There was an old womanWho lived in a shoe,She had so many childrenShe didn't know what to do.But she mounted the shoeOn a big motor car,And now there is roomFor them all without jar.
chauffrer driving woman and chldren in shoe
Little Sir Cat Meets Jack and Jill
Jack and JillWent up the hillTo fetch a pail of water.Jack fell downAnd broke his crown,And Jill came tumbling after.
As Little Sir Cat came to a pretty cottage, a yellow bird sang this Old Mother Goose song. And just then a little girl and boy ran out of the front door, and said:
"Mother, come see a cat with red top boots!"
"Don't wait, children. Get me a pail of water, for father will be home soon for dinner."
So Jack and JillWent up the hillBut, oh, dear me, I hate to tellThey spilt the water when they fell.
And poor Little Sir Cat's boots were spattered all over. But he didn't care, for the big warm sun soon dried them, and he set off once again on his journey through Mother Goose Country, and by-and-by he came to a giant's castle on a big high mountain.
Cat and Jack and JillLITTLE SIR CAT MEETS JACK AND JILL
"Come in," said the great big man. "You can sleep in my fur cap—it will make you a fine bed."
When Little Sir Cat woke up in the morning the sun was shining through the window and it was time to get up. So he hurriedly dressed, for he didn't know what time the Giant had breakfast and he didn't dare be late, and ran down to the dining room, where the Giant was just about to eat his buckwheat cakes and maple syrup. After they had finished, the Giant took him out to the stables and showed him all his horses. "I have a very small horse which I will give you," he said, and he led Little Sir Cat into another stable. There stood Dapple Gray, only, of course, he seemed like a little toy to the Giant, for his other horses were all giant horses, you see. And wasn't Sir Cat glad to see the little pony? Well, I guess he was, for he was tired walking and one of his boots had a hole in the toe.
"Oh, I'm so glad to see you, little master," whinnied Dapple Gray, as Little Sir Cat untied the halter and jumped on his back.
Well, after a while as he rode down the mountain he came to a little cottage all covered with climbing rose vines. In this cottage lived a shepherd and his wife who tended the sheep in the big meadow close by. "Are they little Bo Peep's?" asked Little Sir Cat; but the kind-faced shepherd said no, so Little Sir Cat rode on, and pretty soon you will hear what happened to the poor Lady Bug,unless
The Sun tomorrow morningShould go upon a strike,And want a penny extraTo do his daily hike!
bell tied to tail of ram
There was an old sheepWith a bell on his tail.It rang with a clatterAnd clanged with a wail.Whenever that poor little sheepHove in sightThe birds and the beastsDisappeared in a fright.
There was once a boy in olden times who dreamed that he could write verses, and the dream came true, and he became a very famous writer. And the way it happened was that this boy, whose name was Æschylus, fell asleep one day while guarding the grapes in a vineyard. He dreamed that Bacchus, the god of the vine, came and told him that he could write poetry. Immediately he awoke and tried, and to his delight he found out that it was true.
He kept on writing, and afterwards became very famous. In those days prizes were given for the best tragedies, and at the age of 41 he won his first prize. He wrote, also, many wonderful plays, and for many years was esteemed one of the greatest of tragic poets.
When quite an old man, he was sitting in a field, plunged in deep thought. An eagle, which was flying overhead, mistook his bald head for a stone and dropped the tortoise which it was carrying in its claws to break its shell. The force of the blow killed the famous poet and warrior, who had fought in the Battle of Marathon and received great honors for his bravery as well as thirteen prizes for his tragedies. He might have written a great many more if the eagle had not dropped the tortoise.
Finding Eggs Is Much Fun, but Hiding Them First Is More Fun
Easter was coming in a week and Donald, Elizabeth and Ruth were going to invite their two cousins to an Easter Egg Hunt.
Their mother had agreed to give them one egg out of every six which they brought in to Mary, their good-natured cook, and it was surprising how many egg nests these industrious little folks discovered in out-of-the-way places around the big barn and the farm buildings.
In fact the family had never been so plentifully supplied with eggs before, and their mother laughingly remarked that she thought it would be a good plan to continue the arrangement indefinitely, to which the children gave their hearty consent.
The day before Easter they had almost two dozen. With the help of their mother they dissolved the various colored powders which they had purchased at the drug store and poured the liquid into several tins. It was great fun boiling the eggs in green water, or yellow water, or blue water, as the case might be, and after they were all done, what a pretty pile of rainbow-colored eggs!
"Old Speckle and Rosy Comb wouldn't know what to make of them now, would they?" remarked little Ruth.
"No," answered Donald, "I wonder if we'd get a pink rooster if this one was hatched!" he added, jokingly, holding up a brilliant carmine egg.
"Well, let's hide them; you hide yours first, Ruth, 'cause you're the youngest. Remember, for goodness sake, where you put them in case we can't find them."
You see, the game was for each one to hide his share, and when all the eggs were hidden they were to invite their two cousins over and everybody was to hunt as fast as he could, except, of course, for his own eggs, so as to get as many as possible, for "findings were keepings."
It took little Ruth quite a while to hide hers. She put a big red egg carefully in the oat bin and covered it over with oats. The next one she put deep down in the bran bin, and then she looked around for another safe place. There was father's old coat hanging on a nail by the harness room. In the pocket nearest her she slipped a green egg carefully lest it fall through a possible hole in the well-worn garment, but the lining was sound and the egg was safe out of sight.
The door of the harness room was ajar. Ruth stepped inside and looked around. The very thing! An old tin can stood half-hidden in the corner behind a pile of rubbish. In went the purple egg, and now she had only two left.
"What shall I do?" said Ruth to herself. Just then an old lantern hanging on the wall met her eyes, and in a moment she had carefully lifted the dingy shade and placed an egg inside. Only one egg was now left, and soon that was tucked away behind an old picture advertising harness, which rested on a beam running along the side of the wall.
"No one must hunt for his own eggs," said Donald. "Then it will be fair for all. All ready!" and away they went.
The two cousins had been told that the barn, the wagon house and the orchard were the places where the eggs were hidden, and in a few minutes a yell was heard in the barn. Dan had discovered Ruth's green egg in the overcoat pocket.
"I've got one!" screamed Ruth from the wagon house, as she pulled out a yellow beauty from under the seat of the old buggy. Then a shout was heard from Donald, and the can in the corner of the harness room gave up its prize.
"Who'll get the last one?" Here and there they ran, looking with the utmost care, but the little egg still defied the hunters. "Let's give up and let Donald have it," they at last agreed, and Donald, proudly marching up to a big cherry tree, from a crotch of a limb just above their reach picked out a red egg, the only one that had resisted successfully all efforts of capture.
Three Easter eggs
Everybody loves Robin Redbreast. Who of us in early spring is not gladdened by the sight of this red waistcoated little chap hopping about on the lawn? But few of us stop to think that our robin is totally unlike the English robin, the dear old Robin Redbreast of nursery days; he who covered with leaves the Babes in the Wood and was shot by the Sparrow with his little arrow!
The Redbreast of Europe is only half the size of our robin, being about five inches and three-quarters from the tip of its bill to the end of its tail feathers. Its color is a yellowish olive-brown. The throat and breast are of a reddish orange color, and this gives to him the name of Redbreast.
They remain all the year round, and when the fields and gardens are covered with snow, making it difficult for them to obtain food they come up to the door steps, picking up the crumbs which are thrown to them. When they are well treated they soon become very familiar and make themselves quite at home, entering the cottage door and often roosting confidently over night in the warm kitchens. Their trust and confidence have made friends for them everywhere and they become domestic pets in almost every country in Europe. Their song is sweet and plaintive and is heard from early spring until late in the autumn. In this respect they are very like our own bluebird.
English books of natural history are full of interesting narratives of the beautiful confidence in man shown by the Redbreast in selecting a place for its nest.
Our pair chose for their nest a shelf in a schoolroom in which there were seventy children and directly over the heads of a little class of girls, who never once disturbed them. One of the little birds died and the parents carried out its dead body during school hours. The other four little robins were fed and reared, day by day, in the presence of the seventy children. Do you wonder that the boys and girls of England are so fond of their Robin Redbreast?
The robin of North America belongs to a very different family—that of the thrushes. It is nearly twice the length of the English bird and more than twice its size. Audubon calls it the Migratory Thrush, because it leaves us when winter comes on and does not return until the frost is out of the ground.
Like the robin of Europe, our bird also has a confiding disposition. It builds its nest early in the spring, long before there are any leaves to hide it. It is a devoted parent and when taken sufficiently young is easily tamed and becomes strongly attached to its benefactor.
With the coming of the first robin we feel sure that spring is here. Looking out of the window, we see our little friend with his red breast shining in the sunlight, singing his simple song of faith and hope.
When I'm in bed I feel so small,And all the shadows seem so tall.The little light out in the hallA thin bright line throws on the wall;It squeezes thro' the crack betweenThe half-closed door and nursery screen.And after I have said my prayerAnd mother's footstep on the stairGrows fainter, fainter, fainter, thereCreeps over me a sort of scare;It prickles me from toe to headAnd seems to wiggle all the bed.But if I cuddle down and keepReal quiet, and don't kick my feet,And have the clothes all smooth and neat,Why, pretty soon I fall asleep;And then the fairies from their glenPlay with me till it's day again.
Mother looking in
The Fire-Engine
Lady Bug, Lady Bug, fly away home;Your house is on fire, your children are gone!
Sang the little yellow bird whose name I shall tell you some day when Little Sir Cat finishes his journey through Mother Goose Country.
And just then the fire engine went by, so he jumped up behind and away they went over a bridge across the River Dee near which the Jolly Miller on his pillow found a flea.
Well, pretty soon they came to a meadow in which a little bush was on fire. And right there close beside it, was the poor Lady Bug flapping her red wings wildly in fear and panic for hidden under the bush were all her little lady bugs.
"Oh, save my children!" she cried.
Little Sir Cat scrambled under the thicket but the brambles kept catching in his boot straps and pulling him back. So he kicked them off, taking care not to burn his bare toes on the hot stubbles, and carefully felt his way through the smoke until he finally reached the nest near the heart of the thicket. There lay all the Lady Bug's children, hundreds of them huddled together, frightened and smothered nearly to death.
LIttle Sir Cat watdhing Fire Wagon go byTHE FIRE ENGINE
"Oh, I hope they are not quite dead," he said, tenderly picking up the smallest one. "But what shall I do now? How can I carry them all out?"
Then, quick as a wink, before the fire reached him, he picked them all up and put them in his hat.
"Hurry, my brave fireman!" called the Mother Lady Bug; "save my treasures."
And in less time than I can take to tell it, he carried them out of danger.
Just then up came Dapple Gray, so Little Sir Cat said good-by and rode away.
By-and-by, he whispered to Dapple Gray, "Yonder stands the lady who rode you far away. Do you want to run right by her, or do you want to stay behind this clump of bushes until she walks away?"
Dapple Gray made no reply. He stood perfectly still and didn't even peek around until the lady was out of sight. So that was answer enough for Little Sir Cat, and he rode off towards a little church, for it was vesper time and the bell was ringing for the people to come to worship. Pretty soon the organ began to play, so he stopped to listen, and so did the stars and the big moon up in the sky. They didn't move, but shone right down on the little white building. After a while he got down and led Dapple Gray into a grove of trees and lay down on some leaves for the night. And pretty soon you shall hear how he and his pony had another adventure,—unless—
A giant goes down the street for a stroll,And thinks a peppermint stick is a barber's pole.
Woman driving a hill with a tree on it selling pies
There was an old woman lived under a hillOn auto'bile wheels that wouldn't stand still.So she drove around selling her cranberry pies,—And she's the old woman who never told lies.
Many years ago there lived a little goose-girl named Helena. Every morning at sunrise she left the hut where her mother lived, and trudged away in the midst of her flock of geese. All day long she stayed in the fields with them to see that they did not wander away, and in the evening she brought them back to the village.
The hamlet she lived in was very small, and Helena had the care of all the geese in the place. Ten of the flock belonged to her mother, the rest belonged to the neighbors.
Helena was almost as fat as the fattest goose in her flock. Over her plump, freckled face she wore a flat cap, and her flaxen hair in two long braids down her back. Her waist was black, without any sleeves and opened in the front, while the sleeves of her smock were full and long. Her skirt was very short and full, and plaited all around the waist. In summer she went barefooted, but in winter she wore thick stockings and wooden shoes.
She carried in her hand a long stick, with which to manage her goose family, but she was kind-hearted and never struck them hard. Her little dog, Hero, helped her keep them in order. He was so well trained that when they wandered away, he would bark and snap at them until he frightened them back.
Goose girl in arched pasageway driving geese PUB. BY NAT. ART CO., N. Y.
Every morning at sunrise the geese waited in front of the huts for Helena. Amid a great squawking and hissing they were collected from door to door, and when the flock was all gathered, Helena drove them off to the feeding ground, a low flat marshy place, near the river, where they delighted to waddle in the greenish pools and coarse grasses.
Helena had collected a pile of stones on a dry spot which was a little higher than the marshy ground around it, and here she would sit on her throne, like a queen looking over her goose kingdom.
When dinner time came, she would take from a basket a slice of very coarse bread, almost black, a piece of cheese, or a slice of thick, raw sausage. When she had finished eating, she would take from the same basket her spinning, and with her distaff she twirled the thread around and drew it through her fingers. This was the old-fashioned way of spinning, and even now one often sees girls and women with their distaffs spinning in the fields while they watch their cows or sheep or geese.
There were many beautiful flowers growing in the marshy land, and when Helena grew tired of spinning, she gathered violets and forget-me-nots. She would make a wreath of blue lilies and yellow dandelions and hang it about her neck. Sometimes she would make a collar for her dog, and once she made a wreath for a pet gander, but he twisted his long neck and ate up the flowers, at which Helena laughed, showing that she was a happy little girl, although she did have to tend the geese all day.
Cat in bed asleep, head on pillow under blanket
Pussy's asleep, and the little gray mouseIs looking about the quiet house.But oh, dear me! If Pussy should wakeThe little mouse wouldn't get any cake.
Dear Boys and Girls—Did it ever occur to you that February is a famous month, for in it were born two of the greatest men that ever lived, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln?
Perhaps the determination of Washington never to allow himself to be discouraged in the face of tremendous difficulties and treachery stands out as one of the biggest factors in his character.
Looking back through history every boy as he gazes on the face of Washington feels a thrill of pride; the Father of His Country, the man who never told a lie, the man who never admitted there was such a word as "fail."
And when we turn to Lincoln, who in the crisis of our country's welfare stood like a rock and brought order out of chaos, preserved the Union, "now and forever," and, with "malice toward none," brought the men of the North and the men of the South under the Stars and Stripes again as brothers—we find the Savior of our Country.
For the boy of to-day two such men as Washington and Lincoln are an inspiration. Human nature was just the same in those days as now—politics were just as corrupt and morals just as bad—but each of those men shone out with the attributes of greatness—courage, honesty and truth.
And for the girl of to-day who realizes how the mothers of those two men gave to this country each a hero; how those mothers by early training and instruction brought their boys up to reverence courage and honesty and truth, there is an inspiration; for the sweetest word that is murmured in the nursery or whispered in prayer on the battlefield is Mother.
scenic decoration
How the Geese Saved Rome
The Capitol in the city of Rome was built on a high, steep hill called the Tarpeian Rock. When in 390 B. C. the Gauls entered Rome, after having defeated the Roman Army, most of the citizens fled, except a few who had taken refuge on this steep hill. One very dark night, the Gauls attempted to climb the steepest part and capture the Capitol. The Roman sentinels were all fast asleep, and the enemy had nearly reached the top, when suddenly some geese began to cackle and raise a great hub-bub. The noise awakened a Roman soldier named Marcus Manlius, who rushed out to the spot just in time to throw down the Gauls and save the Capitol.
After this, the Gauls agreed to leave the city for a thousand pounds of gold, but the Romans took so long to weigh it, that Camillus arrived with a big army just in time. "Rome buys her freedom with iron!" he cried, and attacking the Gauls, drove them out in great confusion. But if it hadn't been for the geese, who were wide awake and not sound asleep like the Roman sentinels, Rome would have been captured that dark night by the Gauls.
Let us make believe we are in Nice during Carnival time and are hastening to the Promenade du Cours, up and down which the procession is to pass.
First, however, I shall buy for you each a little blue gauze mask; for you cannot even peep at Carnival unmasked. And if any of you can wear linen dusters with hoods attached, all the better. Don't leave a square inch of skin unprotected, I warn you.
Besides the little masks, you may buy, each of you, a whole bushel of these "sugar plums," and have them sent to our balcony. Also for each a little tin scoop fastened on a flexible handle, which you are to fill with confetti but on no account to pull—at least, not yet.
The crowds are gathering. Pretty peasant girls in their holiday attire of bright petticoats, laced bodices, and white frilled caps; stray dominoes; richly dressed ladies with mask in hand; carriages so decorated with flowers as to be artistically hidden—even the wheels covered with batiste—blue, pink, purple, green or buff. Even the sidewalk, as we pass, is fringed with chairs at a franc each.
The "Cours" is gay with suspended banners, bright with festooned balconies and merry faces. Sidewalks and streets are filled with people; but the horses have the right of way, and the people are fined if they are run over.
Let us hasten to our balcony, for here passes a band of musicians, in scarlet and gold, to open the procession.
It is "the theater"—an open car of puppets—but the puppets are men; all attached to cords held in the hand of the giant, who sits in imposing state above them on the top of the car which is on a level with the third-story balconies.
The giant lifts his hand and the puppets whirl and jump. But alas! his head is too high. His hat is swept off by the hanging festoons, and the giant must ride bare-headed, in danger of sunstroke.
Next behind the car moves in military order a regiment of mounted grasshoppers. Their sleek, shining bodies of green satin, their gauzy wings and antennae, snub noses and big eyes, are all absolutely perfect to the eye; but—they are of the size of men.
You lower your mask to see more clearly, you are lost in wonder at the perfect illusion, your mouth is wide open with "Ohs!" and "Ahs!" when pop! pop! slings a shower of confetti, and the little hailstones seem to cut off your ears and rush sifting down your neck.
For, while you were watching the grasshoppers, a low open carriage, concealed under a pink and white cover, has stopped under our windows. Four merry masqueraders, cloaked and hooded in hue to match, have a bushel of confetti between them, and are piled with nosegays. We slink behind our masks, we pull the handles of our confetti scoops—then the battle begins and waxes fierce.
But they are crowded on. A colossal stump follows, trailing with mosses and vines. Upon it a bird's nest filled with young, their mouths wide open for food; wonderful, because the artistic skill is so perfect that, although so immense, they seem living and not unnatural.
Up and down the procession sweeps. Up one side the wide "Cours" and down the other; the space within filled with the merry surging crowd, under the feet of the horses it would seem. But no matter. Horses and men and women and children bear a charmed life to-day.
How A Spider Saved Scotland
For several years, Robert Bruce, the hero King of Scotland, was an outlaw with but a few followers. He even had to leave his beloved Scotland at one time, and hide himself on a small island off the coast of Ireland.
He had only a wretched hut to live in, although he was a king, but he was as patient as he was brave, and willing to suffer hardships if he could only free his native land.
While lying on his bed one day, he noticed a spider who was spinning its web. Time after time it failed to run its slender thread from one beam to another. Six times it tried and as many times it failed. This was just the number of battles that Bruce had been defeated by the English.
"If the spider tries again," he said to himself, sitting up on his bed and watching the determined little insect intently, "if the spider tries again, so will I!" Once more the spider tried, and this time with success. Bruce jumped from his bed, and in a few days was back in Scotland.
It was indeed a happy omen, for from that time the tide turned in his favor, and gradually he won back all the cities and castles which the English had conquered. And so Bruce freed Scotland and won back his throne, but if it had not been for the little spider, perhaps he never would have had the heart to attempt it.
Mother Hubbard finds Little Sir Cat at Home
"Old Mother HubbardWent to the cupboardTo get her poor dog a bone,But when she got thereThe cupboard was bare,And so the poor dog had none."
"Oh, dear me!" said Little Sir Cat, "that's too bad," and he pulled out a shilling and gave it to Mother Hubbard. And after that he went away and by and by he came to a big circus tent. And while he stood there, a woman came by and stopped to talk to him. For everybody was interested in Little Sir Cat. He rode Dapple Gray as well as a circus man, and there was nothing he couldn't do on horseback, except, perhaps, go to sleep. Well, the woman stopped and looked at him for a few minutes, and then she said:
"I have a little husbandNo bigger than my thumb,So I put him in a bird cageAnd keep him safe at home."
Mother Hubbard looking at Sir Cat and the DogMOTHER HUBBARD FINDS LITTLE SIR CAT AT HOME
"Why don't you bring him to the circus?" said Little Sir Cat. "He'll make more money than in a bird cage."
"So he might," said the woman. "I will bring him here this very day," and away she went as fast as she could.
Well, by and by, she returned carrying a leather bag, and when she opened it, who should jump out but Tom Thumb. Wasn't that strange? And, oh, how glad he was to see Little Sir Cat.
"What! Are you old friends?" asked the woman, stretching out her hand to take Tom Thumb.
"She is cruel, don't let her take me," cried the little fellow, and of course Sir Cat didn't, although the woman became very angry.
Well, pretty soon Little Sir Cat turned to her and said with a fierce look, "Leave him with me. He shall be my comrade. You have no right to him," and then he took Tom Thumb into the tent, leaving the woman to do what she might. He didn't care, for he was in the right, and when that is the case, one can be brave even if he is a small cat. And as soon as he told the clown what had happened, he said: "We'll never let her have Tom Thumb. He shall stay with us as long as he likes," and then the lovely circus lady came up and shook hands with him, and everybody said, "Hurrah for Little Sir Cat!"
And pretty soon I'll tell you another story unless
The Big Red Barn gets friskyAnd jumps across the road,And the buzzy, wuzzy horseflyEats up the little toad.
Turkey wearing hat and waistcoat and smoking a cigar talking to a younger turkey
Said the great big Turkey GobblerTo the little Turkey Turk,"I guess I'll stay at home todayAnd not go down to work;"I have a sort of feelingThat it's wiser not to roamAnd that it would be saferFor me to stay at home."
Saturday
I love her on a SaturdayWhen she and Mother goTogether to a matineeOr moving picture show.
Saturday is a holiday all the time. In the morning I take a run in the park to get the fresh air and exercise; and then after lunch, Mother and I—oh, it's such fun!—go to a matinee or a motion picture play. When we come out, we have a cup of hot chocolate somewhere, with little cakes or crackers, and it's just lovely! After that, it's time to go home. Dolly is waiting for me, and I tell her all about everything while I undress her and put her to bed, and she is so good she never cries or says: "Why didn't you take me, too?"
How A Horse Founded A City
There was once a horse named Bucephalus whom nobody could ride except his master, the famous Alexander the Great; and the reason was because this horse was afraid of his own shadow. He wasn't afraid of anything else, for he would carry his master into the thickest of the fight without flinching.
In those days every boy was trained to be a warrior, as well as to be proficient in all kinds of knowledge, and as Alexander was a very bright youth and loved reading as well as fighting his father sent for the famous Aristotle to be his teacher, under whose teaching he grew up to be a very fine young man. Every night when Alexander went to bed he placed his favorite book, Homer's "Iliad," under his pillow with his sword. Soon he became very expert in all manly sports and excelled every one at his father's court, especially in riding. But had he not been a very bright and observing youth he never would have been able to ride Bucephalus, notwithstanding his splendid horsemanship.
The way it happened was that one day this horse was offered for sale to his father, the King, but none of the grooms or nobles could mount him. Alexander, who had been very carefully watching the beautiful white animal, noticed that Bucephalus was afraid of his own shadow. He therefore turned his head toward the sun and after patting the animal until he grew quiet mounted and rode him without any trouble. After that he was always his favorite charger.
When Alexander set out to conquer the Persians Bucephalus was the first to swim across the River Granicus with Alexander, amid a shower of arrows and spears.
On Bucephalus and at the head of his army of 40,000 foot soldiers Alexander defeated Darius, with over 1,000,000 men.
For five years longer Bucephalus carried Alexander to victory, but finally in a battle in India against King Porus Bucephalus was so badly wounded that he died.
Alexander gave his noble horse a splendid burial and founded a city on the battlefield, which he named in his honor Bucephala.
Little Sir Cat Meets Tom, the Piper's Son
One can't stay with a circus and travel up high mountains and cross rivers and visit castles and dungeons, so Little Sir Cat said good-by to the kind circus people and little Tom Thumb, who was making so much money exhibiting himself that he wanted to remain with them until he had made a million dollars.
So once more Little Sir Cat was traveling alone. Well, on he tramped till by-and-by he came to a village, and as he walked down the main street
Little Johnny CurlytopSat in his father's shop.In his thumb he held a plumAnd a lollypop.
But when he saw Little Sir Cat, he almost dropped his candy, for he had never seen a cat with boots and spurs riding on a pony. But Little Sir Cat only grinned and said: "Pick up your candy, Johnny Curlytop, for candy doesn't grow on trees, and you are a lucky boy to have a lollypop."
Sir Cat sees Tom running offLITTLE SIR CAT MEETS TOM, THE PIPER'S SON
Well, just then, all of a sudden, a boy ran down the street with a little pig under his arm.
"Tom, Tom, the Piper's Son,Stole a pig and away he run,"
screamed a green poll parrot from her cage.
"Why, it's Piggie Porker," cried Little Sir Cat, "the little pig I helped through the fence. O, please let him go. It's Piggie Porker."
"Piggie what?" asked Tom, scratching his head.
"I want to go home to mother," squealed Piggie, and this so surprised Tom that he dropped Piggie, who, quick as a wink, darted between his legs and ran away. And, would you believe it? Little Sir Cat jumped on his back, and off they went down the street to the country. Pretty soon Piggie stopped to rest, and Little Sir Cat jumped down to the ground. "How did you ever get caught?" he asked.
"I disobeyed mother," answered Piggie when able to speak, for he was all out of breath with running, you see. "I squeezed through the fence and ran out to the road, and then that bad boy caught me. Oh, dear, oh, dear!"
Poor little Piggie's pink nose was very red and his cheeks wet with tears. "Don't cry," said Little Sir Cat kindly, "you can't be far from home." And then together they ran across the meadow to the wood to look for the path that led to Piggie's cabin. And pretty soon Piggie found it, so off he scampered.
"I hope mother won't scold me for being away so long—I hope she won't."
In the distance he could see the stout figure of his mother standing in the cabin door. At the sight of her Piggie began to cry, he was so glad to be home again.
And his mother never punished him after all, but just hugged him until he squeaked, "Oh, mother, you're squeezing the breath out of me!"
But just the same, dear children,Remember to obey,For you might be unluckyAnd lose your homeward way.
God grant that I the new year throughMay strive with heart and soul to doThose things which are most good and true.God grant that I each morning startMy duties with a cheerful heart,And faithfully perform my part.To wear a smile all through the day,To banish thoughts unkind away;And when my bedtime comes, to pray.To say my prayers with folded handsAs night comes softly o'er the lands,To Him, who always understands.And when the bells on New Year's dawnProclaim the bright New Year is born,And I awake on New Year's morn,I pray Him whisper, low and sweet,To help me guide my wayward feet,Lest I forget my prayer to meet.
Old woman with shawl and BIG round skirt
There was an old womanLived under the hill,And if she's not marriedShe's living there still.
Listen, dear littlest children, and you shall hear about the very first Christmas Day.
In a country across the sea, far away from here, shepherds were watching their flocks one night. The sheep were resting on the grass, the little lambs were fast asleep beside their mothers, but the kind shepherds were not asleep. They were watching that no harm should happen to the sheep.
Perhaps they were looking up at the stars and the beautiful moon above them, when suddenly there appeared a wonderful light in the sky, brighter than the moon or stars, as if the sky had opened and they saw the glory within.
And while they stood there, looking up, wondering what was the cause of that strange light, a beautiful, shining angel came near to them and said:
"Fear not. I bring you good tidings which shall be to all people. This day is born a Saviour, and ye shall find the babe lying in a manger."
Suddenly a multitude of the heavenly host joined the angel in singing praises to God.
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earthPeace, good will toward men."
When the angels had gone back to heaven the shepherds said they would go to Bethlehem and see this Saviour of whom the angels sang. They went, and found Him, a little baby, in a stable, with no cradle to lie in; only a manger for His bed. That little baby was Jesus, who when He grew up said:
"Let the little children come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." His birthday was the first Christmas Day, and ever since that time we keep that day as a joyful and happy one.
Girls playing with dolls
Charlie was a little rogue, and Charlie's papa was a big rogue; and two rogues together get into all sorts of mischief.
Charlie wanted a kitten, and one day when he was teasing papa said carelessly:
"Plant old black Nig. I wouldn't wonder if she came up sort of kittenish!"
Papa laughed behind his paper to see him march out to the garden with the big, sleepy black cat under one arm and a hoe under the other.
But when Charlie began to dig, Pussy began to struggle out from under his arm, and, getting away, she ran for her life. Charlie dropped his hoe and ran too. Tears also would have run had there been less wisdom in that little curly head. But Charlie knew that Puss would not wait while he mourned her departure!
What a race that was! Puss led him under fences, through bushes, over gates, up trees, and, at last, through the open window, Charlie of course followed, and what a fall was that!
When Charlie rose, the black cat sat calmly upon the table. Charlie thought she actually laughed at his forlorn appearance. Well, he didn't look as well as when the race began, but his courage was still good; so he resolved to try again, if the Big Rogue would help.
So Charlie asked papa to hold Puss while he dug. Papa was willing, and the digging began again. Soon papa said the hole was big enough, but he had no sooner said the word, when Puss thought it was time to run away again, and off she darted. She looked so funny, with her tail all swelled up, that Charlie forgot all about the planting and began to laugh, and then papa began to laugh too. "I don't believe she's the right kind of a cat to plant," he said, and then he and Charlie went into the house for lunch, as mama was at the window waiting for them.