The Project Gutenberg eBook ofFifty Famous FablesThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Fifty Famous FablesAuthor: Lida B. McMurryRelease date: August 1, 2003 [eBook #4324]Most recently updated: December 27, 2020Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines.*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIFTY FAMOUS FABLES ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Fifty Famous FablesAuthor: Lida B. McMurryRelease date: August 1, 2003 [eBook #4324]Most recently updated: December 27, 2020Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines.
Title: Fifty Famous Fables
Author: Lida B. McMurry
Author: Lida B. McMurry
Release date: August 1, 2003 [eBook #4324]Most recently updated: December 27, 2020
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines.
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIFTY FAMOUS FABLES ***
The fifty fables in this book have been selected for second grade reading because they are easily comprehended by pupils of that grade, and because they teach lessons which every child should learn.
It is not wise to tell the class the moral application of the fables. It is better to have each pupil make his own application without any suggestion from the teacher.
In adapting the stories the conversational form has been largely used; this form not only gives much pleasure to the children, but it also affords excellent opportunities for voice culture.
Most of the stories have been successfully used for several years with classes of children in the State Normal School at DeKalb.
"Take me with you, please," called a tortoise to a gray duck and a white duck that were flying over.
The ducks heard the tortoise and flew down toward him.
"Do you really wish to go with us?" asked the ducks as they came to the ground near the tortoise.
"I surely do," replied the tortoise. "Will you please take me?"
"Why, yes, I think we can do so," said the white duck slowly.
The two ducks talked together in low tones for a few minutes. Then they flew to the woods. They soon brought back a strong twig and dropped it in front of the tortoise.
"Now," said the ducks, "if we take you off to see the world, you must promise us one thing."
"What is that?" asked the tortoise. "I will promise almost anything if you will let me go."
"You must promise not to say one word while you are in the air, NOT ONE WORD," replied the ducks.
"All right, I promise," said the tortoise. "Sometimes I do not say a word for a whole day because there is no one to listen to me."
"Well, take firm hold of the middle of the twig; we are ready to start," said the gray duck.
"If you value your life, you must hold on tightly," said the white duck.
The tortoise took hold of the middle of the twig and each duck took hold of one end.
Then they flew up! up! up! while the tortoise swung from the middle of the twig. How he enjoyed it! He had never had such a ride.
They had gone a long way safely when they came to a hayfield. The haymakers looked up and saw the ducks and the tortoise.
"Ho! ho! the tortoise has stolen some wings," called one of the haymakers.
"What a queer carriage he has!" laughed another in a loud voice.
"I pity his horses," said another.
This made the tortoise so angry that he cried out, "You—" but no one knows what he was going to say, for he fell to the ground and was killed.
[Footnote: Adapted from The Tortoise and the Geese, in a book of the same name published by Houghton, Mifflin Co.]
A frog, while out walking one day, saw a mouse coming toward him.
"There is that foolish mouse," said he. "I will play a good joke on him," and he grinned as he thought how much fun he would have.
As they met, the frog said, "Good morning, Sir Mouse; I hope I find you well to-day."
"Very well," replied the mouse. "How are you?"
"My health is not very good, so I have taken a holiday. If you are not busy, what do you say to our spending the day together?"
"Good!" answered the mouse. "I have little to do and nothing would suit me better." So they started off together.
They had not gone far when the frog said, "Let me tie one of your front feet to one of my hind legs, so that I may not lose you."
"All right," replied the mouse. "We shall surely be fast friends then."
So the frog took a blade of grass and fastened one of the mouse's front feet to one of his hind legs. When the frog leaped, the mouse tumbled after. Then they stopped and had a big laugh; it was very funny.
They first went to an oat field, where the frog found many insects, and the mouse plenty of grain.
Beyond this field there was a pond. The frog had been going toward this pond all of the time, but the mouse had not noticed it. They were soon on its bank.
When the mouse saw the pond he cried out, "Oh, you know I do not like the water, Mr. Frog. Let us go to the barn."
"Nothing would do you so much good as a cool bath on this hot day. You have never taken one, so you can not know how good it will make you feel," and the frog jumped into the water.
The mouse tried to get free, but the frog only laughed.
A hawk, looking down, saw the mouse and swooped down upon it. Since the frog was fastened to the mouse, he too was carried off, and both lost their lives.
When the other frogs heard of what had happened, they said, "Served him right. Served him right," and no frog since that time has ever played a mean joke.
"Let us go to the pond and have some fun," said George.
"What fun can we have there?" asked Frank. "The pond is nothing but an old mudhole. We can not swim in such water."
Down at the pond the sun shone warm, and an old mother frog and her children were sunning themselves on a log. Now and then one plunged into the water with a chug! and then crawled out on the bank.
That was a happy time in frog land.
In the midst of their play, they heard a sound which made the mother frog tremble. It was only a boy's laugh, but as soon as the mother heard it she said, "Into the water, every one of you. The giants are coming;" and they all jumped into the water.
The giants had armed themselves with pebbles. Each one had a pocketful. As soon as they caught sight of the frogs, they cried, "Now for some fun!"
Before the mother frog could reach the water, a stone hit her on one of her feet. The one-sided battle had begun.
Every time a little frog peeped out of the water to get a breath of air or to look at the two giants, whiz! flew a pebble right toward it, and it never cared to look at its enemies again.
The mother became very angry. She lifted her head boldly above the water.
"Cowards!" she cried. "If we could sting, would you fight us? If we could bite, would you be here? You have great sport tormenting us, because we cannot fight for ourselves. You are cowards! cowards!"
And all the little frogs echoed, "Cowards! cowards!"
John was a shepherd boy. He cared for his father's sheep. As there were many wolves prowling about waiting for a chance to kill the sheep, John had to be very watchful.
Some men were harvesting wheat in a field not far from where the flock was feeding. One day they were startled by the cry, "A wolf! a wolf!" They looked up and saw John motioning wildly to them and pointing toward the sheep.
They threw down their sickles and ran to the flock. But they found the sheep quietly grazing, and there was no wolf to be seen.
"Where is the wolf?" they asked.
"I didn't say the wolf was here,' replied John, and he laughed loud and long as he saw the look of surprise in the men's faces.
"What do you mean, you young rascal, by fooling us so?" they cried.
If they could have caught John, they would have given him a sound whipping, but he had run out of their reach.
Not many days after, these same men heard the cry, "Wolf! wolf!"
"John is trying to fool us again," they said, and went on with their work.
John called again and again, and seemed in so much trouble that the kind-hearted men left their work and hurried toward the sheep pasture.
When they came to the pasture, they knew that John had been playing another trick on them. They looked for him, but could not find him. He had hidden in some bushes where he could look on and enjoy their surprise and anger. At last they went back to their work.
One day wolves did come. John was very much frightened. He ran to the men for help. They only laughed at him. "Oh, you have fooled us twice," they said. "You shall not have another chance."
"But the wolves are surely there," cried John. "They are killing the sheep. Do come and help!" The men kept on with their work and did not even look at John.
Before he could find anyone who would believe him, many of the sheep had been killed.
A small stream ran between two hills. Over this stream there was a very narrow bridge. If two persons came to the opposite ends of this bridge at the same time, one must wait for the other to cross before he could go over.
One morning, two goats, a black one and a white one, reached the opposite ends of the bridge at the same moment.
The black goat called out to the white one, "Hold on a minute; I am coming over."
The white goat replied, "No, I will go over first; I am in a hurry."
"No," said the black goat, "I will not wait for you. I am the older."
"You shall wait for me," roared the white goat as he stepped upon the bridge and started across.
"We'll see if I am to wait for you," said the black goat, and he too started across.
They met in the middle of the bridge.
"Go back and let me cross,' said the white goat, stamping his foot.
"Go back, yourself," replied the black goat, and he pushed against the other.
They were very angry. Each drew back. Their heads came together with terrible force. They locked horns. The white goat lost his footing and fell, pulling the black goat over with him, and both were drowned.
The mill feeders of a great mill—the stomach—met together to talk over their trials.
The hands said, "We are tired of carrying grist to the door of the greedy mill. We would rather spend all our time painting pictures or writing books."
"We were made for talking and singing," said the lips, "but much of our time has to be spent in taking grist for the mill."
"And we," said the teeth, "give our life to crushing the grist which is brought to the mill. We are wearing out in its service, but what thanks do we get?"
"I have never had a holiday," said the tongue. "I do not mind talking, but I do not like to work for the mill. Three times a day or oftener, I must help the teeth to prepare the grist. I am tired of it."
The gullet said, "My whole life is given up to carrying the grist to the mill. I do not like such work. Let the mill feed itself. It has no business to work us to death."
"Let us all stop work," cried the mill feeders. "We will stop at once;" and so the mill shut down.
Many hours after, the lips said, "How strange that we should not feel like talking now that we have nothing else to do!"
The hands said, "We are too weak to paint or to write. We never felt so tired before."
The tongue became parched and all the mill feeders were unhappy.
More hours passed; then the mill feeders held another meeting. It was a short, quiet, earnest meeting.
"We have been fools," they all said. "The mill was working for us while we were working for it. Our strength came from the grist which we sent to it. We can do nothing without the help of the mill. Let us go to work again. If the mill will only grind for us, we will gladly furnish the grist."
"Boys, why are you always quarreling? That is no way to live," said a farmer to his sons one day.
The sons would not listen to their father. Each wanted the best of everything. Each thought the father did more for the others than for him.
The father bore the quarreling as long as he could. One day he called his seven sons to him. He had in his hand a bundle of seven sticks.
"I wish to see which one of you can break this bundle of sticks," he said.
The oldest one tried first. He was the strongest, but he could not break it though he used all his strength. Then each of his brothers tried hard to break the bundle. None of them could break it.
At last they gave the bundle of sticks back to their father, saying, "We cannot break it."
The father untied the bundle and gave each son one stick.
"Now see if you can break the sticks," said their father.
They all said, "That is very easily done," and they held up the broken sticks.
"Now tell us why you asked us to break these sticks," said the sons.
"Do you not see," replied the father, "that if you all stand together, nothing can harm you; but if each of you stands by himself, you may easily be ruined?"
"Those oxen are too good friends to suit me," said a hungry lion. "They are never far apart, and when I am near them they turn their tails to one another and show long sharp horns on every side. They even walk down to the river together when they become thirsty. If I could catch one of them by himself, I should have a feast."
But one day the oxen had a quarrel.
"The grass is freshest over in the valley," said one of them. "Let us go there."
"Oh, I don't like the grass there," said another. "It is better on the side of the hill. Let us spend the day there."
"I do not want to climb the hill," said the third ox. "The grass right here suits me best."
"I do not like any of the places of which you speak," said the fourth ox. "Come with me and I will find you the best grass you ever tasted."
"I am going to the valley," said the first ox. "You three may go where you please."
"And I shall go to the hill," said the second ox. "I think you are mean not to go with me."
"And I," said the third ox, "shall stay right here. You may all be sorry if you leave me. The lion may catch you."
"I am not afraid of the lion," said the fourth ox; "and if none of you will go with me, I shall go by myself to hunt a better pasture than any of you can find. I am older than you and I know where the best grass grows. You had better follow me."
"We will not do it," said the other three oxen. "You are not our leader if you are older."
So the four oxen separated. One went to the valley. The lion was down by the river and saw him coming. He waited quietly until the ox was very near; then he pounced upon him and killed him.
Then the lion looked about for the other oxen. One of them was feeding on the hill. He saw the lion coining, but, he could not get away. He could not defend himself with only one pair of horns; so he too was killed.
As the other two oxen were far apart, it was an easy matter for the lion to kill them also. And that is the way the quarrel ended.
"Are you afraid of a lion? I am not. There is nothing that I should like better than to meet one," said a man to his neighbor whose calf the lion had killed. "To-morrow morning I will go out and hunt for this fierce lion, which is doing so much harm. If he is anywhere about, I shall find him and kill him, and thus rid the village of fear."
The next morning the man started out alone to hunt the lion. He had, a gun and a sword. He looked so brave as he started off that the people in the village said, "What a blessing it is to have so fearless a man in our village! He will keep us from harm."
He walked several miles. At last he came near a jungle. He thought that the lion might have his home there. He asked a farmer whom he met if he had seen the tracks of a lion.
"Yes," said the farmer, "and I will show you where you can find him."
When the man heard this, he turned pale and trembled with fright.
"I do not care to see the lion," he cried. "I only wanted to see his tracks."
The farmer turned away in disgust, saying, "It is easy to be brave when you are out of danger."
Once upon a time a fox fell into a well. He was not hurt by his fall. As there was little water in the well, he was in no danger of drowning; but he could not get out.
He cried, "Help! help! help! help!" but no one heard him.
By and by a wolf passed by the well. He heard the call. He looked into the well and asked, "Who is down there?"
"It is I," cried the fox. "I am glad that you have come to help me out."
"How did you get down there?" asked the wolf. "Have you been there long? Is the water very deep? Poor fellow, I do pity you! That is no place for you. You have a very bad cold, I see. I wish you were out."
"Please don't talk to me," cried the fox. "It is help I need. Do get me out and then I shall know that you are sorry for me."
What a queer meeting that was down in the cellar! There were big mice, little mice, old mice, young mice, gray mice, and brown mice, all very sober and thoughtful.
At last an old mouse spoke up and said, "Shall we have Mr. Graypate for our chairman? All those who wish Mr. Graypate to be chairman will please hold up their right hands." Every mouse raised a tiny paw.
Mr. Graypate walked out to the front and took charge of the meeting. It was well that they chose him, for he was the wisest mouse in the whole country. Gazing over the crowd, he said, "Will Mr. Longtail tell us why we have met here? Mr. Longtail, come out in front where we can hear you."
Mr. Longtail walked slowly to the front. Then he stood upon his hind legs and said:
"My friends, I think you all know why we are here. Last night Mrs. Whitenose, whom we all love, and all her family were killed by the big white cat. The night before, while Mrs. Blackfoot was out hunting, all her cunning little babies were killed by the same cat. Early this week one of my finest boys was killed. You or I may be next.
"Must we bear this and do nothing at all to save our loved ones and ourselves? We have met here to make some plan for our defense."
Having spoken, Mr. Longtail walked back into the crowd.
Mr. Graypate arose and said:
"You have heard why we are here. Anyone who has a good plan for ridding us of the cat will please tell of it. The meeting is open to all."
"Let us all run at him suddenly when he is not looking for us, and each give him a bite. That would surely kill him," said one brave mouse.
"But how many of us do you think he would kill?" said another mouse. "I will not risk my life nor that of my family." "Nor I"; "nor I"; "nor I," said many other mice.
"Let us steal his food and starve him to death," suggested another.
"That will only make him hungrier for mice," they replied. "That will never do."
"I wish we might drown him," said another; "but I don't know how we could get him into the water."
At last a little gray mouse with a squeaky voice went up to the front and spoke:
"I have a plan that will surely work. If we could know when the cat is coming, we could get out of his way. He steals in upon us so quietly, that we can not escape. Let us find a little bell and a string. Let us put the bell on the string and tie the string around the cat's neck. As soon as we hear the bell, we can run and get out of the cat's way."
"A very good plan," said Mr. Longtail. "We will ask our leader to say which mouse shall put the bell on the cat's neck."
At this there was a great outcry. One said, "I am so little that I can not reach high enough to bell the cat." Another said, "I have been very sick and am too weak to lift the bell"; and so the excuses came pouring in.
At last Mr. Graypate called to the crowd, "Silence! I shall choose no one. Who will offer to bell the cat?"
It was very quiet in the meeting. One after another of the younger mice went out. None but the older ones were left. At last they too went sadly home. No one would bell the cat.
One day the door of a cottage stood open. A tame crow flew through the door into the cottage. She stole a piece of meat from the table, and flew to a branch of a tall tree.
Just as she had settled there to enjoy her meat a fox came along and stopped under the tree. He sniffed something good to eat. Looking about, he saw the meat in the crow's mouth and wanted it.
How could he get the meat? He could not climb the tree. What good would it do if he could? The crow would fly away when she saw him coming. He could not coax the crow to come down to the ground. She knew what a fox likes to eat.
At last the fox had a happy thought. He said to himself, "A crow is one of the proudest birds I ever knew. I will flatter her and she will forget about the meat."
So he called out in his sweetest voice, "Good day, my pretty bird"; but the crow did not reply. She only stepped about proudly on the branch.
"I wish I had such a beautiful form as you have," said the fox.
Still no answer, but the crow held up her head and turned it first to one side and then to the other, showing that she was pleased.
"What a graceful neck and bright eye!" said the fox. "The other birds may well be jealous of you."
No answer yet. She only raised her wings a little and gazed down upon the fox.
"If your voice were only as beautiful as your form and your dress, you would be queen of all the birds; but it seems that you can not talk at all. What a pity that you are dumb!"
The crow gave a loud "caw!" As she did so, the meat fell from her mouth. The fox snapped it up quickly.
Poor crow, she saw when too late that the fox was only fooling her.
"I hate a black dress, no matter how glossy," said a proud crow. "I have made up my mind to be a peacock."
As he said this, he flew away to a barnyard where he found some feathers which the peacock had shed. He picked these up with his bill and placed them among his own feathers.
Then he marched back and forth, looking at his fine new coat. He even tried to walk like the peacock.
The peafowls came into the yard. They did not know at first what to make of the sight. Then they saw that the crow was trying to dress and act as they did. They flew at him, calling, "Away with the cheat! Away with the cheat!" They pulled out all the peacock feathers and many of his own glossy black ones.
He was glad to get away alive, and flew back to his own family and old friends. But one of the crows had seen him in the barnyard and told the others how silly he had been acting.
"Where have you been?" they cried. "We know. We know. We will not have you in this flock. Away! away!" And they drove him from them.
Even the owls, whom he had always hated, made eyes at him and screamed, "Ch-ea-t! ch-ea-t!"
He flew into the forest. Here in a tree by a pond he lived a lonely life.
The tree-toads learned their queer song from him. This is his warning to them. "Don't, don't-be-cheat! Don't, don't-be-cheat!"
A man once owned a beautiful black horse and a very ugly donkey.
The horse always had plenty to eat and was well groomed, but the donkey was very poorly cared for.
One bright morning both animals were made ready for a long journey. A saddle was placed upon the horse, and a heavy pack of goods was loaded upon the donkey.
The donkey was a very patient animal. When well, he never complained of his hard lot, but this morning he staggered under the weight of his load. After going a short distance, he looked up at the proud horse and asked:
"Would you mind helping me to-day? I feel too ill to carry this heavy load. If you will help me, I shall soon be well and able to carry the whole load. If you refuse to help me, I shall surely fall by the way; then you will have to bear the burden alone."
The horse held his head very high while the donkey was talking; then he replied:
"Go on, you lazy beast! I am not a burden bearer. No, I will not take one ounce of your load."
The donkey groaned and moved forward a few steps, then fell to the ground dead.
The load was taken from the dead donkey's back and placed upon the horse.
At the close of the day the horse reached the end of his journey. Every bone in his body was aching, and he was so lame that he could hardly walk.