Pinocchio  by Carlo Collodi

Pinocchio Is Sold

F INDING that the door remained shut the little man burst it open with a violent kick, and coming into the room he said to Pinocchio and Candlewick with his usual little laugh:

"Well done, boys! You brayed well, and I recognised you by your voices. That is why I am here."

At these words the two little donkeys were quite stupefied, and stood with their heads down, their ears lowered, and their tails between their legs.

At first the little man stroked and caressed them; then taking out a currycomb he currycombed them well. And when by this process he had polished them till they shone like two mirrors, he put a halter round their necks and led them to the marketplace, in hopes of selling them and making a good profit.

And indeed buyers were not wanting. Candlewick was bought by a peasant whose donkey had died the previous day. Pinocchio was sold to the director of a company of buffoons and tight-rope dancers, who bought him that he might teach him to leap and to dance with the other animals belonging to the company.

And now, my little readers, you will have understood the fine trade that little man pursued. The wicked little monster, who had a face all milk and honey, made frequent journeys round the world with his coach. As he went along he collected, with promises and flattery, all the idle boys who had taken an aversion to books and school. As soon as his coach was full he conducted them to the "Land of Boobies," that they might pass their time in games, in uproar, and in amusement. When these poor deluded boys, from continual play and no study, had become so many little donkeys, he took possession of them with great delight and satisfaction, and carried them off to the fairs and markets to be sold. And in this way he had in a few years made heaps of money and had become a millionaire.

What became of Candlewick I do not know; but I do know that Pinocchio from the very first day had to endure a very hard, laborious life.

When he was put into his stall his master filled the manger with straw; but Pinocchio, having tried a mouthful, spat it out again.

Then his master, grumbling, filled the manger with hay; but neither did the hay please him.

"Ah!" exclaimed his master in a passion. "Does not hay please you either? Leave it to me, my fine donkey; if you are so full of caprices I will find a way to cure you! . . ."

And by way of correcting him he struck his legs with his whip.

Pinocchio began to cry and to bray with pain, and he said, braying:

"J-a, j-a, I cannot digest straw! . . ."

"Then eat hay!" said his master, who understood perfectly the asinine dialect.

"J-a, j-a, hay gives me a pain in my stomach."

"Do you mean to pretend that a little donkey like you must be kept on breasts of chickens, and capons in jelly?" asked his master, getting more and more angry, and whipping him again.

At this second whipping Pinocchio prudently held his tongue and said nothing more.

The stable was then shut and Pinocchio was left alone. He had not eaten for many hours, and he began to yawn from hunger. And when he yawned he opened a mouth that seemed as wide as an oven.

At last, finding nothing else in the manger, he resigned himself, and chewed a little hay; and after he had chewed it well, he shut his eyes and swallowed it.

"This hay is not bad," he said to himself; "but how much better it would have been if I had gone on with my studies! . . . Instead of hay I might now be eating a hunch of new bread and a fine slice of sausage! But I must have patience! . . ."

The next morning when he woke he looked in the manger for a little more hay; but he found none, for he had eaten it all during the night.

Then he took a mouthful of chopped straw; but whilst he was chewing it he had to acknowledge that the taste of chopped straw did not in the least resemble a savoury dish of macaroni or rice.

"But I must have patience!" he repeated as he went on chewing. "May my example serve at least as a warning to all disobedient boys who do not want to study. Patience! . . . patience! . . ."

"Patience indeed!" shouted his master, coming at that moment into the stable. "Do you think, my little donkey, that I bought you only to give you food and drink? I bought you to make you work, and that you might earn money for me. Up, then, at once! you must come with me into the circus, and there I will teach you to jump through hoops, to go through frames of paper head foremost, to dance waltzes and polkas, and to stand upright on your hind legs."

Poor Pinocchio, either by love or by force, had to learn all these fine things. But it took him three months before he had learnt them, and he got many a whipping that nearly took off his skin.

At last a day came when his master was able to announce that he would give a really extraordinary representation. The many-coloured placards stuck on the street corners were thus worded:

On that evening, as you may imagine, an hour before the play was to begin the theatre was crammed.

There was not a place to be had either in the pit or the stalls, or in the boxes even, by paying its weight in gold.

The benches round the circus were crowded with children and with boys of all ages, who were in a fever of impatience to see the famous little donkey Pinocchio dance.

When the first part of the performance was over, the director of the company, dressed in a black coat, white shorts, and big leather boots that came above his knees, presented himself to the public, and after making a profound bow he began with much solemnity the following ridiculous speech:

"Respectable public, ladies and gentlemen! The humble undersigned being a passer-by in this illustrious city, I have wished to procure for myself the honour, not to say the pleasure, of presenting to this intelligent and distinguished audience a celebrated little donkey, who has already had the honour of dancing in the presence of His Majesty the Emperor of all the principal Courts of Europe.

"And thanking you, I beg of you to help us with your inspiring presence and to be indulgent to us."

This speech was received with much laughter and applause; but the applause redoubled and became tumultuous when the little donkey Pinocchio made his appearance in the middle of the circus. He was decked out for the occasion. He had a new bridle of polished leather with brass buckles and studs, and two white camelias in his ears. His mane was divided and curled, and each curl was tied with bows of coloured ribbon. He had a girth of gold and silver round his body, and his tail was plaited with amaranth and blue velvet ribbons. He was, in fact, a little donkey to fall in love with!

The director, in presenting him to the public, added these few words:

"My respectable auditors! I am not here to tell you falsehoods of the great difficulties that I have overcome in understanding and subjugating this mammifer, whilst he was grazing at liberty amongst the mountains in the plains of the torrid zone. I beg you will observe the wild rolling of his eyes. Every means having been tried in vain to tame him, and to accustom him to the life of domestic quadrupeds, I was often forced to have recourse to the convincing argument of the whip. But all my goodness to him, instead of gaining his affections, has, on the contrary, increased his viciousness. However, following the system of Gall, I discovered in his cranium a bony cartilage, that the Faculty of Medicine in Paris has itself recognised as the regenerating bulb of the hair, and of dance. For this reason I have not only taught him to dance, but also to jump through hoops and through frames covered with paper. Admire him, and then pass your opinion on him! But before taking my leave of you, permit me, ladies and gentlemen, to invite you to the daily performance that will take place to-morrow evening; but in the apotheosis that the weather should threaten rain, the performance will be postponed till to-morrow morning at antemeridian of postmeridian."

Here the director made another profound bow; and then turning to Pinocchio, he said:

"Courage, Pinocchio! before you begin your feats make your bow to this distinguished audience—ladies, gentlemen, and children."

Pinocchio obeyed, and bent both his knees till they touched the ground, and remained kneeling until the director, cracking his whip, shouted to him:

"At a foot's pace!"

Then the little donkey raised himself on his four legs and began to walk round the theatre, keeping at a foot's pace.

After a little the director cried:

"Trot!" and Pinocchio, obeying the order, changed to a trot.

"Gallop!" and Pinocchio broke into a gallop.

"Full gallop!" and Pinocchio went full gallop. But whilst he was going full speed like a racehorse the director, raising his arm in the air, fired off a pistol. At the shot the little donkey, pretending to be wounded, fell his whole length in the circus, as if he was really dying.

As he got up from the ground amidst an outburst of applause, shouts, and clapping of hands, he naturally raised his head and looked up . . . and he saw in one of the boxes a beautiful lady who wore round her neck a thick gold chain from which hung a medallion. On the medallion was painted the portrait of a puppet.

"That is my portrait! . . . that lady is the Fairy!" said Pinocchio to himself, recognising her immediately; and overcome with delight he tried to cry:

"Oh, my little Fairy! Oh, my little Fairy!"

But instead of these words a bray came from his throat, so sonorous and so prolonged that all the spectators laughed, and more especially all the children who were in the theatre.

Then the director, to give him a lesson, and to make him understand that it is not good manners to bray before the public, gave him a blow on his nose with the handle of his whip.

The poor little donkey put his tongue out an inch, and licked his nose for at least five minutes, thinking perhaps that it would ease the pain he felt.

But what was his despair when, looking up a second time, he saw that the box was empty and that the Fairy had disappeared! . . .

He thought he was going to die: his eyes filled with tears and he began to weep. Nobody, however, noticed it, and least of all the director who, cracking his whip, shouted:

"Courage, Pinocchio! Now let the audience see how gracefully you can jump through the hoops."

"Now let the audience see how gracefully you can jump through the hoops."

Pinocchio tried two or three times, but each time that he came in front of the hoop, instead of going through it, he found it easier to go under it. At last he made a leap and went through it; but his right leg unfortunately caught in the hoop, and that caused him to fall to the ground doubled up in a heap on the other side.

When he got up he was lame, and it was only with great difficulty that he managed to return to the stable.

"Bring out Pinocchio! We want the little donkey! Bring out the little donkey!" shouted all the boys in the theatre, touched and sorry for the sad accident.

But the little donkey was seen no more that evening.

The following morning the veterinary, that is, the doctor of animals, paid him a visit, and declared that he would remain lame for life.

The director then said to the stable-boy:

"What do you suppose I can do with a lame donkey? He would eat food without earning it. Take him to the market and sell him."

When they reached the market a purchaser was found at once. He asked the stable-boy:

"How much do you want for that lame donkey?"

"Twenty francs."

"I will give you twenty pence. Don't suppose that I am buying him to make use of; I am buying him solely for his skin. I see that his skin is very hard, and I intend to make a drum with it for the band of my village."

I leave it to my readers to imagine poor Pinocchio's feelings when he heard that he was destined to become a drum!

As soon as the purchaser had paid his twenty pence he conducted the little donkey to the seashore. He then put a stone round his neck, and tying a rope, the end of which he held in his hand, round his leg, he gave him a sudden push and threw him into the water.

Pinocchio, weighed down by the stone, went at once to the bottom; and his owner, keeping tight hold of the cord, sat down quietly on a piece of rock to wait until the little donkey was drowned, intending then to skin him.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

A Touch of Homesickness

There is no need for me to say that it makes both Nathaniel and me glad to be praised by our master, because we keep the house cleanly and strive to serve the food in such a manner as not to offend the eye; but we would willingly dispense with such welcome words if thereby it would be possible to see a woman messing around the place.

Strive as boys may, they cannot attend to household matters as do girls or women, who have been brought into the world knowing how to perform such tasks, and it is more homelike to see them around.

Nathaniel and I often picture to each other what this village of Jamestown would be if in each camp, cave, or log hut a woman was in command, and ever when we talk thus comes into my heart a sickness for the old homes of England, even though after my mother died there was none for me; but yet it would do me a world of good even to look upon a housewife.

A most friendly gentleman is Master Hunt, and even though he is so far above me in station, I never fail of getting a kindly greeting when I am so fortunate as to meet him. He comes often to see Captain Smith, for the two talk long and earnestly over the matter of the Council, and at such times it is as if he went out of his way to give me a good word.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

Master Hunt's Preaching

Therefore it is that I go to hear him preach whenever the people are summoned to a meeting beneath the square of canvas in the wood, and more than once I have heard from him that which has taken the sickness for home out of my heart. Our people are not inclined to listen to him in great numbers, however. I have never seen above twenty at one time, the others being busy in the search for gold, or trying to decide among themselves as to how it may best be found.

More than once have I heard Master Hunt say, while talking privately with my master, that there would be greater hope for this village of ours if we had more laborers and less gentlemen, for in a new land it is only work that can win in the battle against the savages and the wilderness.

Four carpenters, one blacksmith, two bricklayers, a mason, a sailor, a barber, a tailor, and a drummer make up the list of skilled workmen, if, indeed, one who can do nothing save drum may be called a laborer. To these may be added twelve serving men and four boys. All the others are gentlemen, or, as Master Hunt puts it, drones expecting to live through the mercy of God whom they turn their backs upon.

 

Richard of Jamestown  by James Otis

Neglecting To Provide for the Future

The one thing which seemed most surprising to us lads, after Captain Smith had called it to our notice, was that these people, who knew there could be no question but that the winter would find them in Jamestown, when there could be neither roasting ears, peas, beans, nor fowls of the air to be come at, made no provision for a harvest.

Captain Smith, not being allowed to raise his voice in the Council, could only speak as one whose words have little weight, since he was not in authority; but he lost no opportunity of telling these gold seekers that only those who sowed might reap, and unless seed was put into the ground, there would be no crops to serve as food during the winter.

Even Master Wingfield, the President of the Council, refused to listen when my master would have spoken to him as a friend. He gave more heed to exploring the land, than to what might be our fate in the future. He would not even allow the gentlemen to make such a fort as might withstand an assault by the savages, seeming to think it of more importance to know what was to be found on the banks of this river or of that, than to guard against those brown people who daily gave token of being unfriendly.

The serving men and laborers were employed in making clapboards that we might have a cargo with which to fill one of Captain Newport's ships when he returned from England, according to the plans of the London Company. The gentlemen roamed here or there, seeking the yellow metal which had much the same as caused a madness among them; and, save in the case of Master Hunt and Captain Smith, none planted even the smallest garden.

 

Anonymous

A Sand Castle

The tide is out, and all the strand Is glistening in the summer sun; Let's build a castle of the sand— Oh! will not that be glorious fun? With walls and outworks wide and steep, All round about we'll dig a moat, And in the midst shall be the keep, Where England's flag may proudly float. And where a drawbridge ought to be, We'll make a causeway to the shore, Well paved with stones, for you and me To get to land when tempests roar. We'll sit within our citadel, And watch the tide come o'er the rocks; But we have built it strong and well; It will not fall for common shocks. The moat may fill, the waves may beat, We watch the siege all undismayed, Because, you know, we can retreat Along the causeway we have made. "Haul down your flag!" "Oh, no!" we shout, Our drums and trumpets heard afar— The castle sinks; but we march out With all the honors of the war.

 

Fifty Famous Stories Retold  by James Baldwin

The Ungrateful Guest

A MONG the soldiers of King Philip there was a poor man who had done some brave deeds. He had pleased the king in more ways than one, and so the king put a good deal of trust in him.

One day this soldier was on board of a ship at sea when a great storm came up. The winds drove the ship upon the rocks, and it was wrecked. The soldier was cast half-drowned upon the shore; and he would have died there, had it not been for the kind care of a farmer who lived close by.

When the soldier was well enough to go home, he thanked the farmer for what he had done, and promised that he would repay him for his kindness.

But he did not mean to keep his promise. He did not tell King Philip about the man who had saved his life. He only said that there was a fine farm by the seashore, and that he would like very much to have it for his own. Would the king give it to him?

"Who owns the farm now?" asked Philip.

"Only a churlish farmer, who has never done anything for his country," said the soldier.

"Very well, then," said Philip. "You have served me for a long time, and you shall have your wish. Go and take the farm for yourself."

And so the soldier made haste to drive the farmer from his house and home. He took the farm for his own.

The poor farmer was stung to the heart by such treat-ment. He went boldly to the king, and told the whole story from beginning to end. King Philip was very angry when he learned that the man whom he had trusted had done so base a deed. He sent for the soldier in great haste; and when he had come, he caused these words to be burned in his forehead:—

"THE UNGRATEFUL GUEST"

Thus all the world was made to know of the mean act by which the soldier had tried to en-rich himself; and from that day until he died all men shunned and hated him.

 

Outdoor Visits  by Edith M. Patch

A Spider's Tower

"The spider's name was Wolf Spider. She had eight legs like other spiders. But her home was not like the homes of other kinds of spiders. And she had different habits.

"There were some silk glands in Wolf Spider's body. Silk came out of these glands when she needed it. She did not make a web with it.

"Wolf Spider dug a hole in the ground for her home. It was about ten inches long. She put silk on the inside of her hole. It was easy for her to run on the silk when she went up or down.

Wolf Spider made a tower around the top of her hole. She found some little sticks to make it with. They were one or two inches long.

She laid the sticks so that her tower had five sides. She used silk to hold each stick in the right place. She made the tower more than two inches high.

Wolf Spider often climbed her tower and watched from the top.

If she saw an insect on the ground she could jump and catch it. She liked insects to eat.

If some animal came and scared her she could hide in her hole.

So her tower was a watch tower.

One day Wolf Spider laid her eggs. There were a great many of them.

She made a silk bag for a nest. She put all her eggs in the bag.

When Wolf Spider went to any place she took her egg bag with her. She held it under her hind legs.

Some days were cold and wet. Then Wolf Spider kept her eggs at home.

On pleasant days she often took her egg bag into the sunshine. The warm sun helped the young spiders to hatch.

After a while the baby spiders were old enough to come out of the silk bag. Then their mother helped them open the bag so they could get out of it.

The baby spiders ran to their mother. They climbed to her back and other parts of her body.

Wolf Spider kept her babies with her while they were very young. She gave them rides everywhere she went.

They stayed on her back when she went hunting for food. And they had a fast ride to their safe home when she ran into the tower.

Don found the little tower one day and told Nan to come to see it.

They sat on the ground and were very quiet. At last Wolf Spider came to the top of the tower where they could watch her.

Wolf Spider watched them, too.

 

William Brighty Rands

The Wonderful World

Great, wide, wonderful, beautiful world, With the beautiful water about you curled, And the wonderful grass upon your breast World, you are beautifully dressed! The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree It walks on the water and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the tops of the hills. You friendly earth, how far do you go, With wheat fields that nod, and rivers that flow, And cities and gardens, and oceans and isles, And people upon you for thousands of miles? Ah, you are so great and I am so small, I hardly can think of you, world, at all And yet, when I said my prayers to-day, A whisper within me seemed to say: "You are more than the earth, though you're such a dot; You can love and think, and the world cannot." William Brighty Rands England, 1823-1880

 

The Burgess Bird Book for Children  by Thornton Burgess

Peter Gets a Lame Neck

F OR several days it seemed to Peter Rabbit that everywhere he went he found members of the Warbler family. Being anxious to know all of them he did his best to remember how each one looked, but there were so many and some of them were dressed so nearly alike that after awhile Peter became so mixed that he gave it up as a bad job. Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the Warblers disappeared. That is to say, most of them disappeared. You see they had only stopped for a visit, being on their way farther north.

In his interest in the affairs of others of his feathered friends, Peter had quite forgotten the Warblers. Then one day when he was in the Green Forest where the spruce-trees grow, he stopped to rest. This particular part of the Green Forest was low and damp, and on many of the trees gray moss grew, hanging down from the branches and making the trees look much older than they really were. Peter was staring at a hanging branch of this moss without thinking anything about it when suddenly a little bird alighted on it and disappeared in it. At least, that is what Peter thought. But it was all so unexpected that he couldn't be sure his eyes hadn't fooled him.

Of course, right away he became very much interested in that bunch of moss. He stared at it very hard. At first it looked no different from a dozen other bunches of moss, but presently he noticed that it was a little thicker than other bunches, as if somehow it had been woven together. He hopped off to one side so he could see better. It looked as if in one side of that bunch of moss was a little round hole. Peter blinked and looked very hard indeed to make sure. A minute later there was no doubt at all, for a little feathered head was poked out and a second later a dainty mite of a bird flew out and alighted very close to Peter. It was one of the smaller members of the Warbler family.

"Sprite!" cried Peter joyously. "I missed you when your cousins passed through here, and I thought you had gone to the Far North with the rest of them."

"Well, I haven't, and what's more I'm not going to go on to the Far North. I'm going to stay right here," declared Sprite the Parula Warbler, for that is who it was.

As Peter looked at Sprite he couldn't help thinking that there wasn't a daintier member in the whole Warbler family. His coat was of a soft bluish color with a yellowish patch in the very center of his back. Across each wing were two bars of white. His throat was yellow. Just beneath it was a little band of bluish-black. His breast was yellow and his sides were grayish and brownish-chestnut.

"Sprite, you're just beautiful," declared Peter in frank admiration. "What was the reason I didn't see you up in the Old Orchard with your cousins?"

"Because I wasn't there," was Sprite's prompt reply as he flitted about, quite unable to sit still a minute. "I wasn't there because I like the Green Forest better, so I came straight here."

"What were you doing just now in that bunch of moss?" demanded Peter, a sudden suspicion of the truth hopping into his head.

"Just looking it over," replied Sprite, trying to look innocent.

At that very instant Peter looked up just in time to see a tail disappearing in the little round hole in the side of the bunch of moss. He knew that that tail belonged to Mrs. Sprite, and just that glimpse told him all he wanted to know.

"You've got a nest in there!" Peter exclaimed excitedly. "There's no use denying it, Sprite; you've got a nest in there! What a perfectly lovely place for a nest."

Sprite saw at once that it would be quite useless to try to deceive Peter. "Yes," said he, "Mrs. Sprite and I have a nest in there. We've just finished it. I think myself it is rather nice. We always build in moss like this. All we have to do is to find a nice thick bunch and then weave it together at the bottom and line the inside with fine grasses. It looks so much like all the rest of the bunches of moss that it is seldom any one finds it. I wouldn't trade nests with anybody I know."

"Isn't it rather lonesome over here by yourselves?" asked Peter.

"Not at all," replied Sprite. "You see, we are not as much alone as you think. My cousin, Fidget the Myrtle Warbler, is nesting not very far away, and another cousin Weechi the Magnolia Warbler is also quite near. Both have begun housekeeping already."

Of course Peter was all excitement and interest at once. "Where are their homes?" he asked eagerly. "Tell me where they are and I'll go straight over and call."

"Peter," said Sprite severely, "you ought to know better than to ask me to tell you anything of this kind. You have been around enough to know that there is no secret so precious as the secret of a home. You happened to find mine, and I guess I can trust you not to tell anybody where it is. If you can find the homes of Fidget and Weechi, all right, but I certainly don't intend to tell you where they are."

Peter knew that Sprite was quite right in refusing to tell the secrets of his cousins, but he couldn't think of going home without at least looking for those homes. He tried to look very innocent as he asked if they also were in hanging bunches of moss. But Sprite was too smart to be fooled and Peter learned nothing at all.

For some time Peter hopped around this way and that way, thinking every bunch of moss he saw must surely contain a nest. But though he looked and looked and looked, not another little round hole did he find, and there were so many bunches of moss that finally his neck ached from tipping his head back so much. Now Peter hasn't much patience as he might have, so after a while he gave up the search and started on his way home. On higher ground, just above the low swampy place where grew the moss-covered trees, he came to a lot of young hemlock-trees. These had no moss on them. Having given up his search Peter was thinking of other things when there flitted across in front of him a black and gray bird with a yellow cap, yellow sides, and a yellow patch at the root of his tail. Those yellow patches were all Peter needed to see to recognize Fidget the Myrtle Warbler, one of the two friends he had been so long looking for down among the moss-covered trees.

"Oh, Fidget!" cried Peter, hurrying after the restless little bird. "Oh, Fidget! I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Well, here I am," retorted Fidget. "You didn't look everywhere or you would have found me before. What can I do for you?" All the time Fidget was hopping and flitting about, never still an instant.

"You can tell me where your nest is," replied Peter promptly.

"I can, but I won't," retorted Fidget. "Now honestly, Peter, do you think you have any business to ask such a question?"

Peter hung his head and then replied quite honestly, "No I don't, Fidget. But you see Sprite told me that you had a nest not very far from his and I've looked at bunches of moss until I've got a crick in the back of my neck."

"Bunches of moss!" exclaimed Fidget. "What under the sun do you think I have to do with bunches of moss?"

"Why—why—I just thought you probably had your nest in one, the same as your cousin Sprite."

Fidget laughed right out. "I'm afraid you would have a worse crick in the back of your neck than you've got now before ever you found my nest in a bunch of moss," said he. "Moss may suit my cousin Sprite, but it doesn't suit me at all. Besides, I don't like those dark places where the moss grows on the trees. I build my nest of twigs and grass and weed-stalks and I line it with hair and rootlets and feathers. Sometimes I bind it together with spider silk, and if you really want to know, I like a little hemlock-tree to put it in. It isn't very far from here, but where it is I'm not going to tell you. Have you seen my cousin, Weechi?"

"No," replied Peter. "Is he anywhere around here?"

"Right here," replied another voice and Weechi the Magnolia Warbler dropped down on the ground for just a second right in front of Peter.

The top of his head and the back of his neck were gray. Above his eye was a white stripe and his cheeks were black. His throat was clear yellow, just below which was a black band. From this black streaks ran down across his yellow breast. At the root of his tail he was yellow. His tail was mostly black on top and white underneath. His wings were black and gray with two white bars. He was a little smaller than Fidget the Myrtle Warbler and quite as restless.

Peter fairly itched to ask Weechi where his nest was, but by this time he had learned a lesson, so wisely kept his tongue still.

"What were you fellows talking about?" asked Weechi.

"Nests," replied Fidget. "I've just been telling Peter that while Cousin Sprite may like to build in that hanging moss down there, it wouldn't suit me at all."

"Nor me either," declared Weechi promptly. "I prefer to build a real nest just as you do. By the way, Fidget, I stopped to look at your nest this morning. I find we build a good deal alike and we like the same sort of a place to put it. I suppose you know that I am a rather near neighbor of yours?"

"Of course I know it," replied Fidget. "In fact I watched you start your nest. Don't you think you have it rather near the ground?"

"Not too near, Fidget; not too near. I am not as high-minded as some people. I like to be within two or three feet of the ground."

"I do myself," replied Fidget.

Fidget and Weechi became so interested in discussing nests and the proper way of building them they quite forgot Peter Rabbit. Peter sat around for a while listening, but being more interested in seeing those nests than hearing about them, he finally stole away to look for them.

He looked and looked, but there were so many young hemlock-trees and they looked so much alike that finally Peter lost patience and gave it up as a bad job.

 

The Aesop for Children  by Milo Winter

The Ass Carrying the Image

A sacred Image was being carried to the temple. It was mounted on an Ass adorned with garlands and gorgeous trappings, and a grand procession of priests and pages followed it through the streets. As the Ass walked along, the people bowed their heads reverently or fell on their knees, and the Ass thought the honor was being paid to himself.

With his head full of this foolish idea, he became so puffed up with pride and vanity that he halted and started to bray loudly. But in the midst of his song, his driver guessed what the Ass had got into his head, and began to beat him unmercifully with a stick.

"Go along with you, you stupid Ass," he cried. "The honor is not meant for you but for the image you are carrying."

Do not try to take the credit to yourself that is due to others.

 

The Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said  by Padraic Colum

The Sea-Maiden Who Became a Sea-Swan

Part 2 of 2

Down he went to the Kingdom-Under-Wave and he came to the black mansion where lived the Seven Spinning Women of the Sea. He spoke as speaks a King who has a hard thing to do. "A law has to be broken," said he, "What law, Lord?" said the Spinning Women. "The law that saves our Maidens from taking part in the stormy lives of men." "We would rather that anything else but this should happen, Lord," said the Seven Spinning Women. "This thing must happen," said Mananaun, "and the Maiden Eevil must go to Branduv the King." "She must be prepared for this," said the Seven Spinning Women.

They came to me and they told me that the man whose shadow I had seen on the rock now claimed me for his wife and that Mananaun would not gainsay him. When I heard this, O my listeners, the life nearly left me.

This comfort the Seven Spinning Women gave me: I was to stay on his island so that I might become used to the earthly kingdom, but that I was not to see Branduv until the green had left my hair and the brown that the sun makes had come into my cheeks. So I came to Branduv's island. I lived by the sea-shore and the women of the island attended me.

How different was this earthly land from the Kingdom-Under-Wave. With us there was but the one mild season, the one mild light. Here there was glaring day and terrible darkness, bitter winds and hot beams of the sun. With us there were songs and tales, but the songs were about love or about the beautiful things we had seen. Here the tales and songs were about battles and forays and slaying with the sword. What they told of their loves was terrible, so much violence and unfaithfulness was in them.

The soft green tints were going out of my hair and the sun was putting brownness in my cheeks. Soon my hair would be wheaten-colored like the hair of the women of the islands and my cheeks would be brown like theirs. And then the day would come when I should have to be with the man whom I looked upon as my enemy.

I used to stay by the shore and speak with the birds that came in from the sea, for I knew their language. Never again could I go back to the Kingdom-Under-Wave. Green shade after green shade left my hair, brown tint after brown tint came into my cheeks, and what could I do but envy the birds that could make their flight from the islands of men. And when the green had nearly gone altogether from my hair I thought of a desperate thing I might do.

I sent a message to my sisters, and I sent it by many birds, so that if they did not get it by one they might get it by another. And I asked in my message that they send me a draft from the Well under the Sea, and that they send it in the cup that the Seven Spinning Women guarded. It would be terrible for any of my sisters to come to Branduv's island with the draft and the cup, but I begged that they would do it for me.

The days went by and the green color was now only a shade in my hair, and brownness was on my cheeks, and the women said "Before this old moon is gone our King will come here to wed you."

Then one day I found on the shore the cup that my sisters had brought and the draft from the Secret Well was in it. I took the cup in my hands and I brought it where I lived. "Come to us," said the women, "so that we may undo your hair and tell the King when he may come to wed you." They loosened my hair and then they said "there is no shade of green here at all. Bid the King come as early as he likes to-morrow."

I lay that night with the cup beside me. When I rose I knew that day I should drink from the cup my sisters had sent me—drink the draft that would change me into what I wished to be—a bird of the sea.

And while I sat with the cup beside me and my hair spread out, Branduv, the King of the Island, came to the door of the house. It may have been that I was becoming used to the sight of people of the earthly kingdoms, for, as I looked upon him he did not seem terrible to me. He looked noble, I thought, and eager to befriend me and love me. But the cup was in my hands when he came to the door. I put it to my lips when he entered the house. I drank it when he took a step towards me. And thereupon I became what I had wished to be—a Sea-Swan.

O my listeners! Maybe it would have been well for me if I had wed that King, and be now as the women of the islands. For now as I fly over the sea the King's look comes before me, and I think that he was eager to befriend me and eager to love me. So I am not content when I am flying over the sea. And I am lonely when I am on these islands, for I am now a Swan, and what has a Swan to do with the lives of men?

Such was the story that the Sea-Swan told the pigeons of the rock, and the Boy who knew what the Birds said heard it all, and remembered every word of it.

 

Robinson Crusoe Written Anew for Children  by James Baldwin

I Am Again Alarmed

FIVE or six years had passed, and not another footprint had I seen.

I had gotten over my great fright, and yet I was not so bold as I had been. Any sudden sound would make me start and look around.

I thought that if savage men had been on the island once, they were quite likely to come again. So I kept on the lookout for them all the time.

My flock of goats had now grown to be very large, and I needed another field. I wished to put some of them in a hidden spot where the savages, if they did come, would not find them.

I had already a small flock in one such spot, as I have told you. But now I wished to have another.

In looking for the right kind of place, I went all over the island. I even went far out on a rocky point beyond the place where I kept my canoe.

As I was standing on a rock and looking out to sea, I thought I saw a boat in the distance. I was only a little speck on the water, and it seemed to rise and fall with the waves. It could not be a rock.

I looked at it till my eyes could look no more. I had saved a spyglass out of the ship; but, as luck would have it, I had left it at home. How I wished for it then!

Whether I really saw a boat or not, I do not know. But as I walked back along the shore, I made up my mind never to go out again without my spyglass.

I walked slowly along, thinking of what I had seen. All at once I came upon that which made my heart stand still.

On the sandy, sloping beach of a pleasant little harbor I saw not only one footprint, but hundreds of them.

I stood still, afraid to move.

But the footprints were not all. The beach at one place was covered with bones and bits of flesh, as in a slaughter house. Some of the bones were quite fresh; some had been charred with fire.

"Here the savages have been holding a feast," I said to myself.

A little farther on I saw that a pit had been dug in the sand, and here they had had their fire. The ashes were still warm.

I wondered what kind of a feast these wild men had been having. There were savages on the mainland who were said to kill and eat the captives whom they took in war. Cannibals, they were called.

Could this have been a feast of cannibals? And were these the bones and flesh of human beings?

I trembled as I thought of it.

I turned and ran from the place as fast as I could.

I ran until I could go no farther. My breath came fast. I sank down upon the ground.

When I had rested a little while, I looked around and found that I was not very far from my castle. All around me was peaceful and still. I was surely safe from harm.

With tears in my eyes I knelt down and gave thanks to God. I thanked him that he had kept me alive and safe through so many years. I thanked him that I had been cast on the side of the island which was never visited by savages. I thanked him for all the comforts and blessings that were mine.

Then I arose and went home to my castle.

As I sat before my door that evening, I thought the whole matter over, and felt much easier in my mind.

I had been on the island eighteen years before I saw the first footprint. I had been there twenty-three years before I saw any other signs of savages. It was likely that many more years would pass before any harm should come to me.

With these thoughts I lay down in my hammock and slept without fear.

But it was a long time before I went again to the farther shore of the island. I did not even go to look after my canoe.

The days went quietly by. I kept quite close to my castle, and busied myself with my goats and my grain.

I was always on my guard, and never stepped out of doors without first looking around me.

 

William Allingham

The Fairy Shoemaker

Little cowboy, what have you heard Up on the lonely rath's green mound! Only the plaintive yellow bird Sighing in sultry fields around, Chary, chary, chary, chee-ee!— Only the grasshopper, and the bee!— "Tip-tap, rip-rap, Tick-a-tack-too! Scarlet leather sewn together, This will make a shoe, Left, right, pull it tight; Summer days are warm; Underground in winter, Laughing at the storm!" Lay your ear close to the hill. Do you not catch the tiny clamor, Busy click of an elfin hammer, Voice of the Lepracaun singing shrill As he merrily plies his trade? He's a span And a quarter in height. Get him in sight, hold him tight, And you're a made Man! You watch your cattle the summer day, Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay; How would you like to roll in your carriage, Look for a duchess's daughter in marriage? Seize the Shoemaker—then you may! "Big boots a-hunting, Sandals in the hall, White for a wedding feast, Pink for a ball. This way, that way, So we make a shoe; Getting rich every stitch, Tick-tack-too!" Nine and ninety treasure crocks This keen miser-fairy hath, Hid in mountains, woods and rocks, Ruin and round tower, cave and rath, And where the cormorants build From times of old Guarded by him Each of them filled Full to the brim With gold! I caught him at work one day, myself, In the castle ditch, where foxglove grows,— A wrinkled, wizened, and bearded elf, Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose, Silver buckles to his hose, Leather apron—shoe in his lap— "Rip-rap, tip-tap, Tick-tack-too! (A grasshopper on my cap! Away the moth flew!) Buskins for a fairy prince, Brogues for his son; Pay me well, pay me well, When the job is done!" The rogue was mine, beyond a doubt. I stared at him, he stared at me; "Servant, sir!" "Humph!" says he, And pulled a snuff-box out. He took a long pinch, looked better pleased, The queer little Lepracaun; Offered the box with a whimsical grace— Pouf! he flung the dust in my face! And while I sneezed, Was gone!

 

The Discovery of New Worlds  by M. B. Synge

Prince Henry, the Sailor

"There lies the port—the vessel puffs her sails; There gloom the dark broad seas." —Tennyson.

O NCE back from the wars, the purpose of his life now began to take definite shape. Forsaking the gaiety of court life, he took up his abode on the inhospitable shores of southern Portugal. Amid the sadness of a waste of shifting sand, in a neighbourhood so barren that only a few stunted trees struggled for existence, on one of the coldest, dreariest spots of sunny Portugal, Prince Henry built himself a palace, a chapel, and an observatory.

And here, with the vast Atlantic stretching before him, he devoted himself to the study of the stars, of seamanship, of mathematics. He gathered round him men skilled in the art of drawing maps and men of science. In the neighbouring port of Lagos he built new ships, and trained the Portuguese sailors in the art of seamanship.

"Desire to do well." This was the Prince's motto, and never did man follow any nobler watchword than this.

It was not long before his ships sailed forth in quest of the unknown. Two squires of Prince Henry's household, anxious for fame and wishing to serve their master, set out on an exploring expedition to the coast of West Africa; but being overtaken by a storm they were driven on an island, which they called Porto Santo, as it had saved them from the dangers of the storm. They returned in triumph to Prince Henry, suggesting that a little colony would thrive on their newly found island. The prince took up the idea, and sent out a little settlement of people, to start life on the new island. He also sent with his captain a Spanish pilot who came into his service relating this story:—

Fifty years before an Englishman had run away from Bristol with a very beautiful lady. The boat in which they were flying to France was driven by storms out of its course, finally reaching an island, where the lady died of fright and exposure and her lover a few days later of grief. The sailors who were with them sailed away from the island, only to be wrecked on the coast of Africa and to be thrown into a Moorish prison; but they had told their story to this man, and he was now on his way to act as guide to the island of Madeira. Rediscovered then by the Portuguese, they took it in the name of Prince Henry, and to the Portuguese the islands of Madeira and Porto Santo belong to-day.

Year after year the energetic prince despatched his little ships on the voyages into the unknown sea, ever urging his captains and sailors to venture farther and farther. He gave them new maps and better compasses, and he imparted his enthusiasm to all. To the faint-hearted he gave new courage; those who listened to fables of the sea he rebuked, until one and all determined not to return till they could report some success to their enthusiastic master.

Farther and still farther the ships sailed southward, till at last they reached Cape Bojador, on the west coast of Africa. Here a dangerous surf broke upon the shore, and even the prince's mariners dared not venture farther. There was a popular fable that any man who passed Cape Bojador would be changed from white to black. Men whispered of serpent rocks, sea-monsters, water-unicorns, of sheets of liquid flame and boiling waters!

It was seven years later that the prince's ships reached Cape Blanco, the white headland beyond. Slowly but surely the fables about the great heat were melting away, and men were venturing farther and farther south, but never far from the coast of Africa, never out into the Sea of Darkness. But they brought back gold dust from the coast of Guinea, and they brought back some of the black men as captives to Prince Henry, whose wish was that they should become Christians.

As ship after ship now returned with gold and captives or slaves, Prince Henry's service became more and more popular. No longer had the sailor prince to beg his men to sail forth; all were eager to go and enrich themselves from this newly discovered land. Love of gain was the magic wand that now drew on the Portuguese sailors into the unknown waters, and made them ready for adventure and dangers.

This love of gold and slaves did not appeal to the prince. He still sent out his ships to the west coast, ever hoping for some new light to be shed over the Sea of Darkness, ever longing for some one to discover a pathway through the great waters to distant India.

 

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

The Straw Ox

There was once an old woman and an old man. The old man worked in the field, while the old woman sat at home and spun flax. They were very, very poor. One day the old woman said, "Daddy, make me a straw ox and cover it with tar."

"A straw ox? What in the world is the good of an ox of that sort?"

"Never mind, Daddy," she said. "Make me a straw ox and cover it with tar."

"Well, well, well," said the old man.

So the old man made an ox of straw and covered it with tar.

Early the next morning the old woman drove the straw ox to the meadow. She took her distaff with her and she sat down behind a little hill to do her spinning. While the straw ox was grazing she spun her flax and sang,

"Graze away, little ox, While I spin my flax; Graze away, little ox, While I spin my flax."

As she spun and sang, her head drooped down and she went fast asleep. She did not see a big bear come from the dark wood and say to the ox,

"Who are you?"

"I am a straw ox And I'm covered with tar."

"Oh, covered with tar, are you? Then give me a little of your tar. I wish to patch my ragged fur again."

"Take some," said the ox.

The bear fell upon him and began to tear away the tar. He buried his teeth in the ox as far as he could. To his surprise he soon found he could not let go. He was stuck fast. He tugged and tugged, but it was of no use. Then the straw ox started off home dragging the bear with him.

When the old woman awoke there was no ox to be seen. "My straw ox may have gone home," she said. "I will go, too."

She took up her distaff; threw it over her shoulder, and hastened home. There she found the straw ox with the bear still stuck fast to the tar.

"Daddy, Daddy," she cried, "look, look. The straw ox has brought us a bear. Come."

The old man jumped up, pulled the bear out of the tar, and cast him into the cellar.

The next morning the old woman again drove the straw ox to the meadow. She took her distaff with her and she sat down behind a little hill to do her spinning. While the straw ox was grazing she spun her flax and sang,

"Graze away, little ox, While I spin my flax; Graze away, little ox, While I spin my flax."

As she spun and sang, her head drooped down and she was soon fast asleep. While she was sleeping a gray wolf came rushing out of the wood. He saw the straw ox grazing in the meadow.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am a straw ox And I'm covered with tar."

"Oh, covered with tar, are you? Give me some of your tar to tar my sides. Then the dogs cannot tear me."

"Take some," said the ox.

The gray wolf fell upon the straw ox and tried to tear away some of the tar. He tugged and tugged, but he could get none. Then he tried to let go, but, no matter how hard he pulled, the tar held him fast. The straw ox started off home dragging the gray wolf with him.

When the old woman woke up there was no straw ox to be seen. "My ox has gone home," she said. "I will go, too." She took up her distaff, threw it over her shoulder, and hastened home, and there stood the straw ox with a gray wolf stuck fast to the tar.

"Daddy, Daddy!" she called out. "Come! The straw ox has brought us a gray wolf. Come!"

The old man came, pulled the gray wolf out of the tar, and cast him into the cellar with the bear.

On the third day the old woman again drove the straw ox to the meadow. And again she sat down and began to spin and sing and was soon fast asleep.

A fox came running up.

"Who are you?" he asked when he saw the straw ox.

"I am a straw ox And I'm covered with tar."

"Oh, covered with tar, are you? Then give me some of your tar. I wish to cover my sides so that the dogs cannot tear my hide," begged the fox.

"Take some," said the straw ox.

The fox fastened his teeth in the tar. He tugged and tugged, but he could not pull them out again. Away started the straw ox dragging the fox with him.

The old woman woke up, hurried home, and found the straw ox there with a fox stuck fast in the tar. She called again to the old man. "Come, Daddy!"

The old man jumped up, pulled the fox out of the tar, and cast him into the cellar with the bear and the gray wolf. And the next day they caught a little hare in the same way.

"We have some fine animals now, Daddy," said the old woman.

"Yes, yes, my good woman, and all were caught by the straw ox which I made," said the old man, beginning to sharpen his knife.

The bear looked up and saw what the old man was doing.

"Tell me, Daddy," he said, "why are you sharpening your knife?"

"Your hide will make a fine leather jacket for myself and a coat for my old woman."

"Let me go, Daddy, dear," begged the bear, "and I'll bring you a lot of honey."

"Very well, see that you do it." And old man let the bear go.

Then he sat down on the bench again and began to sharpen his knife. And the gray wolf asked:

"Daddy, why are you sharpening your knife?"

"Your hide will make me a warm cap for the winter."

"Let me go, Daddy, dear. I'll bring you a whole herd of little sheep."

"Very well, see that you do it." And he let the gray wolf go.

Again he sat down on the bench and began to sharpen his knife.

The fox looked up. "Why are you sharping your knife, Daddy, dear?"

"Little foxes' fur makes nice collars and trimmings."

"Let me go, Daddy, dear, and I will bring you some nice hens and geese."

"Very well, see that you do it." And he let the fox go.

Then the little hare begged to know why Daddy was sharpening his knife.

"Little hares' soft fur makes nice gloves and mittens for winter."

"Don't take my fur, Daddy, dear. Let me go and I'll bring you cabbage and cauliflower—all you wish."

"Very well, see that you do it." Then he let the little hare go.

Early the next morning there was a noise on the door of the cottage. It sounded like "Dr-r-r-r-r."

"Daddy," cried the old woman, "some one is scratching at the door. Get up and who it is."

The old man got up and opened the door. There stood the bear carrying a whole hive of honey. He took the honey from the bear and went back to bed.

No sooner was he asleep than again came the sound, "Dr-r-r-r-r," at the cottage door. "Daddy, dear," cried the old woman, "there's that noise again. Get up."

The old man again got out of bed, went to the window, and looked out. There he saw the gray wolf driving a whole flock of sheep into the yard. Close on his heels came the fox driving some fine geese and hens. Last of all came the little hare bringing cabbage and cauliflower.

Then the old man and the old woman were glad. They sold honey and sheep and geese and hens, and became so rich that they never needed anything more for the rest of their lives.

And what became of the straw ox?

Oh, he stood in the sun until he fell to pieces!

Russian Nursery Tale

 

Walter de la Mare

The Bees' Song

Thousandz of thornz there be On the Rozez where gozez The Zebra of Zee: Sleek, striped, and hairy, The steed of the Fairy Princess of Zee. Heavy with blossomz be The Rozez that growzez In the thickets of Zee. Where grazez the Zebra, Marked Abracadeeebra, Of the Princess of Zee. And he nozez that poziez Of the Rozez that growzez So luvez'm and free, With an eye, dark and wary, In search of a Fairy, Whose Rozez he knowzez Were not honeyed for he, But to breathe a sweet incense To solace the Princess Of far-away Zee.

 

The Bears of Blue River  by Charles Major

How Balser Got a Gun

Part 1 of 2

For many years after the killing of the big bear, as told in the preceding chapter, time was reckoned by Balser as beginning with that event. It was, if I may say it, his "Anno Domini." In speaking of occurrences, events, and dates, he always fixed them in a general way by saying, "That happened before I killed the big bear;" or, "That took place after I killed the big bear." The great immeasurable eternity of time was divided into two parts: that large unoccupied portion preceding the death of the big bear, and the part, full to overflowing with satisfaction and pride, after that momentous event.

Balser's adventure had raised him vastly in the estimation of his friends and neighbours, and, what was quite as good, had increased his respect for himself, and had given him confidence, which is one of the most valuable qualities for boy or man. Frequently when Balser met strangers, and the story of the big bear was told, they would pat the boy on the shoulder and call him a little man, and would sometimes ask him if he owned a gun. Much to Balser's sorrow, he was compelled to admit that he did not. The questions as to whether or not he owned a gun had put into his mind the thought of how delightful life would be if he but possessed one; and his favourite visions by day and his sweetest dreams by night were all about a gun; one not so long nor so heavy as his father's but of the shorter, lighter pattern known as a smooth-bore carbine. He had heard his father speak of this gun, and of its effectiveness at short range; and although at long distances it was not so true of aim as his father's gun, still he felt confident that, if he but possessed the coveted carbine he could, single-handed and alone, exterminate all the races of bears, wolves and wildcats that inhabited the forests round about, and "pestered" the farmers with their depredations.

But how to get the gun! That was the question. Balser's father had received a gun as a present from his  father when Balser Sr. had reached the advanced age of twenty-one, and it was considered a rich gift. The cost of a gun for Balser would equal half of the sum total that his father could make during an entire year; and, although Little Balser looked forward in fond expectation to the time when he should be twenty-one and should receive a gun from his father, yet he did not even hope that he would have one before then, however much he might dream about it. Dreams cost nothing, and guns were expensive; too expensive even to be hoped for. So Balser contented himself with inexpensive dreams, and was willing, though not content, to wait.

But the unexpected usually happens, at an unexpected time, and in an unexpected manner.

About the beginning of the summer after the killing of the big bear, when Balser's father had "laid by" his corn, and the little patch of wheat had just begun to take on a golden brown as due notice that it was nearly ready to be harvested, there came a few days of idleness for the busy farmer. Upon one of those rare idle days Mr. Brent and Balser went down the river on a fishing and hunting expedition. There was but one gun in the family, therefore Balser could not hunt when his father was with him, so he took his fishing-rod, and did great execution among the finny tribe, while his father watched along the river for game, as it came down to drink.

Upon the day mentioned Balser and his father had wandered down the river as far as the Michigan road, and Mr. Brent had left the boy near the road fishing, after telling him to go home in an hour or two, and that he, Mr. Brent, would go by another route and be home in time for supper.

So Balser was left by himself, fishing at a deep hole perhaps a hundred yards north of the road. This was at a time when the river was in flood, and the ford where travellers usually crossed was too deep for passage.

Balser had been fishing for an hour or more, and had concluded to go home, when he saw approaching along the road from the east a man and woman on horseback. They soon reached the ford and stopped, believing it to be impassable. They were mud-stained and travel-worn, and their horses, covered with froth, were panting as if they had been urged to their greatest speed. After a little time the gentleman saw Balser, and called to him. The boy immediately went to the travellers, and the gentleman said:—

"My little man, can you tell me if it is safe to attempt the ford at this time?"

"It will swim your horses," answered Balser.

"I knew it would," said the lady, in evident distress. She was young and pretty, and seemed to be greatly fatigued and frightened. The gentleman was very attentive, and tried to soothe her, but in a moment of two she began to weep, and said:—

"They will catch us, I know. They will catch us. They cannot be more than a mile behind us now, and we have no place to turn."

"Is some one trying to catch you?" asked Balser.

The gentleman looked down at the little fellow for a moment and was struck by his bright, manly air. The thought occurred to him that Balser might suspect them of being fugitives from justice, so he explained:—

"Yes, my little fellow, a gentleman is trying to catch us. He is this lady's father. He has with him a dozen men, and if they overtake us they will certainly kill me and take this lady home. Do you know of any place where we may hide?"

"Yes, sir," answered Balser, quickly; "help me on behind you, and I'll take you to my father's house. There's no path up the river, and if they attempt to follow they'll get lost in the woods."

Balser climbed on the horse behind the gentleman, and soon they plunged into the deep forest, and rode up the river toward Balser's home. The boy knew the forest well, and in a short time the little party of three was standing at the hospitable cabin door. Matters were soon explained to Balser's mother, and she, with true hospitality, welcomed the travellers to her home. During the conversation Balser learned that the gentleman and lady were running away that they might be married, and, hoping to finish a good job, the boy volunteered the advice that they should be married that same evening under his father's roof. He also offered to go in quest of a preacher who made his home some two miles to the east.

The advice and the offer of services were eagerly accepted, and the lady and gentleman were married that night, and remained a few days at the home of Mr. Brent until the river was low enough to cross.

The strangers felt grateful to the boy who had given them such timely help, and asked him what they could do for him in return.

Balser hesitated a moment, and said "There's only one thing I want very bad, but that would cost so much there's no use to speak of it."

"What is it, Balser? Speak up, and if it is anything I can buy, you shall have it."

"A gun! A gun! A smooth-bore carbine. I'd rather have it than anything else in the world."

"You shall have it if there's one to be bought in Indianapolis. We are going there, and will return within a week or ten days, and you shall have your carbine if I can find one."

Within two weeks after this conversation Balser was the happiest boy in Indiana, for he owned a carbine, ten pounds of fine powder, and lead enough to kill every living creature within a radius of five miles.

Of course the carbine had to be tested at once. So the day after he received it Balser started out with his father on a hunting expedition, fully determined in his own mind to kill a bear twice as large as his first one. They took with them corn-bread and dried venison for dinner, and started east toward Conn's Creek, where the houses of the settlers were thinly scattered and game plentiful.

They had with them two faithful dogs, "Tige" and "Prince." Balser considered these dogs the most intelligent animals that walked on four feet. They were deer-hounds with a cross of bulldog, and were swift of foot and very strong.

Our hunters had travelled perhaps three or four miles into the forest when they started a deer, in pursuit of which the dogs bounded off with their peculiar bark, and soon deer and dogs were lost to sight. Balser and his father listened carefully for the voices of the dogs, for should the deer turn at bay, the dogs, instead of the quick bark, to which they gave voice in the chase, would utter a long-drawn-out note—half howl, half yelp.

The bay of the hounds had died away in the distance, and Balser and his father had heard nothing of them for two or three hours.

The hunters had seen other deer as they walked along, but they had been unable to obtain a shot. Smaller game was plentiful, but Balser and his father did not care to frighten away large game by shooting at squirrels or birds. So they continued their walk until they reached the bank of Conn's Creek, near the hour of noon; by that time Balser's appetite was beginning to call loudly for dinner, and he could not resist the temptation to shoot a squirrel, which he saw upon a limb of a neighbouring tree. The squirrel fell to the ground and was soon skinned and cleaned. Balser then kindled a fire, and cutting several green twigs, sharpened the ends and fastened small pieces of the squirrel upon them. He next stuck the twigs in the ground so that they leaned toward the fire, with the meat hanging directly over the blaze. Soon the squirrel was roasted to a delicious brown, and then Balser served dinner to his father, who was sitting on a rock near by. The squirrel, the corn bread, and the venison quickly disappeared, and Balser, if permitted to do so, would have found another squirrel and would have cooked it. Just as dinner was finished, there came from a long way up-stream the howling bark of Tige and Prince, telling, plainly as if they had spoken English, that the deer was at bay.

Thereupon Balser quickly loaded his gun, and he and his father looked carefully to their primings. Then Mr. Brent directed Balser to climb down the cliff and move toward the dogs through the thicket in the bottom, while he went by another route, along the bluff. Should the hunters be separated, they were to meet at an agreed place in the forest. Balser climbed cautiously down the cliff and was soon deep in a dark thicket of tangled underbrush near the creek.

Now and then the deep bay of the dogs reached his ears from the direction whence he had first heard it, and he walked as rapidly as the tangled briers and undergrowth would permit toward his faithful fellow-hunters.

 

The Adventures of Unc' Billy Possum  by Thornton Burgess

The Runaway Cabbage

R EDDY FOX, hiding with Shadow the Weasel in a hollow log near Unc' Billy Possum's home, nudged Shadow with his elbow.

"I hear some one coming," he whispered.

Shadow peeped out. "It's old Mr. Toad and Prickly Porky," he whispered back.

Something that sounded very much like a growl sounded way down deep in the throat of Reddy Fox, for Reddy has no love for Prickly Porky.

"And there comes Jimmy Skunk, with a big goose egg under each arm!" continued Shadow, smacking his lips. Reddy Fox wriggled up where he could peep out, too.

"My goodness! What's that coming down the Lone Little Path?" whispered Reddy.

Shadow looked. Then he began to laugh, and Reddy began to laugh, too. But it was laughter that made no sound, for Reddy and Shadow didn't want any one to know that they were hiding there. It was a funny sight they were peeping out at. It certainly was a funny sight. Down the Lone Little Path came Peter Rabbit and his cousin, Jumper the Hare, rolling a huge cabbage.

Right at the top of a little hill the cabbage got away from them. Down it started, rolling and bounding along, with Peter Rabbit and Jumper the Hare frantically trying to catch it. Just ahead was Johnny Chuck with a big bundle of sweet clover, which he was bringing to Peter Rabbit's party. He didn't see the big cabbage coming. It knocked his feet from under him, and down he went with a thump, flat on his back. Right on top of him fell Jumper the Hare, who was close behind the runaway cabbage and had no time to turn aside. Over the two of them fell Peter Rabbit. Such a mix-up!

And the big cabbage kept right on running away. Jimmy Skunk, who never hurries, heard the noise behind him and turned to see what it all meant. But he didn't have time to more than blink his eyes before the runaway cabbage hit him full in the stomach. Down went Jimmy Skunk with a grunt. One big egg flew over against a tree and broke. Jimmy landed on the other, and this broke, too.

Such a sight as Jimmy Skunk was! Egg dripped from every part of his handsome black and white coat. It was in his eyes and all over his face and dripped from his whiskers. Shadow the Weasel and Reddy Fox, hiding in the hollow log, laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks, though down in the heart of Shadow was bitter disappointment, for he had planned to steal those very eggs.

Just a little way beyond Jimmy Skunk the runaway cabbage brought up with a thump against a stump on which sat Striped Chipmunk, with the pockets in his cheeks filled full of yellow corn. The sudden bump of the big cabbage made Striped Chipmunk lose his balance, and off he tumbled, right down on to old Mr. Toad, who had just sat down behind the stump for a few minutes of rest. It knocked all the wind out of Mr. Toad, and of course Striped Chipmunk spilled all his corn.

Prickly Porky the Porcupine heard the noise. He looked up to see a strange thing bounding down the Lone Little Path. Prickly Porky didn't wait to see what it was. He did just what he always does when he thinks there may be danger; he rolled himself up with his face hidden in his waistcoat, and when he did that, the thousand little spears hidden in his coat stood out until he looked like a giant chestnut burr.

The runaway cabbage bounced off the stump and hit Prickly Porky. Then it stopped. Where it had touched Prickly Porky, the sharp little spears had stuck into it, so that when Peter Rabbit and Jumper the Hare hurried up, there lay the runaway cabbage, looking for all the world like a great green pincushion.

 

Mary Howitt

Summer Woods

Come ye into the summer woods; There entereth no annoy; All greenly wave the chestnut leaves, And the earth is full of joy. I cannot tell you half the sights Of beauty you may see,— The bursts of golden sunshine, And many a shady tree. There, lightly swung in bowery glades, The honeysuckles twine; There blooms the rose-red campion, And the dark-blue columbine. There grows the four-leaved plant, "true-love," In some dusk woodland spot; There grows the enchanter's night-shade, And the wood forget-me-not. And many a merry bird is there, Unscared by lawless men; The blue-winged jay, the woodpecker, And the golden-crested wren. Come down, and ye shall see them all, The timid and the bold; For their sweet life of pleasantness, It is not to be told. And far within that summer wood, Among the leaves so green, There flows a little gurgling brook, The brightest e'er was seen. There come the little gentle birds, Without a fear of ill, Down to the murmuring water's edge, And freely drink their fill. And dash about and splash about, The merry little things; And look askance with bright black eyes, And flirt their dripping wings. I've seen the freakish squirrels drop Down from their leafy tree, The little squirrels with the old,— Great joy it was to me! And down into the running brook, I've seen them nimbly go; And the bright water seemed to speak A welcome kind and low. The nodding plants they bowed their heads As if in heartsome cheer: They spake unto these little things, " 'T is merry living here!" Oh, how my heart ran o'er with joy! I saw that all was good, And how we might glean up delight All round us, if we would! And many a wood-mouse dwelleth there, Beneath the old wood shade, And all day long has work to do, Nor is of aught afraid. The green shoots grow above their heads, And roots so fresh and fine Beneath their feet; nor is there strife 'Mong men for mine and thine. There is enough for every one, And they lovingly agree; We might learn a lesson, all of us, Beneath the greenwood tree.

 

Hurlbut's Story of the Bible  by Jesse Lyman Hurlbut

How David Spared Saul's Life

I Samuel xxiii: 1, to xxvii: 12.

FTER this David and his men hid in many places in the mountains of Judah, often hunted by Saul, but always escaping from him. At one time Jonathan, Saul's son came to meet David in a forest, and said to him, "Fear not, for the Lord is with you; and Saul, my father, shall not take you prisoner. You will yet be the king of Israel, and I shall stand next to you; and my father knows this."

And Jonathan and David made again the promise to be true to each other, and to each other's children always. Then they parted; and David never again saw his dear friend, Jonathan.

At one time David was hiding with a few men in a great cave near the Dead Sea, at a place called En-gedi. They were far back in the darkness of the cave, when they saw Saul come into the cave alone, and lie down to sleep. David's men whispered to him, "Now is the time of which the Lord said, 'I will give your enemy into your hand, and you may do to him whatever you please.' "

Then David went toward Saul very quietly with his sword in his hand. His men looked to see him kill Saul, but instead, he only cut off a part of Saul's long robe. His men were not pleased at this; but David said to them, "May the Lord forbid that I should do harm to the man whom the Lord has anointed as king."

And David would not allow his men to harm Saul. After a time Saul rose up from sleep and went out of the cave. David followed him at a distance, and called out to him, "My lord the king!"

Saul looked around, and there stood David, bowing to him and holding up the piece of his royal robe. David said to Saul, "My lord, O king, why do you listen to the words of men who tell you that David is trying to do you harm? This very day the Lord gave you into my hand in the cave, and some told me to kill you, but I said, 'I will not do harm to my lord, for he is the Lord's anointed king.' See, my father, see the skirt of your robe. I cut it off to show you that I would do you no harm, though you are hunting after me to kill me. May the Lord judge between you and me, and may the Lord do justice for me upon you; but my hand shall not touch you."

When Saul heard these words his old love for David came back to him, and he cried out, "Is that your voice, my son David?" And Saul wept, and said, "You are a better man than I am, for you have done good to me, while I have been doing harm to you. May the Lord reward you for your kindness to me this day! I know that it is God's will that you shall be king, and you will rule over this people. Now give to me your word, in the name of the Lord, that you will not destroy my family, but that you will spare their lives."

And David gave his promise to Saul in the name of the Lord; and Saul led his men away from hunting David to his palace at Gibeah; but David kept still in his hiding-place, for he could not trust Saul's promises to spare his life.

And it was not long before Saul was again seeking for David in the wilderness of Judah, with Abner, Saul's uncle, the commander of his army, and under him three thousand men. From his hiding-place in the mountains David looked down on the plain, and saw Saul's camp almost at his feet. That night David and Abishai, one of David's men, came down quietly and walked into the middle of Saul's camp, while all his guards were asleep. Saul himself was sleeping, with his spear standing in the ground at his head, and a bottle of water tied to it.

Abishai, David's follower, knew that David would not kill King Saul, and he said to David, "God has given your enemy into your hand again. Let me strike him through to the ground at one stroke; only once; I will not need to strike twice."

But David said, "You shall not destroy him. Who can strike the anointed of the Lord without being guilty of a crime? Let the Lord strike him, or let him die when God wills it, or let him fall in battle; but he shall not die by my hand. Let us take his spear and his water-bottle, and let us go."

So David took Saul's spear and his bottle of water, and then David and Abishai walked out of the camp without awakening any one. In the morning David called out to Saul's men and to Abner, the chief of Saul's army, "Abner, where are you? Why do you not answer, Abner?"

And Abner answered, "Who are you, calling to the camp?"

Then David said, "Are you not a great man, Abner? Who is like you in all Israel? Why have you not kept your watch over the king? You deserve to be put to death for your neglect! See, here is the king's spear and his bottle of water!"

Saul knew David's voice, and he said, "Is that your voice, my son David?"

And David answered, "It is my voice, my lord, O king. Why do you pursue me? What evil have I done? May God deal with the men who have stirred you up against me. I am not worth all the trouble you are taking to hunt for me. The king of Israel is seeking for one who is as small as a flea or a little bird in the mountains!"

Then Saul said, "I have done wrong; come back, my son David, and I will no longer try to do harm to you, for you have spared my life to-day!" David said, "Let one of the young men come and take the king's spear. As I have spared your life to-day, may the Lord spare mine."

So David went his way, for he would not trust himself in Saul's hands, and Saul led his men back to his home at Gibeah. David now was leading quite an army and was a powerful ruler. He made an agreement with the king of the Philistines who lived at Gath, King Achish, and went down to the plain by the Great Sea, to live among the Philistines. And Achish gave him a city called Ziklag, on the south of the tribe-land of Judah. To this place David took his followers, and there he lived during the last year of Saul's reign.

David spares Saul's life.

 

The Boxcar Children  by Gertrude Chandler Warner

Safe

W OULD you ever dream that four children could be homesick in such a beautiful house as Mr. Cordyce's? Jess was the first one to long for the old freight car.

"O Grandfather," she said one morning, "I wish I could cook something once more in the old kettle."

"Go out in the kitchen," said her grandfather, "and mess around all you like. The maids will help you."

Jess brightened up at once, and flew out into the kitchen, where three or four maids brought her everything she wanted to cook with.

And Benny was the last one to wish for his old home.

"Grandfather," he said one day, "I wish I could drink this milk out of my own pink cup!"

This set Mr. Cordyce to thinking. He had plenty of pink cups, it is true, but none of them were as dear to Benny as his own.

"I think I shall have to surprise you children," said Mr. Cordyce at last. "But before the surprise comes, perhaps you would like to see Benny's pony." Then he led the way to the stables. He owned several beautiful horses already, and nearly a dozen wonderful cars. But nothing was half so interesting as the pony. He was very small and very fat and black. His wavy tail was so long that it nearly touched the ground. And his name was "Cracker," because his birthday fell on the Fourth of July, when firecrackers were popping.

Benny took a short ride around the stable, being "held on" by a groom. But the second time around, he said, "Cracker doesn't need you to hold onto him, I shouldn't wonder," and trotted around with great delight, without help.

All the others sat down on the fragrant hay to watch him ride.

"What am I going to do when I grow up, Grandfather?" asked Henry.

"You're going to take my place, Henry, as president of the steel mills," replied Mr. Cordyce. "You will do it better than I ever have." (And one day this came true, just as most of Mr. Cordyce's prophecies did.)

"And what am I going to do?" asked Jess, curiously.

"All you children must go to school and then to college. Then you may do whatever you choose for a living," replied Mr. Cordyce. (This also came true.)

"Of course I have more than enough money to support us all," went on Mr. Cordyce, "but if you have something to do, you will be happier." (This not only came true, but it is always and forever true, all over the world.)

"Am I going to college tomorrow?" asked Benny, stopping his little pony in front of the group.

"Not tomorrow, Benny," said his grandfather, laughing. "But I 'm glad you reminded me. All you children must go over to Dr. McAllister's tomorrow, and stay while the surprise comes."

"Is the surprise very nice?" asked Benny.

"No, not very," replied Mr. Cordyce with a twinkle.

"Did it cost a great deal?" asked Jess.

"It didn't cost me anything," answered her grandfather. "The only thing I shall have to pay will be express." (He didn't tell them that the express cost him several hundred dollars.)

However, next day the children rode gladly over to see the kind doctor. They stayed until Mr. Cordyce telephoned to them that the surprise was ready. And then Mrs. McAllister and her son rode back with them in the big car.

Mr. Cordyce was as happy as a boy. He led the merry little procession out through his many gardens, past the rose garden, through the banks of purple asters. Then they came to an Italian garden with a fountain in the middle, and a shady little wood around the edge. Among the trees was the surprise. It was the old freight car! The children rushed over to it with cries of delight, pushed back the dear old door, and scrambled in. Everything was in place. Here was Benny's pink cup, and here was his bed. Here was the old knife which had cut butter and bread, and vegetables, and firewood, and string, and here were the letters for Benny's primer. Here was the big kettle and the tablecloth. And hanging on a near-by tree was the old dinner bell. Benny rang the bell over and over again, and Watch rolled on the floor and barked himself hoarse.

The children were never homesick after that. To be sure, a dull and ugly freight car looked a little strange in a beautiful Italian garden. But it was never dull or ugly to the Cordyce children or their dog. They never were so happy as when showing visitors each beauty of their beloved old home. And there were many visitors. Some of them were fascinated by the stories of the wonderful dishes and the shelf. And the children never grew tired of telling them over and over again.

One summer day, many years afterward, Watch climbed out of his beautiful padded silk bed, and barked until Henry lifted him into the freight car. There he lay down on the hard, splintery floor, blinking his eyes in the sun, and watching the children as they sat studying by the fountain.

"He likes the old home best," said Jess Cordyce, smiling at him and patting his rough back.

And as Benny would say, if he hadn't grown up, "That's true, I shouldn't wonder."

 

James Whitcomb Riley

A Sea Song from the Shore

Hail! Ho! Sail! Ho! Ahoy! Ahoy! Ahoy! Who calls to me, So far at sea? Only a little boy! Sail! Ho! Hail! Ho! The sailor he sails the sea: I wish he would capture A little sea-horse And send him home to me. I wish, as he sails Through the tropical gales, He would catch me a sea-bird, too, With its silver wings And the song it sings, And its breast of down and dew! I wish he would catch me a Little mermaid, Some island where he lands, With her dripping curls, And her crown of pearls, And the looking-glass in her hands! Hail! Ho! Sail! Ho! Sail far o'er the fabulous main! And if I were a sailor, I'd sail with you, Though I never sailed back again.