“I know what I tell,”Cried the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,”Cried the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,”Cried the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,”
Cried the stork,
“I know it well, very well,
I saw it with my own eyes.”
“This wonderful ship went on legs,” said the stork. “Long legs.”
“Oh!” said the chicks and the ducklings.
“I know what I tell,I know what I tell,”Shouted the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,I know what I tell,”Shouted the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,I know what I tell,”Shouted the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,
I know what I tell,”
Shouted the stork,
“I know it well, very well,
I saw it with my own eyes.”
“It had a head, and a neck that came down and went up like a hook,” said the stork, “a big hook.”
“Oh!” said the chicks and the ducklings and the little turkeys.
“I know what I tell,I know what I tell,”Shrieked the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,I know what I tell,”Shrieked the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,I know what I tell,”Shrieked the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,
I know what I tell,”
Shrieked the stork,
“I know it well, very well,
I saw it with my own eyes.”
“It had a hump on its back,” said the stork, “a hump or two.”
“Oh!” said the chicks and the ducklings and the little turkeys and the goslings.
“I know what I tell,I know what I tell,”Cried the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,I know what I tell,”Cried the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,I know what I tell,”Cried the stork,“I know it well, very well,I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I know what I tell,
I know what I tell,”
Cried the stork,
“I know it well, very well,
I saw it with my own eyes.”
“It was—alive!” said the stork, opening his eyes and his mouth up so high that he could hardly get them down again.
“Ah, it wasn’t a real ship at all,” whispered the chicks to the ducklings, and they whispered it to the little turkeys, and they whispered it to the goslings.
“It was a camel,” said the stork.
“What’s that?” asked the chicks, the ducklings,the little turkeys, and the goslings. And they crowded around him.
“He’s called the ship of the desert,” said the stork. And he drew back to see what they thought of it.
“Why?” asked the chicks, the ducklings, the little turkeys, and the goslings.
“Ask your teacher,” said he, flying off to his nest in the chimney top;
“I must attend to my babies.Go to school;If you don’t,You’ll turn out geese and gabies.”
“I must attend to my babies.Go to school;If you don’t,You’ll turn out geese and gabies.”
“I must attend to my babies.Go to school;If you don’t,You’ll turn out geese and gabies.”
“I must attend to my babies.
Go to school;
If you don’t,
You’ll turn out geese and gabies.”
At this minute, by great good luck, they heard Nan say to Ned, her brother, “Let’s play school. I’ll be the teacher.” So they went to school.
And by great good luck Ned’s lesson was about camels. “I’m not at all surprised,” whispered the smallest chick to the biggest gosling; “I found a four-leaf clover in the grass this morning. I knew then we should have good luck.”
They listened with all their might to the lesson, and when they found it too hard they stopped listening to talk it over. This was pretty often. So when they went home they knew as much about camels as the stork does, and maybe as much as you know.
—Angela M. Keyes
A long, long time ago when there were more foxes’ dens than cats’ cradles, there lived a very sly fox. Every evening this sly fox sneaked up through the tall grass and weeds and around the tree-trunks, pounced upon a plump young goose, and carried it off to his den.
First, he had one hidden away, then two, then three, then four, then five, then six, and by and by as many more.
Well, when he had a round dozen, he called them before him in a circle, fixed them with his bold sharp eyes, and said, “My dumplings, prepare to die. At moonlight, to-night, I dine on young goose.”
“You’ll surely give us time to say good-by,” cried the poor simpletons, who suddenly turned clever to save their necks. “We have become the dearest of friends.”
“With all my heart,” said the fox, with a bow. “Take as much time as you like, my dainties, for the sweet parting.” And off he went.
One silly goose began to giggle at their cleverness before he was out of earshot. But her sisters ran at her and pecked her into silence. They laughed with their eyes only, and so long as the fox kept walking away and not looking back that was perfectly safe.
Well, at moonlight, sure enough, the fox came home to dine. And at once the geese began to say good-by.
“Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-” said one. And when he stopped for breath, “Ga-ga-ga-ga-” said another. And, when he stopped, another took it up. And after that, another and another.
So, for all I know, they are at it still. The fox has not yet dined, and the geese are alive and gabbling, though, as the story says at the beginning, it all happened a very long time ago, before any of us were born.
—Angela M. Keyes
(Especially suitable in winter season)
High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.
“Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?” asked a mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. “The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.”
“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,” muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
“He looks just like an angel,” said the Orphan Children, as they came out of the cathedral.
“How do you know?” said the Mathematical Master, “you have never seen one.”
“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of dreaming.
One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind with the beautiful Reed. He had seen her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had stopped to talk to her.
“Shall I love you?” said he. “Shall I love you?” And the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This lasted through the summer.
Then, when the autumn came, the other swallows all flew away. After they had gone he felt lonely.
“I am off to the Pyramids,” said he to the Reed. “Good-by!” and he flew after them.
All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. “Where shall I put up?” he said; “I hope the town has made preparations.”
Then he saw the statue on the tall column.
“I will put up there,” he cried; “it is a highplace with plenty of fresh air.” So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to himself as he looked round and prepared to go to sleep; but as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. “What a curious thing!” he cried; “there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful.”
Then another drop fell.
“What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?” he said; “I must look for a good chimney-pot,” and he made up his mind to fly away.
But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up and saw—Ah! what did he see?
The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
“Who are you?” he said.
“I am the Happy Prince.”
“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow. “You have quite drenched me.”
“When I was alive and had a heart to feel,” answered the statue, “I lived in a palace. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the GreatHall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince. So I lived and died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead, yet I cannot choose but weep.”
“What! is he not solid gold?” said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
“Far away,” continued the statue, “far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the queen’s maids-of-honor to wear at the next court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not take her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.”
“I am waited for in Egypt,” said the Swallow. “My friends are flying up and down the Nile.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me for one night,and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.”
“I don’t think I like boys,” answered the Swallow. “Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its swiftness; but still it was a mark of disrespect.”
But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. “It is very cold here,” he said; “but I will stay with you for one night and be your messenger.”
“Thank you, little Swallow,” said the Prince.
So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard a beautiful girl say, “I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball. I have ordered flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.”
At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently roundthe bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings. “How cool I feel,” said the boy, “I must be getting better;” and he sank into a delicious slumber.
Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince. “It is strange,” he remarked, “but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.”
“That is because you have done a good action,” said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.
When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. “What a remarkable phenomenon,” said the Bird Professor as he was passing over the bridge. “A swallow in winter!” And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper.
“To-night I go to Egypt,” said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, “What a distinguished stranger!” so he enjoyed himself very much.
When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. “Have you any commissions for Egypt?” he cried; “I am just starting.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”
“I am waited for in Egypt,” answered the Swallow.“To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes. At noon the lions come down to the water’s edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers. He is trying to finish a play, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.”
“I will wait with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. “Shall I take him another ruby?”
“Alas!” said the Prince; “my eyes are all that I have left. But they are made of rare sapphires, brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweler, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.”
“Dear Prince,” said the Swallow, “I cannot do that;” and he began to weep.
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”
So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room.The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire.
“Now I can finish my play,” he cried, and he looked quite happy.
The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbor. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. “Heave a-hoy!” they shouted as each chest came up. “I am going to Egypt,” cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
“I am come to bid you good-by,” he cried.
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”
“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud. My companions are building a nest. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.”
“In the square below,” said the Happy Prince, “there stands a little match-girl. She has let hermatches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not take home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.”
“I will stay with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, “but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”
So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. “What a lovely bit of glass!” cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.
Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. “You are blind now,” he said, “so I will stay with you always.”
“No, little Swallow,” said the poor Prince, “you must go away to Egypt.”
“I will stay with you always,” said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet.
All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; and of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything.
“Dear little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you tell me of marvelous things, but fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.”
So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm. “How hungry we are!” they said. “You must not lie here,” shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.
Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
“I am covered with fine gold,” said the Prince, “you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor.”
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and gray. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he took to the poor. “We have bread now!” they cried. And the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street.
Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses.
The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince; he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.
But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more. “Good-by, dear Prince!” he murmured. “Will you let me kiss your hand?”
“I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you have stayed too long here; but kiss me on the lips, for I love you.”
“It is not to Egypt that I am going,” said the Swallow. “I am going to Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?”
And he kissed the happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.
At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped in two. It certainly was a hard frost.
Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councilors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue. “Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!” he said.
“How shabby indeed!” cried the Town Councilors,who always agreed with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.
“The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone,” said the Mayor; “in fact, he is little better than a beggar!”
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince and sent it to be melted in a furnace.
“What a strange thing!” said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. “This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.” So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.
“Bring me the two precious things in the city,” said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel took Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
“You have chosen rightly,” said God; “in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.”
—Oscar Wilde
Did you ever hear the story of the Pumpkin Seed that made a feast of his insides, and found his outsides changed most surprisingly, and went down a pig’s throat and was happy? Ever since it happened the Dwarf Roots, who live below the ground,tell it to the pumpkin seeds. They say they heard it from the wind one day when the farmer’s spade laid the ground open and let the wind in. And the wind says he heard the farm children’s grandmother tell it. And she says she heard it from her grandmother. So you see it is an old story, and time you heard it. Then
Throw the nuts inAnd let us straight begin.
Throw the nuts inAnd let us straight begin.
Throw the nuts inAnd let us straight begin.
Throw the nuts in
And let us straight begin.
Before the Dwarf Roots tell the story they stroke their beards that have grown fast into the ground, like hairy threads, and cry out, “Once upon a, twice upon a, thrice upon a time;” and all the little pumpkin seeds lying low in the ground know a story is coming and swell with joy. After that the Dwarf Roots tell the story as ’twas told to me. So
Throw the nuts inAnd turn the first about.And let’s not stop againUntil the tale is out.
Throw the nuts inAnd turn the first about.And let’s not stop againUntil the tale is out.
Throw the nuts inAnd turn the first about.And let’s not stop againUntil the tale is out.
Throw the nuts in
And turn the first about.
And let’s not stop again
Until the tale is out.
Here’s the tale.
Early in the spring, when things with legs all walk abroad and garden folks are born, a little Pumpkin Seed stuck his head above ground. He arrived with his cap on, as pumpkin seeds do, but as soon as possible he shook it off, and looked about him to find out what to do next. And who shouldhe see come trotting down the garden path toward him but a little sniffing, squealing pig, poking his snout into everything and gobbling it up!
Now, how he came to know it the little Pumpkin Seed never could tell, but all of a sudden he sang out:
“I’m for your betters,Not you, piggy wig,When juicy I’ve grownAnd round and big;Then I’ll change into somethingWhich winks and blinksAnd with boys and girlsPlays high jinks;But when I’m out,Snip, snap, snout,You may have me,It’s your turn to shout.”
“I’m for your betters,Not you, piggy wig,When juicy I’ve grownAnd round and big;Then I’ll change into somethingWhich winks and blinksAnd with boys and girlsPlays high jinks;But when I’m out,Snip, snap, snout,You may have me,It’s your turn to shout.”
“I’m for your betters,Not you, piggy wig,When juicy I’ve grownAnd round and big;Then I’ll change into somethingWhich winks and blinksAnd with boys and girlsPlays high jinks;But when I’m out,Snip, snap, snout,You may have me,It’s your turn to shout.”
“I’m for your betters,
Not you, piggy wig,
When juicy I’ve grown
And round and big;
Then I’ll change into something
Which winks and blinks
And with boys and girls
Plays high jinks;
But when I’m out,
Snip, snap, snout,
You may have me,
It’s your turn to shout.”
The little pig was so astonished that he stood straight up on his hind legs and curled his tail in a tight knot, for all the world as if he were a performing pig in a circus. When he was firm on his legs again, he was just going to open his mouth, when he saw the farmer coming down the path, so he ran squealing from the garden. Some Dwarf Roots who tell the story say he was going to gobble up the little Pumpkin, and others say he was going to answer in pig’s rhyme:
“When it’s time to shout,With my sniffy snoutI’ll smell you out.”
“When it’s time to shout,With my sniffy snoutI’ll smell you out.”
“When it’s time to shout,With my sniffy snoutI’ll smell you out.”
“When it’s time to shout,
With my sniffy snout
I’ll smell you out.”
However that may be, the next time he came trotting that way he poked his snout into a wire netting the farmer had put around the kitchen garden to keep him out, so that was the last the little Pumpkin Seed saw of him for many a long day.
But the Pumpkin Seed knew now what he should do. He stood up straight in the sunlight and soft rain, and grew and grew and covered himself with blossoms, and then let them all drop off except one. And out of that he made a little pumpy pumpkin, and by harvest time he had that so fat and round and yellow and juicy that the Dwarf Roots’ mouths water when they tell of it.
The farmer gathered the Pumpkin in a great basket, and his wife scooped out the splendid insides of it and made of them deep rich pies for the Thanksgiving feast that the farmer’s family eat together in thankfulness to God for health and plenty. Everyone comes to the feast: grandfather and grandmother and uncles and aunts and all the children, first cousins and second cousins and third cousins and fourth cousins and fifth cousins, down to the littlest babies that can do nothing, when they’re not feeding and sleeping, but gurgle andcrow at their fingers and toes. To be sure, when the grown-ups bite into the deep rich pumpkin pie they can do nothing either but gurgle and smack their lips.
So it was that the inside of the Pumpkin did its part and made a feast and came to glory.
But what of the outside? You shall hear. It happened that very night.
The outside fell into the hands of a boy who could work surprising changes in things. He worked one in the outside of the Pumpkin. Some Dwarf Roots say he turned it into a Jack-o’-lantern, and some say into a goblin. Anyway, there it was that night, stuck in the farmer’s hitching-post and changed most surprisingly. It had a head that glowed like fire in the darkness, and big round eyes that winked and blinked every time the wind blew, and a mouth that grinned from ear to ear when the big boys and girls made the little ones run past it. The little ones would steal up softly, and just when they were near the fiery head the big ones would cry out, “Look out, little uns, the goblin’ll get cher”; and the little ones would dash past, laughing and shrieking.
So it was that the outside of the Pumpkin did its part and played high jinks with the children. Great fun it was; and it kept up until the farmer called out, “Time for bed, boys and girls.”
Just as he said this the wind put the fire out of the Pumpkin’s head and blew him off the hitching post.And the next thing he knew he was going down a pig’s throat, the very piggy wig he met so long ago.
Snip, snap, snout,This tale’s out:The pig has him now,And it’s his turn to shout.
Snip, snap, snout,This tale’s out:The pig has him now,And it’s his turn to shout.
Snip, snap, snout,This tale’s out:The pig has him now,And it’s his turn to shout.
Snip, snap, snout,
This tale’s out:
The pig has him now,
And it’s his turn to shout.
—Angela M. Keyes
Here is a story told by Black Beauty, as pretty a little horse as ever wore a white star on his forehead.
One day late in the autumn my master had a long journey to go on business. I was put to the dog-cart, and John, the coachman, drove. There had been a great deal of rain, and now the wind was very high and blew the dry leaves across the road in a shower. We went along merrily till we came to the toll-bar and the low wooden bridge. The river banks were rather high, and the bridge, instead of rising, went across just level, so that in the middle, if the river was full, the water would be nearly up to the woodwork and planks. But as there were good, substantial rails on each side, people did not mind it.
The man at the gate said the river was rising fast,and he feared it would be a bad night. Many of the meadows were under water, and in one low part of the road the water was halfway up to my knees. The bottom was good, however, and master drove gently, so it was no matter.
When we got to the town I had, of course, a good feed, but as the master’s business engaged him a long time, we did not start for home till rather late in the afternoon. The wind was then much higher, and I heard the master say to John we had never been out in such a storm. And so I thought, as we went along the skirts of a wood, where the great branches were swaying about like twigs, and the rushing sound was terrible.
“I wish we were well out of this wood,” said my master.
“Yes, sir,” said John, “it would be rather awkward if one of these branches came down on us.”
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there was a groan, and a crack, and a splitting sound. And crashing down amongst the older trees came an oak, torn up by the roots. It fell across the road just before us. I will never say I was not frightened, for I was. I stopped still, and I believe I trembled. Of course I did not turn round or run away; I was not brought up to that. John jumped out and in a moment was at my head.
“That came very near,” said my master. “What’s to be done now?”
“Well, sir, we can’t drive over that tree, nor yet get round it. There’s nothing for us but to go back to the four cross-ways, and that will be a good six miles before we get round to the wooden bridge again. It will make us late, but the horse is fresh.”
So back we went and round by the cross roads. By the time we got to the bridge it was very nearly dark. We could just see that the water was over the middle of it. As this sometimes happened when there were floods, master did not stop. We were going along at a good pace, but the moment my feet touched the first part of the bridge, I felt sure there was something wrong. I dared not go forward, and I made a dead stop. “Go on, Beauty,” said my master, and he gave me a touch with the whip, but I dared not stir. He gave me a sharp cut. I jumped, but I dared not go forward.
“There’s something wrong, sir,” said John, and he sprang out of the dog-cart, and came to my head and looked all about. He tried to lead me forward. “Come on, Beauty; what’s the matter?” Of course, I could not tell him, but I knew very well that the bridge was not safe.
Just then the man at the toll-gate on the other side ran out of the house, tossing a torch about violently.
“Hoy, hoy, hoy! halloo! stop!” he cried.
“What’s the matter?” shouted my master.
“The bridge is broken in the middle, and part ofit is carried away; if you come on you’ll be into the river.”
“Thank God!” said my master. “You Beauty!” said John, and took the bridle and gently turned me round to the right-hand road by the river side. The sun had set some time. The wind seemed to have lulled off after that furious blast which tore up the tree. It grew darker and darker, stiller and stiller. I trotted quietly along, the wheels hardly making a sound on the soft road. For a good while neither master nor John spoke, and then master began in a serious voice. I could not understand much of what they said, but I found they thought that if I had gone on as the master wanted me, horse, chaise, master, and man would have fallen into the river. Master said, God had given men reason, by which they could find out things for themselves; but he had given animals instinct, which did not depend on reason, and which was much more prompt and perfect in its way, and by which they had often saved the lives of men.
At last we came to the park gates, and found the gardener looking out for us. He said that mistress had been much alarmed ever since dark, fearing some accident had happened, and that she had sent James off on Justice, the roan cob, towards the wooden bridge to make inquiry after us.
We saw a light at the hall door and at the upper windows, and as we came up, mistress ran out, sayingto master, “Are you really safe, my dear? Oh! I have been so anxious, fancying all sorts of things. Have you had no accident?”
“No, but if your Black Beauty had not been wiser than we were, we should all have been carried down the river at the wooden bridge.” I heard no more, as they went into the house, and John took me to the stable. Oh, what a good supper he gave me that night, a good bran mash and some crushed beans with my oats, and such a thick bed of straw! and I was glad of it, for I was tired.
—Anna Sewell
There was once a little donkey who lived with a little old woman and her tabby cat and her rooster and his hens and their chicks in a little cottage out in the country. Every morning, after cropping the dewy grass, the little donkey used to poke his head in at the cottage window, as much as to say, “It’s time we were off,” and the little old woman used to say, “I’ll be with you in two shakes of Tabby’s tail.” Presently out she would bring two baskets of fresh-laid eggs from the hens and hang them across the donkey’s back, and off to market they’d go. Tabby would stop washing her face to wave her paw at them, and the little old woman would wave her hand back, and the little donkey would turnand wave his head. They were as happy and loving as any people that ever lived together, and the donkey was the man of the family.
But one morning something got into the donkey. He seemed to be bewitched. You shall hear.
When he had cropped the dewy grass as usual, he poked his head in at the cottage window, as much as to say, “It’s time we were off,” and the little old woman said, “I’ll be with you in two shakes of Tabby’s tail.” But the minute she came to the door with the two baskets of fresh-laid eggs from the hens, up went the little donkey’s heels, and away he ran with such a kick and a run and a run and a kick that the little old woman couldn’t keep up with him were she never so quick. All at once she was so surprised at him that she stood stock still. Immediately stock still stood the little donkey and laughed at her till his fat little sides shook, “Hee haw, hee haw, hee haw.” This was too much for the little old woman. “Can it be that my own little donkey is laughing at his little old woman?” she said. And one basket of eggs dropped smash on the ground and she began to cry.
At this out came Tabby, and up came running all the hens and their little chicks and the lordly rooster, and they all rubbed against the little old woman’s skirts, and Tabby miowed, “Our little old woman, do not cry,” and the hens cackled it, and the little chicks peeped it, and the rooster crowed it. Andthen they all said it together, each in his own way.
“But the man of the family has run away from us and he laughs at it,” said the little old woman; “whatever shall we do!”
“Let us give him another chance,” said the big white hen with the kind face. “Begin all over again and see what happens.”
So the rooster led the way back to the yard, and the hens followed him and the little chicks followed them. At the same time Tabby led the way back to the cottage and the little old woman followed her. When the little old woman was inside she began packing the one basket of eggs into the two baskets. Well, sure enough, the little donkey did his part, too. He ran back and began cropping the dewy grass, and then he poked his head in at the cottage window as much as to say, “It’s time we were off,” and the little old woman in high glee called out, “I’ll be with you in two shakes of Tabby’s tail.”
But the minute she came to the door with the two baskets of fresh-laid eggs from the hens, up went the little donkey’s heels, and away he ran with such a kick and a run and a run and a kick that the little old woman couldn’t keep up with him were she never so quick. And as before, all at once she was so surprised at him that she stood stock still. Immediately stock still stood the little donkey andlaughed at her till his fat little sides shook, “Hee haw, hee haw, hee haw.” And, as before, this was too much for the little old woman. “Can it be that my own little donkey is laughing at his little old woman?” she said. And one basket of eggs dropped smash on the ground and she began to cry.
At this out came Tabby, and up came running all the hens and their little chicks and the lordly rooster, and they all rubbed against the little old woman’s skirts, and Tabby miowed, “Our little old woman, do not cry,” and the hens cackled it, and the little chicks peeped it, and the rooster crowed it. And then they all said it together, each in his own way.
So it was of no use.
But at last the little old woman thought of a plan, such an easy thing, too, and sure to be what a little old woman would think of sooner or later to keep the man of the family. Instead of staying in the cottage, when they went back to try it over a third time, she went out by a back door and crept around the side of the house. When the donkey poked his head in at the window she ran out, caught him by the heels, shoved him in, jumped in after him, and held him. The lordly rooster and the hen and the little chicks were watching, and they ran in and shut both doors fast. And then they all waited and listened, and presently the donkey began to explain himself.
The moonlight the night before was so strong,he said, that it woke him up. As he opened his eyes he heard little voices, as sweet as silver bells, singing,
“O lovely moon, queen of the night,Beautiful moon, glorious and bright,Hail, all hail!”
“O lovely moon, queen of the night,Beautiful moon, glorious and bright,Hail, all hail!”
“O lovely moon, queen of the night,Beautiful moon, glorious and bright,Hail, all hail!”
“O lovely moon, queen of the night,
Beautiful moon, glorious and bright,
Hail, all hail!”
He looked out of his shed into the moonlight, and there on the green he saw the most exquisite fairies, with wings shining with all the colors of the rainbow, hand in hand with big-eyed tiny elves with bumpy heads and little legs. They were all dancing in a ring and looking up at the moon. And the moon was gazing down at them.
Now he knew very well that the fairy folk do not like to be spied on; he had often heard the little old woman tell it to her gossip, Tabby, the cat. And she had warned him to stay in his stall and not go prying on the night folk. And he said he was truly sorry now that he did it, but at the time he thought it would be fun. So he stole up around a stack of hay near where they were dancing in honor of the moon, and all at once he gave such a bray that the fairies fell to the ground in little swoons, and the elves jumped so high into the air that for a whole second he lost sight of them.
But the moonlight showedthemwhere he was. Quick as a wink they whipped little horns out of their belts and blew together three times. Up came hobbling from the shadows an old witch. She saw thedonkey at once, and pointing her long finger at his heels cried,
“Kick him, heels,Until he feelsAshamed to spyAt fairy reels,He-he-he!He must kickAnd run away,And fill the airWith donkey bray,Until he eatsA wisp of hayGiven by batOr by cat.”
“Kick him, heels,Until he feelsAshamed to spyAt fairy reels,He-he-he!He must kickAnd run away,And fill the airWith donkey bray,Until he eatsA wisp of hayGiven by batOr by cat.”
“Kick him, heels,Until he feelsAshamed to spyAt fairy reels,He-he-he!He must kickAnd run away,And fill the airWith donkey bray,Until he eatsA wisp of hayGiven by batOr by cat.”
“Kick him, heels,
Until he feels
Ashamed to spy
At fairy reels,
He-he-he!
He must kick
And run away,
And fill the air
With donkey bray,
Until he eats
A wisp of hay
Given by bat
Or by cat.”
Well, Tabby was off to a stable before one shake of her own tail, and presently back she came with the wisp of hay. The little old woman gave it to the little donkey and held her breath to see what would happen, and so did Tabby and the lordly rooster and the hens and the little chicks. No sooner had the donkey swallowed it than he left off kicking and trying to run away!
So now, of course, everything came right. The lordly rooster led his wives and children back to the henyard, and the little old woman and the little donkey set off to market with the eggs that had not been smashed. Tabby stopped washing her face towave her paw at them, and the little old woman waved her hand back, and the little donkey turned and waved his head.
And ever after they were as loving and happy as any people that ever lived together, and the donkey was the man of the family.
—Angela M. Keyes
(Tell with stick-figure blackboard illustrations.)
In a village there lived an old woman who one day gathered some beans from her garden to cook. She had a good fire on the hearth, but, to make it burn more quickly, she threw on a handful of straw. As she threw the beans into the pot to boil, one of them fell on the floor unseen by the old woman, not far from a wisp of straw. Suddenly a glowing coal bounced out of the fire, and fell close to them. They both started away, and exclaimed, “Dear friend, don’t come near me till you are cooler. Whatever brings you out here?”
“Oh,” replied the coal, “the heat luckily made me so strong that I was able to bounce from the fire. Had I not done so, my death would have been certain, and I should have been burnt to ashes by this time.”
“I, too, have escaped with a whole skin,” said the bean; “for had the old woman put me into the potwith my comrades, I should have been boiled to broth.”
“I might have shared the same fate,” said the straw, “for all my brothers were pushed into fire and smoke by the old woman. She seized sixty of us at once, and brought us in here to take away our lives, but luckily I slipped through her fingers.”
“Well, now what shall we do with ourselves?” said the coal.
“I think,” answered the bean, “as we have been so fortunate as to escape death together, we may as well be companions, and travel away together to some more friendly country.”
This pleased the two others; so they started on their journey together. After traveling a little distance, they came to a stream, over which there was no bridge of any sort.
Then the straw thought of a plan, and said, “I will lay myself across the stream, so that you may step over me, as if I were a bridge.”
So the straw stretched himself from one shore to the other, and the coal, who was rather hot-headed, tripped out quite boldly on the newly built bridge. But when he reached the middle of the stream, and heard the water rushing under him, he was so frightened that he stood still, and dared not move a step farther. The straw began to burn, broke in two, and fell into the brook. The coal slidafter him, hissed as he reached the water, and gave up the ghost.
The bean, who had cautiously remained behind on the shore, could not keep in when she saw what had happened, and laughed so heartily that she burst her sides. It would have been all over with her, too; but, as good luck would have it, a tailor, out on his travels, came to rest by the brook, and noticed the bean. He was a kind-hearted man, so he took a needle and thread out of his pocket, and, taking up the bean, sewed her together. She thanked him prettily, but unfortunately he had only black thread to sew with, and so since that time all beans have a black seam down their sides.
—Folk tale
There was once a widow who had two daughters. One of them was pretty and industrious, but the other was ugly and idle. Now the mother was much fonder of the ugly and idle one, because this was her own daughter. She made the other do all the work, and be the Cinderella of the house. Every day the poor girl had to sit by a well, in the highway, and spin and spin till her fingers bled.
One day as she worked the shuttle got marked with her blood, so she dipped it into the well, to wash the mark off. But it dropped out of her hand andfell to the bottom. She began to weep, and ran to her mother and told her of the mishap. But the mother scolded her sharply, and was so cruel as to say, “As you have let the shuttle fall in, you must fetch it out again.”
The girl went back to the well, and did not know what to do. In the sorrow of her heart she jumped into the well, and lost her senses from fright.
When she awoke and came to herself again, she was in a beautiful meadow where the sun was shining and many thousands of flowers were growing. Along this meadow she went, and came to a baker’s oven full of bread, and the bread cried out,