisses me upon the face Like Mother, before bed. The Wind comes stealing o'er the grass To whisper pretty things, And though I cannot see him pass, I feel his careful wings. So many gentle Friends are near Whom one can scarcely see, A child should never feel a fear, Wherever he may be.

 

Fifty Famous Stories Retold  by James Baldwin

Androclus and the Lion

I N Rome there was once a poor slave whose name was Androclus. His master was a cruel man, and so unkind to him that at last An-dro-clus ran away.

He hid himself in a wild wood for many days; but there was no food to be found, and he grew so weak and sick that he thought he should die. So one day he crept into a cave and lay down, and soon he was fast asleep.

After awhile a great noise woke him up. A lion had come into the cave, and was roaring loudly. Androclus was very much afraid, for he felt sure that the beast would kill him. Soon, however, he saw that the lion was not angry, but that he limped as though his foot hurt him.

Then Androclus grew so bold that he took hold of the lion's lame paw to see what was the matter. The lion stood quite still, and rubbed his head against the man's shoulder. He seemed to say,—

"I know that you will help me."

Androclus lifted the paw from the ground, and saw that it was a long, sharp thorn which hurt the lion so much. He took the end of the thorn in his fingers; then he gave a strong, quick pull, and out it came. The lion was full of joy. He jumped about like a dog, and licked the hands and feet of his new friend.

Androclus was not at all afraid after this; and when night came, he and the lion lay down and slept side by side.

For a long time, the lion brought food to Androclus every day; and the two became such good friends, that Androclus found his new life a very happy one.

One day some soldiers who were passing through the wood found Androclus in the cave. They knew who he was, and so took him back to Rome.

It was the law at that time that every slave who ran away from his master should be made to fight a hungry lion. So a fierce lion was shut up for a while without food, and a time was set for the fight.

When the day came, thousands of people crowded to see the sport. They went to such places at that time very much as people now-a-days, go to see a circus show or a game of base-ball.

The door opened, and poor Androclus was brought in. He was almost dead with fear, for the roars of the lion could al-read-y be heard. He looked up, and saw that there was no pity in the thou-sands of faces around him.

Then the hungry lion rushed in. With a single bound he reached the poor slave. Androclus gave a great cry, not of fear, but of gladness. It was his old friend, the lion of the cave.

The people, who had ex-pect-ed to see the man killed by the lion, were filled with wonder. They saw Androclus put his arms around the lion's neck; they saw the lion lie down at his feet, and lick them lov-ing-ly; they saw the great beast rub his head against the slave's face as though he wanted to be petted. They could not un-der-stand what it all meant.

After a while they asked Androclus to tell them about it. So he stood up before them, and, with his arm around the lion's neck, told how he and the beast had lived together in the cave.

Androclus and the Lion

"I am a man," he said; "but no man has ever befriended me. This poor lion alone has been kind to me; and we love each other as brothers."

The people were not so bad that they could be cruel to the poor slave now. "Live and be free!" they cried. "Live and be free!"

Others cried, "Let the lion go free too! Give both of them their liberty!"

And so Androclus was set free, and the lion was given to him for his own. And they lived together in Rome for many years.

 

Seaside and Wayside, Book One  by Julia McNair Wright

The Uses of Crabs

H OW often does Mr. Crab need a new coat? His coat does not wear out, but it becomes too small. Then he changes it for a larger one. He cannot stretch it or piece it.

The baby grows fast. You can almost see it grow. You grow fast. They say it is hard to keep you in clothes. You cannot wear the coat you had last year.

Your papa can wear his coat for many years. He will tell you that he has stopped growing.

It is so with the crab. When he is young, he grows fast. He needs a new shell very often. When he is older, he grows more slowly. Then he gets a new coat every spring.

At last he does not grow any more. He keeps the same shell, year after year. It gets very hard and thick, and loses its bright color.

Very often it is nearly covered with limpets. They fasten their flat or pointed shells to the crab's back, and stay there.

I cannot tell you just how long a crab lives. Some of them look very old.

Of what use is a crab? Have all things a use? Yes. God made all things; and all things are of use. Sometimes we cannot find out the use.

Crabs are good for food. Some kinds are eaten by men, as fish and oysters are eaten. Birds eat a great many crabs. Some birds almost live on them. Fish eat many crabs. There are many kinds of crabs so small that you could hardly see them. Fish feed on them. Crabs help to keep the sea and the seashore clean. That makes it pleasant and healthful.

Crabs are greedy. They eat nearly all kinds of dead things that would spoil and make a bad smell if left on the sand.

They eat dead fish, dead animals that are thrown into the sea, and grubs, flies, and worms. Do you ever see men going about to clean the streets? Crabs in their way do such work as these men.

Mr. Crab has a picnic.

The crabs help to keep clean the sea as well as the shore. There are so many crabs, and they eat so much, and so fast, that they can clean away much of the dead stuff that lies on the shore, or near it at low tide.

 

Frank Dempster Sherman

Daisies

At evening when I go to bed I see the stars shine overhead; They are the little daisies white That dot the meadow of the Night. And often while I'm dreaming so, Across the sky the Moon will go; It is a lady, sweet and fair, Who comes to gather daisies there. For, when at morning I arise, There's not a star left in the skies; She's picked them all and dropped them down Into the meadows of the town.

 

The Burgess Bird Book for Children  by Thornton Burgess

A Fisherman Robbed

J UST out of curiosity, and because he possesses what is called the wandering foot, which means that he delights to roam about, Peter Rabbit had run over to the bank of the Big River. There were plenty of bushes, clumps of tall grass, weeds and tangles of vines along the bank of the Big River, so that Peter felt quite safe there. He liked to sit gazing out over the water and wonder where it all came from and where it was going and what kept it moving.

He was doing this very thing on this particular morning when he happened to glance up in the blue, blue sky. There he saw a broad-winged bird sailing in wide, graceful circles. Instantly Peter crouched a little lower in his hiding-place, for he knew this for a member of the Hawk family and Peter has learned by experience that the only way to keep perfectly safe when one of these hook-clawed, hook-billed birds is about is to keep out of sight.

So now he crouched very close to the ground and kept his eyes fixed on the big bird sailing so gracefully high up in the blue, blue sky over the Big River. Suddenly the stranger paused in his flight and for a moment appeared to remain in one place, his great wings beating rapidly to hold him there. Then those wings were closed and with a rush he shot down straight for the water, disappearing with a great splash. Instantly Peter sat up to his full height that he might see better.

"It's Plunger the Osprey fishing, and I've nothing to fear from him," he cried happily.

Out of the water, his great wings flapping, rose Plunger. Peter looked eagerly to see if he had caught a fish, but there was nothing in Plunger's great, curved claws. Either that fish had been too deep or had seen Plunger and darted away just in the nick of time. Peter had a splendid view of Plunger. He was just a little bigger than Redtail the Hawk. Above he was dark brown, his head and neck marked with white. His tail was grayish, crossed by several narrow dark bands and tipped with white. His under parts were white with some light brown spots on his breast. Peter could see clearly the great, curved claws which are Plunger's fishhooks.

Up, up, up he rose, going round and round in a spiral. When he was well up in the blue, blue sky, he began to sail again in wide circles as when Peter had first seen him. It wasn't long before he again paused and then shot down towards the water. This time he abruptly spread his great wings just before reaching the water so that he no more than wet his feet. Once more a fish had escaped him. But Plunger seemed not in the least discouraged. He is a true fisherman and every true fisherman possesses patience. Up again he spiraled until he was so high that Peter wondered how he could possibly see a fish so far below. You see, Peter didn't know that it is easier to see down into the water from high above it than from close to it. Then, too, there are no more wonderful eyes than those possessed by the members of the Hawk family. And Plunger the Osprey is a Hawk, usually called Fish Hawk.

A third time Plunger shot down and this time, as in his first attempt, he struck the water with a great splash and disappeared. In an instant he reappeared, shaking the water from him in a silver spray and flapping heavily. This time Peter could see a great shining fish in his claws. It was heavy, as Peter could tell by the way in which Plunger flew. He headed towards a tall tree on the other bank of the Big River, there to enjoy his breakfast. He was not more than halfway there when Peter was startled by a harsh scream.

He looked up to see a great bird, with wonderful broad wings, swinging in short circles about Plunger. His body and wings were dark brown, and his head was snowy white, as was his tail. His great hooked beak was yellow and his legs were yellow. Peter knew in an instant who it was. There could be no mistake. It was King Eagle, commonly known as Bald Head, though his head isn't bald at all.

KING EAGLE The bald or whiteheaded Eagle. His head, neck and tail are snowy white. PLUNGER THE OSPREY One of our largest hawks, brown above and white beneath.

Peter's eyes looked as if they would pop out of his head, for it was quite plain to him that King Eagle was after Plunger, and Peter didn't understand this at all. You see, he didn't understand what King Eagle was screaming. But Plunger did. King Eagle was screaming, "Drop that fish! Drop that fish!"

Plunger didn't intend to drop that fish if he could help himself. It was his  fish. Hadn't he caught it himself? He didn't intend to give it up to any robber of the air, even though that robber was King Eagle himself, unless he was actually forced to. So Plunger began to dodge and twist and turn in the air, all the time mounting higher and higher, and all the time screaming harshly, "Robber! Thief! I won't drop this fish! It's mine! It's mine!"

Now the fish was heavy, so of course Plunger couldn't fly as easily and swiftly as if he were carrying nothing. Up, up he went, but all the time King Eagle went up with him, circling round him, screaming harshly, and threatening to strike him with those great, cruel, curved claws. Peter watched them, so excited that he fairly danced. "O, I do hope Plunger will get away from that big robber," cried Peter. "He may be king of the air, but he is a robber just the same."

Plunger and King Eagle were now high in the air above the Big River. Suddenly King Eagle swung above Plunger and for an instant seemed to hold himself still there, just as Plunger had done before he had shot down into the water after that fish. There was a still harsher note in King Eagle's scream. If Peter had been near enough he would have seen a look of anger and determination in King Eagle's fierce, yellow eyes. Plunger saw it and knew what it meant. He knew that King Eagle would stand for no more fooling. With a cry of bitter disappointment and anger he let go of the big fish.

Down, down, dropped the fish, shining in the sun like a bar of silver. King Eagle's wings half closed and he shot down like a thunderbolt. Just before the fish reached the water King Eagle struck it with his great claws, checked himself by spreading his broad wings and tail, and then in triumph flew over to the very tree towards which Plunger had started when he had caught the fish. There he leisurely made his breakfast, apparently enjoying it as much as if he had come by it honestly.

As for poor Plunger, he shook himself, screamed angrily once or twice, then appeared to think that it was wisest to make the best of a bad matter and that there were more fish where that one had come from, for he once more began to sail in circles over the Big River, searching for a fish near the surface. Peter watched him until he saw him catch another fish and fly away with it in triumph. King Eagle watched him, too, but having had a good breakfast he was quite willing to let Plunger enjoy his catch in peace.

Late that afternoon Peter visited the Old Orchard, for he just had to tell Jenny Wren all about what he had seen that morning.

"King Eagle is king simply because he is so big and fierce and strong," sputtered Jenny. "He isn't kingly in his habits, not the least bit. He never hesitates to rob those smaller than himself, just as you saw him rob Plunger. He is very fond of fish, and once in a while he catches one for himself when Plunger isn't around to be robbed, but he isn't a very good fisherman, and he isn't the least bit fussy about his fish. Plunger eats only fresh fish which he catches himself, but King Eagle will eat dead fish which he finds on the shore. He doesn't seem to care how long they have been dead either."

"Doesn't he eat anything but fish?" asked Peter innocently.

"Well," retorted Jenny Wren, her eyes twinkling, "I wouldn't advise you to run across the Green Meadows in sight of King Eagle. I am told he is very fond of Rabbit. In fact he is very fond of fresh meat of any kind. He even catches the babies of Lightfoot the Deer when he gets a chance. He is so swift of wing that even the members of the Duck family fear him, for he is especially fond of fat Duck. Even Honker the Goose is not safe from him. King he may be, but he rules only through fear. He is a white-headed old robber. The best thing I can say of him is that he takes a mate for life and is loyal and true to her as long as she lives, and that is a great many years. By the way, Peter, did you know that she is bigger than he is, and that the young during the first year after leaving their nest, are bigger than their parents and do not have white heads? By the time they get white heads they are the same size as their parents."

"That's queer and its hard to believe," said Peter.

"It is queer, but it is true just the same, whether you believe it or not," retorted Jenny Wren, and whisked out of sight into her home.

 

The Aesop for Children  by Milo Winter

The Wolf and His Shadow

A Wolf left his lair one evening in fine spirits and an excellent appetite. As he ran, the setting sun cast his shadow far out on the ground, and it looked as if the wolf were a hundred times bigger than he really was.

"Why," exclaimed the Wolf proudly, "see how big I am! Fancy me running away from a puny Lion! I'll show him who is fit to be king, he or I."

Just then an immense shadow blotted him out entirely, and the next instant a Lion struck him down with a single blow.

Do not let your fancy make you forget realities.

 

The Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said  by Padraic Colum

The Hen-wife's Son and the Princess Bright Brow

Part 1 of 3

E VERYONE in and around the King's Castle despised Mell, the Hen-wife's Son, said the Stonechecker, the bird that built within the stones of the Tower. And it was not because there was anything mean about the lad himself: it was because his mother, the Hen-wife, had the lowest office about the King's Castle.

This is what a Hen-wife did: She had to mind the fowl and keep count of them, she had to gather the eggs and put them into a basket and send them to the King's Steward every day. And for doing this she had as wages the right to go to the back-door of the Steward's house and get from the under-servants two meals a day for herself and Mell, her son.

And everybody, as I said, despised this son of hers—horse-boys and dog-boys and the grooms around the Castle. But of course no one despised Mell more than did the King's daughter, Princess Bright Brow.

She used to go into a wood and whisper along the branch of a tree. And one day the Hen-wife's son whom she despised so much made answer to her. He was lying along the branch of the tree watching his mother's goat that grazed on the grass below. Now this is what Princess Bright Brow said to the tree and this is what she used to say to it every day.—

Oak-tree, oak-tree, above the rest, Which of the heroes loves me best?

Mell was lying along the Branch as I have said, and he made answer back to her.—

Princess, Princess, he's at your call, And the Hen-wife's son loves you best of all!

The King's daughter looked up and she saw the Hen-wife's son on the branch, and she went into a great rage. She gave orders to the grooms that the Hen-wife's son was to be whipped every time he looked at her. Many's the time after that Mell got the lash. But he loved Bright Brow so much that he could not forbear looking at her.

II

Now, one very early morning Mell took his mother's goat out to graze on the green. And as he went along he saw on the grass a beautiful mantle. He took it up and he thought to himself "How well it would look upon Princess Bright Brow!" And he thought again "if she would take this beautiful green mantle from me maybe she would let me look upon her when she is wearing it."

He put the mantle across his shoulders and sat down and thought and thought. And while he was thinking he felt the mantle being pulled from behind. He turned round and he saw a woman standing there. She had brighter colors in her dress and she wore more ornaments than he had ever seen in the King's Castle. He knew by such signs that she was a Fairy Woman out of the Green Rath.

"Mell," said she, "Mell, the Hen-wife's son, give to me the mantle that the King of the Fairy Riders let fall from his shoulders last night."

"If it is his, and if you have come to bring it to him, why you must have it," said Mell, and he took the mantle off his shoulders and handed it to her.

"The King would wish that I should recompense you," said the Fairy Woman. She took a jewel that was on the collar of the mantle and gave it to Mell. "If you take this jewel in your hand," said she, "and wish to be in this place or that place you will be there in an instant, and anyone you take by the hand you can bring with you." And when Mell took the jewel from her, the Fairy Woman, carrying the green mantle, went into the green rath.

Then Mell took his goat by the horns and turned towards his hut. And there, outside the gate of the Castle he saw the King's daughter, Princess Bright Brow. She was watching the falconer training the young hawks and the grooms and the riders of the Castle were behind her. When she saw Mell with his hands on the goat's horns she grew high in rage and she turned to the grooms to give an order that he be beaten with the whips they held.

But Mell ran to her and he caught her hand and holding the jewel he said "I wish that I was in the Island of the Shadow of the Stars and that this young girl was with me." The hawk flew at him and the hound sprang at him and the whips struck at him and while he was still expecting the feel of teeth and claws and lash he was away and was in another country altogether. There was neither hawk nor hound nor hut nor castle nor groom nor falconer. Two beings only were there and they were Mell the Hen-wife's son and the King's daughter, Princess Bright Brow.

"In what country are we?" said Princess Bright Brow.

"Unless we are in the Island of the Shadow of the Stars I don't know where we are," said Mell, the Hen-wife's Son.

"You are the Hen-wife's son and you have brought me here by enchantment," said Bright Brow.

She wanted to go from him, but where was she to go to? All the country was strange to her. And so, if she made two steps away from him she soon made two steps back to him. And the end of this part of the story is that Bright Brow became friendly to the Hen-wife's Son.

He gathered fruits off trees and he snared birds and he took the fish out of rivers and he found sheltered places to sleep in. And often the Princess Bright Brow was good and kind to him. And Mell the Hen-wife's son was now as happy as anyone in the world. "Since we are so friendly to each other now," said Bright Brow to him one day, "will you not tell me how you were able to come here and bring me with you?"

"It was because of the jewel I wear at my breast," said Mell. And then he told how he had found the green mantle on the ground and how the Fairy Woman gave him the jewel and what power the jewel had.

If Mell was content to be on the Island, Bright Brow was not. And so one evening when he was asleep she lifted up the mantle and took the jewel that was on his breast. Then holding it in her hand she said "I wish I was back in my father's Castle." In an instant she was back there. Now all her maids were around her and all of them were crying "Where have you been, King's daughter, where have you been?" And Bright Brow told them that the King of the Fairy Riders had taken her away to show her all the great heroes of the world so that when the time came for her to choose a husband she could make her choice of the best amongst them.

As for Mell, the Hen-wife's son: when he wakened up and found that Bright Brow had gone and that the jewel was gone there was no one in the world more sad and lonely than he was. He thought that she might come back to him, but the moon came and the sun came and Bright Brow came not. He longed to be a bird that he might fly after her to her father's Castle.

He stayed on the Island of the Shadow of the Stars for a long time for, now that the jewel was gone from him, there was no way of getting from the Island. Then a King who had built a high tower went to the top of it one day and saw the Island of the Shadow of the Stars. He sent out his long ships and his leathern-jerkined men to it. They found Mell and they brought him to the King. Then Mell became one of the King's men and he went into battle and he learnt the use of all arms.

 

Robinson Crusoe Written Anew for Children  by James Baldwin

I Make an Umbrella

AS the years went by the things which I had brought from the ship were used up or worn out.

My biscuits lasted more than a year; for I ate only one cake each day.

My ink soon gave out, and then I had no more use for pens or paper.

At last my clothes were all worn out.

The weather was always warm on my island and there was little need for clothes. But I could not go without them.

It so happened that I had saved the skins of all the animals I had killed.

I stretched every skin on a framework of sticks. and hung it up in the sun to dry.

In time I had a great many of these skins. Some were coarse and stiff and fit for nothing. Others were soft to the touch and very pretty to look at.

One day I took one of the finest and made me a cap of it. I left all the hair on the outside, so as to shoot off the rain.

It was not very pretty; but it was of great use, and what more did I want?

I did so well with the cap that I thought I would try something else. So, after a great deal of trouble, I made me a whole suit.

I made me a waistcoat and a pair of knee breeches. I wanted them to keep me cool rather than warm. So I made them quite loose.

You would have laughed to see them. They were funny things, I tell you. But when I went out in the rain, they kept me dry.

This, I think, put me in mind of an umbrella.

I had seen umbrellas in Brazil, although they were not yet common in England. They were of much use in the summer when the sun shone hot.

I thought that if they were good in Brazil, they would be still better here, where the sun was much hotter.

So I set about the making of one.

I took great pains with it, and it was a long time before it pleased me at all.

I could make it spread, but it did not let down. And what would be the use of an umbrella that could not be folded?

I do not know how many weeks I spent at this work. It was play work rather than anything else, and I picked it up only at odd times.

At last I had an umbrella that opened and shut just as an umbrella should.

I covered it with skins, with the hair on the outside. In the rain it was as good as a shed. In the sun it made a pleasant shade.

I could now go out in all kinds of weather. I need not care whether the rain fell or the sun shone.

For the next five years I lived very quietly. I kept always busy and did not allow myself to feel lonely.

I divided each day into parts according to my several duties.

After reading in my Bible, it was my custom to spend about three hours every morning in search of food. Through the heat of the day, I busied myself in the shade of my castle or bower.

In the evening, when the sun was low, I worked in my fields. But sometimes I went to work very early in the morning and left my hunting until the afternoon.

 

Robert Louis Stevenson

The Dumb Soldier

When the grass was closely mown, Walking on the lawn alone, In the turf a hole I found, And hid a soldier underground. Spring and daisies came apace; Grasses hide my hiding place; Grasses run like a green sea O'er the lawn up to my knee. Under grass alone he lies, Looking up with leaden eyes, Scarlet coat and pointed gun, To the stars and to the sun. When the grass is ripe like grain, When the scythe is stoned again, When the lawn is shaven clear, Then my hole shall reappear. I shall find him, never fear, I shall find my grenadier; But for all that's gone and come, I shall find my soldier dumb. He has lived, a little thing, In the grassy woods of spring; Done, if he could tell me true, Just as I should like to do. He has seen the starry hours And the springing of the flowers; And the fairy things that pass In the forests of the grass. In the silence he has heard Talking bee and ladybird, And the butterfly has flown O'er him as he lay alone. Not a word will he disclose, Not a word of all he knows. I must lay him on the shelf, And make up the tale myself.

 

The Discovery of New Worlds  by M. B. Synge

The Days of Chivalry

"My knights are sworn to vows Of utter hardihood, utter gentleness And loving, utter faithfulness in love, And uttermost obedience to the King." —Tennyson.

L ET us now take a look at Europe during the Crusades, and see how the people of these Middle Ages struggled from out the Dark Ages, which followed the fall of Rome, to something higher and better. We have seen how the Romans had lost their old loyal spirit. Falsehood, treachery, ingratitude—these were among the vices that had crept in to mar their manhood.

A new order of things was coming, which with the rapid spread of Christianity raised the people of Europe to a higher and better state, lifting them then, as now, beyond the civilisations of the East. The Crusades did for the countries of the West that which nothing else had done—they gave unity. A common danger made all men one. A spirit of loyalty and patriotism began slowly to arise. The idea of honourable service dawned on men, and out of the darkness of the past arose a wonderful system of chivalry. The word in French means literally one who rode on horseback; thus the warrior who served on horseback was called a knight. Let us see how a boy could become a knight in these days of long ago, known as the Middle Ages.

Everywhere in Europe had risen great castles in which dwelt the large landowners or lords, the wealthiest men in the kingdoms. To these castles the little boy of seven years old was sent to serve as a page to the great man of the castle. Here he learnt how to use arms, how to ride and to become strong and useful. He learnt to obey, to be courteous, to serve his lords and ladies honourably, and to acquit himself well. At the age of fourteen the page became a squire, and acted as a personal attendant to his lord. If he were brave and true he was soon allowed to accompany his master to the field, to lead his war horse on the march, to buckle on his armour for the fight, keeping ever close to his side to help him in danger and to give him aid in need.

The ambition of every boy was to become a knight himself, a rank which made him equal in dress, in arms, and in title to the rich landowners. If he could distinguish himself in battle, or show himself courteous and honourable in times of peace, he was admitted to this holy order.

The preparation was severe. The young squire was first bathed and arrayed in white robes, in token of the unstained honour required by the laws of chivalry; new armour was given to him, and, sword in hand, he had to watch these arms all night in church till, in the early morning, service was performed. His sword was then laid on the altar and blessed, while some older knight conferred on the young warrior the order of knighthood. As he knelt to take the solemn vow, he swore to protect the distressed, to maintain Right against Might, and never by word or deed to stain his character as a knight and as a Christian.

"Be thou a good and faithful knight," said the older man, touching the kneeling figure before him with the edge of the sword.

Then all present helped to lace on his helmet, gird his sword-belt, and bind on the gilt spurs which were the outward symbols of knighthood.

Added to this, he might now dress in rich silks and wear scarlet, while his horse might be clad in mail.

And still in Europe the different nations have their orders of knighthood, given for some distinguished service to king and country, while each can look back to the ages long past and still boast of a Roland, an Arthur, or a Cid, heroes of the ancient knighthood.

The Crusades, then, were a splendid chance for the young warriors of Europe to win their spurs, to show themselves loyal to their lord and to their king, to maintain Right against Might. So upon the rude manners and customs of the barbarian invaders arose from the Crusades a spirit of chivalry, which added grace and glory to the Middle Ages.

"And the new sun rose, bringing the new year."

 

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

Little Black Ant

Once upon a time Little Black Ant washed her little black face and put on a pretty black gown. She sat near the window of her neat little house.

A bull passed by and looked at her.

"Good morning, pretty one," roared he. "Tell me, will you marry me?"

"Ah, you must win me first," said she.

The bull roared so loud that Little Black Ant covered her ears with her hands.

"Big Bull, go on your way," said she.

A dog passed by and looked at her.

"Good morning, pretty one," barked he. "Tell me, will you marry me?"

"Ah, you must win me first," said she.

The dog barked so sharp that Little Black Ant covered her ears with her hands.

"Fierce dog, go on your way," said she.

A cat passed by and looked at her. "Good morning, pretty one," mewed he."Tell me, will you marry me?"

"Ah, you must win me first," said she.

The cat mewed so long that Little Black Ant covered her ears with her hands.

"Sly cat, go on your way," said she.

A pig passed by and looked at her.

"Good morning, pretty one," grunted he. "Tell me, will you marry me?"

"Ah, you must win me first," said she.

The pig grunted so fast that Little Black Ant covered her ears with her hands.

"Fat pig, go on your way," said she.

A rat passed by and looked at her.

"Good morning, pretty one," squeaked he. "Tell me, will you marry me?"

"Ah, you must win me first," said she.

The rat squeaked so softly that Little Black Ant said to him, "Mr. Ratsmith, I will marry you."

The next day they were married. All their friends said, "How happy Mr. and Mrs. Ratsmith are!"

One day the little wife said, "Mr. Ratsmith, I am going to church. Stir the soup while I am gone. Be sure to use a spoon with a long handle."

But Mr. Ratsmith forgot what his wife had said. He stirred the soup with a short spoon. Splash! He fell into the soup-pot and was drowned. When his wife came home she went to the kitchen. What a sad sight! Her husband was drowned in the soup-pot. Mrs. Ratsmith sat on her door-step and wept and wept.

Song-Bird hopped up to her and said,

"Little Black Ant, With tearful eye, Pray tell me why You grieve and cry."

"Poor Ratsmith is drowned in the pot," said Little Black Ant.

"Then cut off my bill," chirped Song-Bird.

When Turtle-Dove saw Song-Bird she said,

"Tell me, Song-Bird, if you will, Why did you cut off your bill?"

"Poor Ratsmith is drowned in the soup-pot," said Song-Bird.

"And Little Black Ant, With tearful eye, Does nothing now But grieve and cry."

"Then I'll clip my tail," cooed Turtle-Dove. Away she flew to her little house.

When Dovecot saw Turtle-Dove she said,

"Oh, sweetest bird of all the dale, Why did you clip off your tail?"

"Poor Ratsmith is drowned in the soup-pot," said Turtle-Dove.

"And Little Black Ant, With tearful eye, Does nothing now But grieve and cry.

"Song-Bird has cut off his bill and I have my pretty tail."

"Then I'll turn myself upside down," said Dovecot.

When Crystal Fountain saw Dovecot she said,

"Dovecot, will you tell to me Why upside down you seem to be?"

"Poor Ratsmith is drowned in the soup-pot," said Dovecot.

"And Little Black Ant, With tearful eye, Does nothing now But grieve and cry.

"Song-Bird has cut off his bill, Turtle-Dove has clipped her pretty tail, and I've turned myself upside down."

"Then I'll overflow," said Crystal Fountain.

When Royal Princess saw Crystal Fountain she said,

"Oh, Crystal Fountain, tell to me Why you flow away to the deep blue sea?"

"Poor Ratsmith is drowned in the soil pot," said Crystal Fountain.

"And Little Black Ant, With tearful eye, Does nothing now But grieve and cry.

"Song-Bird has cut off his bill, Turtle-Dove has clipped her pretty tail, Dovecot has turned upside down, and I am flowing away to the deep blue sea."

"Then I'll break my pitcher," cried Royal Princess.

So Royal Princess broke her pitcher; Crystal Fountain flowed to the sea; Dovecot turned herself upside down; Turtle-Dove clipped her tail; Song-Bird cut off his bill.

All this because poor Ratsmith was in the soup-pot.

And Little Black Ant, With tearful eye, Does nothing now But grieve and cry.

Spanish Nursery Tale

 

Walter de la Mare

All But Blind

All but blind In his chambered hole Gropes for worms The four-clawed Mole. All but blind In the evening sky The hooded Bat Twirls softly by. All but blind In the burning day The Barn-Owl blunders On her way. And blind as are These three to me, So blind to someone I must be.

 

Understood Betsy  by Dorothy Canfield Fisher

"Understood Aunt Frances"

Part 1 of 4

About a month after Betsy's birthday, one October day when the leaves were all red and yellow, two very momentous events occurred, and, in a manner of speaking, at the very same time. Betsy had noticed that her kitten Eleanor (she still thought of her as a kitten, although she was now a big, grown-up cat) spent very little time around the house. She came into the kitchen two or three times a day, mewing loudly for milk and food, but after eating very fast she always disappeared at once. Betsy missed the purring, contented ball of fur on her lap in the long evenings as she played checkers, or read aloud, or sewed, or played guessing games. She felt rather hurt, too, that Eleanor paid her so little attention, and several times she tried hard to make her stay, trailing in front of her a spool tied to a string or rolling a worsted ball across the floor. But Eleanor seemed to have lost all her taste for the things she had liked so much. Invariably, the moment the door was opened, she darted out and vanished.

One afternoon Betsy ran out after her, determined to catch her and bring her back. When the cat found she was being followed, she bounded along in great leaps, constantly escaping from Betsy's outstretched hand. They came thus to the horse-barn, into the open door of which Eleanor whisked like a little gray shadow, Betsy close behind. The cat flashed up the steep, ladder-like stairs that led to the hay-loft. Betsy scrambled rapidly up, too. It was dark up there, compared to the gorgeous-colored October day outside, and for a moment she could not see Eleanor. Then she made her out, a dim little shape, picking her way over the hay, and she heard her talking. Yes, it was real talk, quite, quite different from the loud, imperious "miauw!"  with which Eleanor asked for her milk. This was the softest, prettiest kind of conversation, all little murmurs and chirps and sing-songs. Why, Betsy could almost understand it! She could  understand it enough to know that it was love-talk, and then, breaking into this, came a sudden series of shrill, little, needle-like cries that fairly filled the hay-loft. Eleanor gave a bound forward and disappeared. Betsy, very much excited, scrambled and climbed up over the hay as fast as she could go.

It was all silent now—the piercing, funny little squalls had stopped as suddenly as they began. On the top in a little nest lay Eleanor, purring so loudly you could hear her all over the big mow, and so proud and happy she could hardly contain herself. Her eyes glistened, she arched her back, rolled over and spread out her paws, disclosing to Betsy's astounded, delighted eyes—no, she wasn't dreaming—two dear little kittens, one all gray, just like its mother; one gray with a big bib on his chest.

Oh! How dear they were! How darling, and cuddly, and fuzzy! Betsy put her fingers very softly on the gray one's head and thrilled to feel the warmth of the little living creature. "Oh, Eleanor!" she asked eagerly. "Can  I pick one up?" She lifted the gray one gently and held it up to her cheek. The little thing nestled down in the warm hollow of her hand. She could feel its tiny, tiny little claws pricking softly into her palm. "Oh, you sweetness! You little, little baby-thing!" she said over and over in a whisper.

Eleanor did not stop purring, and she looked up with friendly, trusting eyes as her little mistress made the acquaintance of her children, but Betsy could feel somehow that Eleanor was anxious about her kitten, was afraid that, although the little girl meant everything that was kind, her great, clumsy, awkward human hands weren't clever enough to hold a baby-cat the proper way. "I don't blame you a bit, Eleanor," said Betsy. "I should feel just so in your place. There! I won't touch it again!" She laid the kitten down carefully by its mother. Eleanor at once began to wash its face very vigorously, knocking it over and over with her strong tongue. "My!" said Betsy, laughing. "You'd scratch my eyes out, if I  were as rough as that!"

Eleanor didn't seem to hear. Or rather she seemed to hear something else. For she stopped short, her head lifted, her ears pricked up, listening very hard to some distant sound. Then Betsy heard it, too, somebody coming into the barn below, little, quick, uneven footsteps. It must be little Molly, tagging along, as she always did. What fun to show Molly the kittens!

"Betsy!" called Molly from below.

"Molly!" called Betsy from above. "Come up here quick! I've got something up here."

There was a sound of scrambling, rapid feet on the rough stairs, and Molly's yellow curls appeared, shining in the dusk. "I've got a . . . " she began, but Betsy did not let her finish.

"Come here, Molly, quick! quick!"  she called, beckoning eagerly, as though the kittens might evaporate into thin air if Molly didn't get there at once.

Molly forgot what she was going to say, climbed madly up the steep pile of hay, and in a moment was lying flat on her stomach beside the little family in a spasm of delight that satisfied even Betsy and Eleanor, both of them convinced that these were the finest kittens the world had ever seen.

"See, there are two," said Betsy. "You can have one for your very own. And I'll let you choose. Which one do you like best?"

She was hoping that Molly would not take the little all-gray one, because she had fallen in love with that the minute she saw it.

"Oh, this  one with the white on his breast," said Molly, without a moment's hesitation. "It's lots  the prettiest! Oh, Betsy! For my very own?"

Something white fell out of the folds of her skirt on the hay. "Oh, yes," she said indifferently. "A letter for you. Miss Ann told me to bring it out here. She said she saw you streaking it for the barn."

It was a letter from Aunt Frances. Betsy opened it, one eye on Molly to see that she did not hug her new darling too tightly, and began to read it in the ray of dusty sunlight slanting in through a crack in the side of the barn. She could do this easily, because Aunt Frances always made her handwriting very large and round and clear, so that a little girl could read it without half trying.

And as she read, everything faded away from before her . . . the barn, Molly, the kittens . . . she saw nothing but the words on the page.

When she had read the letter through she got up quickly, oh ever so quickly! and went away down the stairs. Molly hardly noticed she had gone, so absorbing and delightful were the kittens.

Betsy went out of the dusky barn into the rich, October splendor and saw none of it. She went straight away from the house and the barn, straight up into the hill-pasture toward her favorite place beside the brook, the shady pool under the big maple-tree. At first she walked, but after a while she ran, faster and faster, as though she could not get there soon enough. Her head was down, and one arm was crooked over her face. . . .

And do you know, I'm not going to follow her up there, nor let you go. I'm afraid we would all cry if we saw what Betsy did under the big maple-tree. And the very reason she ran away so fast was so that she could be all by herself for a very hard hour, and fight it out, alone.

So let us go back soberly to the orchard where the Putneys are, and wait till Betsy comes walking listlessly in, her eyes red and her cheeks pale. Cousin Ann was up in the top of a tree, a basket hung over her shoulder half full of striped red Northern Spies; Uncle Henry was on a ladder against another tree, filling a bag with the beautiful, shining, yellow-green Pound Sweets, and Aunt Abigail was moving around, picking up the parti-colored windfalls and putting them into barrels ready to go to the cider-mill.

Something about the way Betsy walked, and as she drew closer something about the expression of her face, and oh! as she began to speak, something about the tone of her voice, stopped all this cheerful activity as though a bomb had gone off in their midst.

"I've had a letter from Aunt Frances," said Betsy, biting her lips, "and she says she's coming to take me away, back to them, tomorrow."

There was a big silence; Cousin Ann stood, perfectly motionless up in her tree, staring down through the leaves at Betsy. Uncle Henry was turned around on his ladder, one hand on an apple as though it had frozen there, staring down at Betsy. Aunt Abigail leaned with both fat hands on her barrel, staring hard at Betsy. Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her lips and winking her eyes. The yellow, hazy October sun sank slowly down toward the rim of Hemlock Mountain, and sent long, golden shafts of light through the branches of the trees upon this group of people, all so silent, so motionless.

Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her lips and winking her eyes.

Betsy was the first to speak, and I'm very proud of her for what she said. She said, loyally, "Dear Aunt Frances! She was always so sweet to me! She always tried so hard to take care of me!"

For that was what Betsy had found up by the brook under the big red maple-tree. She had found there a certainty that, whatever else she did, she must not  hurt Aunt Frances's feelings—dear, gentle, sweet Aunt Frances, whose feelings were so easily hurt and who had given her so many years of such anxious care. Something up there had told her—perhaps the quiet blue shadow of Windward Mountain creeping slowly over the pasture toward her, perhaps the silent glory of the great red-and-gold tree, perhaps the singing murmur of the little brook—perhaps all of them together had told her that now had come a time when she must do more than what Cousin Ann would do—when she must do what she herself knew was right. And that was to protect Aunt Frances from hurt.

When she spoke, out there in the orchard, she broke the spell of silence. Cousin Ann climbed hastily down from her tree, with her basket only partly filled. Uncle Henry got stiffly off his ladder, and Aunt Abigail advanced through the grass. And they all said the same thing—"Let me see that letter."

 

The Adventures of Unc' Billy Possum  by Thornton Burgess

Bobby Coon Enters the Wrong House

A FTER Unc' Billy Possum had arranged with Skimmer the Swallow, who was going South, to take a message to his family in "Ol' Virginny," telling them to come and join him in the Green Forest, he at once began to make preparations to receive them. Unc' Billy isn't any too fond of work. He had a lot rather that some one else should do the work for him, and he is smart enough to fix it so that usually some one else does.

But getting ready to receive his family was different. No one else could arrange things to suit him. This was Unc' Billy's own job, and he tended right to it every minute of the day. First of all he had to clean house. He had been keeping bachelor's hall so long in the big hollow tree that things were not very tidy. So Unc' Billy cleaned house, and while he worked he whistled and sang. Peter Rabbit, passing that way, overheard Unc' Billy singing:

"Mah ol' woman is away down Souf— Come along! Come along! Ain't nothin' sharper than the tongue in her mouf— Come along! Come along! She once was pretty, but she ain't no mo', But she cooks mah meals an' she sweeps mah flo'; She darns mah stockings an' she mends mah coat, An' she knows jes' how mah chillun fer to tote— Come along! Come along! "Mah pickaninnies am a-headin' dis way— Come along! Come along! Daddy am a-watchin' fo' 'em day by day— Come along! Come along! Mah ol' haid aches when Ah thinks ob de noise De's boun' to be wid dem gals an' boys, But Ah doan care if it busts in two If de good Lord brings dem chillun troo— Come along! Come along!"

Every little while Unc' Billy Possum would sit down to rest, for he wasn't used to so much real work. But finally he got his house clean and made as comfortable as possible, and about that time he began to think how good an egg would taste. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted that egg.

"It's no use talking, Ah just naturally has to have that egg," said Unc' Billy to himself, and off he started for Farmer Brown's.

Now Unc' Billy was hardly out of sight when along came Bobby Coon. Bobby Coon was absent-minded, or else he was so sleepy that he didn't know what he was doing, for Bobby Coon had been out all night. Anyway, when he reached Unc' Billy Possum's hollow tree, he began to climb up it just as if it were his own. He looked in at Unc' Billy's door. There was the most comfortable bed that he had seen for a long time. He looked this way and he looked that way. Nobody was in sight. Then he looked in at Unc' Billy's door once more. That bed certainly did look soft and comfortable. Bobby Coon chuckled to himself.

"I believe I'll just see if that bed is as comfortable as it looks," said he.

And two minutes later Bobby Coon was curled up fast asleep in Unc' Billy Possum's bed.

 

Robert Herrick

The Succession of the Four Sweet Months

First, April, she with mellow showers Opens the way for early flowers; Then after her comes smiling May, In a more rich and sweet array; Next enters June, and brings us more Gems than those two that went before: Then, lastly, July comes, and she More wealth brings in than all those three.

 

Hurlbut's Story of the Bible  by Jesse Lyman Hurlbut

The Brave Young Prince

I Samuel xiii: 1, to xiv: 46.

HE people had hoped that when they should have a king to lead them in war they might break the power of the Philistines, who were still rulers over a large part of the land. But after Saul had been king two years the Philistines seemed to be stronger than ever. They held many walled towns on the hills, and from these their warriors went out robbing the villages and taking away the crops from the farmers, so that the men of Israel were kept very poor and in great fear.

The Philistines would not allow the Israelites to do any work in iron, in order to keep them from making swords, and spears for themselves. When a man wished to have his iron plowshare sharpened or to have a new one made, he must go to the Philistines for the work. So when Saul gathered an army, scarcely any of the men could find swords or spears, and Saul and his son Jonathan were the only ones who wore suits of armor to protect them from the darts of the enemy.

Saul gathered together a little army, of which a part was with him at Michmash, and another part with his son Jonathan at Gibeah, five miles to the south. Jonathan, who was a very brave young man, led his band against the Philistines at Geba, halfway between Gibeah and Michmash, and took that place from them. The news of this fight went through the land, and the Philistines came up the mountains with a great army, having chariots and horsemen. Saul blew a trumpet and called the Israelites to the old camp at Gilgal, down in the valley of the Jordan; and many came, but they came trembling with fear of the Philistines.

Samuel had told him not to march from Gilgal until he should come to offer a sacrifice and to call upon God. But Samuel delayed coming, and Saul grew impatient, for he saw his men scattering. At last Saul could wait no longer. He offered a sacrifice himself, though he was no priest. But while the offering was still burning on the altar Samuel came. He said to Saul, "What is this that you have done?"

And Saul answered, "I saw that my men were scattering, and I feared that the enemy might come down upon me, so I offered the sacrifice myself, since you were not here."

"You have done wrong," said Samuel. "You have not kept God's commands. If you had obeyed and trusted the Lord, he would have kept you in safety. But now God will find some other man who will do his will, a man after his own heart, and God will in his own time take the kingdom from you and give it to him."

"You have not kept God's commands."

And Samuel left camp and went away, leaving Saul. Saul led his men, only six hundred, up the mountains to Geba, the place which Jonathan had taken. Across the valley near Michmash was the host of the Philistines in plain sight. One morning Jonathan and the young man who waited on him went down the hill toward the camp of the Philistines. This servant of Jonathan was called his armor-bearer, because he carried Jonathan's shield, and sword, and spear, to have them ready when needed.

Jonathan could see the Philistines just across the valley. He said, "If the Philistines say to us, 'Come over,' we will go and fight them, even though we two are alone, for we will take it as a sign that God will help us."

The Philistines saw the two Israelites standing on a rock across the valley, and they called to them, "Come over here, and we will show you something."

Then Jonathan said to his armor-bearer, "Come on, for the Lord has given them into our hand."

Then they crossed the valley and came suddenly up to the Philistines, and struck them down right and left, without giving them a moment. Some fell down, but others ran away, and soon, as their fellow-soldiers saw them running, they, too, became frightened, and everybody began to run to and fro. Some fought the men who were running away, and before many minutes the Israelites on the hill across the valley could see the Philistines fighting and killing each other, the men running in every direction and their army melting away.

Then Saul and his men came across the valley and joined in the fight; and other Israelites who were in the camp of the Philistines, and under their control, rose against them; and the tribes near at hand came forth and pursued them as they fled. So on that day a great victory was won over the Philistines.

But a great mistake was made by King Saul on the day of the victory. He feared that his men would turn aside from following the Philistines to seize the spoil in their camp, and when the battle began King Saul said, "Let the curse of God light on any man who takes food until the evening. Whoever takes any food before the sun goes down shall die, so that there may be no delay in destroying our enemies."

So on that day no man ate any food until it was evening, and they were faint and feeble from hunger. They were so worn out that they could not chase the Philistines further, and many of the Philistines escaped. That afternoon, as they were driving the Philistines through a forest, they found honey on the trees; but no man tasted it, because of Saul's oath before the Lord, that whoever took a mouthful of food should be put to death."

But Jonathan had not heard of his father's command. He took some honey and was made stronger by it. They said to Jonathan, "Your father commanded all the people not to take any food until the sun goes down, saying 'May the curse of God come upon any one who eats anything until the evening.' " When Jonathan heard of his father's word, he said, "My father has given us all great trouble; for if the men could have taken some food they would have been stronger to fight and to kill their enemies."

On that night Saul found that Jonathan had broken his command, though he knew it not at the time. He said, "I have taken an oath before the Lord, and now, Jonathan, you must die, though you are my own son."

But the people would not allow Jonathan to be put to death, even to keep Saul's oath. They said, "Shall Jonathan die, after he has done such a great deed, and won the victory, and saved the people? Not a hair of his head shall fall, for he has done God's work this day!"

And they rescued Jonathan from the hand of the king and set him free. A great victory had been won, but Saul had already shown that he was not fit to rule, because he was too hasty in his acts and his words, and because he was not careful to obey God's command.

The Philistines after this battle stayed for a time in their own land beside the Great Sea, and did not trouble the Israelites upon the mountains.

 

The Boxcar Children  by Gertrude Chandler Warner

More Education

W ITH twenty-five dollars in his hand, Henry felt like a millionaire as he edged through the crowd to the gate.

"That's the boy," he heard many a person say when he was forced to hold his silver cup in view out of harm's way.

When Dr. McAllister drove into his yard he found a boy washing the concrete drives as calmly as if nothing had happened. He chuckled quietly, for he had stopped at the Fair Grounds for a few minutes himself, and held a little conversation with the score-keeper. When Henry faithfully repeated the list of winners, however, he said nothing about it.

"What are you going to do with the prize?" queried Dr. McAllister.

"Put it in the savings bank, I guess," replied Henry.

"Have you an account?" asked his friend.

"No, but Jess says it's high time we started one."

"Good for Jess," said the doctor absently. "I remember an old uncle of mine who put two hundred dollars in the savings bank and forgot all about it. He left it in there till he died, and it came to me. It amounted to sixteen hundred dollars."

"Whew!" said Henry.

"He left it alone for over forty years, you see," explained Dr. McAllister.

When Henry arrived at his little home in the woods with the twenty-five dollars (for he never thought of putting it in the bank before Jess saw it), he found a delicious lunch waiting for him. Jess had boiled the little vegetables in clear water, and the moment they were done she had drained off the water in a remarkable drainer, and heaped them on the biggest dish with melted butter on top.

His family almost forgot to eat while Henry recounted the details of the exciting race. And when he showed them the silver cup and the money they actually did stop eating, hungry as they were.

"I said my name was Henry James," repeated Henry.

"That's all right. So it is," affirmed Jess. "It's clever, too. You can use that name for your bank book."

"So I can!" said Henry, delighted. "I'll put it in the bank this very afternoon. And by the way, I brought something for dinner tonight."

Jess looked in the bag. There were a dozen smooth, brown potatoes.

"I know how to cook those," said Jess, nodding her head wisely. "You just wait!"

"Can't wait, hardly," Henry called back as he went to work.

When he had gone, Benny frolicked around noisily with the dog.

"Benny," Jess exclaimed suddenly, as she hung her dish towels up to dry, "it's high time you learned to read."

"No school now,"  said Benny hopefully.

"No, but I can teach you. If I only had a primer!"

"Let's make one," suggested Violet, shaking her hair back. "We have saved all the wrapping paper off the bundles, you know."

Jess was staring off into space, as she always did when she had a bright idea.

"Violet," she cried at last, "remember those chips? We could whittle out letters like type—make each letter backwards, you know."

"And stamp them on paper!" finished Violet.

"There would be only twenty-six in all. It wouldn't be awfully hard," said Jess. "We wouldn't bother with capitals."

"What could we use for ink?" Violet wondered, wrinkling her forehead.

"Blackberry juice!" cried Jess. The two girls clapped their hands. "Won't Henry be surprised when he finds that Benny can read?"

Now from this conversation Benny gathered that this type-business would take his sisters quite a while to prepare. So he was not much worried about his part of the work. In fact, he sorted out chips very cheerfully and watched his teachers with interest as they dug carefully around the letters with the two knives.

"We'll teach him two words to begin with," said Jess. "Then we won't have to make the whole alphabet at once. Let's begin to teach him see."

"That's easy," agreed Violet. "And then we won't have to make but two letters, s  and e."

"And the other word will be me,"  cried Jess. "So only three pieces of type in all, Violet."

Jess cut the wiggly s,  because she had the better knife, while Violet struggled with the me. Then Jess cut a wonderful m  while Violet sewed the primer down the back, and gathered a cupful of blackberries. As she sat by, crushing the juice from the berries with a stick, Jess planned the ink pad.

"We'll have to use a small piece of the wash-cloth, I'm afraid," she said at last.

But finally they were obliged to cut off only the uneven bits of cloth which hung around the edges. These they used for stuffing for the pad, and covered them with a pocket which Violet carefully ripped from her apron. When this was sewed firmly into place, and put into a small saucer, Jess poured on the purple juice. Even Benny came up on his hands and knees to watch her stamp the first s. It came out beautifully on the first page of the primer, purple and clean-cut. The e  was almost as good, and as for the m,  Jess' hand shook with pure pride as she stamped it evenly on the page. At last the two words were completed. In fact, they were done long before Benny had the slightest idea his sisters were ready for him.

He came willingly enough for his first lesson, but he could not tell the two words apart.

"Don't you see, Benny?" Jess explained patiently. "This one with the wiggly s  says see?"  But Benny did not "see."

"I'll tell you, Jess," said Violet at last. "Let's print each word again on a separate card. That's the way they do at school. And then let him point to see."

The girls did this, using squares of stiff brown paper. Then they called Benny. Very carefully, Jess explained again which word said see,  hissing like a huge snake to show him how the s  sounded. Then she mixed the cards and said encouragingly, "Now, Benny, point to s-s-s-ee."

Benny did not move. He sat with his finger on his lip.

But the children were nearly petrified with astonishment to see Watch cock his head on one side and gravely put his paw on the center of the word! Now, this was only an accident. Watch did not really know one of the words from the other. But Benny thought he did. And was he going to let a dog get ahead of him? Not Benny! In less time than it takes to tell it, Benny had learned both words perfectly.

"Good old Watch," said Jess.

"It isn't really hard at all," said Benny. "Is it, Watch?"

During all this experiment Jess had not forgotten her dinner. When you are living outdoors all the time you do not forget things like that. In fact both girls had learned to tell the time very accurately by the sun.

Jess started up a beautiful little fire of cones. As they turned into red-hot ashes and began to topple over one by one into the glowing pile, Jess laughed delightedly. She had already scrubbed the smooth potatoes and dried them carefully. She now poked them one by one into the glowing ashes with a stick from a birch tree. Whenever a potato lit up dangerously she gave it a poke into a new position. And when Henry found her, she was just rolling the charred balls out onto the flat stones.

"Burned 'em up?" queried Henry.

"Burned, nothing!" cried Jess energetically. "You just wait!"

"Can't wait, hardly," replied Henry smiling.

"You said that a long time ago," said Benny.

"Well, isn't it true?" demanded Henry, rolling his brother over on the pine needles.

"Come," said Violet breathlessly, forgetting to ring the bell.

"Hold them with leaves," directed Jess, "because they're terribly hot. Knock them on the side and scoop them out with a spoon and put butter on top."

The children did as the little cook requested, sprinkled on a little salt from the salt shaker, and took a taste.

"Ah!" said Henry.

"It's good," said Benny blissfully. It was about the most successful meal of all, in fact. When the children in later years recalled their different feasts, they always came back to the baked potatoes roasted in the ashes of the pine cones. Henry said it was because they were poked with a black-birch stick. Benny said it was because Jess nearly burned them up. Jess herself said maybe it was the remarkable salt shaker which had to stand on its head always, because there was no floor to it.

After supper the children still were not too sleepy to show Henry the new primer, and allow Benny to display his first reading lesson. Henry, greatly taken with the idea, sat up until it was almost dark, chipping out the remaining letters of the alphabet.

If you should ever care to see this interesting primer, which was finally ten pages in length, you might examine this faithful copy of its first page, which required four days for its completion:

Henry always insisted that the rat's tail was too long, but Jess said his knife must have slipped when he was making the a,  so they were even, after all.

 

Robert Louis Stevenson

Bed in Summer

In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer, quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day?