{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_359/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_359","id":"gutenberg_359","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/359","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Children's literature","Holidays","Short stories","Storytelling"],"text":"Produced by Mike Lough\n\n\n\n\n\nGOOD STORIES FOR GREAT HOLIDAYS\n\n\nARRANGED FOR STORY-TELLING AND READING ALOUD\n\nAND FOR THE CHILDREN'S OWN READING\n\nBy Frances Jenkins Olcott\n\n\nIndex according to reading level is appended.\n\n\n\nTO THE STORY-TELLER\n\nThis volume, though intended also for the children's own reading and for\nreading aloud, is especially planned for story-telling. The latter is a\ndelightful way of arousing a gladsome holiday spirit, and of showing the\ninner meanings of different holidays. As stories used for this purpose\nare scattered through many volumes, and as they are not always in the\nconcrete form required for story-telling, I have endeavored to bring\ntogether myths, legends, tales, and historical stories suitable to\nholiday occasions.\n\nThere are here collected one hundred and twenty stories for seventeen\nholidays--stories grave, gay, humorous, or fanciful; also some that\nare spiritual in feeling, and others that give the delicious thrill\nof horror so craved by boys and girls at Halloween time. The range\nof selection is wide, and touches all sides of wholesome boy and girl\nnature, and the tales have the power to arouse an appropriate holiday\nspirit.\n\nAs far as possible the stories are presented in their original form.\nWhen, however, they are too long for inclusion, or too loose in\nstructure for story-telling purposes, they are adapted.\n\nAdapted stories are of two sorts. Condensed: in which case a piece of\nliterature is shortened, scarcely any changes being made in the original\nlanguage. Rewritten: here the plot, imagery, language, and style of the\noriginal are retained as far as possible, while the whole is moulded\ninto form suitable for story-telling. Some few stories are built up on a\nslight framework of original matter.\n\nThus it may be seen that the tales in this volume have not been reduced\nto the necessarily limited vocabulary and uniform style of one editor,\nbut that they are varied in treatment and language, and are the products\nof many minds.\n\nA glance at the table of contents will show that not only have\nselections been made from modern authors and from the folklore of\ndifferent races, but that some quaint old literary sources have been\ndrawn on. Among the men and books contributing to these pages are the\nGesta Romanorum, Il Libro d'Oro, Xenophon, Ovid, Lucian, the Venerable\nBede, William of Malmesbury. John of Hildesheim, William Caxton, and the\nmore modern Washington Irving, Hugh Miller, Charles Dickens, and Henry\nCabot Lodge; also those immortals, Hans Andersen, the Brothers Grimm,\nHorace E. Scudder, and others.\n\nThe stories are arranged to meet the needs of story-telling in the\ngraded schools. Reading-lists, showing where to find additional material\nfor story-telling and collateral reading, are added. Grades in which the\nrecommended stories are useful are indicated.\n\nThe number of selections in the volume, as well as the references\nto other books, is limited by the amount and character of available\nmaterial. For instance, there is little to be found for Saint\nValentine's Day, while there is an overwhelming abundance of fine\nstories for the Christmas season. Stories like Dickens's \u201cChristmas\nCarol,\u201d Ouida's \u201cDog of Flanders,\u201d and Hawthorne's tales, which are too\nlong for inclusion and would lose their literary beauty if condensed,\nare referred to in the lists. Volumes containing these stories may be\nprocured at the public library.\n\nA subject index is appended. This indicates the ethical, historical, and\nother subject-matter of interest to the teacher, thus making the volume\nserviceable for other occasions besides holidays.\n\nIn learning her tale the story-teller is advised not to commit it to\nmemory. Such a method is apt to produce a wooden or glib manner of\npresentation. It is better for her to read the story over and over again\nuntil its plot, imagery, style, and vocabulary become her own, and then\nto retell it, as Miss Bryant says, \u201csimply, vitally, joyously.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nNEW YEAR'S DAY (January 1)\n\nTHE FAIRY'S NEW YEAR GIFT: Emilie Poulsson, In the Child's World\n\nTHE LITTLE MATCH GIRL: Hans Christian Andersen, Stories and Tales\n\nTHE TWELVE MONTHS: Alexander Chodsvko, Slav Fairy Tales\n\nTHE MAIL-COACH PASSENGERS: Hans Christian Andersen, Fairy Tales\n\nLINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY (February 10)\n\nHE RESCUES THE BIRDS: Noah Brooks, Abraham Lincoln\n\nLINCOLN AND THE LITTLE GIRL: Charles W. Moores, Life of Abraham Lincoln\nfor Boys and Girls\n\nTRAINING FOR THE PRESIDENCY: Orison Swett Matden, Winning Out\n\nWHY LINCOLN WAS CALLED \u201cHONEST ABE\u201d: Noah Brooks, Abraham Lincoln\n\nA STRANGER AT FIVE-POINTS: Adapted\n\nA SOLOMON COME TO JUDGMENT: Charles W. Moores, Life of Abraham Lincoln\nfor Boys and Girls\n\nGEORGE PICKETT'S FRIEND: Charles W. Moores, Life of Abraham Lincoln for\nBoys and Girls\n\nLINCOLN THE LAWYER: Z. A. Mudge, The Forest Boy\n\nTHE COURAGE OF HIS CONVICTIONS: Adapted\n\nMR. LINCOLN AND THE BIBLE: Z. A. Mudge, The Forest Boy\n\nHIS SPRINGFIELD FAREWELL ADDRESS [Lincoln]\n\nSAINT VALENTINE'S DAY (February 14)\n\nSAINT VALENTINE\n\nSAINT VALENTINE: Millicent Olmsted\n\nA GIRL'S VALENTINE CHARM: The Connoisseur, 1775\n\nMR. PEPYS HIS VALENTINE: Samuel Pepys, Diary\n\nCUPID AND PSYCHE: Josephine Preston Peabody, Old Greek Folk Stories\n\nWASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY (February 22)\n\nTHREE OLD TALES: M. L. Weems, Life of George Washington, with Curious\nAnecdotes\n\nYOUNG GEORGE AND THE COLT: Horace E. Scudder,     George Washington\n\nWASHINGTON THE ATHLETE: Albert F. Blaisdell and Francis R. Ball, Hero\nStories from American History\n\nWASHINGTON'S MODESTY: Henry Cabot Lodge, George Washington\n\nWASHINGTON AT YORKTOWN: Henry Cabot lodge, George Washington\n\nRESURRECTION DAY (Easter Sunday) (March or April)\n\nA LESSON OF FAITH: Mrs. Alfred Gatty, Parables from Nature\n\nA CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR: Charles Dickens\n\nTHE LOVELIEST ROSE IN THE WORLD: Hans Christian Andersen, Stories and\nTales\n\nMAY DAY (May 1) THE SNOWDROP: Hans Christian Andersen; Adapted by Bailey\nand Lewis\n\nTHE THREE LITTLE BUTTERFLY BROTHERS: From the German\n\n\nTHE WATER DROP: Friedrich Wilhelm Carove, Story without an End,\ntranslated by Sarah Austin\n\nTHE SPRING BEAUTY: Henry R. Schoolcraft, The Myth of Hiawatha\n\nTHE FAIRY TULIPS: English Folk-Tale\n\nTHE STREAM THAT RAN AWAY: Mary Austin, The Basket Woman\n\nTHE ELVES: Harriet Mazwell Converse, Myths and legends of the New York\nState Iroquois\n\nTHE CANYON FLOWERS: Ralph Connor, The Sky Pilot\n\nCLYTIE, THE HELIOTROPE: Ovid, Metamorphoses\n\nHYACINTHUS: Ovid, Metamorphoses\n\nECHO AND NARCISSUS: Ovid, Metamorphoses\n\nMOTHERS' DAY (Second Sunday in May)\n\nTHE LARK AND ITS YOUNG ONES: P. V. Ramuswami Raju, Indian Fables\n\nCORNELIA S JEWELS: James Baldwin, Fifty Famous Stories Retold\n\nQUEEN MARGARET AND THE ROBBERS: Albert F. Blaisdell, Stories from\nEnylish History\n\nTHE REVENGE OF CORIOLANUS: Charles Morris, Historical Tales\n\nTHE WIDOW AND HER THREE SONS\n\nMEMORIAL DAY (May 30)[1] AND FLAG DAY (June 14) Confederate Memorial Day\nis celebrated in some States on April 26 and in others on May 10.\n\nBETSY ROSS AND THE FLAG: Harry Pringle Ford\n\nTHE STAR SPANGLED BANNER: Eva March Tappan, Hero Stories from American\nHistory\n\nTHE LITTLE DRUMMER-BOY: Aloert Bushnell Hart, The Romance of the Civil\nWar\n\nA FLAG INCIDENT: M. M. Thomas, Captain Phil\n\nTWO HERO-STORIES OF THE CIVIL WAR: Ben La Bree, Camp Fires of the\nConfederacy\n\nTHE YOUNG SENTINEL: Z. A. Mudge, The Forest Boy\n\nTHE COLONEL OF THE ZOUAVES: Noah Brooks, Abraham Lincoln\n\nGENERAL SCOTT AND THE STARS AND STRIPES: E. D. Townsend, Anecdotes of\nthe Civil War\n\nINDEPENDENCE DAY (July 4)\n\nTHE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE: Washington Irving, Life of Washington\n\nTHE SIGNING OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE: H. A. Guerber, The Story\nof the Thirteen Colonies\n\nA BRAVE GIRL: James Johonnot, Stories of Heroic Deeds\n\nTHE BOSTON TEA-PARTY: John Andrews, Letter to a friend written in 1773\n\nA GUNPOWDER STORY: John Esten Cooke, Stories of the Old Dominion\n\nTHE CAPTURE OF FORT TICONDEROGA: Washington Irving, Life of Washington\n\nWASHINGTON AND THE COWARDS: Washington Irving, Life of Washington\n\nLABOR DAY (First Monday in September)\n\nTHE SMITHY: P. V. Ramaswami Raju, Indian Fables\n\nTHE NAIL: The Brothers Grimm, German Household Tales\n\nTHE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER: Horace E. Scudder, Book of Fables and Folk\nStories\n\nTHE HILLMAN AND THE HOUSEWIFE: Juliana Horatia Ewing, Old Fashioned\nFairy Tales\n\nHOFUS THE STONE CUTTER, A JAPANESE LEGEND: The Riserside Third Reader\n\nARACHNE: Josephine Preston Peabody, Old Greek Folk Stories\n\n\nTHE METAL KING: A German Folk-Tale\n\nTHE CHOICE OF HERCULES: Xenophon, Memorabilia of Socrates\n\nTHE SPEAKING STATUE: Gesta Romanorum\n\nTHE CHAMPION STONE CUTTER: Hugh Miller\n\nBILL BROWN'S TEST: Cleveland Moffett, Careers of Danger and Daring\n\nCOLUMBUS DAY (October 12)\n\nCOLUMBUS AND THE EGG: James Baldwin, Thirty More Famous Stories Retold\n\nCOLUMBUS AT LA RABIDA: Washington Irving, Life of Christopher Columbus\n\nTHE MUTINY: A. de Lamartine, Life of Columbus\n\nTHE FIRST LANDING OF COLUMBUS IN THE NEW WORLD: Washington Irving, Life\nof Christopher Columbus\n\nHALLOWEEN (October 31)\n\nTHE OLD WITCH: The Brothers Grimm, German Household Tales\n\nSHIPPEITARO: Mary F. Nixon-Roulet, Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy Tales\n\nHANSEL AND GRETHEL: The Brothers Grimm, German Household Tales\n\nBURG HILL'S ON FIRE: Elizabeth W. Grierson, Children's Book of Celtic\nStories\n\nTHE KING OF THE CATS: Ernest Rhys, Fairy-Gold\n\nTHE STRANGE VISITOR: Joseph Jacobs, English Fairy Tales\n\nTHE BENEVOLENT GOBLIN: Gesta Romanorum\n\nTHE PHANTOM KNIGHT OF THE VANDAL CAMP: Gesta Romanorum\n\nTHANKSGIVING DAY (Last Thursday in November)\n\nTHE FIRST HARVEST-HOME IN PLYMOUTH: W. De Loss Lore, Jr., The Fast and\nThanksgiving Days of New England\n\nTHE MASTER OF THE HARVEST: Mrs. Alfred Gatty, Parables from Nature\n\nSAINT CUTHBERT'S EAGLE: The Venerable Bede, Life and Miracles of Saint\nCuthbert\n\nTHE EARS OF WHEAT: The Brothers Grimm, German Household Tales\n\nHOW INDIAN CORN CAME INTO THE WORLD: Henry R. Schoolcraft, The Myth of\nHiawatha\n\nTHE NUTCRACKER DWARF: Count Franz Pocci, Fur Frohliche Kinder\n\nTHE PUMPKIN PIRATES, A TALE FROM LUCIAN: Alfred J. Church, The Greek\nGulliver\n\nTHE SPIRIT OF THE CORN: Harriet Mazwell Converse,\nMyths and Legends of the New York State Iroquois\n\nTHE HORN OF PLENTY: Ovid, Metamorphoses\n\nCHRISTMAS DAY (December 25)\n\nLITTLE PICCOLA: Celia Thazter, Stories and Poems for Children\n\nTHE STRANGER CHILD, A LEGEND: Count Franz Pocci, Fur Frohliche Kinder\n\nSAINT CHRISTOPHER: William Caxton, Golden Legend\n\nTHE CHRISTMAS ROSE, AN OLD LEGEND: Lizzie Deas, Flower Favourites\n\nTHE WOODEN SHOES OF LITTLE WOLFF: Francois Coppee\n\nTHE PINE TREE: Hans Christian Andersen, Wonder Stories\n\nTHE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO: Frances Browne, Granny's Wonderful Chair\n\nTHE CHRISTMAS FAIRY OF STRASBURG, A GERMAN FOLK-TALE: J. Stirling Coyne,\nIllustrated London News\n\nTHE THREE PURSES, A LEGEND: William S. Walsh, Story of Santa Klaus\n\nTHE THUNDER OAK, A SCANDINAVIAN LEGEND: William S. Walsh and Others\n\nTHE CHRISTMAS THORN OF GLASTONBURY, A LEGEND OF ANCIENT BRITAIN: William\nof Malmesbury and Others\n\nTHE THREE KINGS OF COLOGNE, A LEGEND OF THE MIDDLE AGES: John of\nHildesheim, Modernized by H. S. Morris\n\nARBOR DAY\n\nTHE LITTLE TREE THAT LONGED FOR OTHER LEAVES: Friedrieh Ruckert\n\nWHY THE EVERGREEN TREES NEVER LOSE THEIR LEAVES: Florence Holbrook, Book\nof Nature Myths\n\nWHY THE ASPEN QUIVERS: Old legend\n\nTHE WONDER TREE: Friedrich Adolph Krummacher, Parables\n\nTHE PROUD OAK TREE: Old Fable\n\nBAUCIS AND PHILEMON: H. P. Maskell, Francis Storr,\nHalf-a-Hundred Hero Tales\n\nTHE UNFRUITFUL TREE: Friedrich Adolph Krummacher, Parables\n\nTHE DRYAD OF THE OLD OAK: James Russell Lowell, Rhoecus (a poem)\n\nDAPHNE: OVID, Metamorphoses BIRD DAY\n\nTHE OLD WOMAN WHO BECAME A WOODPECKER: Phoebe Cary, A Legend of the\nNorthland (poem)\n\nTHE BOY WHO BECAME A ROBIN: Henry R. Schoolcraft, The Myth of Hiawatha\n\nTHE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW: A. B. Mitford, Tales of Old Japan\n\nTHE QUAILS, A LEGEND OF THE JATAKA: Riverside Fourth Reader\n\nTHE MAGPIE'S NEST: Joseph Jacobs, English Fairy Tales\n\nTHE GREEDY GEESE: Il Libro d'Oro\n\nTHE KING OF THE BIRDS: The Brothers Grimm, German Household Tales\n\nTHE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH: Abbie Farwell Brown, The Curious Book of Birds\n\nTHE BUSY BLUE JAY: Olive Thorne Miller, True Bird Stories\n\nBABES IN THE WOODS: John Burroughs, Bird Stories from Burroughs\n\nTHE PRIDE OF THE REGIMENT: Harry M. Rieffer, The Recollections of a\nDrummer Boy\n\nTHE MOTHER MURRE: Dallas Lore Sharp, Summer\n\nREFERENCE LISTS FOR STORY-TELLING AND COLLATERAL READING\n\n\n\n\n\nGOOD STORIES FOR GREAT HOLIDAYS\n\n\n\n\nTHE FAIRY'S NEW YEAR GIFT\n\nBY EMILIE POULSSON (ADAPTED)\n\nTwo little boys were at play one day when a Fairy suddenly appeared\nbefore them and said: \u201cI have been sent to give you New Year presents.\u201d\n\nShe handed to each child a package, and in an instant was gone.\n\nCarl and Philip opened the packages and found in them two beautiful\nbooks, with pages as pure and white as the snow when it first falls.\n\nMany months passed and the Fairy came again to the boys. \u201cI have brought\nyou each another book?\u201d said she, \u201cand will take the first ones back to\nFather Time who sent them to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay I not keep mine a little longer?\u201d asked Philip. \u201cI have hardly\nthought about it lately. I'd like to paint something on the last leaf\nthat lies open.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said the Fairy; \u201cI must take it just as it is.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish that I could look through mine just once,\u201d said Carl; \u201cI have\nonly seen one page at a time, for when the leaf turns over it sticks\nfast, and I can never open the book at more than one place each day.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall look at your book,\u201d said the Fairy, \u201cand Philip, at his.\u201d And\nshe lit for them two little silver lamps, by the light of which they saw\nthe pages as she turned them.\n\nThe boys looked in wonder. Could it be that these were the same fair\nbooks she had given them a year ago? Where were the clean, white pages,\nas pure and beautiful as the snow when it first falls? Here was a page\nwith ugly, black spots and scratches upon it; while the very next page\nshowed a lovely little picture. Some pages were decorated with gold and\nsilver and gorgeous colors, others with beautiful flowers, and still\nothers with a rainbow of softest, most delicate brightness. Yet even on\nthe most beautiful of the pages there were ugly blots and scratches.\n\nCarl and Philip looked up at the Fairy at last.\n\n\u201cWho did this?\u201d they asked. \u201cEvery page was white and fair as we opened\nto it; yet now there is not a single blank place in the whole book!\u201d\n\n\u201cShall I explain some of the pictures to you?\u201d said the Fairy, smiling\nat the two little boys.\n\n\u201cSee, Philip, the spray of roses blossomed on this page when you let\nthe baby have your playthings; and this pretty bird, that looks as if it\nwere singing with all its might, would never have been on this page\nif you had not tried to be kind and pleasant the other day, instead of\nquarreling.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what makes this blot?\u201d asked Philip.\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d said the Fairy sadly; \u201cthat came when you told an untruth one\nday, and this when you did not mind mamma. All these blots and scratches\nthat look so ugly, both in your book and in Carl's, were made when you\nwere naughty. Each pretty thing in your books came on its page when you\nwere good.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, if we could only have the books again!\u201d said Carl and Philip.\n\n\u201cThat cannot be,\u201d said the Fairy. \u201cSee! they are dated for this year,\nand they must now go back into Father Time's bookcase, but I have\nbrought you each a new one. Perhaps you can make these more beautiful\nthan the others.\u201d\n\nSo saying, she vanished, and the boys were left alone, but each held in\nhis hand a new book open at the first page.\n\nAnd on the back of this book was written in letters of gold, \u201cFor the\nNew Year.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE MATCH GIRL\n\nBY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (TRANSLATED)\n\nIt was very, very cold; it snowed and it grew dark; it was the last\nevening of the year, New Year's Eve. In the cold and dark a poor little\ngirl, with bare head and bare feet, was walking through the streets.\nWhen she left her own house she certainly had had slippers on; but what\ncould they do? They were very big slippers, and her mother had used them\ntill then, so big were they. The little maid lost them as she slipped\nacross the road, where two carriages were rattling by terribly fast. One\nslipper was not to be found again, and a boy ran away with the other. He\nsaid he could use it for a cradle when he had children of his own.\n\nSo now the little girl went with her little naked feet, which were quite\nred and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried a number of\nmatches, and a bundle of them in her hand. No one had bought anything\nof her all day; no one had given her a copper. Hungry and cold she went,\nand drew herself together, poor little thing! The snowflakes fell on her\nlong yellow hair, which curled prettily over her neck; but she did not\nthink of that now. In all the windows lights were shining, and there was\na glorious smell of roast goose out there in the street; it was no doubt\nNew Year's Eve. Yes, she thought of that!\n\nIn a corner formed by two houses, one of which was a little farther from\nthe street than the other, she sat down and crept close. She had drawn\nup her little feet, but she was still colder, and she did not dare to\ngo home, for she had sold no matches, and she had not a single cent; her\nfather would beat her; and besides, it was cold at home, for they had\nnothing over the them but a roof through which the wind whistled, though\nstraw and rags stopped the largest holes.\n\nHer small hands were quite numb with the cold. Ah! a little match might\ndo her good if she only dared draw one from the bundle, and strike\nit against the wall, and warm her fingers at it. She drew one out.\nR-r-atch! how it spluttered and burned! It was a warm bright flame, like\na little candle, when she held her hands over it; it was a wonderful\nlittle light! It really seemed to the little girl as if she sat before a\ngreat polished stove, with bright brass feet and a brass cover. The\nfire burned so nicely; it warmed her so well,--the little girl was just\nputting out her feet to warm these, too,--when out went the flame; the\nstove was gone;--she sat with only the end of the burned match in her\nhand.\n\nShe struck another; it burned; it gave a light; and where it shone on\nthe wall, the wall became thin like a veil, and she could see through it\ninto the room where a table stood, spread with a white cloth, and with\nchina on it; and the roast goose smoked gloriously, stuffed with apples\nand dried plums. And what was still more splendid to behold, the goose\nhopped down from the dish, and waddled along the floor, with a knife and\nfork in its breast; straight to the little girl he came. Then the match\nwent out, and only the thick, damp, cold wall was before her.\n\nShe lighted another. Then she was sitting under a beautiful Christmas\ntree; it was greater and finer than the one she had seen through the\nglass door at the rich merchant's. Thousands of candles burned upon\nthe green branches, and colored pictures like those in the shop windows\nlooked down upon them. The little girl stretched forth both hands toward\nthem; then the match went out. The Christmas lights went higher and\nhigher. She saw that now they were stars in the sky: one of them fell\nand made a long line of fire.\n\n\u201cNow some one is dying,\u201d said the little girl, for her old grandmother,\nthe only person who had been good to her, but who was now dead, had\nsaid: \u201cWhen a star falls a soul mounts up to God.\u201d\n\nShe rubbed another match against the wall; it became bright again, and\nin the light there stood the old grandmother clear and shining, mild and\nlovely.\n\n\u201cGrandmother!\u201d cried the child. \u201cOh, take me with you! I know you will\ngo when the match is burned out. You will go away like the warm stove,\nthe nice roast goose, and the great glorious Christmas tree!\u201d\n\nAnd she hastily rubbed the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to\nhold her grandmother fast. And the matches burned with such a glow that\nit became brighter than in the middle of the day; grandmother had never\nbeen so large or so beautiful. She took the little girl up in her arms,\nand both flew in the light and the joy so high, so high! and up there\nwas no cold, nor hunger, nor care--they were with God.\n\nBut in the corner by the house sat the little girl, with red cheeks and\nsmiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the Old Year.\nThe New Year's sun rose upon the little body, that sat there with the\nmatches, of which one bundle was burned. She wanted to warm herself,\nthe people said. No one knew what fine things she had seen, and in what\nglory she had gone in with her grandmother to the New Year's Day.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWELVE MONTHS\n\nA SLAV LEGEND\n\nBY ALEXANDER CHODZKO (ADAPTED)\n\nThere was once a widow who had two daughters, Helen, her own child by\nher dead husband, and Marouckla, his daughter by his first wife. She\nloved Helen, but hated the poor orphan because she was far prettier than\nher own daughter.\n\nMarouckla did not think about her good looks, and could not understand\nwhy her stepmother should be angry at the sight of her. The hardest work\nfell to her share. She cleaned out the rooms, cooked, washed, sewed,\nspun, wove, brought in the hay, milked the cow, and all this without any\nhelp.\n\nHelen, meanwhile, did nothing but dress herself in her best clothes and\ngo to one amusement after another.\n\nBut Marouckla never complained. She bore the scoldings and bad temper of\nmother and sister with a smile on her lips, and the patience of a lamb.\nBut this angelic behavior did not soften them. They became even more\ntyrannical and grumpy, for Marouckla grew daily more beautiful, while\nHelen's ugliness increased. So the stepmother determined to get rid of\nMarouckla, for she knew that while she remained, her own daughter would\nhave no suitors. Hunger, every kind of privation, abuse, every means was\nused to make the girl's life miserable. But in spite of it all Marouckla\ngrew ever sweeter and more charming.\n\nOne day in the middle of winter Helen wanted some wood-violets.\n\n\u201cListen,\u201d cried she to Marouckla, \u201cyou must go up the mountain and\nfind me violets. I want some to put in my gown. They must be fresh and\nsweet-scented-do you hear?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, my dear sister, whoever heard of violets blooming in the snow?\u201d\n said the poor orphan.\n\n\u201cYou wretched creature! Do you dare to disobey me?\u201d said Helen. \u201cNot\nanother word. Off with you! If you do not bring me some violets from the\nmountain forest I will kill you.\u201d\n\nThe stepmother also added her threats to those of Helen, and with\nvigorous blows they pushed Marouckla outside and shut the door upon her.\nThe weeping girl made her way to the mountain. The snow lay deep, and\nthere was no trace of any human being. Long she wandered hither and\nthither, and lost herself in the wood. She was hungry, and shivered with\ncold, and prayed to die.\n\nSuddenly she saw a light in the distance, and climbed toward it till she\nreached the top of the mountain. Upon the highest peak burned a large\nfire, surrounded by twelve blocks of stone on which sat twelve strange\nbeings. Of these the first three had white hair, three were not quite so\nold, three were young and handsome, and the rest still younger.\n\nThere they all sat silently looking at the fire. They were the Twelve\nMonths of the Year. The great January was placed higher than the others.\nHis hair and mustache were white as snow, and in his hand he held a\nwand. At first Marouckla was afraid, but after a while her courage\nreturned, and drawing near, she said:--\n\n\u201cMen of God, may I warm myself at your fire? I am chilled by the winter\ncold.\u201d\n\nThe great January raised his head and answered: \u201cWhat brings thee here,\nmy daughter? What dost thou seek?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am looking for violets,\u201d replied the maiden.\n\n\u201cThis is not the season for violets. Dost thou not see the snow\neverywhere?\u201d said January.\n\n\u201cI know well, but my sister Helen and my stepmother have ordered me to\nbring them violets from your mountain. If I return without them they\nwill kill me. I pray you, good shepherds, tell me where they may be\nfound.\u201d\n\nHere the great January arose and went over to the youngest of the\nMonths, and, placing his wand in his hand, said:--\n\n\u201cBrother March, do thou take the highest place.\u201d\n\nMarch obeyed, at the same time waving his wand over the fire.\nImmediately the flames rose toward the sky, the snow began to melt and\nthe trees and shrubs to bud. The grass became green, and from between\nits blades peeped the pale primrose. It was spring, and the meadows were\nblue with violets.\n\n\u201cGather them quickly, Marouckla,\u201d said March.\n\nJoyfully she hastened to pick the flowers, and having soon a large bunch\nshe thanked them and ran home. Helen and the stepmother were amazed at\nthe sight of the flowers, the scent of which filled the house.\n\n\u201cWhere did you find them?\u201d asked Helen.\n\n\u201cUnder the trees on the mountain-side,\u201d said Marouckla.\n\nHelen kept the flowers for herself and her mother. She did not even\nthank her stepsister for the trouble she had taken. The next day she\ndesired Marouckla to fetch her strawberries.\n\n\u201cRun,\u201d said she, \u201cand fetch me strawberries from the mountain. They must\nbe very sweet and ripe.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut whoever heard of strawberries ripening in the snow?\u201d exclaimed\nMarouckla.\n\n\u201cHold your tongue, worm; don't answer me. If I don't have my\nstrawberries I will kill you,\u201d said Helen.\n\nThen the stepmother pushed Marouckla into the yard and bolted the door.\nThe unhappy girl made her way toward the mountain and to the large\nfire round which sat the Twelve Months. The great January occupied the\nhighest place.\n\n\u201cMen of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me,\u201d\n said she, drawing near.\n\nThe great January raised his head and asked: \u201cWhy comest thou here? What\ndost thou seek?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am looking for strawberries,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cWe are in the midst of winter,\u201d replied January, \u201cstrawberries do not\ngrow in the snow.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d said the girl sadly, \u201cbut my sister and stepmother have\nordered me to bring them strawberries. If I do not they will kill me.\nPray, good shepherds, tell me where to find them.\u201d\n\nThe great January arose, crossed over to the Month opposite him, and\nputting the wand in his hand, said: \u201cBrother June, do thou take the\nhighest place.\u201d\n\nJune obeyed, and as he waved his wand over the fire the flames leaped\ntoward the sky. Instantly the snow melted, the earth was covered with\nverdure, trees were clothed with leaves, birds began to sing, and\nvarious flowers blossomed in the forest. It was summer. Under the bushes\nmasses of star-shaped flowers changed into ripening strawberries, and\ninstantly they covered the glade, making it look like a sea of blood.\n\n\u201cGather them quickly, Marouckla,\u201d said June.\n\nJoyfully she thanked the Months, and having filled her apron ran happily\nhome.\n\nHelen and her mother wondered at seeing the strawberries, which filled\nthe house with their delicious fragrance.\n\n\u201cWherever did you find them?\u201d asked Helen crossly.\n\n\u201cRight up among the mountains. Those from under the beech trees are not\nbad,\u201d answered Marouckla.\n\nHelen gave a few to her mother and ate the rest herself. Not one did she\noffer to her stepsister. Being tired of strawberries, on the third day\nshe took a fancy for some fresh, red apples.\n\n\u201cRun, Marouckla,\u201d said she, \u201cand fetch me fresh, red apples from the\nmountain.\u201d\n\n\u201cApples in winter, sister? Why, the trees have neither leaves nor\nfruit!\u201d\n\n\u201cIdle thing, go this minute,\u201d said Helen; \u201cunless you bring back apples\nwe will kill you.\u201d\n\nAs before, the stepmother seized her roughly and turned her out of the\nhouse. The poor girl went weeping up the mountain, across the deep snow,\nand on toward the fire round which were the Twelve Months. Motionless\nthey sat there, and on the highest stone was the great January.\n\n\u201cMen of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me,\u201d\n said she, drawing near.\n\nThe great January raised his head. \u201cWhy comest thou here? What does thou\nseek?\u201d asked he.\n\n\u201cI am come to look for red apples,\u201d replied Marouckla.\n\n\u201cBut this is winter, and not the season for red apples,\u201d observed the\ngreat January.\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d answered the girl, \u201cbut my sister and stepmother sent me to\nfetch red apples from the mountain. If I return without them they will\nkill me.\u201d\n\nThereupon the great January arose and went over to one of the elderly\nMonths, to whom he handed the wand saying:--\n\n\u201cBrother September, do thou take the highest place.\u201d\n\nSeptember moved to the highest stone, and waved his wand over the fire.\nThere was a flare of red flames, the snow disappeared, but the fading\nleaves which trembled on the trees were sent by a cold northeast wind in\nyellow masses to the glade. Only a few flowers of autumn were visible.\nAt first Marouckla looked in vain for red apples. Then she espied a tree\nwhich grew at a great height, and from the branches of this hung the\nbright, red fruit. September ordered her to gather some quickly. The\ngirl was delighted and shook the tree. First one apple fell, then\nanother.\n\n\u201cThat is enough,\u201d said September; \u201churry home.\u201d\n\nThanking the Months she returned joyfully. Helen and the stepmother\nwondered at seeing the fruit.\n\n\u201cWhere did you gather them?\u201d asked the stepsister.\n\n\u201cThere are more on the mountain-top,\u201d answered Marouckla.\n\n\u201cThen, why did you not bring more?\u201d said Helen angrily. \u201cYou must have\neaten them on your way back, you wicked girl.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, dear sister, I have not even tasted them,\u201d said Marouckla. \u201cI shook\nthe tree twice. One apple fell each time. Some shepherds would not allow\nme to shake it again, but told me to return home.\u201d\n\n\u201cListen, mother,\u201d said Helen. \u201cGive me my cloak. I will fetch some more\napples myself. I shall be able to find the mountain and the tree. The\nshepherds may cry 'Stop!' but I will not leave go till I have shaken\ndown all the apples.\u201d\n\nIn spite of her mother's advice she wrapped herself in her pelisse,\nput on a warm hood, and took the road to the mountain. Snow covered\neverything. Helen lost herself and wandered hither and thither. After\na while she saw a light above her, and, following in its direction,\nreached the mountain-top.\n\nThere was the flaming fire, the twelve blocks of stone, and the Twelve\nMonths. At first she was frightened and hesitated; then she came nearer\nand warmed her hands. She did not ask permission, nor did she speak one\npolite word.\n\n\u201cWhat hath brought thee here? What dost thou seek?\u201d said the great\nJanuary severely.\n\n\u201cI am not obliged to tell you, old graybeard. What business is it of\nyours?\u201d she replied disdainfully, turning her back on the fire and going\ntoward the forest.\n\nThe great January frowned, and waved his wand over his head. Instantly\nthe sky became covered with clouds, the fire went down, snow fell in\nlarge flakes, an icy wind howled round the mountain. Amid the fury of\nthe storm Helen stumbled about. The pelisse failed to warm her benumbed\nlimbs.\n\nThe mother kept on waiting for her. She looked from the window, she\nwatched from the doorstep, but her daughter came not. The hours passed\nslowly, but Helen did not return.\n\n\u201cCan it be that the apples have charmed her from her home?\u201d thought the\nmother. Then she clad herself in hood and pelisse, and went in search of\nher daughter. Snow fell in huge masses. It covered all things. For long\nshe wandered hither and thither, the icy northeast wind whistled in the\nmountain, but no voice answered her cries.\n\nDay after day Marouckla worked, and prayed, and waited, but neither\nstepmother nor sister returned. They had been frozen to death on the\nmountain.\n\nThe inheritance of a small house, a field, and a cow fell to Marouckla.\nIn course of time an honest farmer came to share them with her, and\ntheir lives were happy and peaceful.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MAIL-COACH PASSENGERS\n\nBY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (ADAPTED)\n\nIt was bitterly cold. The sky glittered with stars, and not a breeze\nstirred. \u201cBump,\u201d--an old pot was thrown at a neighbor's door; and,\n\u201cBang! Bang!\u201d went the guns, for they were greeting the New Year.\n\nIt was New Year's Eve, and the church clock was striking twelve.\n\u201cTan-ta-ra-ra, tan-ta-ra-ra!\u201d sounded the horn, and the mail-coach came\nlumbering up. The clumsy vehicle stopped at the gate of the town; all\nthe places had been taken, for there were twelve passengers in the\ncoach.\n\n\u201cHurrah! Hurrah!\u201d cried the people in the town; for in every house the\nNew Year was being welcomed; and, as the clock struck, they stood up,\nthe full glasses in their hands, to drink success to the newcomer. \u201cA\nhappy New Year,\u201d was the cry; \u201ca pretty wife, plenty of money, and no\nsorrow or care!\u201d\n\nThe wish passed round, and the glasses clashed together till they rang\nagain; while before the town-gate the mail-coach stopped with the twelve\nstrange passengers. And who were these strangers? Each of them had his\npassport and his luggage with him; they even brought presents for me,\nand for you, and for all the people in the town. Who were they? What did\nthey want? And what did they bring with them?\n\n\u201cGood-morning!\u201d they cried to the sentry at the town-gate.\n\n\u201cGood-morning,\u201d replied the sentry, for the clock had struck twelve.\n\n\u201cYour name and profession?\u201d asked the sentry of the one who alighted\nfirst from the carriage.\n\n\u201cSee for yourself in the passport,\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cI am myself!\u201d--and a famous fellow he looked, arrayed in bearskin\nand fur boots. \u201cCome to me to-morrow, and I will give you a New Year's\npresent. I throw shillings and pence among the people. I give balls\nevery night, no less than thirty-one; indeed, that is the highest number\nI can spare for balls. My ships are often frozen in, but in my offices\nit is warm and comfortable. MY NAME IS JANUARY. I am a merchant, and I\ngenerally bring my accounts with me.\u201d\n\nThen the second alighted. He seemed a merry fellow. He was a director of\na theater, a manager of masked balls, and a leader of all the amusements\nwe can imagine. His luggage consisted of a great cask.\n\n\u201cWe'll dance the bung out of the cask at carnival-time,\u201d said he. \u201cI'll\nprepare a merry tune for you and for myself, too. Unfortunately I have\nnot long to live,--the shortest time, in fact, of my whole family,--only\ntwenty-eight days. Sometimes they pop me in a day extra; but I trouble\nmyself very little about that. Hurrah!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must not shout so,\u201d said the sentry.\n\n\u201cCertainly I may shout,\u201d retorted the man.\n\n\u201cI'm Prince Carnival, traveling under THE NAME OF FEBRUARY.\u201d\n\nThe third now got out. He looked the personification of fasting; but\nhe carried his nose very high, for he was a weather prophet. In his\nbuttonhole he wore a little bunch of violets, but they were very small.\n\n\u201cMARCH, MARCH!\u201d the fourth passenger called after him, slapping him\non the shoulder, \u201cdon't you smell something good? Make haste into the\nguard-room, they are feasting in there. I can smell it already! FORWARD,\nMASTER MARCH!\u201d\n\nBut it was not true. The speaker only wanted to make an APRIL FOOL of\nhim, for with that fun the fourth stranger generally began his career.\nHe looked very jovial, and did little work.\n\n\u201cIf the world were only more settled!\u201d said he; \u201cbut sometimes I'm\nobliged to be in a good humor, and sometimes a bad one. I can laugh or\ncry according to circumstances. I have my summer wardrobe in this box\nhere, but it would be very foolish to put it on now!\u201d\n\nAfter him a lady stepped out of the coach. SHE CALLED HERSELF MISS MAY.\nShe wore a summer dress and overshoes. Her dress was light green, and\nthere were anemones in her hair. She was so scented with wild thyme that\nit made the sentry sneeze.\n\n\u201cYour health, and God bless you!\u201d was her greeting.\n\nHow pretty she was! and such a singer! Not a theater singer nor a\nballad-singer; no, but a singer of the woods. For she wandered through\nthe gay, green forest, and had a concert there for her own amusement.\n\n\u201cNow comes the young lady,\u201d said those in the coach; and out stepped a\nyoung dame, delicate, proud, and pretty. IT WAS MISTRESS JUNE. In her\nservice people become lazy and fond of sleeping for hours. She gives\na feast on the longest day of the year, that there may be time for her\nguests to partake of the numerous dishes at her table. Indeed, she keeps\nher own carriage, but still she travels by the mail-coach with the rest\nbecause she wishes to show that she is not proud.\n\nBut she was not without a protector; her younger brother, JULY, was with\nher. He was a plump, young fellow, clad in summer garments, and wearing\na straw hat. He had very little luggage because it was so cumbersome in\nthe great heat. He had, however, swimming-trousers with him, which are\nnothing to carry.\n\nThen came the mother herself, MADAME AUGUST, a wholesale dealer\nin fruit, proprietress of a large number of fish-ponds, and a\nland-cultivator. She was fat and warm, yet she could use her hands well,\nand would herself carry out food to the laborers in the field. After\nwork, came the recreations, dancing and playing in the greenwood, and\nthe \u201charvest home.\u201d She was a thorough housewife.\n\nAfter her a man stepped out of the coach. He is a painter, a master of\ncolors, and is NAMED SEPTEMBER. The forest on his arrival has to change\nits colors, and how beautiful are those he chooses! The woods glow with\nred, and gold, and brown. This great master painter can whistle like a\nblackbird. There he stood with his color-pot in his hand, and that was\nthe whole of his luggage.\n\nA landowner followed, who in the month for sowing seed attends to his\nploughing and is fond of field sports. SQUIRE OCTOBER brought his dog\nand his gun with him, and had nuts in his game-bag.\n\n\u201cCrack! Crack!\u201d He had a great deal of luggage, even a plough. He spoke\nof farming, but what he said could scarcely be heard for the coughing\nand sneezing of his neighbor.\n\nIt WAS NOVEMBER, who coughed violently as he got out. He had a cold, but\nhe said he thought it would leave him when he went out woodcutting, for\nhe had to supply wood to the whole parish. He spent his evenings making\nskates, for he knew, he said, that in a few weeks they would be needed.\n\nAt length the last passenger made her appearance,--OLD MOTHER DECEMBER!\nThe dame was very aged, but her eyes glistened like two stars. She\ncarried on her arm a flower-pot, in which a little fir tree was growing.\n\u201cThis tree I shall guard and cherish,\u201d she said, \u201cthat it may grow large\nby Christmas Eve, and reach from the floor to the ceiling, to be adorned\nwith lighted candles, golden apples, and toys. I shall sit by the\nfireplace, and bring a story-book out of my pocket, and read aloud to\nall the little children. Then the toys on the tree will become alive,\nand the little waxen Angel at the top will spread out his wings of gold\nleaf, and fly down from his green perch. He will kiss every child in\nthe room, yes, and all the little children who stand out in the street\nsinging a carol about the 'Star of Bethlehem.'\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, now the coach may drive away,\u201d said the sentry; \u201cwe will keep all\nthe twelve months here with us.\u201d\n\n\u201cFirst let the twelve come to me,\u201d said the Captain on duty, \u201cone after\nanother. The passports I will keep here, each of them for one month.\nWhen that has passed, I shall write the behavior of each stranger on his\npassport. MR. JANUARY, have the goodness to come here.\u201d\n\nAnd MR. JANUARY stepped forward.\n\nWhen a year has passed, I think I shall be able to tell you what the\ntwelve passengers have brought to you, to me, and to all of us. Just\nnow I do not know, and probably even they do not know themselves, for we\nlive in strange times.\n\n\n\n\nLINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY\n\n(FEBRUARY 12)\n\n\n\n\nHE RESCUES THE BIRDS\n\nBY NOAH BROOKS (ADAPTED)\n\nOnce, while riding through the country with some other lawyers, Lincoln\nwas missed from the party, and was seen loitering near a thicket of wild\nplum trees where the men had stopped a short time before to water their\nhorses.\n\n\u201cWhere is Lincoln?\u201d asked one of the lawyers.\n\n\u201cWhen I saw him last,\u201d answered another, \u201che had caught two young birds\nthat the wind had blown out of their nest, and was hunting for the nest\nto put them back again.\u201d\n\nAs Lincoln joined them, the lawyers rallied him on his\ntender-heartedness, and he said:--\n\n\u201cI could not have slept unless I had restored those little birds to\ntheir mother.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nLINCOLN AND THE LITTLE GIRL\n\nBY CHARLES W. MOORES\n\nIn the old days, when Lincoln was one of the leading lawyers of the\nState, he noticed a little girl of ten who stood beside a trunk in front\nof her home crying bitterly. He stopped to learn what was wrong, and was\ntold that she was about to miss a long-promised visit to Decatur because\nthe wagon had not come for her.\n\n\u201cYou needn't let that trouble you,\u201d was his cheering reply. \u201cJust come\nalong with me and we shall make it all right.\u201d\n\nLifting the trunk upon his shoulder, and taking the little girl by the\nhand, he went through the streets of Springfield, a half-mile to the\nrailway station, put her and her trunk on the train, and sent her away\nwith a happiness in her heart that is still there.\n\n\n\n\nTRAINING FOR THE PRESIDENCY\n\nBY ORISON SWETT MARDEN\n\n\u201cI meant to take good care of your book, Mr. Crawford,\u201d said the boy,\n\u201cbut I've damaged it a good deal without intending to, and now I want to\nmake it right with you. What shall I do to make it good?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, what happened to it, Abe?\u201d asked the rich farmer, as he took the\ncopy of Weems's \u201cLife of Washington\u201d which he had lent young Lincoln,\nand looked at the stained leaves and warped binding. \u201cIt looks as if it\nhad been out through all last night's storm. How came you to forget, and\nleave it out to soak?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was this way, Mr. Crawford,\u201d replied Abe. \u201cI sat up late to read\nit, and when I went to bed, I put it away carefully in my bookcase, as\nI call it, a little opening between two logs in the wall of our cabin. I\ndreamed about General Washington all night. When I woke up I took it out\nto read a page or two before I did the chores, and you can't imagine how\nI felt when I found it in this shape. It seems that the mud-daubing\nhad got out of the weather side of that crack, and the rain must have\ndripped on it three or four hours before I took it out. I'm sorry, Mr.\nCrawford, and want to fix it up with you, if you can tell me how, for I\nhave not got money to pay for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Mr. Crawford, \u201ccome and shuck corn three days, and the book\n's yours.\u201d\n\nHad Mr. Crawford told young Abraham Lincoln that he had fallen heir to\na fortune the boy could hardly have felt more elated. Shuck corn only\nthree days, and earn the book that told all about his greatest hero!\n\n\u201cI don't intend to shuck corn, split rails, and the like always,\u201d he\ntold Mrs. Crawford, after he had read the volume. \u201cI'm going to fit\nmyself for a profession.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, what do you want to be, now?\u201d asked Mrs. Crawford in surprise.\n\n\u201cOh, I'll be President!\u201d said Abe with a smile.\n\n\u201cYou'd make a pretty President with all your tricks and jokes, now,\nwouldn't you?\u201d said the farmer's wife.\n\n\u201cOh, I'll study and get ready,\u201d replied the boy, \u201cand then maybe the\nchance will come.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nWHY LINCOLN WAS CALLED \u201cHONEST ABE\u201d\n\nBY NOAH BROOKS\n\nIn managing the country store, as in everything that he undertook for\nothers, Lincoln did his very best. He was honest, civil, ready to do\nanything that should encourage customers to come to the place, full of\npleasantries, patient, and alert.\n\nOn one occasion, finding late at night, when he counted over his cash,\nthat he had taken a few cents from a customer more than was due,\nhe closed the store, and walked a long distance to make good the\ndeficiency.\n\nAt another time, discovering on the scales in the morning a weight with\nwhich he had weighed out a package of tea for a woman the night before,\nhe saw that he had given her too little for her money. He weighed out\nwhat was due, and carried it to her, much to the surprise of the woman,\nwho had not known that she was short in the amount of her purchase.\n\nInnumerable incidents of this sort are related of Lincoln, and we should\nnot have space to tell of the alertness with which he sprang to protect\ndefenseless women from insult, or feeble children from tyranny; for in\nthe rude community in which he lived, the rights of the defenseless were\nnot always respected as they should have been. There were bullies then,\nas now.\n\n\n\n\nA STRANGER AT FIVE-POINTS\n\n(ADAPTED)\n\nOne afternoon in February, 1860, when the Sunday School of the\nFive-Point House of Industry in New York was assembled, the teacher\nsaw a most remarkable man enter the room and take his place among the\nothers. This stranger was tall, his frame was gaunt and sinewy, his head\npowerful, with determined features overcast by a gentle melancholy.\n\nHe listened with fixed attention to the exercises. His face expressed\nsuch genuine interest that the teacher, approaching him, suggested that\nhe might have something to say to the children.\n\nThe stranger accepted the invitation with evident pleasure. Coming\nforward, he began to speak and at once fascinated every child in the\nroom. His language was beautiful yet simple, his tones were musical, and\nhe spoke with deep feeling.\n\nThe faces of the boys and girls drooped sadly as he uttered warnings,\nand then brightened with joy as he spoke cheerful words of promise. Once\nor twice he tried to close his remarks, but the children shouted: \u201cGo\non! Oh! do go on!\u201d and he was forced to continue.\n\nAt last he finished his talk and was leaving the room quietly when the\nteacher begged to know his name.\n\n\u201cAbra'm Lincoln, of Illinois,\u201d was the modest response.\n\n\n\n\nA SOLOMON COME TO JUDGMENT\n\nBY CHARLES W. MOORES\n\nLincoln's practical sense and his understanding of human nature enabled\nhim to save the life of the son of his old Clary's Grove friend, Jack\nArmstrong, who was on trial for murder. Lincoln, learning of it, went\nto the old mother who had been kind to him in the days of his boyhood\npoverty, and promised her that he would get her boy free.\n\nThe witnesses were sure that Armstrong was guilty, and one of them\ndeclared that he had seen the fatal blow struck. It was late at night,\nhe said, and the light of the full moon had made it possible for him to\nsee the crime committed. Lincoln, on cross-examination, asked him only\nquestions enough to make the jury see that it was the full moon that\nmade it possible for the witness to see what occurred; got him to say\ntwo or three times that he was sure of it, and seemed to give up any\nfurther effort to save the boy.\n\nBut when the evidence was finished, and Lincoln's time came to make his\nargument, he called for an almanac, which the clerk of the court had\nready for him, and handed it to the jury. They saw at once that on the\nnight of the murder there was no moon at all. They were satisfied that\nthe witness had told what was not true. Lincoln's case was won.\n\n\n\n\nGEORGE PICKETT'S FRIEND\n\nBY CHARLES W. MOORES\n\nGeorge Pickett, who had known Lincoln in Illinois, years before, joined\nthe Southern army, and by his conspicuous bravery and ability had become\none of the great generals of the Confederacy. Toward the close of the\nwar, when a large part of Virginia had fallen into the possession of the\nUnion army, the President called at General Pickett's Virginia home.\n\nThe general's wife, with her baby on her arm, met him at the door. She\nherself has told the story for us.\n\n\u201c'Is this George Pickett's home?' he asked.\n\n\u201cWith all the courage and dignity I could muster, I replied: 'Yes, and I\nam his wife, and this is his baby.'\n\n\u201c'I am Abraham Lincoln.'\n\n\u201c'The President!' I gasped. I had never seen him, but I knew the intense\nlove and reverence with which my soldier always spoke of him.\n\n\u201cThe stranger shook his head and replied: 'No; Abraham Lincoln, George's\nold friend.'\n\n\u201cThe baby pushed away from me and reached out his hands to Mr. Lincoln,\nwho took him in his arms. As he did so an expression of rapt, almost\ndivine tenderness and love lighted up the sad face. It was a look that\nI have never seen on any other face. The baby opened his mouth wide and\ninsisted upon giving his father's friend a dewy kiss.\n\n\u201cAs Mr. Lincoln gave the little one back to me he said: 'Tell your\nfather, the rascal, that I forgive him for the sake of your bright\neyes.'\u201d\n\n\n\n\nLINCOLN THE LAWYER\n\nBY Z. A. MUDGE (ADAPTED)\n\nHe delighted to advocate the cases of those whom he knew to be wronged,\nbut he would not defend the cause of the guilty. If he discovered in the\ncourse of a trial that he was on the wrong side, he lost all interest,\nand ceased to make any exertion.\n\nOnce, while engaged in a prosecution, he discovered that his client's\ncause was not a good one, and he refused to make the plea. His\nassociate, who was less scrupulous, made the plea and obtained a\ndecision in their favor. The fee was nine hundred dollars, half of which\nwas tendered to Mr. Lincoln, but he refused to accept a single cent of\nit.\n\nHis honesty was strongly illustrated by the way he kept his accounts\nwith his law-partner. When he had taken a fee in the latter's absence,\nhe put one half of it into his own pocket, and laid the other half\ncarefully away, labeling it \u201cBilly,\u201d the name by which he familiarly\naddressed his partner. When asked why he did not make a record of the\namount and, for the time being, use the whole, Mr. Lincoln answered:\n\u201cBecause I promised my mother never to use money belonging to another\nperson.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE COURAGE OF HIS CONVICTIONS\n\n(ADAPTED)\n\nMr. Lincoln made the great speech of his famous senatorial campaign at\nSpringfield, Illinois. The convention before which he spoke consisted\nof a thousand delegates together with the crowd that had gathered with\nthem.\n\nHis speech was carefully prepared. Every sentence was guarded and\nemphatic. It has since become famous as \u201cThe Divided House\u201d speech.\nBefore entering the hall where it was to be delivered, he stepped into\nthe office of his law-partner, Mr. Herndon, and, locking the door, so\nthat their interview might be private, took his manuscript from\nhis pocket, and read one of the opening sentences: \u201cI believe this\ngovernment cannot endure permanently, half slave and half free.\u201d\n\nMr. Herndon remarked that the sentiment was true, but suggested that it\nmight not be GOOD POLICY to utter it at that time.\n\nMr. Lincoln replied with great firmness: \u201cNo matter about the POLICY. It\nis TRUE, and the nation is entitled to it. The proposition has been true\nfor six thousand years, and I will deliver it as it is written.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nMR. LINCOLN AND THE BIBLE\n\nBY Z. A. MUDGE (ADAPTED)\n\nA visitor in Washington once had an appointment to see Mr. Lincoln\nat five o'clock in the morning. The gentleman made a hasty toilet\nand presented himself at a quarter of five in the waiting-room of the\nPresident. He asked the usher if he could see Mr. Lincoln.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cBut I have an engagement to meet him this morning,\u201d answered the\nvisitor.\n\n\u201cAt what hour?\u201d asked the usher.\n\n\u201cAt five o'clock.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, sir, he will see you at five.\u201d\n\nThe visitor waited patiently, walking to and fro for a few minutes, when\nhe heard a voice as if in grave conversation.\n\n\u201cWho is talking in the next room?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cIt is the President, sir,\u201d said the usher, who then explained that\nit was Mr. Lincoln's custom to spend every morning from four to five\nreading the Scriptures, and praying.\n\n\n\n\nHIS SPRINGFIELD FAREWELL ADDRESS\n\nIt was on the morning of February 11, 1861, that the President-elect,\ntogether with his family and a small party of friends, bade adieu to the\ncity of Springfield, which, alas! he was never to see again.\n\nA large throng of Springfield citizens assembled at the railway station\nto see the departure, and before the train left Mr. Lincoln addressed\nthem in the following words:--\n\n\u201cMY FRIENDS: No one, not in my position, can appreciate the sadness I\nfeel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I have\nlived more than a quarter of a century; here my children were born, and\nhere one of them lies buried. I know not how soon I shall see you again.\nA duty devolves upon me which is, perhaps, greater than that which has\ndevolved upon any other man since the days of Washington. He never would\nhave succeeded except by the aid of Divine Providence, upon which he at\nall times relied. I feel that I cannot succeed without the same Divine\naid which sustained him, and on the same Almighty Being I place my\nreliance for support; and I hope you, my friends, will all pray that I\nmay receive that Divine assistance, without which I cannot succeed,\nbut with which success is certain. Again I bid you an affectionate\nfarewell.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nSAINT VALENTINE'S DAY\n\n(FEBRUARY 14)\n\nSAINT VALENTINE\n\nThe good Saint Valentine was a priest at Rome in the days of Claudius\nII. He and Saint Marius aided the Christian martyrs, and for this kind\ndeed Saint Valentine was apprehended and dragged before the Prefect of\nRome, who condemned him to be beaten to death with clubs and to have his\nhead cut off. He suffered martyrdom on the 14th day of February, about\nthe year 270.\n\nAt that time it was the custom in Rome, a very ancient custom, indeed,\nto celebrate in the month of February the Lupercalia, feasts in honor of\na heathen god.\n\nOn these occasions, amidst a variety of pagan ceremonies, the names of\nyoung women were placed in a box, from which they were drawn by the men\nas chance directed.\n\nThe pastors of the early Christian Church in Rome endeavored to do away\nwith the pagan element in these feasts by substituting the names of\nsaints for those of maidens. And as the Lupercalia began about the\nmiddle of February, the pastors appear to have chosen Saint Valentine's\nDay for the celebration of this new feast.\n\nSo it seems that the custom of young men choosing maidens for\nvalentines, or saints as patrons for the coming year, arose in this\nwise.\n\n\n\n\nA PRISONER'S VALENTINE\n\nBY MILLICENT OLMSTED (ADAPTED)\n\nCharles, Duke of Orleans, who was taken prisoner at the battle of\nAgincourt in 1415, and detained in England twenty-five years, was the\nauthor of the earliest known written valentines. He left about sixty of\nthem. They were written during his confinement in the Tower of London,\nand are still to be seen among the royal papers in the British Museum.\n\nOne of his valentines reads as follows:--\n\n    \u201cWilt thou be mine? dear Love, reply--\n      Sweetly consent or else deny.\n      Whisper softly, none shall know,\n      Wilt thou be mine, Love?--aye or no?\n\n    \u201cSpite of Fortune, we may be\n      Happy by one word from thee.\n      Life flies swiftly--ere it go\n      Wilt thou be mine, Love?--aye or no?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nA GIRL'S VALENTINE CHARM\n\nAS TOLD BY HERSELF\n\n(FROM THE CONNOISSEUR, 1775)\n\nLast Friday was Valentine's Day, and I'll tell you what I did the night\nbefore. I got five bay leaves, and pinned four of them to the four\ncorners of my pillow, and the fifth to the middle; and then if I dreamt\nof my sweetheart, Betty said we would be married before the year was\nout.\n\nBut to make it more sure, I boiled an egg hard, and took out the yolk,\nand filled it with salt, and when I went to bed ate it, shell and all,\nwithout speaking or drinking after it.\n\nWe also wrote our lovers' names upon bits of paper, and rolled them up\nin clay and put them into water; and the first that rose up was to be\nour valentine. Would you think it? Mr. Blossom was my man, and I lay\nabed and shut my eyes all the morning, till he came to our house, for I\nwould not have seen another man before him for all the world.\n\n\n\n\nMR. PEPYS HIS VALENTINE\n\nAS RELATED BY HIMSELF IN 1666\n\n(ADAPTED)\n\nThis morning, came up to my wife's bedside, I being up dressing myself,\nlittle Will Mercer, to be her valentine; and brought her name writ upon\nblue paper in gold letters, done by himself, very pretty; and we were\nboth well pleased with it.\n\nBut I am also this year my wife's valentine; and it will cost me five\npounds; but that I must have laid out if we had not been valentines.\n\nI find also that Mrs. Pierce's little girl is my valentine, she having\ndrawn me; which I am not sorry for, it easing me of something more that\nI must have given to others.\n\nBut here I do first observe the fashion of drawing of mottoes as well as\nnames; so that Pierce, who drew my wife, did draw also a motto, and this\ngirl drew another for me. What mine was I have forgot, but my wife's\nwas: \u201cMost virtuous and most fair,\u201d which, as it may be used, or an\nanagram made upon each name, might be; very pretty.\n\n\n\n\nCUPID AND PSYCHE\n\nBY JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY\n\nTHE ENCHANTED PALACE\n\nOnce upon a time, through that Destiny that overrules the gods, Love\nhimself gave up his immortal heart to a mortal maiden. And thus it came\nto pass:--\n\nThere was a certain king who had three beautiful daughters. The two\nelder married princes of great renown; but Psyche, the youngest, was so\nradiantly fair that no suitor seemed worthy of her. People thronged\nto see her pass through the city, and sang hymns in her praise, while\nstrangers took her for the very goddess of beauty herself.\n\nThis angered Venus, and she resolved to cast down her earthly rival. One\nday, therefore, she called hither her son, Love (Cupid, some name him),\nand bade him sharpen his weapons. He is an archer more to be dreaded\nthan Apollo, for Apollo's arrows take life, but Love's bring joy or\nsorrow for a whole life long.\n\n\u201cCome, Love,\u201d said Venus. \u201cThere is a mortal maid who robs me of my\nhonors in yonder city. Avenge your mother. Wound this precious Psyche,\nand let her fall in love with some churlish creature mean in the eyes of\nall men.\u201d\n\nCupid made ready his weapons, and flew down to earth invisibly. At that\nmoment Psyche was asleep in her chamber; but he touched her heart with\nhis golden arrow of love, and she opened her eyes so suddenly that he\nstarted (forgetting that he was invisible), and wounded himself with\nhis own shaft. Heedless of the hurt, moved only by the loveliness of the\nmaiden, he hastened to pour over her locks the healing joy that he ever\nkept by him, undoing all his work. Back to her dream the princess went,\nunshadowed by any thought of love. But Cupid, not so light of heart,\nreturned to the heavens, saying not a word of what had passed.\n\nVenus waited long; then, seeing that Psyche's heart had somehow escaped\nlove, she sent a spell upon the maiden. From that time, lovely as she\nwas, not a suitor came to woo; and her parents, who desired to see her a\nqueen at least, made a journey to the Oracle, and asked counsel.\n\nSaid the voice: \u201cThe Princess Psyche shall never wed a mortal. She shall\nbe given to one who waits for her on yonder mountain; he overcomes gods\nand men.\u201d\n\nAt this terrible sentence the poor parents were half-distraught, and\nthe people gave themselves up to grief at the fate in store for their\nbeloved princess. Psyche alone bowed to her destiny. \u201cWe have angered\nVenus unwittingly,\u201d she said, \u201cand all for sake of me, heedless maiden\nthat I am! Give me up, therefore, dear father and mother. If I atone, it\nmay be that the city will prosper once more.\u201d\n\nSo she besought them, until, after many unavailing denials, the parents\nconsented; and with a great company of people they led Psyche up\nthe mountain,--as an offering to the monster of whom the Oracle had\nspoken,--and left her there alone.\n\nFull of courage, yet in a secret agony of grief, she watched her kindred\nand her people wind down the mountain-path, too sad to look back, until\nthey were lost to sight. Then, indeed, she wept, but a sudden breeze\ndrew near, dried her tears, and caressed her hair, seeming to murmur\ncomfort. In truth, it was Zephyr, the kindly West Wind, come to befriend\nher; and as she took heart, feeling some benignant presence, he lifted\nher in his arms, and carried her on wings as even as a sea-gull's, over\nthe crest of the fateful mountain and into a valley below. There he left\nher, resting on a bank of hospitable grass, and there the princess fell\nasleep.\n\nWhen she awoke, it was near sunset. She looked about her for some sign\nof the monster's approach; she wondered, then, if her grievous trial had\nbeen but a dream. Near by she saw a sheltering forest, whose young\ntrees seemed to beckon as one maid beckons to another; and eager for the\nprotection of the dryads, she went thither.\n\nThe call of running waters drew her farther and farther, till she\ncame out upon an open place, where there was a wide pool. A fountain\nfluttered gladly in the midst of it, and beyond there stretched a white\npalace wonderful to see. Coaxed by the bright promise of the place, she\ndrew near, and, seeing no one, entered softly. It was all kinglier than\nher father's home, and as she stood in wonder and awe, soft airs stirred\nabout her. Little by little the silence grew murmurous like the woods,\nand one voice, sweeter than the rest, took words. \u201cAll that you see is\nyours, gentle high princess,\u201d it said. \u201cFear nothing; only command us,\nfor we are here to serve you.\u201d\n\nFull of amazement and delight, Psyche followed the voice from hall to\nhall, and through the lordly rooms, beautiful with everything that could\ndelight a young princess. No pleasant thing was lacking. There was even\na pool, brightly tiled and fed with running waters, where she bathed her\nweary limbs; and after she had put on the new and beautiful raiment that\nlay ready for her, she sat down to break her fast, waited upon and sung\nto by the unseen spirits.\n\nSurely he whom the Oracle had called her husband was no monster, but\nsome beneficent power, invisible like all the rest. When daylight waned\nhe came, and his voice, the beautiful voice of a god, inspired her to\ntrust her strange destiny and to look and long for his return. Often\nshe begged him to stay with her through the day, that she might see his\nface; but this he would not grant.\n\n\u201cNever doubt me, dearest Psyche,\u201d said he. \u201cPerhaps you would fear if\nyou saw me, and love is all I ask. There is a necessity that keeps me\nhidden now. Only believe.\u201d\n\nSo for many days Psyche was content; but when she grew used to\nhappiness, she thought once more of her parents mourning her as lost,\nand of her sisters who shared the lot of mortals while she lived as a\ngoddess. One night she told her husband of these regrets, and begged\nthat her sisters at least might come to see her. He sighed, but did not\nrefuse.\n\n\u201cZephyr shall bring them hither,\u201d said he. And on the following morning,\nswift as a bird, the West Wind came over the crest of the high mountain\nand down into the enchanted valley, bearing her two sisters.\n\nThey greeted Psyche with joy and amazement, hardly knowing how they had\ncome hither. But when this fairest of the sisters led them through her\npalace and showed them all the treasures that were hers, envy grew in\ntheir hearts and choked their old love. Even while they sat at feast\nwith her, they grew more and more bitter; and hoping to find some little\nflaw in her good fortune, they asked a thousand questions.\n\n\u201cWhere is your husband?\u201d said they. \u201cAnd why is he not here with you?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d stammered Psyche. \u201cAll the day long--he is gone, hunting upon the\nmountains.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what does he look like?\u201d they asked; and Psyche could find no\nanswer.\n\nWhen they learned that she had never seen him, they laughed her faith to\nscorn.\n\n\u201cPoor Psyche,\u201d they said. \u201cYou are walking in a dream. Wake, before it\nis too late. Have you forgotten what the Oracle decreed,--that you were\ndestined for a dreadful creature, the fear of gods and men? And are\nyou deceived by this show of kindliness? We have come to warn you. The\npeople told us, as we came over the mountain, that your husband is\na dragon, who feeds you well for the present, that he may feast the\nbetter, some day soon. What is it that you trust? Good words! But only\ntake a dagger some night, and when the monster is asleep go, light a\nlamp, and look at him. You can put him to death easily, and all his\nriches will be yours--and ours.\u201d\n\nPsyche heard this wicked plan with horror. Nevertheless, after her\nsisters were gone, she brooded over what they had said, not seeing their\nevil intent; and she came to find some wisdom in their words. Little\nby little, suspicion ate, like a moth, into her lovely mind; and\nat nightfall, in shame and fear, she hid a lamp and a dagger in her\nchamber. Towards midnight, when her husband was fast asleep, up she\nrose, hardly daring to breathe; and coming softly to his side, she\nuncovered the lamp to see some horror.\n\nBut there the youngest of the gods lay sleeping,--most beautiful, most\nirresistible of all immortals. His hair shone golden as the sun, his\nface was radiant as dear Springtime, and from his shoulders sprang two\nrainbow wings.\n\nPoor Psyche was overcome with self-reproach. As she leaned towards him,\nfilled with worship, her trembling hands held the lamp ill, and some\nburning oil fell upon Love's shoulder and awakened him.\n\nHe opened his eyes, to see at once his bride and the dark suspicion in\nher heart.\n\n\u201cO doubting Psyche!\u201d he exclaimed with sudden grief,--and then he flew\naway, out of the window.\n\nWild with sorrow, Psyche tried to follow, but she fell to the ground\ninstead. When she recovered her senses, she stared about her. She was\nalone, and the place was beautiful no longer. Garden and palace had\nvanished with Love.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TRIAL OF PSYCHE:\n\n\nOver mountains and valleys Psyche journeyed alone until she came to the\ncity where her two envious sisters lived with the princes whom they had\nmarried. She stayed with them only long enough to tell the story of her\nunbelief and its penalty. Then she set out again to search for Love.\n\nAs she wandered one day, travel-worn but not hopeless, she saw a lofty\npalace on a hill near by, and she turned her steps thither. The place\nseemed deserted. Within the hall she saw no human being,--only heaps\nof grain, loose ears of corn half torn from the husk, wheat and barley,\nalike scattered in confusion on the floor. Without delay, she set to\nwork binding the sheaves together and gathering the scattered ears of\ncorn in seemly wise, as a princess would wish to see them. While she\nwas in the midst of her task, a voice startled her, and she looked up\nto behold Demeter herself, the goddess of the harvest, smiling upon her\nwith good will.\n\n\u201cDear Psyche,\u201d said Demeter, \u201cyou are worthy of happiness, and you may\nfind it yet. But since you have displeased Venus, go to her and ask her\nfavor. Perhaps your patience will win her pardon.\u201d\n\nThese motherly words gave Psyche heart, and she reverently took leave of\nthe goddess and set out for the temple of Venus. Most humbly she offered\nup her prayer, but Venus could not look at her earthly beauty without\nanger.\n\n\u201cVain girl,\u201d said she, \u201cperhaps you have come to make amends for the\nwound you dealt your husband; you shall do so. Such clever people can\nalways find work!\u201d\n\nThen she led Psyche into a great chamber heaped high with mingled grain,\nbeans, and lentils (the food of her doves), and bade her separate them\nall and have them ready in seemly fashion by night. Heracles would have\nbeen helpless before such a vexatious task; and poor Psyche, left alone\nin this desert of grain, had not courage to begin. But even as she sat\nthere, a moving thread of black crawled across the floor from a crevice\nin the wall; and bending nearer, she saw that a great army of ants in\ncolumns had come to her aid. The zealous little creatures worked in\nswarms, with such industry over the work they like best, that, when\nVenus came at night, she found the task completed.\n\n\u201cDeceitful girl,\u201d she cried, shaking the roses out of her hair with\nimpatience, \u201cthis is my son's work, not yours. But he will soon forget\nyou. Eat this black bread if you are hungry, and refresh your dull mind\nwith sleep. To-morrow you will need more wit.\u201d\n\nPsyche wondered what new misfortune could be in store for her. But when\nmorning came, Venus led her to the brink of a river, and, pointing to\nthe wood across the water, said: \u201cGo now to yonder grove where the sheep\nwith the golden fleece are wont to browse. Bring me a golden lock from\nevery one of them, or you must go your ways and never come back again.\u201d\n\nThis seemed not difficult, and Psyche obediently bade the goddess\nfarewell, and stepped into the water, ready to wade across. But as Venus\ndisappeared, the reeds sang louder and the nymphs of the river, looking\nup sweetly, blew bubbles to the surface and murmured: \u201cNay, nay, have a\ncare, Psyche. This flock has not the gentle ways of sheep. While the\nsun burns aloft, they are themselves as fierce as flame; but when the\nshadows are long, they go to rest and sleep, under the trees; and you\nmay cross the river without fear and pick the golden fleece off the\nbriers in the pasture.\u201d\n\nThanking the water-creatures, Psyche sat down to rest near them, and\nwhen the time came, she crossed in safety and followed their counsel. By\ntwilight she returned to Venus with her arms full of shining fleece.\n\n\u201cNo mortal wit did this,\u201d said Venus angrily. \u201cBut if you care to prove\nyour readiness, go now, with this little box, down to Proserpina and ask\nher to enclose in it some of her beauty, for I have grown pale in caring\nfor my wounded son.\u201d\n\nIt needed not the last taunt to sadden Psyche. She knew that it was not\nfor mortals to go into Hades and return alive; and feeling that Love had\nforsaken her, she was minded to accept her doom as soon as might be.\n\nBut even as she hastened towards the descent, another friendly voice\ndetained her. \u201cStay, Psyche, I know your grief. Only give ear and you\nshall learn a safe way through all these trials.\u201d And the voice went on\nto tell her how one might avoid all the dangers of Hades and come out\nunscathed. (But such a secret could not pass from mouth to mouth, with\nthe rest of the story.)\n\n\u201cAnd be sure,\u201d added the voice, \u201cwhen Proserpina has returned the box,\nnot to open it, ever much you may long to do so.\u201d\n\nPsyche gave heed, and by this device, whatever it was, she found her way\ninto Hades safely, and made her errand known to Proserpina, and was soon\nin the upper world again, wearied but hopeful.\n\n\u201cSurely Love has not forgotten me,\u201d she said. \u201cBut humbled as I am and\nworn with toil, how shall I ever please him? Venus can never need all\nthe beauty in this casket; and since I use it for Love's sake, it must\nbe right to take some.\u201d So saying, she opened the box, heedless as\nPandora! The spells and potions of Hades are not for mortal maids, and\nno sooner had she inhaled the strange aroma than she fell down like one\ndead, quite overcome.\n\nBut it happened that Love himself was recovered from his wound, and he\nhad secretly fled from his chamber to seek out and rescue Psyche.\nHe found her lying by the wayside; he gathered into the casket what\nremained of the philter, and awoke his beloved.\n\n\u201cTake comfort,\u201d he said, smiling. \u201cReturn to our mother and do her\nbidding till I come again.\u201d\n\nAway he flew; and while Psyche went cheerily homeward, he hastened up to\nOlympus, where all the gods sat feasting, and begged them to intercede\nfor him with his angry mother.\n\nThey heard his story and their hearts were touched. Zeus himself coaxed\nVenus with kind words till at last she relented, and remembered that\nanger hurt her beauty, and smiled once more. All the younger gods were\nfor welcoming Psyche at once, and Hermes was sent to bring her hither.\nThe maiden came, a shy newcomer among those bright creatures. She took\nthe cup that Hebe held out to her, drank the divine ambrosia, and became\nimmortal.\n\nLight came to her face like moonrise, two radiant wings sprang from her\nshoulders; and even as a butterfly bursts from its dull cocoon, so the\nhuman Psyche blossomed into immortality.\n\nLove took her by the hand, and they were never parted any more.\n\n\n\n\nWASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY\n\n(FEBRUARY 22)\n\n\nTHREE OLD TALES\n\nBY M. L. WEEMS (ADAPTED)\n\n\n\n\nI. THE CHERRY TREE\n\nWhen George was about six years old, he was made the wealthy master of a\nhatchet of which, like most little boys, he was extremely fond. He went\nabout chopping everything that came his way.\n\nOne day, as he wandered about the garden amusing himself by hacking his\nmother's pea-sticks, he found a beautiful, young English cherry tree, of\nwhich his father was most proud. He tried the edge of his hatchet on the\ntrunk of the tree and barked it so that it died.\n\nSome time after this, his father discovered what had happened to his\nfavorite tree. He came into the house in great anger, and demanded to\nknow who the mischievous person was who had cut away the bark. Nobody\ncould tell him anything about it.\n\nJust then George, with his little hatchet, came into the room.\n\n\u201cGeorge,\u201d said his father, \u201cdo you know who has killed my beautiful\nlittle cherry tree yonder in the garden? I would not have taken five\nguineas for it!\u201d\n\nThis was a hard question to answer, and for a moment George was\nstaggered by it, but quickly recovering himself he cried:--\n\n\u201cI cannot tell a lie, father, you know I cannot tell a lie! I did cut it\nwith my little hatchet.\u201d\n\nThe anger died out of his father's face, and taking the boy tenderly in\nhis arms, he said:--\n\n\u201cMy son, that you should not be afraid to tell the truth is more to me\nthan a thousand trees! yes, though they were blossomed with silver and\nhad leaves of the purest gold!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nII. THE APPLE ORCHARD\n\n\nOne fine morning in the autumn Mr. Washington, taking little George by\nthe hand, walked with him to the apple orchard, promising that he would\nshow him a fine sight.\n\nOn arriving at the orchard they saw a fine sight, indeed! The green\ngrass under the trees was strewn with red-cheeked apples, and yet the\ntrees were bending under the weight of fruit that hung thick among the\nleaves.\n\n\u201cNow, George,\u201d said his father, \u201clook, my son, see all this rich harvest\nof fruit! Do you remember when your good cousin brought you a fine,\nlarge apple last spring, how you refused to divide it with your\nbrothers? And yet I told you then that, if you would be generous, God\nwould give you plenty of apples this autumn.\u201d\n\nPoor George could not answer, but hanging down his head looked quite\nconfused, while with his little, naked, bare feet he scratched in the\nsoft ground.\n\n\u201cNow, look up, my son,\u201d continued his father, \u201cand see how the blessed\nGod has richly provided us with these trees loaded with the finest\nfruit. See how abundant is the harvest. Some of the trees are bending\nbeneath their burdens, while the ground is covered with mellow apples,\nmore than you could eat, my son, in all your lifetime.\u201d\n\nGeorge looked in silence on the orchard, he marked the busy, humming\nbees, and heard the gay notes of the birds fluttering from tree to tree.\nHis eyes filled with tears and he answered softly:--\n\n\u201cTruly, father, I never will be selfish any more.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nIII. THE GARDEN-BED\n\n\nOne day Mr. Washington went into the garden and dug a little bed of\nearth and prepared it for seed. He then took a stick and traced on the\nbed George's name in full. After this he strewed the tracing thickly\nwith seeds, and smoothed all over nicely with his roller.\n\nThis garden-bed he purposely prepared close to a gooseberry-walk. The\nbushes were hung with the ripe fruit, and he knew that George would\nvisit them every morning.\n\nNot many days had passed away when one morning George came running\ninto the house, breathless with excitement, and his eyes shining with\nhappiness.\n\n\u201cCome here! father, come here!\u201d he cried.\n\n\u201cWhat's the matter, my son?\u201d asked his father.\n\n\u201cO come, father,\u201d answered George, \u201cand I'll show you such a sight as\nyou have never seen in all your lifetime.\u201d\n\nMr. Washington gave the boy his hand, which he seized with great\neagerness. He led his father straight to the garden-bed, whereon in\nlarge letters, in lines of soft green, was written:--\n\nGEORGE WASHINGTON\n\n\n\n\nYOUNG GEORGE AND THE COLT\n\nBY HORACE E. SCUDDER\n\nThere is a story told of George Washington's boyhood,--unfortunately\nthere are not many stories,--which is to the point. His father had taken\na great deal of pride in his blooded horses, and his mother afterward\ntook pains to keep the stock pure. She had several young horses that\nhad not yet been broken, and one of them in particular, a sorrel, was\nextremely spirited. No one had been able to do anything with it, and it\nwas pronounced thoroughly vicious as people are apt to pronounce horses\nwhich they have not learned to master.\n\nGeorge was determined to ride this colt, and told his companions that if\nthey would help him catch it, he would ride and tame it.\n\nEarly in the morning they set out for the pasture, where the boys\nmanaged to surround the sorrel, and then to put a bit into its mouth.\nWashington sprang upon its back, the boys dropped the bridle, and away\nflew the angry animal.\n\nIts rider at once began to command. The horse resisted, backing about\nthe field, rearing and plunging. The boys became thoroughly alarmed,\nbut Washington kept his seat, never once losing his self-control or his\nmastery of the colt.\n\nThe struggle was a sharp one; when suddenly, as if determined to rid\nitself of its rider, the creature leaped into the air with a tremendous\nbound. It was its last. The violence burst a blood-vessel, and the noble\nhorse fell dead.\n\nBefore the boys could sufficiently recover to consider how they should\nextricate themselves from the scrape, they were called to breakfast;\nand the mistress of the house, knowing that they had been in the fields,\nbegan to ask after her stock.\n\n\u201cPray, young gentlemen,\u201d said she, \u201chave you seen my blooded colts in\nyour rambles? I hope they are well taken care of. My favorite, I am\ntold, is as large as his sire.\u201d\n\nThe boys looked at one another, and no one liked to speak. Of course the\nmother repeated her question.\n\n\u201cThe sorrel is dead, madam,\u201d said her son, \u201cI killed him.\u201d\n\nAnd then he told the whole story. They say that his mother flushed with\nanger, as her son often used to, and then, like him, controlled herself,\nand presently said, quietly:--\n\n\u201cIt is well; but while I regret the loss of my favorite, I rejoice in my\nson who always speaks the truth.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nWASHINGTON THE ATHLETE\n\nBY ALBERT F. BLAISDELL AND FRANCIS E. BALL\n\nMany stories are told of the mighty power of Washington's right arm. It\nis said that he once threw a stone from the bed of the stream to the top\nof the Natural Bridge, in Virginia.\n\nAgain, we are told that once upon a time he rounded a piece of slate\nto the size of a silver dollar, and threw it across the Rappahannock\nat Fredericksburg, the slate falling at least thirty feet on the other\nside. Many strong men have since tried the same feat, but have never\ncleared the water.\n\nPeale, who was called the soldier-artist, was once visiting Washington\nat Mount Vernon. One day, he tells us, some athletic young men were\npitching the iron bar in the presence of their host. Suddenly, without\ntaking off his coat, Washington grasped the bar and hurled it, with\nlittle effort, much farther than any of them had done.\n\n\u201cWe were, indeed, amazed,\u201d said one of the young men, \u201cas we stood\nround, all stripped to the buff, and having thought ourselves very\nclever fellows, while the Colonel, on retiring, pleasantly said:--\n\n\u201c'When you beat my pitch, young gentlemen, I'll try again.'\u201d\n\nAt another time, Washington witnessed a wrestling-match. The champion of\nthe day challenged him, in sport, to wrestle. Washington did not stop to\ntake off his coat, but grasped the \u201cstrong man of Virginia.\u201d It was\nall over in a moment, for, said the wrestler, \u201cIn Washington's lionlike\ngrasp I became powerless, and was hurled to the ground with a force that\nseemed to jar the very marrow in my bones.\u201d\n\nIn the days of the Revolution, some of the riflemen and the backwoodsmen\nwere men of gigantic strength, but it was generally believed by good\njudges that their commander-in-chief was the strongest man in the army.\n\n\n\n\nWASHINGTON'S MODESTY\n\nBY HENRY CABOT LODGE (ADAPTED)\n\nWashington as soon as Fort Duquesne had fallen hurried home, resigned\nhis commission, and was married. The sunshine and glitter of the\nwedding day must have appeared to Washington deeply appropriate, for\nhe certainly seemed to have all that heart of man could desire. Just\ntwenty-seven, in the first flush of young manhood, keen of sense and yet\nwise in experience, life must have looked very fair and smiling. He had\nleft the army with a well-earned fame, and had come home to take the\nwife of his choice, and enjoy the good will and respect of all men.\n\nWhile away on his last campaign he had been elected a member of\nthe House of Burgesses, and when he took his seat, on removing to\nWilliamsburg, three months after his marriage, Mr. Robinson, the\nSpeaker, thanked him publicly in eloquent words for his services to the\ncountry.\n\nWashington rose to reply, but he was so utterly unable to talk about\nhimself that he stood before the House stammering and blushing until the\nSpeaker said:--\n\n\u201cSit down, Mr. Washington, your modesty equals your valor, and that\nsurpasses the power of any language I possess.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nWASHINGTON AT YORKTOWN\n\nBY HENRY CABOT LODGE\n\nDuring the assault Washington stood in an embrasure of the grand\nbattery, watching the advance of the men. He was always given to\nexposing himself recklessly when there was fighting to be done, but not\nwhen he was only an observer.\n\nThis night, however, he was much exposed to the enemy's fire. One of his\naides, anxious and disturbed for his safety, told him that the place was\nperilous.\n\n\u201cIf you think so,\u201d was the quiet answer, \u201cyou are at liberty to step\nback.\u201d\n\nThe moment was too exciting, too fraught with meaning, to think of\nperil. The old fighting spirit of Braddock's field was unchained for the\nlast time. He would have liked to head the American assault, sword in\nhand, and as he could not do that, he stood as near his troops as he\ncould, utterly regardless of the bullets whistling in the air about him.\nWho can wonder at his intense excitement at that moment?\n\nOthers saw a brilliant storming of two out-works, but to Washington the\nwhole Revolution and all the labor and thought and conflict of six years\nwere culminating in the smoke and din on those redoubts, while out of\nthe dust and heat of the sharp, quick fight success was coming.\n\nHe had waited long, and worked hard, and his whole soul went out as he\nwatched the troops cross the abatis and scale the works. He could have\nno thought of danger then, and when all was over, he turned to Knox and\nsaid:--\n\n\u201cThe work is done, and well done. Bring me my horse.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nRESURRECTION DAY (EASTER)\n\n(MARCH OR APRIL)\n\n\n\n\nA LESSON OF FAITH\n\nBY MRS. ALFRED GATTY (ADAPTED)\n\n\u201cLet me hire you as a nurse for my poor children,\u201d said a butterfly to\na quiet caterpillar, who was strolling along a cabbage-leaf in her odd,\nlumbering fashion.\n\n\u201cSee these little eggs,\u201d continued the butterfly; \u201cI do not know how\nlong it will be before they come to life, and I feel very sick. If I\nshould die, who will take care of my baby butterflies when I am gone?\nWill you, kind, mild, green caterpillar? They cannot, of course, live\non your rough food. You must give them early dew, and honey from the\nflowers, and you must let them fly about only a little way at first.\nDear me! it is a sad pity that you cannot fly yourself. Dear, dear! I\ncannot think what made me come and lay my eggs on a cabbage-leaf! What\na place for young butterflies to be bore upon! Here, take this gold-dust\nfrom my wings as a reward. Oh, how dizzy I am! Caterpillar! you will\nremember about the food--\u201d\n\nAnd with these words the butterfly drooped her wings and died. The green\ncaterpillar, who had not had the opportunity of even saying \u201cyes\u201d\n or \u201cno\u201d to the request, was left standing alone by the side of the\nbutterfly's eggs.\n\n\u201cA pretty nurse she has chosen, indeed, poor lady!\u201d exclaimed she, \u201cand\na pretty business I have in hand. Why did she ever ask a poor crawling\ncreature like me to bring up her dainty little ones! Much they'll mind\nme, truly, when they feel the gay wings on their backs, and can fly\naway.\u201d\n\nHowever, the poor butterfly was dead, and there lay the eggs on the\ncabbage-leaf, and the green caterpillar had a kind heart, so she\nresolved to do her best.\n\n\u201cBut two heads are better than one,\u201d said she; \u201cI will consult some wise\nanimal on the matter.\u201d\n\nThen she thought and thought till at last she thought of the lark, and\nshe fancied that because he went up so high, and nobody knew where he\nwent to, he must be very clever and know a great deal.\n\nNow in the neighboring cornfield there lived a lark, and the caterpillar\nsent a message to him, begging him to come and talk to her. When he came\nshe told him all her difficulties, and asked him how she was to feed and\nrear the little butterfly creatures.\n\n\u201cPerhaps you will be able to inquire and learn something about it the\nnext time you go up high,\u201d said the caterpillar timidly.\n\n\u201cPerhaps I can,\u201d answered the lark; and then he went singing upwards\ninto the bright, blue sky, till the green caterpillar could not hear a\nsound, nor could she see him any more. So she began to walk round the\nbutterfly's eggs, nibbling a bit of the cabbage-leaf now and then as she\nmoved along.\n\n\u201cWhat a time the lark has been gone!\u201d she cried at last. \u201cI wonder where\nhe is just now. He must have flown higher than usual this time. How I\nshould like to know where he goes, and what he hears in that curious\nblue sky! He always sings going up and coming down, but he never lets\nany secret out.\u201d\n\nAnd the green caterpillar took another turn round the butterfly's eggs.\n\nAt last the lark's voice began to be heard again. The caterpillar almost\njumped for joy, and it was not long before she saw her friend descend\nwith hushed note to the cabbage bed.\n\n\u201cNews, news, glorious news, friend caterpillar!\u201d sang the lark, \u201cbut the\nworst of it is, you won't believe me!\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe anything I am told,\u201d said the caterpillar hastily.\n\n\u201cWell, then, first of all, I will tell you what those little creatures\nare to eat\u201d--and the lark nodded his head toward the eggs. \u201cWhat do you\nthink it is to be? Guess!\u201d\n\n\u201cDew and honey out of the flowers, I am afraid!\u201d sighed the caterpillar.\n\n\u201cNo such thing, my good friend,\u201d cried the lark exultantly; \u201cyou are to\nfeed them with cabbage-leaves!\u201d\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d said the caterpillar indignantly.\n\n\u201cIt was their mother's last request that I should feed them on dew and\nhoney.\u201d\n\n\u201cTheir mother knew nothing about the matter,\u201d answered the lark; \u201cbut\nwhy do you ask me, and then disbelieve what I say? You have neither\nfaith nor trust.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I believe everything I am told,\u201d said the caterpillar.\n\n\u201cNay, but you do not,\u201d replied the lark.\n\n\u201cWhy, caterpillar, what do you think those little eggs will turn out to\nbe?\u201d\n\n\u201cButterflies, to be sure,\u201d said the caterpillar.\n\n\u201cCATERPILLARS!\u201d sang the lark; \u201cand you'll find it out in time.\u201d And the\nlark flew away.\n\n\u201cI thought the lark was wise and kind,\u201d said the mild, green caterpillar\nto herself, once more beginning to walk round the eggs, \u201cbut I find that\nhe is foolish and saucy instead. Perhaps he went up TOO high this time.\nHow I wonder what he sees, and what he does up yonder!\u201d\n\n\u201cI would tell you if you would believe me,\u201d sang the lark, descending\nonce more.\n\n\u201cI believe everything I am told,\u201d answered the caterpillar.\n\n\u201cThen I'll tell you something else,\u201d cried the lark. \u201cYOU WILL ONE DAY\nBE A BUTTERFLY YOURSELF!\u201d\n\n\u201cWretched bird,\u201d exclaimed the caterpillar, \u201cyou are making fun of me.\nYou are now cruel as well as foolish! Go away! I will ask your advice no\nmore.\u201d\n\n\u201cI told you you would not believe me,\u201d cried the lark.\n\n\u201cI believe everything I am told,\u201d persisted the\ncaterpillar,--\u201ceverything that it is REASONABLE to believe. But to tell\nme that butterflies' eggs are caterpillars, and that caterpillars leave\noff crawling and get wings and become butterflies!--Lark! you do not\nbelieve such nonsense yourself! You know it is impossible!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know no such thing,\u201d said the lark. \u201cWhen I hover over the\ncornfields, or go up into the depths of the sky, I see so many wonderful\nthings that I know there must be more. O caterpillar! it is because you\nCRAWL, and never get beyond your cabbage-leaf, that you call anything\nIMPOSSIBLE.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense,\u201d shouted the caterpillar, \u201cI know what's possible and what's\nimpossible. Look at my long, green body, and many legs, and then talk to\nme about having wings! Fool!\u201d\n\n\u201cMore foolish you!\u201d cried the indignant lark, \u201cto attempt to reason\nabout what you cannot understand. Do you not hear how my song swells\nwith rejoicing as I soar upwards to the mysterious wonder-world above?\nOh, caterpillar, what comes from thence, receive as I do,--on trust.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean by that?\u201d asked the caterpillar.\n\n\u201cON FAITH,\u201d answered the lark.\n\n\u201cHow am I to learn faith?\u201d asked the caterpillar.\n\nAt that moment she felt something at her side. She looked round,--eight\nor ten little green caterpillars were moving about, and had already made\na hole in the cabbage-leaf. They had broken from the butterfly's eggs!\n\nShame and amazement filled the green caterpillar's heart, but joy soon\nfollowed. For as the first wonder was possible, the second might be so\ntoo.\n\n\u201cTeach me your lesson, lark,\u201d she cried.\n\nAnd the lark sang to her of the wonders of the earth below and of the\nheaven above. And the caterpillar talked all the rest of her life of the\ntime when she should become a butterfly.\n\nBut no one believed her. She nevertheless had learned the lark's lesson\nof faith, and when she was going into her chrysalis, she said:--\n\n\u201cI shall be a butterfly some day!\u201d\n\nBut her relations thought her head was wandering, and they said, \u201cPoor\nthing!\u201d\n\nAnd when she was a butterfly, and was going to die she said:--\n\n\u201cI have known many wonders,--I HAVE FAITH,--I can trust even now for the\nwonder that shall come next.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nA CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR\n\nBY CHARLES DICKENS\n\nThere was once a child, and he strolled about a good deal, and thought\nof a number of things. He had a sister, who was a child, too, and his\nconstant companion. These two used to wonder all day long. They wondered\nat the beauty of the flowers; they wondered at the height and blueness\nof the sky; they wondered at the depth of the bright water; they\nwondered at the goodness and the power of God who made the lovely world.\n\nThey used to say to one another, sometimes: \u201cSupposing all the children\nupon earth were to die, would the flowers, and the water, and the sky\nbe sorry?\u201d They believed they would be sorry. \u201cFor,\u201d said they, \u201cthe buds\nare the children of the flowers, and the little playful streams that\ngambol down the hillsides are the children of the water; and the\nsmallest, bright specks playing at hide and seek in the sky all night,\nmust surely be the children of the stars; and they would all be grieved\nto see their playmates, the children of men, no more.\u201d\n\nThere was one clear, shining star that used to come out in the sky\nbefore the rest, near the church spire, above the graves. It was larger\nand more beautiful, they thought, than all the others, and every night\nthey watched for it, standing hand in hand at a window. Whoever saw\nit first cried out: \u201cI see the star!\u201d And often they cried out both\ntogether, knowing so well when it would rise, and where. So they grew\nto be such friends with it, that, before lying down in their beds, they\nalways looked out once again, to bid it good-night; and when they were\nturning round to sleep, they used to say: \u201cGod bless the star!\u201d\n\nBut while she was still very young, oh, very, very young, the sister\ndrooped, and came to be so weak that she could no longer stand in the\nwindow at night; and then the child looked sadly out by himself, and\nwhen he saw the star turned round and said to the patient, pale face on\nthe bed: \u201cI see the star!\u201d and then a smile would come upon the face,\nand a little weak voice used to say: \u201cGod bless my brother and the\nstar!\u201d\n\nAnd so the time came all too soon, when the child looked out alone, and\nwhen there was no face on the bed; and when there was a little grave\namong the graves, not there before; and when the star made long rays\ndown towards him, as he saw it through his tears.\n\nNow, these rays were so bright, and they seemed to make such a shining\nway from earth to heaven, that when the child went to his solitary bed\nhe dreamed about the star; and dreamed that, lying where he was, he saw\na train of people taken up that sparkling road by angels. And the star,\nopening, showed him a great world of light, where many more such angels\nwaited to receive them.\n\nAll these angels, who were waiting, turned their beaming eyes upon the\npeople who were carried up into the star; and some came out from the\nlong rows in which they stood, and fell upon the people's necks, and\nkissed them tenderly, and went away with them down avenues of light, and\nwere so happy in their company, that lying in his bed he wept for joy.\n\nBut there were many angels who did not go with them, and among them\none he knew. The patient face, that once had lain upon the bed, was\nglorified and radiant, but his heart found out his sister among all the\nhost.\n\nHis sister's angel lingered near the entrance of the star, and said to\nthe leader among those who had brought the people thither:--\n\n\u201cIs my brother come?\u201d\n\nAnd he said: \u201cNo.\u201d\n\nShe was turning hopefully away, when the child stretched out his arms,\nand cried: \u201cO sister, I am here! Take me!\u201d And then she turned her\nbeaming eyes upon him, and it was night; and the star was shining into\nthe room, making long rays down towards him, as he saw it through his\ntears.\n\nFrom that hour forth, the child looked out upon the star as on the home\nhe was to go to when his time should come; and he thought that he did\nnot belong to the earth alone, but to the star, too, because of his\nsister's angel gone before.\n\nThere was a baby born to be a brother to the child; and while he was so\nlittle that he never yet had spoken word, he stretched his tiny form out\non his bed, and died.\n\nAgain the child dreamed of the open star, and of the company of angels,\nand the train of people, and the rows of angels with their beaming eyes\nall turned upon those people's faces.\n\nSaid his sister's angel to the leader:--\n\n\u201cIs my brother come?\u201d\n\nAnd he said: \u201cNot that one, but another.\u201d\n\nAs the child beheld his brother's angel in her arms, he cried: \u201cO\nsister, I am here! Take me!\u201d And she turned and smiled upon him, and the\nstar was shining.\n\nHe grew to be a young man, and was busy at his books, when an old\nservant came to him and said:--\n\n\u201cThy mother is no more. I bring her blessing on her darling son.\u201d\n\nAgain at night he saw the star, and all that former company. Said his\nsister's angel to the leader:--\n\n\u201cIs my brother come?\u201d\n\nAnd he said: \u201cThy mother!\u201d\n\nA mighty cry of joy went forth through all the star, because the mother\nwas reunited to her two children. And he stretched out his arms and\ncried: \u201cO mother, sister, and brother, I am here! Take me!\u201d And they\nanswered him: \u201cNot yet.\u201d And the star was shining.\n\nHe grew to be a man, whose hair was turning gray, and he was sitting in\nhis chair by the fireside, heavy with grief, and with his face bedewed\nwith tears, when the star opened once again.\n\nSaid his sister's angel to the leader:--\n\n\u201cIs my brother come?\u201d\n\nAnd he said: \u201cNay, but his maiden daughter.\u201d\n\nAnd the man, who had been the child, saw his daughter, newly lost to\nhim, a celestial creature among those three, and he said: \u201cMy daughter's\nhead is on my sister's bosom, and her arm is around my mother's neck,\nand at her feet there is the baby of old time, and I can bear the\nparting from her, God be praised!\u201d\n\nAnd the star was shining.\n\nThus the child came to be an old man, and his once smooth face was\nwrinkled, and his steps were slow and feeble, and his back was bent. And\none night as he lay upon his bed, his children standing round, he cried,\nas he had cried so long ago:--\n\n\u201cI see the star!\u201d\n\nThey whispered one to another: \u201cHe is dying.\u201d\n\nAnd he said: \u201cI am. My age is falling from me like a garment, and I move\ntowards the star as a child. And, O my Father, now I thank Thee that it\nhas so often opened to receive those dear ones who await me!\u201d\n\nAnd the star was shining; and it shines upon his grave.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LOVELIEST ROSE IN THE WORLD\n\nBY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (ADAPTED)\n\nOnce there reigned a queen, in whose garden were found the most glorious\nflowers at all seasons and from all the lands of the world. But more\nthan all others she loved the roses, and she had many kinds of this\nflower, from the wild dog-rose with its apple-scented green leaves to\nthe most splendid, large, crimson roses. They grew against the garden\nwalls, wound themselves around the pillars and wind-frames, and crept\nthrough the windows into the rooms, and all along the ceilings in the\nhalls. And the roses were of many colors, and of every fragrance and\nform.\n\nBut care and sorrow dwelt in those halls. The queen lay upon a sick-bed,\nand the doctors said she must die.\n\n\u201cThere is still one thing that can save her,\u201d said the wise man. \u201cBring\nher the loveliest rose in the world, the rose that is the symbol of the\npurest, the brightest love. If that is held before her eyes ere they\nclose, she will not die.\u201d\n\nThen old and young came from every side with roses, the loveliest that\nbloomed in each garden, but they were not of the right sort. The flower\nwas to be plucked from the Garden of Love. But what rose in all that\ngarden expressed the highest and purest love?\n\nAnd the poets sang of the loveliest rose in the world,--of the love of\nmaid and youth, and of the love of dying heroes.\n\n\u201cBut they have not named the right flower,\u201d said the wise man. \u201cThey\nhave not pointed out the place where it blooms in its splendor. It is\nnot the rose that springs from the hearts of youthful lovers, though\nthis rose will ever be fragrant in song. It is not the bloom that\nsprouts from the blood flowing from the breast of the hero who dies\nfor his country, though few deaths are sweeter than his, and no rose is\nredder than the blood that flows then. Nor is it the wondrous flower\nto which man devotes many a sleepless night and much of his fresh\nlife,--the magic flower of science.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I know where it blooms,\u201d said a happy mother, who came with her\npretty child to the bedside of the dying queen. \u201cI know where the\nloveliest rose of love may be found. It springs in the blooming cheeks\nof my sweet child, when, waking from sleep, it opens its eyes and smiles\ntenderly at me.\u201d\n\n\u201cLovely is this rose, but there is a lovelier still,\u201d said the wise man.\n\n\u201cI have seen the loveliest, purest rose that blooms,\u201d said a woman. \u201cI\nsaw it on the cheeks of the queen. She had taken off her golden crown.\nAnd in the long, dreary night she carried her sick child in her arms.\nShe wept, kissed it, and prayed for her child.\u201d\n\n\u201cHoly and wonderful is the white rose of a mother's grief,\u201d answered the\nwise man, \u201cbut it is not the one we seek.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe loveliest rose in the world I saw at the altar of the Lord,\u201d said\nthe good Bishop, \u201cthe young maidens went to the Lord's Table. Roses\nwere blushing and pale roses shining on their fresh cheeks. A young girl\nstood there. She looked with all the love and purity of her spirit up to\nheaven. That was the expression of the highest and purest love.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay she be blessed,\u201d said the wise man, \u201cbut not one of you has yet\nnamed the loveliest rose in the world.\u201d\n\nThen there came into the room a child, the queen's little son.\n\n\u201cMother,\u201d cried the boy, \u201conly hear what I have read.\u201d\n\nAnd the child sat by the bedside and read from the Book of Him who\nsuffered death upon the cross to save men, and even those who were not\nyet born. \u201cGreater love there is not.\u201d\n\nAnd a rosy glow spread over the cheeks of the queen, and her eyes\ngleamed, for she saw that from the leaves of the Book there bloomed the\nloveliest rose, that sprang from the blood of Christ shed on the cross.\n\n\u201cI see it!\u201d she said, \u201che who beholds this, the loveliest rose on earth,\nshall never die.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nMAY DAY\n\n(MAY 1)\n\n\n\n\nTHE SNOWDROP [1]\n\nBY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (ADAPTED)\n\n[Footnote 1: From For the Children's Hour, by Carolyn Sherwin Bailey and\nClara M. Lewis. Copyright by the Milton Bradley Company.]\n\n\nThe snow lay deep, for it was winter-time. The winter winds blew cold,\nbut there was one house where all was snug and warm. And in the house\nlay a little flower; in its bulb it lay, under the earth and the snow.\n\nOne day the rain fell and it trickled through the ice and snow down into\nthe ground. And presently a sunbeam, pointed and slender, pierced down\nthrough the earth, and tapped on the bulb.\n\n\u201cCome in,\u201d said the flower.\n\n\u201cI can't do that,\u201d said the sunbeam; \u201cI'm not strong enough to lift the\nlatch. I shall be stronger when springtime comes.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen will it be spring?\u201d asked the flower of every little sunbeam that\nrapped on its door. But for a long time it was winter. The ground was\nstill covered with snow, and every night there was ice in the water. The\nflower grew quite tired of waiting.\n\n\u201cHow long it is!\u201d it said. \u201cI feel quite cramped. I must stretch myself\nand rise up a little. I must lift the latch, and look out, and say\n'good-morning' to the spring.\u201d\n\nSo the flower pushed and pushed. The walls were softened by the rain\nand warmed by the little sunbeams, so the flower shot up from under the\nsnow, with a pale green bud on its stalk and some long narrow leaves on\neither side. It was biting cold.\n\n\u201cYou are a little too early,\u201d said the wind and the weather; but every\nsunbeam sang: \u201cWelcome,\u201d and the flower raised its head from the snow\nand unfolded itself--pure and white, and decked with green stripes.\n\nIt was weather to freeze it to pieces,--such a delicate little\nflower,--but it was stronger than any one knew. It stood in its white\ndress in the white snow, bowing its head when the snow-flakes fell,\nand raising it again to smile at the sunbeams, and every day it grew\nsweeter.\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d shouted the children, as they ran into the garden, \u201csee the\nsnowdrop! There it stands so pretty, so beautiful,--the first, the only\none!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE LITTLE BUTTERFLY BROTHERS\n\n(FROM THE GERMAN)[2]\n\n[Footnote 2: From Deutsches Drittes Lesebuch, by W. H. Weick and C.\nGrebner. Copyright, 1886, by Van Antwerp, Bragg & Co. American Book\nCompany, publishers.]\n\n\nThere were once three little butterfly brothers, one white, one red, and\none yellow. They played in the sunshine, and danced among the flowers in\nthe garden, and they never grew tired because they were so happy.\n\nOne day there came a heavy rain, and it wet their wings. They flew away\nhome, but when they got there they found the door locked and the key\ngone. So they had to stay out of doors in the rain, and they grew wetter\nand wetter.\n\nBy and by they flew to the red and yellow striped tulip, and said:\n\u201cFriend Tulip, will you open your flower-cup and let us in till the\nstorm is over?\u201d\n\nThe tulip answered: \u201cThe red and yellow butterflies may enter, because\nthey are like me, but the white one may not come in.\u201d\n\nBut the red and yellow butterflies said: \u201cIf our white brother may not\nfind shelter in your flowercup, why, then, we'll stay outside in the\nrain with him.\u201d\n\nIt rained harder and harder, and the poor little butterflies grew wetter\nand wetter, so they flew to the white lily and said: \u201cGood Lily, will\nyou open your bud a little so we may creep in out of the rain?\u201d\n\nThe lily answered: \u201cThe white butterfly may come in, because he is like\nme, but the red and yellow ones must stay outside in the storm.\u201d\n\nThen the little white butterfly said: \u201cIf you won't receive my red and\nyellow brothers, why, then, I'll stay out in the rain with them. We\nwould rather be wet than be parted.\u201d\n\nSo the three little butterflies flew away.\n\nBut the sun, who was behind a cloud, heard it all, and he knew what good\nlittle brothers the butterflies were, and how they had held together in\nspite of the wet. So he pushed his face through the clouds, and chased\naway the rain, and shone brightly on the garden.\n\nHe dried the wings of the three little butterflies, and warmed their\nbodies. They ceased to sorrow, and danced among the flowers till\nevening, then they flew away home, and found the door wide open.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WATER-DROP\n\nBY FRIEDRICH WILHELM CAROVE'\n\n(ADAPTED FROM THE TRANSLATION BY SARAH AUSTIN)\n\nThere was once a child who lived in a little hut, and in the hut there\nwas nothing but a little bed and a looking-glass; but as soon as the\nfirst sunbeam glided softly through the casement and kissed his sweet\neyelids, and the finch and the linnet waked him merrily with their\nmorning songs, he arose and went out into the green meadow.\n\nAnd he begged flour of the primrose, and sugar of the violet, and butter\nof the buttercup. He shook dewdrops from the cowslip into the cup of the\nharebell, spread out a large lime-leaf, set his breakfast upon it, and\nfeasted daintily. And he invited a humming-bee and a gay butterfly to\npartake of his feast, but his favorite guest was a blue dragon-fly.\n\nThe bee murmured a good deal about his riches, and the butterfly told\nhis adventures. Such talk delighted the child, and his breakfast was the\nsweeter to him, and the sunshine on leaf and flower seemed more bright\nand cheering.\n\nBut when the bee had flown off to beg from flower to flower, and the\nbutterfly had fluttered away to his play-fellows, the dragon-fly still\nremained, poised on a blade of grass. Her slender and burnished body,\nmore brightly and deeply blue than the deep blue sky, glistened in the\nsunbeam. Her net-like wings laughed at the flowers because they could\nnot fly, but must stand still and abide the wind and rain.\n\nThe dragon-fly sipped a little of the child's clear dewdrops and blue\nviolet honey, and then whispered her winged words. Such stories as the\ndragon-fly did tell! And as the child sat motionless with his blue\neyes shut, and his head rested on his hands, she thought he had fallen\nasleep; so she poised her double wings and flew into the rustling wood.\n\nBut the child had only sunk into a dream of delight and was wishing he\nwere a sunbeam or a moonbeam; and he would have been glad to hear more\nand more, and forever.\n\nBut at last as all was still, he opened his eyes and looked around for\nhis dear guest, but she was flown far away. He could not bear to sit\nthere any longer alone, and he rose and went to the gurgling brook. It\ngushed and rolled so merrily, and tumbled so wildly along as it hurried\nto throw itself head-over-heels into the river, just as if the great\nmassy rock out of which it sprang were close behind it, and could only\nbe escaped by a breakneck leap.\n\nThen the child began to talk to the little waves and asked them whence\nthey came. They would not stay to give him an answer, but danced away\none over another; till at last, that the sweet child might not be\ngrieved, a water-drop stopped behind a piece of rock.\n\n\u201cA long time ago,\u201d said the water-drop, \u201cI lived with my countless\nsisters in the great Ocean, in peace and unity. We had all sorts of\npastimes. Sometimes we mounted up high into the air, and peeped at the\nstars. Then we sank plump down deep below, and looked how the coral\nbuilders work till they are tired, that they may reach the light of day\nat last.\n\n\u201cBut I was conceited, and thought myself much better than my sisters.\nAnd so, one day, when the sun rose out of the sea, I clung fast to one\nof his hot beams and thought how I should reach the stars and become one\nof them.\n\n\u201cBut I had not ascended far when the sunbeam shook me off, and, in spite\nof all I could say or do, let me fall into a dark cloud. And soon a\nflash of fire darted through the cloud, and now I thought I must surely\ndie; but the cloud laid itself down softly upon the top of a mountain,\nand so I escaped.\n\n\u201cNow I thought I should remain hidden, when, all on a sudden, I slipped\nover a round pebble, fell from one stone to another, down into the\ndepths of the mountain. At last it was pitch dark and I could neither\nsee nor hear anything.\n\n\u201cThen I found, indeed, that 'pride goeth before a fall,' for, though I\nhad already laid aside all my unhappy pride in the cloud, my punishment\nwas to remain for some time in the heart of the mountain. After\nundergoing many purifications from the hidden virtues of metals and\nminerals, I was at length permitted to come up once more into the free\nand cheerful air, and to gush from this rock and journey with this happy\nstream. Now will I run back to my sisters in the Ocean, and there wait\npatiently till I am called to something better.\u201d\n\nSo said the water-drop to the child, but scarcely had she finished her\nstory, when the root of a For-Get-Me-Not caught the drop and sucked her\nin, that she might become a floweret, and twinkle brightly as a blue\nstar on the green firmament of earth.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SPRING BEAUTY\n\nAN OJIBBEWAY LEGEND\n\nBY HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT (ADAPTED)\n\nAn old man was sitting in his lodge, by the side of a frozen stream. It\nwas the end of winter, the air was not so cold, and his fire was\nnearly out. He was old and alone. His locks were white with age, and he\ntrembled in every joint. Day after day passed, and he heard nothing but\nthe sound of the storm sweeping before it the new-fallen snow.\n\nOne day while his fire was dying, a handsome young man approached and\nentered the lodge. His cheeks were red, his eyes sparkled. He walked\nwith a quick, light step. His forehead was bound with a wreath of\nsweet-grass, and he carried a bunch of fragrant flowers in his hand.\n\n\u201cAh, my son,\u201d said the old man, \u201cI am happy to see you. Come in! Tell me\nyour adventures, and what strange lands you have seen. I will tell you\nof my wonderful deeds, and what I can perform. You shall do the same,\nand we will amuse each other.\u201d\n\nThe old man then drew from a bag a curiously wrought pipe. He filled it\nwith mild tobacco, and handed it to his guest. They each smoked from the\npipe and then began their stories.\n\n\u201cI am Peboan, the Spirit of Winter,\u201d said the old man. \u201cI blow my\nbreath, and the streams stand still. The water becomes stiff and hard as\nclear stone.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am Seegwun, the Spirit of Spring,\u201d answered the youth. \u201cI breathe,\nand flowers spring up in the meadows and woods.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shake my locks,\u201d said the old man, \u201cand snow covers the land. The\nleaves fall from the trees, and my breath blows them away. The birds fly\nto a distant land, and the animals hide themselves from the cold.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shake my ringlets,\u201d said the young man, \u201cand warm showers of soft\nrain fall upon the earth. The flowers lift their heads from the ground,\nthe grass grows thick and green. My voice recalls the birds, and they\ncome flying joyfully from the Southland. The warmth of my breath unbinds\nthe streams, and they sing the songs of summer. Music fills the groves\nwhere-ever I walk, and all nature rejoices.\u201d\n\nAnd while they were talking thus a wonderful change took place. The sun\nbegan to rise. A gentle warmth stole over the place. Peboan, the Spirit\nof Winter, became silent. His head drooped, and the snow outside the\nlodge melted away. Seegwun, the Spirit of Spring, grew more radiant, and\nrose joyfully to his feet. The robin and the bluebird began to sing on\nthe top of the lodge. The stream began to murmur at the door, and the\nfragrance of opening flowers came softly on the breeze.\n\nThe lodge faded away, and Peboan sank down and dissolved into tiny\nstreams of water, that vanished under the brown leaves of the forest.\nThus the Spirit of Winter departed, and where he had melted away, there\nthe Indian children gathered the first blossoms, fragrant and delicately\npink,--the modest Spring Beauty.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FAIRY TULIPS\n\nENGLISH FOLK-TALE\n\nOnce upon a time there was a good old woman who lived in a little house.\nShe had in her garden a bed of beautiful striped tulips.\n\nOne night she was wakened by the sounds of sweet singing and of babies\nlaughing. She looked out at the window. The sounds seemed to come from\nthe tulip bed, but she could see nothing.\n\nThe next morning she walked among her flowers, but there were no signs\nof any one having been there the night before.\n\nOn the following night she was again wakened by sweet singing and babies\nlaughing. She rose and stole softly through her garden. The moon was\nshining brightly on the tulip bed, and the flowers were swaying to and\nfro. The old woman looked closely and she saw, standing by each tulip,\na little Fairy mother who was crooning and rocking the flower like a\ncradle, while in each tulip-cup lay a little Fairy baby laughing and\nplaying.\n\nThe good old woman stole quietly back to her house, and from that time\non she never picked a tulip, nor did she allow her neighbors to touch\nthe flowers.\n\nThe tulips grew daily brighter in color and larger in size, and they\ngave out a delicious perfume like that of roses. They began, too, to\nbloom all the year round. And every night the little Fairy mothers\ncaressed their babies and rocked them to sleep in the flower-cups.\n\nThe day came when the good old woman died, and the tulip-bed was torn\nup by folks who did not know about the Fairies, and parsley was planted\nthere instead of the flowers. But the parsley withered, and so did all\nthe other plants in the garden, and from that time nothing would grow\nthere.\n\nBut the good old woman's grave grew beautiful, for the Fairies sang\nabove it, and kept it green; while on the grave and all around it there\nsprang up tulips, daffodils, and violets, and other lovely flowers of\nspring.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STREAM THAT RAN AWAY\n\nBY MARY AUSTIN (ADAPTED)\n\nIn a short and shallow canyon running eastward toward the sun, one may\nfind a clear, brown stream called the Creek of Pinon Pines; that is not\nbecause it is unusual to find pinon trees in that country, but because\nthere are so few of them in the canyon of the stream. There are all\nsorts higher up on the slopes,--long-leaved yellow pines, thimble cones,\ntamarack, silver fir, and Douglas spruce; but in the canyon there\nis only a group of the low-headed, gray nut pines which the earliest\ninhabitants of that country called pinons.\n\nThe Canyon of Pinon Pines has a pleasant outlook and lies open to the\nsun. At the upper end there is no more room by the stream border than\nwill serve for a cattle trail; willows grow in it, choking the path\nof the water; there are brown birches here and ropes of white clematis\ntangled over thickets of brier rose.\n\nLow down, the ravine broadens out to inclose a meadow the width of a\nlark's flight, blossomy and wet and good. Here the stream ran once in a\nmaze of soddy banks and watered all the ground, and afterward ran out at\nthe canyon's mouth across the mesa in a wash of bone-white boulders as\nfar as it could. That was not very far, for it was a slender stream. It\nhad its source on the high crests and hollows of the near-by mountain,\nin the snow banks that melted and seeped downward through the rocks. But\nthe stream did not know any more of that than you know of what happened\nto you before you were born, and could give no account of itself except\nthat it crept out from under a great heap of rubble far up in the Canyon\nof the Pinon Pines.\n\nAnd because it had no pools in it deep enough for trout, and no trees on\nits borders but gray nut pines; because, try as it might, it could never\nget across the mesa to the town, the stream had fully made up its mind\nto run away.\n\n\u201cPray, what good will that do you?\u201d said the pines. \u201cIf you get to\nthe town, they will turn you into an irrigating ditch, and set you to\nwatering crops.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs to that,\u201d said the stream, \u201cif I once get started I will not stop at\nthe town.\u201d\n\nThen it would fret between its banks until the spangled frills of the\nmimulus were all tattered with its spray. Often at the end of the summer\nit was worn quite thin and small with running, and not able to do more\nthan reach the meadow.\n\n\u201cBut some day,\u201d it whispered to the stones, \u201cI shall run quite away.\u201d\n\nIf the stream had been inclined for it, there was no lack of good\ncompany on its own borders. Birds nested in the willows, rabbits came to\ndrink; one summer a bobcat made its lair up the bank opposite the brown\nbirches, and often the deer fed in the meadow.\n\nIn the spring of one year two old men came up into the Canyon of Pinon\nPines. They had been miners and partners together for many years. They\nhad grown rich and grown poor, and had seen many hard places and strange\ntimes. It was a day when the creek ran clear and the south wind smelled\nof the earth. Wild bees began to whine among the willows, and the meadow\nbloomed over with poppy-breasted larks.\n\nThen said one of the old men: \u201cHere is good meadow and water enough; let\nus build a house and grow trees. We are too old to dig in the mines.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us set about it,\u201d said the other; for that is the way with two who\nhave been a long time together,--what one thinks of, the other is for\ndoing.\n\nSo they brought their possessions, and they built a house by the water\nborder and planted trees. One of the men was all for an orchard but the\nother preferred vegetables. So they did each what he liked, and were\nnever so happy as when walking in the garden in the cool of the day,\ntouching the growing things as they walked, and praising each other's\nwork.\n\nThey were very happy for three years. By this time the stream had become\nso interested it had almost forgotten about running away. But every year\nit noted that a larger bit of the meadow was turned under and planted,\nand more and more the men made dams and ditches by which to turn the\nwater into their gardens.\n\n\u201cIn fact,\u201d said the stream, \u201cI am being made into an irrigating ditch\nbefore I have had my fling in the world. I really must make a start.\u201d\n\nThat very winter, by the help of a great storm, the stream went roaring\ndown the meadow, over the mesa, and so clean away, with only a track of\nmuddy sand to show the way it had gone.\n\nAll that winter the two men brought water for drinking from a spring,\nand looked for the stream to come back. In the spring they hoped still,\nfor that was the season they looked for the orchard to bear. But no\nfruit grew on the trees, and the seeds they planted shriveled in the\nearth. So by the end of summer, when they understood that the water\nwould not come back at all, they went sadly away.\n\nNow the Creek of Pinon Pines did not have a happy time. It went out in\nthe world on the wings of the storm, and was very much tossed about and\nmixed up with other waters, lost and bewildered.\n\nEverywhere it saw water at work, turning mills, watering fields,\ncarrying trade, falling as hail, rain, and snow; and at the last, after\nmany journeys it found itself creeping out from under the rocks of the\nsame old mountain, in the Canyon of Pinon Pines.\n\n\u201cAfter all, home is best,\u201d said the little stream to itself, and ran\nabout in its choked channels looking for old friends.\n\nThe willows were there, but grown shabby and dying at the top; the\nbirches were quite dead, and there was only rubbish where the white\nclematis had been. Even the rabbits had gone away.\n\nThe little stream ran whimpering in the meadow, fumbling at the ruined\nditches to comfort the fruit trees which were not quite dead. It was\nvery dull in those days living in the Canyon of Pinon Pines.\n\n\u201cBut it is really my own fault,\u201d said the stream. So it went on\nrepairing the borders as best it could.\n\nAbout the time the white clematis had come back to hide the ruin of the\nbrown birches, a young man came and camped with his wife and child in\nthe meadow. They were looking for a place to make a home.\n\n\u201cWhat a charming place!\u201d said the young wife; \u201cjust the right distance\nfrom town, and a stream all to ourselves. And look, there are fruit\ntrees already planted. Do let us decide to stay!\u201d\n\nThen she took off the child's shoes and stockings to let it play in\nthe stream. The water curled all about the bare feet and gurgled\ndelightedly.\n\n\u201cAh, do stay,\u201d begged the happy water. \u201cI can be such a help to you, for\nI know how a garden should be irrigated in the best manner.\u201d\n\nThe child laughed, and stamped the water up to his bare knees. The young\nwife watched anxiously while her husband walked up and down the stream\nborder and examined the fruit trees.\n\n\u201cIt is a delightful place,\u201d he said, \u201cand the soil is rich, but I am\nafraid the water cannot be depended upon. There are signs of a great\ndrought within the last two or three years. Look, there is a clump of\nbirches in the very path of the stream, but all dead; and the largest\nlimbs of the fruit trees have died. In this country one must be able\nto make sure of the water-supply. I suppose the people who planted them\nmust have abandoned the place when the stream went dry. We must go on\nfarther.\u201d\n\nSo they took their goods and the child and went on farther.\n\n\u201cAh, well,\u201d said the stream, \u201cthat is what is to be expected when has a\nreputation for neglecting one's duty. But I wish they had stayed. That\nbaby and I understood each other.\u201d\n\nIt had made up its mind not to run away again, though it could not be\nexpected to be quite cheerful after all that had happened. If you go to\nthe Canyon of Pinon Pines you will notice that the stream, where it goes\nbrokenly about the meadow, has a mournful sound.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ELVES\n\nAN IROQUOIS LEGEND\n\nBY HARRIET MAXWELL CONVERSE (ADAPTED)\n\nThe little Elves of Darkness, so says the old Iroquois grandmother, were\nwise and mysterious. They dwelt under the earth, where were deep forests\nand broad plains. There they kept captive all the evil things that\nwished to injure human beings,--the venomous reptiles, the wicked\nspiders, and the fearful monsters. Sometimes one of these evil creatures\nescaped and rushed upward to the bright, pure air, and spread its\npoisonous breath over the living things of the upper-world. But such\nhappenings were rare, for the Elves of Darkness were faithful and\nstrong, and did not willingly allow the wicked beasts and reptiles to\nharm human beings and the growing things.\n\nWhen the night was lighted by the moon's soft rays, and the woods of\nthe upper-world were sweet with the odor of the spring-flowers, then the\nElves of Darkness left the under-world, and creeping from their holes,\nheld a festival in the woods. And under many a tree, where the blades of\ngrass had refused to grow, the Little People danced until rings of green\nsprang up beneath their feet. And to the festival came the Elves of\nLight,--among whom were Tree-Elves, Flower-Elves, and Fruit-Elves. They\ntoo danced and made merry.\n\nBut when the moonlight faded away, and day began to break, then the\nElves of Darkness scampered back to their holes, and returned once more\nto the under-world; while the Elves of Light began their daily tasks.\n\nFor in the springtime these Little People of the Light hid in sheltered\nplaces. They listened to the complaints of the seeds that lay covered in\nthe ground, and they whispered to the earth until the seeds burst their\npods and sent their shoots upward to the light. Then the little Elves\nwandered over the fields and through the woods, bidding all growing\nthings to look upon the sun.\n\nThe Tree-Elves tended the trees, unfolding their leaves, and feeding\ntheir roots with sap from the earth. The Flower-Elves unwrapped the baby\nbuds, and tinted the petals of the opening flowers, and played with the\nbees and the butterflies.\n\nBut the busiest of all were the Fruit-Elves. Their greatest care in\nthe spring was the strawberry plant. When the ground softened from the\nfrost, the Fruit-Elves loosened the earth around each strawberry root,\nthat its shoots might push through to the light. They shaped the plant's\nleaves, and turned its blossoms toward the warm rays of the sun. They\ntrained its runners, and assisted the timid fruit to form. They painted\nthe luscious berry, and bade it ripen. And when the first strawberries\nblushed on the vines, these guardian Elves protected them from the evil\ninsects that had escaped from the world of darkness underground.\n\nAnd the old Iroquois grandmother tells, how once, when the fruit first\ncame to earth, the Evil Spirit, Hahgwehdaetgah, stole the strawberry\nplant, and carried it to his gloomy cave, where he hid it away. And\nthere it lay until a tiny sunbeam pierced the damp mould, and finding\nthe little vine carried it back to its sunny fields. And ever since then\nthe strawberry plant has lived and thrived in the fields and woods. But\nthe Fruit-Elves, fearing lest the Evil One should one day steal the\nvine again, watch day and night over their favorite. And when the\nstrawberries ripen they give the juicy, fragrant fruit to the Iroquois\nchildren as they gather the spring flowers in the woods.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CANYON FLOWERS\n\nBY RALPH CONNOR (ADAPTED)\n\nAt first there were no canyons, but only the broad, open prairie. One\nday the Master of the Prairie, walking out over his great lawns, where\nwere only grasses, asked the Prairie: \u201cWhere are your flowers?\u201d\n\nAnd the Prairie said: \u201cMaster, I have no seeds.\u201d\n\nThen he spoke to the birds, and they carried seeds of every kind of\nflower and strewed them far and wide, and soon the Prairie bloomed with\ncrocuses and roses and buffalo beans and the yellow crowfoot and the\nwild sunflowers and the red lilies, all the summer long.\n\nThen the Master came and was well pleased; but he missed the flowers he\nloved best of all, and he said to the Prairie: \u201cWhere are the clematis\nand the columbine, the sweet violets and wind-flowers, and all the ferns\nand flowering shrubs?\u201d\n\nAnd again the Prairie answered: \u201cMaster, I have no seeds.\u201d\n\nAnd again he spoke to the birds and again they carried all the seeds and\nstrewed them far and wide.\n\nBut when next the Master came, he could not find the flowers he loved\nbest of all, and he said: \u201cWhere are those, my sweetest flowers?\u201d\n\nAnd the Prairie cried sorrowfully: \u201cO Master, I cannot keep the flowers,\nfor the winds sweep fiercely, and the sun beats upon my breast, and they\nwither up and fly away.\u201d\n\nThen the Master spoke to the Lightning, and with one swift blow the\nLightning cleft the Prairie to the heart. And the Prairie rocked and\ngroaned in agony, and for many a day moaned bitterly over its black,\njagged, gaping wound.\n\nBut a little river poured its waters through the cleft, and carried down\ndeep, black mould, and once more the birds carried seeds and strewed\nthem in the canyon. And after a long time the rough rocks were decked\nout with soft mosses and trailing vines, and all the nooks were hung\nwith clematis and columbine, and great elms lifted their huge tops high\nup into the sunlight, and down about their feet clustered the low cedars\nand balsams, and everywhere the violets and wind-flowers and maiden-hair\ngrew and bloomed till the canyon became the Master's place for rest and\npeace and joy.\n\n\n\n\nCLYTIE, THE HELIOTROPE\n\nBY OVID (ADAPTED)\n\nThere was once a Nymph named Clytie, who gazed ever at Apollo as he\ndrove his sun-chariot through the heavens. She watched him as he rose in\nthe east attended by the rosy-fingered Dawn and the dancing Hours. She\ngazed as he ascended the heavens, urging his steeds still higher in\nthe fierce heat of the noonday. She looked with wonder as at evening\nhe guided his steeds downward to their many-colored pastures under the\nwestern sky, where they fed all night on ambrosia.\n\nApollo saw not Clytie. He had no thought for her, but he shed his\nbrightest beams upon her sister the white Nymph Leucothoe. And when\nClytie perceived this she was filled with envy and grief.\n\nNight and day she sat on the bare ground weeping. For nine days and nine\nnights she never raised herself from the earth, nor did she take food\nor drink; but ever she turned her weeping eyes toward the sun-god as he\nmoved through the sky.\n\nAnd her limbs became rooted to the ground. Green leaves enfolded her\nbody. Her beautiful face was concealed by tiny flowers, violet-colored\nand sweet with perfume. Thus was she changed into a flower and her roots\nheld her fast to the ground; but ever she turned her blossom-covered\nface toward the sun, following with eager gaze his daily flight. In vain\nwere her sorrow and tears, for Apollo regarded her not.\n\nAnd so through the ages has the Nymph turned her dew-washed face toward\nthe heavens, and men no longer call her Clytie, but the sun-flower,\nheliotrope.\n\n\n\n\nHYACINTHUS\n\nBY OVID (ADAPTED)\n\nOnce when the golden-beamed Apollo roamed the earth, he made a companion\nof Hyacinthus, the son of King Amyclas of Lacedaemon; and him he loved\nwith an exceeding great love, for the lad was beautiful beyond compare.\n\nThe sun-god threw aside his lyre, and became the daily comrade of\nHyacinthus. Often they played games, or climbed the rugged mountain\nridges. Together they followed the chase or fished in the quiet and\nshadowy pools; and the sun-god, unmindful of his dignity, carried the\nlad's nets and held his dogs.\n\nIt happened on a day that the two friends stripped off their garments,\nrubbed the juice of the olive upon their bodies, and engaged in throwing\nthe quoit. First Apollo poised it and tossed it far. It cleaved the air\nwith its weight and fell heavily to earth. At that moment Hyacinthus ran\nforwards and hastened to take up the disc, but the hard earth sent\nit rebounding straight into his face, so that he fell wounded to the\nground.\n\nAh! then, pale and fearful, the sun-god hastened to the side of his\nfallen friend. He bore up the lad's sinking limbs and strove to stanch\nhis wound with healing herbs. All in vain! Alas! the wound would not\nclose. And as violets and lilies, when their stems are crushed,\nhang their languid blossoms on their stalks and wither away, so did\nHyacinthus droop his beautiful head and die.\n\nThen the sun-god, full of grief, cried aloud in his anguish: \u201cO Beloved!\nthou fallest in thy early youth, and I alone am the cause of thy\ndestruction! Oh, that I could give my life for thee or with thee! but\nsince Fate will not permit this, thou shalt ever be with me, and thy\npraise shall dwell on my lips. My lyre struck with my hand, my songs,\ntoo, shall celebrate thee! And thou, dear lad, shalt become a new\nflower, and on thy leaves will I write my lamentations.\u201d\n\nAnd even as the sun-god spoke, behold! the blood that had flowed from\nHyacinthus's wound stained the grass, and a flower, like a lily in\nshape, sprang up, more bright than Tyrian purple. On its leaves did\nApollo inscribe the mournful characters: \u201cai, ai,\u201d which mean \u201calas!\nalas!\u201d\n\nAnd as oft as the spring drives away the winter, so oft does Hyacinthus\nblossom in the fresh, green grass.\n\n\n\n\nECHO AND NARCISSUS\n\nBY OVID (ADAPTED)\n\nLong ago, in the ancient world, there was born to the blue-eyed Nymph\nLiriope, a beautiful boy, whom she called Narcissus. An oracle foretold\nat his birth that he should be happy and live to a good old age if he\n\u201cnever saw himself.\u201d As this prophecy seemed ridiculous his mother soon\nforgot all about it.\n\nNarcissus grew to be a stately, handsome youth. His limbs were firm and\nstraight. Curls clustered about his white brow, and his eyes shone\nlike two stars. He loved to wander among the meadow flowers and in the\npathless woodland. But he disdained his playmates, and would not listen\nto their entreaties to join in their games. His heart was cold, and in\nit was neither hate nor love. He lived indifferent to youth or maid, to\nfriend or foe.\n\nNow, in the forest near by dwelt a Nymph named Echo. She had been a\nhandmaiden of the goddess Juno. But though the Nymph was beautiful\nof face, she was not loved. She had a noisy tongue. She told lies and\nwhispered slanders, and encouraged the other Nymphs in many misdoings.\nSo when Juno perceived all this, she ordered the troublesome Nymph away\nfrom her court, and banished her to the wildwood, bidding her never\nspeak again except in imitation of other peoples' words. So Echo dwelt\nin the woods, and forever mocked the words of youths and maidens.\n\nOne day as Narcissus was wandering alone in the pathless forest, Echo,\npeeping from behind a tree, saw his beauty, and as she gazed her heart\nwas filled with love. Stealthily she followed his footsteps, and often\nshe tried to call to him with endearing words, but she could not speak,\nfor she no longer had a voice of her own.\n\nAt last Narcissus heard the sound of breaking branches, and he cried\nout: \u201cIs there any one here?\u201d\n\nAnd Echo answered softly: \u201cHere!\u201d\n\nNarcissus, amazed, looking about on all sides and seeing no one, cried:\n\u201cCome!\u201d\n\nAnd Echo answered: \u201cCome!\u201d\n\nNarcissus cried again: \u201cWho art thou? Whom seekest thou?\u201d\n\nAnd Echo answered: \u201cThou!\u201d\n\nThen rushing from among the trees she tried to throw her arms about his\nneck, but Narcissus fled through the forest, crying: \u201cAway! away! I will\ndie before I love thee!\u201d\n\nAnd Echo answered mournfully: \u201cI love thee!\u201d\n\nAnd thus rejected, she hid among the trees, and buried her blushing face\nin the green leaves. And she pined, and pined, until her body wasted\nquite away, and nothing but her voice was left. And some say that even\nto this day her voice lives in lonely caves and answers men's words from\nafar.\n\nNow, when Narcissus fled from Echo, he came to a clear spring, like\nsilver. Its waters were unsullied, for neither goats feeding upon the\nmountains nor any other cattle had drunk from it, nor had wild beasts or\nbirds disturbed it, nor had branch or leaf fallen into its calm waters.\nThe trees bent above and shaded it from the hot sun, and the soft, green\ngrass grew on its margin.\n\nHere Narcissus, fatigued and thirsty after his flight, laid himself down\nbeside the spring to drink. He gazed into the mirror-like water, and saw\nhimself reflected in its tide. He knew not that it was his own image,\nbut thought that he saw a youth living in the spring.\n\nHe gazed on two eyes like stars, on graceful slender fingers, on\nclustering curls worthy of Apollo, on a mouth arched like Cupid's bow,\non blushing cheeks and ivory neck. And as he gazed his cold heart grew\nwarm, and love for this beautiful reflection rose up and filled his\nsoul.\n\nHe rained kisses on the deceitful stream. He thrust his arms into the\nwater, and strove to grasp the image by the neck, but it fled away.\nAgain he kissed the stream, but the image mocked his love. And all day\nand all night, lying there without food or drink, he continued to gaze\ninto the water. Then raising himself, he stretched out his arms to the\ntrees about him, and cried:--\n\n\u201cDid ever, O ye woods, one love as much as I! Have ye ever seen a lover\nthus pine for the sake of unrequited affection?\u201d\n\nThen turning once more, Narcissus addressed his reflection in the limpid\nstream:--\n\n\u201cWhy, dear youth, dost thou flee away from me? Neither a vast sea, nor\na long way, nor a great mountain separates us! only a little water keeps\nus apart! Why, dear lad, dost thou deceive me, and whither dost thou go\nwhen I try to grasp thee? Thou encouragest me with friendly looks. When\nI extend my arms, thou extendest thine; when I smile, thou smilest in\nreturn; when I weep, thou weepest; but when I try to clasp thee beneath\nthe stream, thou shunnest me and fleest away! Grief is taking my\nstrength, and my life will soon be over! In my early days am I cut off,\nnor is Death grievous to me, now that he is about to remove my sorrows!\u201d\n\nThus mourned Narcissus, lying beside the woodland spring. He disturbed\nthe water with his tears, and made the woods to resound with his sighs.\nAnd as the yellow wax is melted by the fire, or the hoar frost is\nconsumed by the heat of the sun, so did Narcissus pine away, his body\nwasting by degrees.\n\nAnd often as he sighed: \u201cAlas!\u201d the grieving Echo from the wood\nanswered: \u201cAlas!\u201d\n\nWith his last breath he looked into the water and sighed: \u201cAh, youth\nbeloved, farewell!\u201d and Echo sighed: \u201cFarewell!\u201d\n\nAnd Narcissus, laying his weary head upon the grass, closed his eyes\nforever. The Water-Nymphs wept for him, and the Wood-Dryads lamented\nhim, and Echo resounded their mourning. But when they sought his body\nit had vanished away, and in its stead had grown up by the brink of the\nstream a little flower, with silver leaves and golden heart,--and thus\nwas born to earth the woodland flower, Narcissus.\n\n\n\n\n\nMOTHERS' DAY\n\n(SECOND SUNDAY IN MAY)\n\nTHE LARK AND ITS YOUNG ONES\n\nA HINDU FABLE\n\nBY P. V. RAMASWAMI RAJU (ADAPTED)\n\nA child went up to a lark and said: \u201cGood lark, have you any young\nones?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, child, I have,\u201d said the mother lark, \u201cand they are very pretty\nones, indeed.\u201d Then she pointed to the little birds and said: \u201cThis is\nFair Wing, that is Tiny Bill, and that other is Bright Eyes.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt home, we are three,\u201d said the child, \u201cmyself and two sisters. Mother\nsays that we are pretty children, and she loves us.\u201d\n\nTo this the little larks replied: \u201cOh, yes, OUR mother is fond of us,\ntoo.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood mother lark,\u201d said the child, \u201cwill you let Tiny Bill go home with\nme and play?\u201d\n\nBefore the mother lark could reply, Bright Eyes said: \u201cYes, if you will\nsend your little sister to play with us in our nest.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, she will be so sorry to leave home,\u201d said the child; \u201cshe could not\ncome away from our mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cTiny Bill will be so sorry to leave our nest,\u201d answered Bright Eyes,\n\u201cand he will not go away from OUR mother.\u201d\n\nThen the child ran away to her mother, saying: \u201cAh, every one is fond of\nhome!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCORNELIA'S JEWELS\n\nBY JAMES BALDWIN [3]\n\n[Footnote 3: From Fifty Famous Stories Retold. Copyright, 1896, by\nAmerican Book Company.]\n\n\n\n\nIt was a bright morning in the old city of Rome many hundred years ago.\nIn a vine-covered summer-house in a beautiful garden, two boys were\nstanding. They were looking at their mother and her friend, who were\nwalking among the flowers and trees.\n\n\u201cDid you ever see so handsome a lady as our mother's friend?\u201d asked the\nyounger boy, holding his tall brother's hand. \u201cShe looks like a queen.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet she is not so beautiful as our mother,\u201d said the elder boy. \u201cShe\nhas a fine dress, it is true; but her face is not noble and kind. It is\nour mother who is like a queen.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true,\u201d said the other. \u201cThere is no woman in Rome so much like\na queen as our own dear mother.\u201d\n\nSoon Cornelia, their mother, came down the walk to speak with them. She\nwas simply dressed in a plain, white robe. Her arms and feet were bare,\nas was the custom in those days; and no rings or chains glittered about\nher hands and neck. For her only crown, long braids of soft brown hair\nwere coiled about her head; and a tender smile lit up her noble face as\nshe looked into her sons' proud eyes.\n\n\u201cBoys,\u201d she said, \u201cI have something to tell you.\u201d\n\nThey bowed before her, as Roman lads were taught to do, and said: \u201cWhat\nis it, mother?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are to dine with us to-day, here in the garden; and then our friend\nis going to show us that wonderful casket of jewels of which you have\nheard so much.\u201d\n\nThe brothers looked shyly at their mother's friend. Was it possible that\nshe had still other rings besides those on her fingers? Could she have\nother gems besides those which sparkled in the chains about her neck?\n\nWhen the simple outdoor meal was over, a servant brought the casket from\nthe house. The lady opened it. Ah, how those jewels dazzled the eyes\nof the wondering boys! There were ropes of pearls, white as milk, and\nsmooth as satin; heaps of shining rubies, red as the glowing coals;\nsapphires as blue as the sky that summer day; and diamonds that flashed\nand sparkled like the sunlight.\n\nThe brothers looked long at the gems. \u201cAh!\u201d whispered the younger; \u201cif\nour mother could only have such beautiful things!\u201d\n\nAt last, however, the casket was closed and carried carefully away.\n\n\u201cIs it true, Cornelia, that you have no jewels?\u201d asked her friend. \u201cIs\nit true, as I have heard it whispered, that you are poor?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I am not poor,\u201d answered Cornelia, and as she spoke she drew her\ntwo boys to her side; \u201cfor here are my jewels. They are worth more than\nall your gems.\u201d\n\nThe boys never forgot their mother's pride and love and care; and in\nafter years, when they had become great men in Rome, they often thought\nof this scene in the garden. And the world still likes to hear the story\nof Cornelia's jewels.\n\n\n\n\nQUEEN MARGARET AND THE ROBBERS\n\nBY ALBERT F. BLAISDELL (ADAPTED)\n\nOne day when roses were in bloom, two noblemen came to angry words in\nthe Temple Gardens, by the side of the river Thames. In the midst of\ntheir quarrel one of them plucked a white rose from a bush, and, turning\nto those who were near him, said:--\n\n\u201cHe who will stand by me in this quarrel, let him pluck a white rose\nwith me, and wear it in his hat.\u201d\n\nThen the other gentleman tore a red rose from another bush, and said:--\n\n\u201cLet him who will stand by me pluck a red rose, and wear it as his\nbadge.\u201d\n\nNow this quarrel led to a great civil war, which was called \u201cThe War of\nthe Roses,\u201d for every soldier wore a white or red rose in his helmet to\nshow to which side he belonged.\n\nThe leaders of the \u201cRed Rose\u201d sided with King Henry the Sixth and his\nwife, Queen Margaret, who were fighting for the English throne. Many\ngreat battles were fought, and wicked deeds were done in those dreadful\ntimes.\n\nIn a battle at a place called Hexham, the king's party was beaten, and\nQueen Margaret and her little son, the Prince of Wales, had to flee for\ntheir lives. They had not gone far before they met a band of robbers,\nwho stopped the queen and stole all her rich jewels, and, holding a\ndrawn sword over her head, threatened to take her life and that of her\nchild.\n\nThe poor queen, overcome by terror, fell upon her knees and begged them\nto spare her only son, the little prince. But the robbers, turning from\nher, began to fight among themselves as to how they should divide the\nplunder, and, drawing their weapons, they attacked one another. When\nthe queen saw what was happening she sprang to her feet, and, taking the\nprince by the hand, made haste to escape.\n\nThere was a thick wood close by, and the queen plunged into it, but she\nwas sorely afraid and trembled in every limb, for she knew that this\nwood was the hiding-place of robbers and outlaws. Every tree seemed to\nher excited fancy to be an armed man waiting to kill her and her little\nson.\n\nOn and on she went through the dark wood, this way and that, seeking\nsome place of shelter, but not knowing where she was going. At last she\nsaw by the light of the moon a tall, fierce-looking man step out from\nbehind a tree. He came directly toward her, and she knew by his dress\nthat he was an outlaw. But thinking that he might have children of his\nown, she determined to throw herself and her son upon his mercy.\n\nWhen he came near she addressed him in a calm voice and with a stately\nmanner.\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d said she, \u201cI am the queen. Kill me if thou wilt, but spare my\nson, thy prince. Take him, I will trust him to thee. Keep him safe from\nthose that seek his life, and God will have pity on thee for all thy\nsins.\u201d\n\nThe words of the queen moved the heart of the outlaw. He told her that\nhe had once fought on her side, and was now hiding from the soldiers\nof the \u201cWhite Rose.\u201d He then lifted the little prince in his arms, and,\nbidding the queen follow, led the way to a cave in the rocks. There he\ngave them food and shelter, and kept them safe for two days, when the\nqueen's friends and attendants, discovering their hiding-place, came and\ntook them far away.\n\nIf you ever go to Hexham Forest, you may see this robber's cave. It is\non the bank of a little stream that flows at the foot of a hill, and to\nthis day the people call it \u201cQueen Margaret's Cave.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE REVENGE OF CORIOLANUS\n\nBY CHARLES MORRIS (ADAPTED)\n\nCaius Marcius was a noble Roman youth, who fought valiantly, when but\nseventeen years of age, in the battle of Lake Regillus, and was there\ncrowned with an oaken wreath, the Roman reward for saving the life of a\nfellow soldier. This he showed with joy to his mother, Volumnia, whom he\nloved exceedingly, it being his greatest pleasure to receive praise from\nher lips.\n\nHe afterward won many more crowns in battle, and became one of the\nmost famous of Roman soldiers. One of his memorable exploits took place\nduring a war with the Volscians, in which the Romans attacked the city\nof Corioli. Through Caius's bravery the place was taken, and the Roman\ngeneral said: \u201cHenceforth, let him be called after the name of this\ncity.\u201d So ever after he was known as Caius Marcius Coriolanus.\n\nCourage was not the only marked quality of Coriolanus. His pride was\nequally great. He was a noble of the nobles, so haughty in demeanor and\nso disdainful of the commons that they grew to hate him bitterly.\n\nAt length came a time of great scarcity of food. The people were on\nthe verge of famine, to relieve which shiploads of corn were sent from\nSicily to Rome. The Senate resolved to distribute this corn among the\nsuffering people, but Coriolanus opposed this, saying: \u201cIf they want\ncorn, let them promise to obey the Patricians, as their fathers did. Let\nthem give up their tribunes. If they do this we will let them have corn,\nand take care of them.\u201d\n\nWhen the people heard of what the proud noble had said, they broke\ninto a fury, and a mob gathered around the doors of the Senate house,\nprepared to seize and tear him in pieces when he came out. But the\ntribunes prevented this, and Coriolanus fled from Rome, exiled from his\nnative land by his pride and disdain of the people.\n\nThe exile made his way to the land of the Volscians and became the\nfriend of Rome's great enemy, whom he had formerly helped to conquer.\nHe aroused the Volscians' ire against Rome, to a greater degree than\nbefore, and placing himself at the head of a Volscian army greater\nthan the Roman forces, marched against his native city. The army swept\nvictoriously onward, taking city after city, and finally encamping\nwithin five miles of Rome.\n\nThe approach of this powerful host threw the Romans into dismay. They\nhad been assailed so suddenly that they had made no preparations for\ndefense, and the city seemed to lie at the mercy of its foes. The\nwomen ran to the temples to pray for the favor of the gods. The people\ndemanded that the Senate should send deputies to the invading army to\ntreat for peace.\n\nThe Senate, no less frightened than the people, obeyed, sending five\nleading Patricians to the Volscian camp. These deputies were haughtily\nreceived by Coriolanus, who offered them such severe terms that they\nwere unable to accept them. They returned and reported the matter, and\nthe Senate was thrown into confusion. The deputies were sent again,\ninstructed to ask for gentler terms, but now Coriolanus refused even\nto let them enter his camp. This harsh repulse plunged Rome into mortal\nterror.\n\nAll else having failed, the noble women of Rome, with Volumnia, the\nmother of Coriolanus, at their head, went in procession from the city to\nthe Volscian camp to pray for mercy.\n\nIt was a sad and solemn spectacle, as this train of noble ladies, clad\nin their habiliments of woe, and with bent heads and sorrowful faces,\nwound through the hostile camp, from which they were not excluded as the\ndeputies had been. Even the Volscian soldiers watched them with pitying\neyes, and spoke no scornful word as they moved slowly past.\n\nOn reaching the midst of the camp, they saw Coriolanus on the general's\nseat, with the Volscian chiefs gathered around him. At first he wondered\nwho these women could be; but when they came near, and he saw his mother\nat the head of the train, his deep love for her welled up so strongly in\nhis heart that he could not restrain himself, but sprang up and ran to\nmeet and kiss her.\n\nThe Roman matron stopped him with a dignified gesture. \u201cEre you kiss\nme,\u201d she said, \u201clet me know whether I speak to an enemy or to my son;\nwhether I stand here as your prisoner or your mother.\u201d\n\nHe stood before her in silence, with bent head, and unable to answer.\n\n\u201cMust it, then, be that if I had never borne a son, Rome would have\nnever seen the camp of an enemy?\u201d said Volumnia, in sorrowful tones.\n\n\u201cBut I am too old to endure much longer your shame and my misery. Think\nnot of me, but of your wife and children, whom you would doom to death\nor to life in bondage.\u201d\n\nThen Virgilia, his wife, and his children, came forward and kissed him,\nand all the noble ladies in the train burst into tears and bemoaned the\nperil of their country.\n\nCoriolanus still stood silent, his face working with contending\nthoughts. At length he cried out in heart-rending accents: \u201cO mother!\nWhat have you done to me?\u201d\n\nThen clasping her hand he wrung it vehemently, saying: \u201cMother, the\nvictory is yours! A happy victory for you and Rome! but shame and ruin\nfor your son.\u201d\n\nThereupon he embraced her with yearning heart, and afterward clasped his\nwife and children to his breast, bidding them return with their tale\nof conquest to Rome. As for himself, he said, only exile and shame\nremained.\n\nBefore the women reached home, the army of the Volscians was on its\nhomeward march. Coriolanus never led it against Rome again. He lived and\ndied in exile, far from his wife and children.\n\nThe Romans, to honor Volumnia, and those who had gone with her to the\nVolscian camp, built a temple to \u201cWoman's Fortune,\u201d on the spot where\nCoriolanus had yielded to his mother's entreaties.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WIDOW AND HER THREE SONS\n\n(ADAPTED)\n\nOne day a poor woman approached Mr. Lincoln for an interview. She was\nsomewhat advanced in years and plainly clad, wearing a faded shawl and\nworn hood.\n\n\u201cWell, my good woman,\u201d said Mr. Lincoln, \u201cwhat can I do for you this\nmorning?\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. President,\u201d answered she, \u201cmy husband and three sons all went into\nthe army. My husband was killed in the battle of----. I get along very\nbadly since then living all alone, and I thought that I would come and\nask you to release to me my eldest son.\u201d\n\nMr. Lincoln looked in her face for a moment, and then replied kindly:--\n\n\u201cCertainly! Certainly! If you have given us ALL, and your prop has been\ntaken away, you are justly entitled to one of your boys.\u201d\n\nHe then made out an order discharging the young man, which the woman\ntook away, thanking him gratefully.\n\nShe went to the front herself with the President's order, and found that\nher son had been mortally wounded in a recent battle, and taken to the\nhospital.\n\nShe hastened to the hospital. But she was too late, the boy died, and\nshe saw him laid in a soldier's grave.\n\nShe then returned to the President with his order, on the back of which\nthe attendant surgeon had stated the sad facts concerning the young man\nit was intended to discharge.\n\nMr. Lincoln was much moved by her story, and said: \u201cI know what you wish\nme to do now, and I shall do it without your asking. I shall release to\nyou your second son.\u201d\n\nTaking up his pen he began to write the order, while the grief-stricken\nwoman stood at his side and passed her hand softly over his head, and\nstroked his rough hair as she would have stroked her boy's.\n\nWhen he had finished he handed her the paper, saying tenderly, his eyes\nfull of tears:--\n\n\u201cNow you have one of the two left, and I have one, that is no more than\nright.\u201d\n\nShe took the order and reverently placing her hand upon his head,\nsaid:--\n\n\u201cThe Lord bless you, Mr. President. May you live a thousand years, and\nmay you always be the head of this great nation.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\nMEMORIAL DAY\n\n(APRIL OR MAY)\n\nFLAG DAY\n\n(JUNE 14)\n\n\n\n\nBETSY ROSS AND THE FLAG\n\nBY HARRY PRINGLE FORD (ADAPTED)\n\nOn the 14th day of June, 1777, the Continental Congress passed the\nfollowing resolution: \u201cRESOLVED, That the flag of the thirteen United\nStates be thirteen stripes alternate red and white; that the Union\nbe thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new\nconstellation.\u201d\n\nWe are told that previous to this, in 1776, a committee was appointed to\nlook after the matter, and together with General Washington they called\nat the house of Betsy Ross, 239 Arch Street, Philadelphia.\n\nBetsy Ross was a young widow of twenty-four heroically supporting\nherself by continuing the upholstery business of her late husband, young\nJohn Ross, a patriot who had died in the service of his country.\nBetsy was noted for her exquisite needlework, and was engaged in the\nflag-making business.\n\nThe committee asked her if she thought she could make a flag from a\ndesign, a rough drawing of which General Washington showed her. She\nreplied, with diffidence, that she did not know whether she could or\nnot, but would try. She noticed, however, that the star as drawn had six\npoints, and informed the committee that the correct star had but five.\nThey answered that as a great number of stars would be required, the\nmore regular form with six points could be more easily made than one\nwith five.\n\nShe responded in a practical way by deftly folding a scrap of\npaper; then with a single clip of her scissors she displayed a true,\nsymmetrical, five-pointed star.\n\nThis decided the committee in her favor. A rough design was left for her\nuse, but she was permitted to make a sample flag according to her own\nideas of the arrangement of the stars and the proportions of the stripes\nand the general form of the whole.\n\nSometime after its completion it was presented to Congress, and the\ncommittee had the pleasure of informing Betsy Ross that her flag was\naccepted as the Nation's standard.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER\n\nBY EVA MARCH TAPPAN (ADAPTED)\n\nIn 1814, while the War of 1812 was still going on, the people of\nMaryland were in great trouble, for a British fleet began to attack\nBaltimore. The enemy bombarded the forts, including Fort McHenry. For\ntwenty-four hours the terrific bombardment went on.\n\n\u201cIf Fort McHenry only stands, the city is safe,\u201d said Francis Scott Key\nto a friend, and they gazed anxiously through the smoke to see if the\nflag was still flying.\n\nThese two men were in the strangest place that could be imagined. They\nwere in a little American vessel fast moored to the side of the British\nadmiral's flagship. A Maryland doctor had been seized as a prisoner by\nthe British, and the President had given permission for them to go out\nunder a flag of truce, to ask for his release. The British commander\nfinally decided that the prisoner might be set free; but he had no\nidea of allowing the two men to go back to the city and carry any\ninformation. \u201cUntil the attack on Baltimore is ended, you and your boat\nmust remain here,\u201d he said.\n\nThe firing went on. As long as daylight lasted they could catch glimpses\nof the Stars and Stripes whenever the wind swayed the clouds of smoke.\nWhen night came they could still see the banner now and then by the\nblaze of the cannon. A little after midnight the firing stopped. The two\nmen paced up and down the deck, straining their eyes to see if the flag\nwas still flying. \u201cCan the fort have surrendered?\u201d they questioned. \u201cOh,\nif morning would only come!\u201d\n\nAt last the faint gray of dawn appeared. They could see that some flag\nwas flying, but it was too dark to tell which. More and more eagerly\nthey gazed. It grew lighter, a sudden breath of wind caught the flag,\nand it floated out on the breeze. It was no English flag, it was their\nown Stars and Stripes. The fort had stood, the city was safe. Then it\nwas that Key took from his pocket an old letter and on the back of it he\nwrote the poem, \u201cThe Star-Spangled Banner.\u201d\n\nThe British departed, and the little American boat went back to the\ncity. Mr. Key gave a copy of the poem to his uncle, who had been helping\nto defend the fort. The uncle sent it to the printer, and had it struck\noff on some handbills. Before the ink was dry the printer caught up one\nand hurried away to a restaurant, where many patriots were assembled.\nWaving the paper, he cried, \u201cListen to this!\u201d and he read:--\n\n   \u201cO say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,\n     What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,\n     Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous\n  fight,\n     O'er the ramparts we watch'd were so gallantly streaming?\n     And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,\n     Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.\n       O say, does the star-spangled banner yet wave\n       O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?\u201d\n\n\n\u201cSing it! sing it!\u201d cried the whole company. Charles Durang mounted a\nchair and then for the first time \u201cThe Star-Spangled Banner\u201d was sung.\nThe tune was \u201cTo Anacreon in Heaven,\u201d an air which had long been a\nfavorite. Halls, theaters, and private houses rang with its strains.\n\nThe fleet was out of sight even before the poem was printed. In the\nmiddle of the night the admiral had sent to the British soldiers this\nmessage, \u201cI can do nothing more,\u201d and they hurried on board the vessels.\nIt was not long before they left Chesapeake Bay altogether,--perhaps\nwith the new song ringing in their ears as they went.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE DRUMMER-BOY\n\nBY ALBERT BUSHNELL HART (ADAPTED)\n\nA few days before a certain regiment received orders to join General\nLyon, on his march to Wilson's Creek, the drummer-boy of the regiment\nwas taken sick, and carried to the hospital.\n\nShortly after this there appeared before the captain's quarters, during\nthe beating of the reveille, a good-looking, middle-aged woman, dressed\nin deep mourning, leading by the hand a sharp, sprightly looking boy,\napparently about twelve or thirteen years of age.\n\nHer story was soon told. She was from East Tennessee, where her husband\nhad been killed by the Confederates, and all her property destroyed.\nBeing destitute, she thought that if she could procure a situation for\nher boy as drummer, she could find employment for herself.\n\nWhile she told her story, the little fellow kept his eyes intently fixed\nupon the countenance of the captain. And just as the latter was about to\nsay that he could not take so small a boy, the lad spoke out:--\n\n\u201cDon't be afraid, Captain,\u201d said he, \u201cI can drum.\u201d\n\nThis was spoken with so much confidence that the captain smiled and said\nto the sergeant:--\n\n\u201cWell, well, bring the drum, and order our fifer to come here.\u201d\n\nIn a few moments a drum was produced and the fifer, a round-shouldered,\ngood-natured fellow, who stood six feet tall, made his appearance. Upon\nbeing introduced to the lad, he stooped down, resting his hands on his\nknees, and, after peering into the little fellow's face for a moment,\nsaid:--\n\n\u201cMy little man, can you drum?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir,\u201d answered the boy promptly. \u201cI drummed for Captain Hill in\nTennessee.\u201d\n\nThe fifer immediately straightened himself, and, placing his fife to\nhis lips, played the \u201cFlowers of Edinburgh,\u201d one of the most difficult\nthings to follow with the drum. And nobly did the little fellow follow\nhim, showing himself to be master of the drum.\n\nWhen the music ceased the captain turned to the mother and observed:--\n\n\u201cMadam, I will take the boy. What is his name?\u201d\n\n\u201cEdward Lee,\u201d she replied. Then placing her hand upon the captain's arm,\nshe continued in a choking voice, \u201cIf he is not killed!--Captain,--you\nwill bring him back to me?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d he replied, \u201cwe shall be certain to bring him back to you.\nWe shall be discharged in six weeks.\u201d\n\nAn hour after, the company led the regiment out of camp, the drum and\nfife playing \u201cThe Girl I left behind me.\u201d\n\nEddie, as the soldiers called him, soon became a great favorite with\nall the men of the company. When any of the boys returned from foraging,\nEddie's share of the peaches, melons, and other good things was meted\nout first. During the heavy and fatiguing marches, the long-legged fifer\noften waded through the mud with the little drummer mounted on his back,\nand in the same fashion he carried Eddie when fording streams.\n\nDuring the fight at Wilson's Creek, a part of the company was stationed\non the right of Totten's battery, while the balance of the company was\nordered down into a deep ravine, at the left, in which it was known a\nparty of Confederates was concealed.\n\nAn engagement took place. The contest in the ravine continued some time.\nTotten suddenly wheeled his battery upon the enemy in that quarter, and\nthey soon retreated to high ground behind their lines.\n\nIn less than twenty minutes after Totten had driven the Confederates\nfrom the ravine, the word passed from man to man throughout the army,\n\u201cLyon is killed!\u201d And soon after, hostilities having ceased upon both\nsides, the order came for the main part of the Federal force to fall\nback upon Springfield, while the lesser part was to camp upon the\nground, and cover the retreat.\n\nThat night a corporal was detailed for guard duty. His post was upon\na high eminence that overlooked the deep ravine in which the men had\nengaged the enemy. It was a dreary, lonesome beat. The hours passed\nslowly away, and at length the morning light began to streak along the\nwestern sky, making surrounding objects visible.\n\nPresently the corporal heard a drum beating up the morning call. At\nfirst he thought it came from the camp of the Confederates across the\ncreek, but as he listened he found that it came from the deep ravine.\nFor a few moments the sound stopped, then began again. The corporal\nlistened closely. The notes of the drum were familiar to him,--and then\nhe knew that it was the drummer-boy from Tennessee playing the morning\ncall.\n\nJust then the corporal was relieved from guard duty, and, asking\npermission, went at once to Eddie's assistance. He started down the\nhill, through the thick underbrush, and upon reaching the bottom of the\nravine, he followed the sound of the drum, and soon found the lad seated\nupon the ground, his back leaning against a fallen tree, while his drum\nhung upon a bush in front of him.\n\nAs soon as the boy saw his rescuer he dropped his drumsticks, and\nexclaimed:--\n\n\u201cO Corporal! I am so glad to see you! Give me a drink.\u201d\n\nThe soldier took his empty canteen, and immediately turned to bring some\nwater from the brook that he could hear rippling through the bushes near\nby, when, Eddie, thinking that he was about to leave him, cried out:--\n\n\u201cDon't leave me, Corporal, I can't walk.\u201d\n\nThe corporal was soon back with the water, when he discovered that both\nthe lad's feet had been shot away by a cannon-ball.\n\nAfter satisfying his thirst, Eddie looked up into the corporal's face\nand said:--\n\n\u201cYou don't think I shall die, do you? This man said I should not,--he\nsaid the surgeon could cure my feet.\u201d\n\nThe corporal now looked about him and discovered a man lying in the\ngrass near by. By his dress he knew him to belong to the Confederate\narmy. It appeared that he had been shot and had fallen near Eddie.\nKnowing that he could not live, and seeing the condition of the\ndrummer-boy, he had crawled to him, taken off his buckskin suspenders,\nand had corded the little fellow's legs below the knees, and then he had\nlaid himself down and died.\n\nWhile Eddie was telling the corporal these particulars, they heard the\ntramp of cavalry coming down the ravine, and in a moment a scout of the\nenemy was upon them, and took them both prisoners.\n\nThe corporal requested the officer in charge to take Eddie up in front\nof him, and he did so, carrying the lad with great tenderness and care.\nWhen they reached the Confederate camp the little fellow was dead.\n\n\n\n\nA FLAG INCIDENT\n\nBY M. M. THOMAS (ADAPTED)\n\nWhen marching to Chattanooga the corps had reached a little wooded\nvalley between the mountains. The colonel, with others, rode ahead,\nand, striking into a bypath, suddenly came upon a secluded little cabin\nsurrounded by a patch of cultivated ground.\n\nAt the door an old woman, eighty years of age, was supporting herself\non a crutch. As they rode up she asked if they were \u201cYankees,\u201d and upon\ntheir replying that they were, she said: \u201cHave you got the Stars and\nStripes with you? My father fought the Tories in the Revolution, and my\nold eyes ache for a sight of the true flag before I die.\u201d\n\nTo gratify her the colonel sent to have the colors brought that way.\nWhen they were unfurled and planted before her door, she passed her\ntrembling hands over them and held them close to her eyes that she might\nview the stars once more. When the band gave her \u201cYankee Doodle,\u201d\n and the \u201c'Star-Spangled Banner,\u201d she sobbed like a child, as did her\ndaughter, a woman of fifty, while her three little grandchildren gazed\nin wonder.\n\nThey were Eastern people, who had gone to New Orleans to try to improve\ntheir condition. Not being successful, they had moved from place to\nplace to better themselves, until finally they had settled on this spot,\nthe husband having taken several acres of land here for a debt.\n\nThen the war burst upon them. The man fled to the mountains to avoid the\nconscription, and they knew not whether he was alive or dead. They had\nmanaged to support life, but were so retired that they saw very few\npeople.\n\nLeaving them food and supplies, the colonel and the corps passed on.\n\n\n\n\nTWO HERO-STORIES OF THE CIVIL WAR\n\nBY BEN LA BREE (ADAPTED)\n\nI. BRAVERY HONORED BY A FOE\n\nIn a rifle-pit, on the brow of a hill near Fredericksburg, were a number\nof Confederate soldiers who had exhausted their ammunition in the vain\nattempt to check the advancing column of Hooker's finely equipped and\ndisciplined army which was crossing the river. To the relief of these\nfew came the brigade in double-quick time. But no sooner were the\nsoldiers intrenched than the firing on the opposite side of the river\nbecame terrific.\n\nA heavy mist obscured the scene. The Federal soldiers poured a merciless\nfire into the trenches. Soon many Confederates fell, and the agonized\ncries of the wounded who lay there calling for water, smote the hearts\nof their helpless comrades.\n\n\u201cWater! Water!\u201d But there was none to give, the canteens were-empty.\n\n\u201cBoys,\u201d exclaimed Nathan Cunningham, a lad of eighteen, the color-bearer\nfor his regiment, \u201cI can't stand this any more. They want water, and\nwater they must have. So let me have a few canteens and I'll go for\nsome.\u201d\n\nCarefully laying the colors, which he had borne on many a field, in a\ntrench, he seized some canteens, and, leaping into the mist, was soon\nout of sight.\n\nShortly after this the firing ceased for a while, and an order came for\nthe men to fall back to the main line.\n\nAs the Confederates were retreating they met Nathan Cunningham, his\ncanteens full of water, hurrying to relieve the thirst of the wounded\nmen in the trenches. He glanced over the passing column and saw that\nthe faded flag, which he had carried so long, was not there. The men in\ntheir haste to obey orders HAD FORGOTTEN OR OVERLOOKED THE COLORS.\n\nQuickly the lad sped to the trenches, intent now not only on giving\nwater to his comrades, but on rescuing the flag and so to save the honor\nof his regiment.\n\nHis mission of mercy was soon accomplished. The wounded men drank\nfreely. The lad then found and seized his colors, and turned to rejoin\nhis regiment. Scarcely had he gone three paces when a company of Federal\nsoldiers appeared ascending the hill.\n\n\u201cHalt and surrender,\u201d came the stern command, and a hundred rifles were\nleveled at the boy's breast.\n\n\u201cNEVER! while I hold the colors,\u201d was his firm reply.\n\nThe morning sun, piercing with a lurid glare the dense mist, showed the\nlad proudly standing with his head thrown back and his flag grasped in\nhis hand, while his unprotected breast was exposed to the fire of his\nfoe.\n\nA moment's pause. Then the Federal officer gave his command:--\n\n\u201cBack with your pieces, men, don't shoot that brave boy.\u201d\n\nAnd Nathan Cunningham, with colors flying over his head, passed on and\njoined his regiment.\n\nHis comrades in arms still tell with pride of his brave deed and of the\ngenerous act of a foe.\n\n\n\n\nII. THE BRAVERY OF RICHARD KIRTLAND\n\n\nRichard Kirtland was a sergeant in the Second Regiment of South Carolina\nVolunteers. The day after the great battle of Fredericksburg, Kershaw's\nbrigade occupied the road at the foot of Marye's Hill.\n\nOne hundred and fifty yards in front of the road, on the other side of\na stone wall, lay Sykes's division of the United States Army. Between\nthese troops and Kershaw's command a skirmish fight was continued\nthrough the entire day. The ground between the lines was literally\ncovered with dead and dying Federal soldiers.\n\nAll day long the wounded were calling, \u201cWater! water! water!\u201d\n\nIn the afternoon, Sergeant Kirtland, a Confederate soldier, went to the\nheadquarters of General Kershaw, and said with deep emotion: \u201cGeneral,\nall through last night and to-day; I have been hearing those poor\nwounded Federal soldiers out there cry for water. Let me go and give\nthem some.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon't you know,\u201d replied the general, \u201cthat you would get a bullet\nthrough you the moment you stepped over the wall?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir,\u201d said the sergeant; \u201cbut if you will let me go I am willing\nto try it.\u201d\n\nThe general reflected a minute, then answered: \u201cKirtland, I ought not to\nallow you to take this risk, but the spirit that moves you is so noble I\ncannot refuse. Go, and may God protect you!\u201d\n\nIn the face of almost certain death the sergeant climbed the wall,\nwatched with anxiety by the soldiers of his army. Under the curious gaze\nof his foes, and exposed to their fire, he dropped to the ground and\nhastened on his errand of mercy. Unharmed, untouched, he reached the\nnearest sufferer. He knelt beside him, tenderly raised his drooping\nhead, rested it gently on his breast, and poured the cooling life-giving\nwater down the parched throat. This done he laid him carefully down,\nplaced the soldier's knapsack under his head, straightened his broken\nlimbs, spread his coat over him, replaced the empty canteen with a full\none, then turned to another sufferer.\n\nBy this time his conduct was understood by friend and foe alike and the\nfiring ceased on both sides.\n\nFor an hour and a half did he pursue his noble mission, until he had\nrelieved the wounded on all parts of the battlefield. Then he returned\nto his post uninjured.\n\nSurely such a noble deed is worthy of the admiration of men and angels.\n\n\n\n\nTHE YOUNG SENTINEL\n\nBY Z. A. MUDGE (ADAPTED)\n\nIn the summer of 1862, a young man belonging to a Vermont regiment was\nfound sleeping at his post. He was tried and sentenced to be shot. The\nday was fixed for the execution, and the young soldier calmly prepared\nto meet his fate.\n\nFriends who knew of the case brought the matter to Mr. Lincoln's\nattention. It seemed that the boy had been on duty one night, and on\nthe following night he had taken the place of a comrade too ill to stand\nguard. The third night he had been again called out, and, being utterly\nexhausted, had fallen asleep at his post.\n\nAs soon as Mr. Lincoln understood the case, he signed a pardon, and\nsent it to the camp. The morning before the execution arrived, and the\nPresident had not heard whether the pardon had reached the officers in\ncharge of the matter. He began to feel uneasy. He ordered a telegram to\nbe sent to the camp, but received no answer. State papers could not\nfix his mind, nor could he banish the condemned soldier boy from his\nthoughts.\n\nAt last, feeling that he MUST KNOW that the lad was safe, he ordered\nthe carriage and rode rapidly ten miles over a dusty road and beneath\na scorching sun. When he reached the camp he found that the pardon had\nbeen received and the execution stayed.\n\nThe sentinel was released, and his heart was filled with lasting\ngratitude. When the campaign opened in the spring, the young man was\nwith his regiment near Yorktown, Virginia. They were ordered to attack a\nfort, and he fell at the first volley of the enemy.\n\nHis comrades caught him up and carried him bleeding and dying from the\nfield. \u201cBear witness,\u201d he said, \u201cthat I have proved myself not a coward,\nand I am not afraid to die.\u201d Then, making a last effort, with his dying\nbreath he prayed for Abraham Lincoln.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COLONEL OF THE ZOUAVES\n\nBY NOAH BROOKS (ADAPTED)\n\nAmong those who accompanied Mr. Lincoln, the President-elect, on his\njourney from Illinois to the national capital, was Elmer E. Ellsworth,\na young man who had been employed in the law office of Lincoln and\nHerndon, Springfield.\n\nHe was a brave, handsome, and impetuous youth, and was among the first\nto offer his services to the President in defense of the Union, as soon\nas the mutterings of war were heard.\n\nBefore the war he had organized a company of Zouaves from the Chicago\nfiremen, and had delighted and astonished many people by the exhibitions\nof their skill in the evolutions through which they were put while\nvisiting some chief cities of the Republic.\n\nNow, being commissioned a second lieutenant in the United States Army,\nhe went to New York and organized from the firemen of that city a\nsimilar regiment, known as the Eleventh New York.\n\nColonel Ellsworth's Zouaves, on the evening of May 23, were sent with\na considerable force to occupy the heights overlooking Washington and\nAlexandria, on the banks of the Potomac, opposite the national capital.\n\nNext day, seeing a Confederate flag flying from the Marshall House,\na tavern in Alexandria kept by a secessionist, he went up through the\nbuilding to the roof and pulled it down. While on his way down the\nstairs, with the flag in his arms, he was met by the tavern-keeper, who\nshot and killed him instantly. Ellsworth fell, dyeing the Confederate\nflag with the blood that gushed from his heart. The tavern-keeper was\ninstantly killed by a shot from Private Brownell, of the Ellsworth\nZouaves, who was at hand when his commander fell.\n\nThe death of Ellsworth, needless though it may have been, caused a\nprofound sensation throughout the country, where he was well known. He\nwas among the very first martyrs of the war, as he had been one of the\nfirst volunteers.\n\nLincoln was overwhelmed with sorrow. He had the body of the lamented\nyoung officer taken to the White House, where it lay in state until the\nburial took place, and, even in the midst of his increasing cares, he\nfound time to sit alone and in grief-stricken meditation by the bier of\nthe dead young soldier of whose career he had cherished so great hopes.\n\nThe life-blood from Ellsworth's heart had stained not only the\nConfederate flag, but a gold medal found under his uniform, bearing the\nlegend: \u201cNon solum nobis, sed pro patria\u201d; \u201cNot for ourselves alone, but\nfor the country.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nGENERAL SCOTT AND THE STARS AND STRIPES\n\nBY E. D. TOWNSEND (ADAPTED)\n\nOne day, as the general was sitting at his table in the office, the\nmessenger announced that a person desired to see him a moment in order\nto present a gift.\n\nA German was introduced, who said that he was commissioned by a house in\nNew York to present General Scott with a small silk banner. It was very\nhandsome, of the size of a regimental flag, and was made of a single\npiece of silk stamped with the Stars and Stripes of the proper colors.\n\nThe German said that the manufacturers who had sent the banner, wished\nto express thus the great respect they felt for General Scott, and their\nsense of his importance to the country in that perilous time.\n\nThe general was highly pleased, and, in accepting the gift, assured\nthe donors that the flag should hang in his room wherever he went, and\nenshroud him when he died.\n\nAs soon as the man was gone, the general desired that the stars might be\ncounted to see if ALL the States were represented. They were ALL there.\n\nThe flag was then draped between the windows over the couch where the\ngeneral frequently reclined for rest during the day. It went with him in\nhis berth when he sailed for Europe, after his retirement, and enveloped\nhis coffin when he was interred at West Point.\n\n\n\n\n\nINDEPENDENCE DAY\n\n(JULY 4)\n\n\n\n\nTHE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE\n\nBY WASHINGTON IRVING\n\nWhile danger was gathering round New York, and its inhabitants were\nin mute suspense and fearful anticipations, the General Congress\nat Philadelphia was discussing, with closed doors, what John Adams\npronounced: \u201cThe greatest question ever debated in America, and as great\nas ever was or will be debated among men.\u201d The result was, a resolution\npassed unanimously on the 2d of July; \u201cthat these United Colonies are,\nand of right ought to be, free and independent States.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe 2d of July,\u201d adds the same patriot statesman, \u201cwill be the most\nmemorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it\nwill be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary\nfestival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by\nsolemn acts of devotion to Almighty God. It ought to be solemnized with\npomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and\nilluminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this\ntime forth forevermore.\u201d\n\nThe glorious event has, indeed, given rise to an annual jubilee; but\nnot on the day designated by Adams. The FOURTH of July is the day of\nnational rejoicing, for on that day the \u201cDeclaration of Independence,\u201d\n that solemn and sublime document, was adopted.\n\nTradition gives a dramatic effect to its announcement. It was known\nto be under discussion, but the closed doors of Congress excluded the\npopulace. They awaited, in throngs, an appointed signal. In the steeple\nof the State House was a bell, imported twenty-three years previously\nfrom London by the Provincial Assembly of Pennsylvania. It bore the\nportentous text from Scripture: \u201cProclaim Liberty throughout all the\nland, unto all the inhabitants thereof.\u201d A joyous peal from that bell\ngave notice that the bill had been passed. It was the knell of British\ndomination.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIGNING OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE\n\nBY H. A. GUERBER [4]\n\n[Footnote 4: From The Story of the Thirteen Colonies. Copyright, 1898,\nby H. A. Guerber. American Book Company, publishers.]\n\n\nJohn Hancock, President of Congress, was the first to sign the\nDeclaration of Independence, writing his name in large, plain letters,\nand saying:--\n\n\u201cThere! John Bull can read my name without spectacles. Now let him\ndouble the price on my head, for this is my defiance.\u201d\n\nThen he turned to the other members, and solemnly declared:--\n\n\u201cWe must be unanimous. There must be no pulling different ways. We must\nall hang together.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Franklin, quaintly: \u201cwe must all hang together, or most\nassuredly we shall all hang separately.\u201d\n\nWe are told that Charles Carroll, thinking that his writing looked\nshaky, added the words, \u201cof Carrollton,\u201d so that the king should not be\nable to make any mistake as to whose name stood there.\n\n\nA BRAVE GIRL\n\nBY JAMES JOHONNOT (ADAPTED) [41]\n\n\n[Footnote 41: From Stories of Heroic Deeds. Copyright, 1887, by D.\nAppleton and Company. American Book Company, publishers.]\n\n\nIn the year 1781 the war was chiefly carried on in the South, but the\nNorth was constantly troubled by bands of Tories and Indians, who would\nswoop down on small settlements and make off with whatever they could\nlay their hands on.\n\nDuring this time General Schuyler was staying at his house, which stood\njust outside the stockade or walls of Albany. The British commander sent\nout a party of Tories and Indians to capture the general.\n\nWhen they reached the outskirts of the city they learned from a Dutch\nlaborer that the general's house was guarded by six soldiers, three\nwatching by night and three by day. They let the Dutchman go, and as\nsoon as the band was out of sight he hastened to Albany and warned the\ngeneral of their approach.\n\nSchuyler gathered his family in one of the upper rooms of his house,\nand giving orders that the doors and windows should be barred, fired a\npistol from a top-story window, to alarm the neighborhood.\n\nThe soldiers on guard, who had been lounging in the shade of a tree,\nstarted to their feet at the sound of the pistol; but, alas! too late,\nfor they found themselves surrounded by a crowd of dusky forms, who\nbound them hand and foot, before they had time to resist.\n\nIn the room upstairs was the sturdy general, standing resolutely at the\ndoor, with gun in hand, while his black slaves were gathered about him,\neach with a weapon. At the other end of the room the women were huddled\ntogether, some weeping and some praying.\n\nSuddenly a deafening crash was heard. The Indian band had broken\ninto the house. With loud shouts they began to pillage and to destroy\neverything in sight. While they were yet busy downstairs, Mrs. Schuyler\nsprang to her feet and rushed to the door; for she had suddenly\nremembered that the baby, who was only a few months old, was asleep in\nits cradle in a room on the first floor.\n\nThe general caught his wife in his arms, and implored her not to go to\ncertain death, saying that if any one was to go he would. While this\ngenerous struggle between husband and wife was going on, their young\ndaughter, who had been standing near the door, glided by them, and\ndescended the stairs.\n\nAll was dark in the hall, excepting where the light shone from the\ndining-room in which the Indians were pillaging the shelves and fighting\nover their booty. How to get past the dining-room door was the question,\nbut the brave girl did not hesitate. Reaching the lower hall, she walked\nvery deliberately forward, softly but quickly passing the door, and\nunobserved reached the room in which was the cradle.\n\nShe caught up the baby, crept back past the open door, and was just\nmounting the stairs, when one of the savages happened to see her.\n\n\u201cWHIZ\u201d--and his sharp tomahawk struck the stair rail within a few inches\nof the baby's head. But the frightened girl hurried on, and in a few\nseconds was safe in her father's arms.\n\nAs for the Indians, fearing an attack from the near-by garrison, they\nhastened away with the booty they had collected, and left General\nSchuyler and his family unharmed.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOSTON TEA-PARTY\n\nBY JOHN ANDREWS (ADAPTED) [5]\n\n\n[Footnote 5: From a letter written to a friend in 1773.]\n\n\nOn November 29, 1773, there arrived in Boston Harbor a ship carrying an\nhundred and odd chests of the detested tea. The people in the country\nroundabout, as well as the town's folk, were unanimous against allowing\nthe landing of it; but the agents in charge of the consignment persisted\nin their refusal to take the tea back to London. The town bells were\nrung, for a general muster of the citizens. Handbills were stuck up\ncalling on \u201cFriends! Citizens! Countrymen!\u201d\n\nMr. Rotch, the owner of the ship, found himself exposed not only to the\nloss of his ship, but to the loss of the money-value of the tea itself,\nif he should attempt to send her back without clearance papers from the\ncustom-house; for the admiral kept a vessel in readiness to seize\nany ship which might leave without those papers. Therefore, Mr. Rotch\ndeclared that his ship should not carry back the tea without either\nthe proper clearance or the promise of full indemnity for any losses he\nmight incur.\n\nMatters continued thus for some days, when a general muster was called\nof the people of Boston and of all the neighboring towns. They met, to\nthe number of five or six thousand, at ten o'clock in the morning, in\nthe Old South Meeting-House; where they passed a unanimous vote THAT THE\nTEA SHOULD GO OUT OF THE HARBOR THAT AFTERNOON!\n\nA committee, with Mr. Rotch, was sent to the custom-house to demand a\nclearance. This the collector said he could not give without the duties\nfirst being paid. Mr. Rotch was then sent to ask for a pass from\nthe governor, who returned answer that \u201cconsistent with the rules of\ngovernment and his duty to the king he could not grant one without they\nproduced a previous clearance from the office.\u201d\n\nBy the time Mr. Rotch returned to the Old South Meeting-House with\nthis message, the candles were lighted and the house still crowded with\npeople. When the governor's message was read a prodigious shout was\nraised, and soon afterward the moderator declared the meeting dissolved.\nThis caused another general shout, outdoors and in, and what with\nthe noise of breaking up the meeting, one might have thought that the\ninhabitants of the infernal regions had been let loose.\n\nThat night there mustered upon Fort Hill about two hundred strange\nfigures, SAID TO BE INDIANS FROM NARRAGANSETT. They were clothed in\nblankets, with heads muffled, and had copper-colored countenances. Each\nwas armed with a hatchet or axe, and a pair of pistols. They spoke a\nstrange, unintelligible jargon.\n\nThey proceeded two by two to Griffin's Wharf, where three tea-ships lay,\neach with one hundred and fourteen chests of the ill-fated article on\nboard. And before nine o'clock in the evening every chest was knocked\ninto pieces and flung over the sides.\n\nNot the least insult was offered to any one, save one Captain Conner,\nwho had ripped up the linings of his coat and waistcoat, and, watching\nhis opportunity, had filled them with tea. But, being detected, he was\nhandled pretty roughly. They not only stripped him of his clothes, but\ngave him a coat of mud, with a severe bruising into the bargain. Nothing\nbut their desire not to make a disturbance prevented his being tarred\nand feathered.\n\nThe tea being thrown overboard, all the Indians disappeared in a most\nmarvelous fashion.\n\nThe next day, if a stranger had walked through the streets of Boston,\nand had observed the calm composure of the people, he would hardly have\nthought that ten thousand pounds sterling of East India Company's tea\nhad been destroyed the night before.\n\n\n\n\nA GUNPOWDER STORY\n\nBY JOHN ESTEN COOKE (ADAPTED)\n\n[Footnote 6: From Stories of the Old Dominion. Used by permission of the\nAmerican Book Company, publishers.]\n\n\nIn the autumn of 1777 the English decided to attack Fort Henry, at\nWheeling, in northwestern Virginia. This was an important border fort\nnamed in honor of Patrick Henry, and around which had grown up a small\nvillage of about twenty-five log houses.\n\nA band of Indians, under the leadership of one Simon Girty, was supplied\nby the English with muskets and ammunition, and sent against the fort.\nThis Girty was a white man, who, when a boy, had been captured by\nIndians, and brought up by them. He had joined their tribes, and was a\nferocious and bloodthirsty leader of savage bands.\n\nWhen the settlers at Wheeling heard that Simon Girty and his Indians\nwere advancing on the town, they left their homes and hastened into the\nfort. Scarcely had they done so when the savages made their appearance.\n\nThe defenders of the fort knew that a desperate fight must now take\nplace, and there seemed little probability that they would be able to\nhold out against their assailants. They had only forty two fighting men,\nincluding old men and boys, while the Indian force numbered about five\nhundred.\n\nWhat was worse they had but a small amount of gunpowder. A keg\ncontaining the main supply had been left by accident in one of the\nvillage houses. This misfortune, as you will soon see, brought about the\nbrave action of a young girl.\n\nAfter several encounters with the savages, which took place in the\nvillage, the defenders withdrew to the fort. Then a number of Indians\nadvanced with loud yells, firing as they came. The fire was returned\nby the defenders, each of whom had picked out his man, and taken deadly\naim. Most of the attacking party were killed, and the whole body of\nIndians fell back into the near-by woods, and there awaited a more\nfavorable opportunity to renew hostilities.\n\nThe men in the fort now discovered, to their great dismay, that their\ngunpowder was nearly gone. What was to be done? Unless they could get\nanother supply, they would not be able to hold the fort, and they and\ntheir women and children would either be massacred or carried into\ncaptivity.\n\nColonel Shepherd, who was in command, explained to the settlers exactly\nhow matters stood. He also told them of the forgotten keg of powder\nwhich was in a house standing about sixty yards from the gate of the\nfort.\n\nIt was plain to all that if any man should attempt to procure the keg,\nhe would almost surely be shot by the lurking Indians. In spite of this\nthree or four young men volunteered to go on the dangerous mission.\n\nColonel Shepherd replied that he could not spare three or four strong\nmen, as there were already too few for the defense. Only one man should\nmake the attempt and they might decide who was to go. This caused a\ndispute.\n\nJust then a young girl stepped forward and said that SHE was ready\nto go. Her name was Elizabeth Zane, and she had just returned from a\nboarding-school in Philadelphia. This made her brave offer all the more\nremarkable, since she had not been bred up to the fearless life of the\nborder.\n\nAt first the men would not hear of her running such a risk. She was told\nthat it meant certain death. But she urged that they could not spare\na man from the defense, and that the loss of one girl would not be an\nimportant matter. So after some discussion the settlers agreed that she\nshould go for the powder.\n\nThe house, as has already been stated, stood about sixty yards from the\nfort, and Elizabeth hoped to run thither and bring back the powder in a\nfew minutes. The gate was opened, and she passed through, running like a\ndeer.\n\nA few straggling Indians were dodging about the log houses of the town;\nthey saw the fleeing girl, but for some reason they did not fire upon\nher. They may have supposed that she was returning to her home to rescue\nher clothes. Possibly they thought it a waste of good ammunition to fire\nat a woman, when they were so sure of taking the fort before long. So\nthey looked on quietly while, with flying skirts, Elizabeth ran across\nthe open, and entered the house.\n\nShe found the keg of powder, which was not large. She lifted it with\nboth arms, and, holding the precious burden close to her breast, she\ndarted out of the house and ran in the direction of the fort.\n\nWhen the Indians saw what she was carrying they uttered fierce yells\nand fired. The bullets fell like hail about her, but not one so much as\ntouched her garments. With the keg hugged to her bosom, she ran on, and\nreached the fort in safety. The gate closed upon her just as the bullets\nof the Indians buried themselves in its thick panels.\n\nThe rescued gunpowder enabled the little garrison to hold out until help\narrived from the other settlements near Wheeling. And Girty, seeing that\nthere were no further hopes of taking Fort Henry, withdrew his band.\n\nThus a weak but brave girl was the means of saving strong men with their\nwives and children. It was a heroic act, and Americans should never\nforget to honor the name of Elizabeth Zane.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CAPTURE OF FORT TICONDEROGA\n\nBY WASHINGTON IRVING (ADAPTED)\n\nSome bold spirits in Connecticut conceived the project of surprising the\nold forts of Ticonderoga and Crown Point, already famous in the French\nWar. Their situation on Lake Champlain gave them the command of the main\nroute into Canada so that the possession of them would be all-important\nin case of hostilities. They were feebly garrisoned and negligently\nguarded, and abundantly furnished with artillery and military stores so\nneeded by the patriot army.\n\nAt this juncture Ethan Allen stepped forward, a patriot, and volunteered\nwith his \u201cGreen Mountain Boys.\u201d He was well fitted for the enterprise.\nDuring the border warfare over the New Hampshire Grants, he and his\nlieutenants had been outlawed by the Legislature of New York and\nrewards offered for their apprehension. He and his associates had armed\nthemselves, set New York at defiance, and had sworn they would be the\ndeath of any one who should try to arrest them.\n\nThus Ethan Allen had become a kind of Robin Hood among the mountains.\nHis experience as a frontier champion, his robustness of mind and\nbody, and his fearless spirit made him a most desirable leader in the\nexpedition against Fort Ticonderoga. Therefore he was appointed at the\nhead of the attacking force.\n\nAccompanied by Benjamin Arnold and two other officers, Allen and his\nparty of soldiers who had been enlisted from several States, set out\nand arrived at Shoreham, opposite Fort Ticonderoga on the shore of Lake\nChamplain. They reached the place at night-time. There were only a few\nboats on hand, but the transfer of men began immediately. It was slow\nwork. The night wore away; day was about to break, and but eighty-three\nmen, with Allen and Arnold, had crossed. Should they wait for the rest\nto cross over, day would dawn, the garrison wake, and their enterprise\nmight fail.\n\nAllen drew up his men, addressed them in his own emphatic style, and\nannounced his intention of making a dash at the fort without waiting for\nmore force.\n\n\u201cIt is a desperate attempt,\u201d said he, \u201cand I ask no man to go against\nhis will. I will take the lead, and be the first to advance. You that\nare willing to follow, poise your firelocks!\u201d\n\nNot a firelock but was poised!\n\nThey mounted the hill briskly but in silence, guided by a boy from the\nneighborhood.\n\nThe day dawned as Allen arrived at a sally-port. A sentry pulled trigger\non him, but his piece missed fire. He retreated through a covered way.\nAllen and his men followed. Another sentry thrust at an officer with his\nbayonet, but was struck down by Allen, and begged for quarter. It was\ngranted on condition of his leading the way instantly to the quarters of\nthe commandant, Captain Delaplace, who was yet in bed.\n\nBeing arrived there, Allen thundered at the door, and demanded a\nsurrender of the fort. By this time his followers had formed into two\nlines on the parade-ground, and given three hearty cheers.\n\nThe commandant appeared at the door half-dressed, the frightened face\nof his pretty wife peering over his shoulder. He gazed at Allen in\nbewildered astonishment.\n\n\u201cBy whose authority do you act?\u201d exclaimed he.\n\n\u201cIn the name of the Continental Congress!\u201d replied Allen, with a\nflourish of his sword, and an oath which we do not care to subjoin.\n\nThere was no disputing the point. The garrison, like the commandant,\nhad been startled from sleep, and made prisoners as they rushed forth\nin their confusion. A surrender accordingly took place. The captain\nand forty-eight men who composed his garrison were sent prisoners to\nHartford, in Connecticut.\n\nAnd thus without the loss of a single man, one of the important forts,\ncommanding the main route into Canada, fell into the hands of the\npatriots.\n\n\n\n\nWASHINGTON AND THE COWARDS\n\nBY WASHINGTON IRVING (ADAPTED)\n\nDuring the evacuation of New York by Washington, two divisions of the\nenemy, encamped on Long Island, one British under Sir Henry Clinton, the\nother Hessian under Colonel Donop, emerged in boats from the deep wooded\nrecesses of Newtown Inlet, and under cover of the fire from the ships\nbegan to land at two points between Turtle and Kip's Bays.\n\nThe breastworks were manned by patriot militia who had recently served\nin Brooklyn. Disheartened by their late defeat, they fled at the first\nadvance of the enemy. Two brigades of Putnam's Connecticut troops,\nwhich had been sent that morning to support them, caught the panic, and,\nregardless of the commands and entreaties of their officers, joined in\nthe general scamper.\n\nAt this moment Washington, who had mounted his horse at the first sound\nof the cannonade, came galloping to the scene of confusion. Riding in\namong the fugitives he endeavored to rally and restore them to order.\nAll in vain. At the first appearance of sixty or seventy redcoats, they\nbroke again without firing a shot, and fled in headlong terror.\n\nLosing all self-command at the sight of such dastardly conduct,\nWashington dashed his hat upon the ground in a transport of rage.\n\n\u201cAre these the men,\u201d exclaimed he, \u201cwith whom I am to defend America!\u201d\n\nIn a paroxysm of passion and despair he snapped his pistols at some of\nthem, threatened others with his sword, and was so heedless of his own\ndanger that he might have fallen into the hands of the enemy, who were\nnot eighty yards distant, had not an aide-de-camp seized the bridle of\nhis horse, and absolutely hurried him away.\n\nIt was one of the rare moments of his life when the vehement element of\nhis nature was stirred up from its deep recesses. He soon recovered his\nself-possession, and took measures against the general peril.\n\n\n\n\n\nLABOR DAY\n\n(FIRST MONDAY IN SEPTEMBER)\n\n\n\n\nTHE SMITHY\n\nA HINDU FABLE\n\nBY P. V. RAMASWAMI RAJU (ADAPTED)\n\nOnce words ran high in a smithy.\n\nThe furnace said: \u201cIf I cease to burn, the smithy must close.\u201d\n\nThe bellows said: \u201cIf I cease to blow, no fire, no smithy.\u201d\n\nThe hammer and anvil, also, each claimed the sole credit for keeping up\nthe smithy.\n\nThe ploughshare that had been shaped by the furnace, the bellows, the\nhammer and the anvil, cried: \u201cIt is not each of you alone, that keeps up\nthe smithy, but ALL TOGETHER.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE NAIL\n\nBY THE BROTHERS GRIMM (TRANSLATED)[7]\n\n\n[Footnote 7: From the Riverside Fourth Reader.]\n\n\nA merchant had done good business at the fair; he had sold his wares,\nand filled his bag with gold and silver. Then he set out at once on his\njourney home, for he wished to be in his own house before night.\n\nAt noon he rested in a town. When he wanted to go on, the stable-boy\nbrought his horse, saying:\n\n\u201cA nail is wanting, sir, in the shoe of his left hind foot.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet it be wanting,\u201d answered the merchant; \u201cthe shoe will stay on for\nthe six miles I have still to go. I am in a hurry.\u201d\n\nIn the afternoon he got down at an inn and had his horse fed. The\nstable-boy came into the room to him and said: \u201cSir, a shoe is wanting\nfrom your horse's left hind foot. Shall I take him to the blacksmith?\u201d\n\n\u201cLet it still be wanting,\u201d said the man; \u201cthe horse can very well hold\nout for a couple of miles more. I am in a hurry.\u201d\n\nSo the merchant rode forth, but before long the horse began to limp. He\nhad not limped long before he began to stumble, and he had not stumbled\nlong before he fell down and broke his leg. The merchant had to leave\nthe horse where he fell, and unstrap the bag, take it on his back, and\ngo home on foot.\n\n\u201cThat unlucky nail,\u201d said he to himself, \u201chas made all this trouble.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER\n\nBY HORACE E. SCUDDER\n\nThere was once a shoemaker who worked very hard and was honest. Still,\nhe could not earn enough to live on. At last, all he had in the world\nwas gone except just leather enough to make one pair of shoes. He cut\nthese out at night, and meant to rise early the next morning to make\nthem up.\n\nHis heart was light in spite of his troubles, for his conscience was\nclear. So he went quietly to bed, left all his cares to God, and fell\nasleep. In the morning he said his prayers, and sat down to work, when,\nto his great wonder, there stood the shoes, already made, upon the\ntable.\n\nThe good man knew not what to say or think. He looked at the work. There\nwas not one false stitch in the whole job. All was neat and true.\n\nThat same day a customer came in, and the shoes pleased him so well that\nhe readily paid a price higher than usual for them. The shoemaker took\nthe money and bought leather enough to make two pairs more. He cut out\nthe work in the evening, and went to bed early. He wished to be up with\nthe sun and get to work.\n\nHe was saved all trouble, for when he got up in the morning, the work\nwas done. Pretty soon buyers came in, who paid him well for his goods.\nSo he bought leather enough for four pairs more.\n\nHe cut out the work again overnight, and found it finished in the\nmorning as before. So it went on for some time. What was got ready at\nnight was always done by daybreak, and the good man soon was well-to-do.\n\nOne evening, at Christmas-time, he and his wife sat over the fire,\nchatting, and he said: \u201cI should like to sit up and watch to-night, that\nwe may see who it is that comes and does my work for me.\u201d So they left\nthe light burning, and hid themselves behind a curtain to see what would\nhappen.\n\nAs soon as it was midnight, there came two little Elves. They sat upon\nthe shoemaker's bench, took up all the work that was cut out, and began\nto ply their little fingers. They stitched and rapped and tapped at such\na rate that the shoemaker was amazed, and could not take his eyes off\nthem for a moment.\n\nOn they went till the job was done, and the shoes stood, ready for use,\nupon the table. This was long before daybreak. Then they ran away as\nquick as lightning.\n\nThe next day the wife said to the shoemaker: \u201cThese little Elves have\nmade us rich, and we ought to be thankful to them, and do them some\ngood in return. I am vexed to see them run about as they do. They have\nnothing upon their backs to keep off the cold. I'll tell you what we\nmust do. I will make each of them a shirt, and a coat and waistcoat, and\na pair of pantaloons into the bargain. Do you make each of them a little\npair of shoes.\u201d\n\nThe good shoemaker liked the thought very well. One evening he and his\nwife had the clothes ready, and laid them on the table instead of the\nwork they used to cut out. Then they went and hid behind the curtain to\nwatch what the little Elves would do.\n\nAt midnight the Elves came in and were going to sit down at their work\nas usual. But when they saw the clothes lying there for them, they\nlaughed and were in high glee. They dressed themselves in the twinkling\nof an eye, and danced and capered and sprang about as merry as could be,\ntill at last they danced out of the door, and over the green.\n\nThe shoemaker saw them no more, but everything went well with him as\nlong as he lived.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HILLMAN AND THE HOUSEWIFE\n\nBY JULIANA HORATIA EWING (ADAPTED)\n\nIt is well known that the Fairy People cannot abide meanness. They like\nto be liberally dealt with when they beg or borrow of the human race;\nand, on the other hand, to those who come to them in need, they are\ninvariably generous.\n\nNow there once lived a certain housewife who had a sharp eye to her own\ninterests, and gave alms of what she had no use for, hoping to get some\nreward in return. One day a Hillman knocked at her door.\n\n\u201cCan you lend us a saucepan, good mother?\u201d said he. \u201cThere's a wedding\nin the hill, and all the pots are in use.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs he to have one?\u201d asked the servant lass who had opened the door.\n\n\u201cAye, to be sure,\u201d answered the housewife; \u201cone must be neighborly.\u201d\n\nBut when the maid was taking a saucepan from the shelf, the housewife\npinched her arm and whispered sharply: \u201cNot that, you good-for-nothing!\nGet the old one out of the cupboard. It leaks, and the Hillmen are so\nneat, and such nimble workers, that they are sure to mend it before they\nsend it home. So one obliges the Fairy People, and saves sixpence in\ntinkering!\u201d\n\nThus bidden the maid fetched the saucepan, which had been laid by until\nthe tinker's next visit, and gave it to the Hillman, who thanked her and\nwent away.\n\nIn due time the saucepan was returned, and, as the housewife had\nforeseen, it was neatly mended and ready for use.\n\nAt supper-time the maid filled the pan with milk, and set it on the fire\nfor the children's supper. But in a few minutes the milk was so burnt\nand smoked that no one could touch it, and even the pigs refused to\ndrink it.\n\n\u201cAh, good-for-nothing hussy!\u201d cried the housewife, as she refilled the\npan herself, \u201cyou would ruin the richest with your carelessness! There's\na whole quart of good milk wasted at once!\u201d\n\n\u201cAND THAT'S TWOPENCE!\u201d cried a voice that seemed to come from the\nchimney, in a whining tone, like some discontented old body going over\nher grievances.\n\nThe housewife had not left the saucepan for two minutes, when the milk\nboiled over, and it was all burnt and smoked as before.\n\n\u201cThe pan must be dirty,\u201d muttered the good woman in vexation, \u201cand there\nare two full quarts of milk as good as thrown to the dogs.\u201d\n\n\u201cAND THAT'S FOURPENCE!\u201d added the voice in the chimney.\n\nAfter a thorough cleaning the saucepan was once more filled and set on\nthe fire, but with no better success. The milk boiled over again, and\nwas hopelessly spoiled. The housewife shed tears of anger at the waste\nand cried: \u201cNever before did such a thing befall me since I kept house!\nThree quarts of new milk burnt for one meal.\u201d\n\n\u201cAND THAT'S SIXPENCE!\u201d cried the voice in the chimney. \u201cYou didn't save\nthe tinkering after all, mother!\u201d\n\nWith that the Hillman himself came tumbling down from the chimney, and\nwent off laughing through the door.\n\nBut from then on the saucepan was as good as any other.\n\n\n\n\nHOFUS THE STONE-CUTTER\n\nA JAPANESE LEGEND\n\nFROM THE RIVERSIDE THIRD READER (ADAPTED)\n\nOnce upon a time in Japan, there was a poor stone-cutter, named Hofus,\nwho used to go every day to the mountain-side to cut great blocks of\nstone. He lived near the mountain in a little stone hut, and worked hard\nand was happy.\n\nOne day he took a load of stone to the house of a rich man. There he saw\nso many beautiful things that when he went back to his mountain he could\nthink of nothing else. Then he began to wish that he too might sleep in\na bed as soft as down, with curtains of silk, and tassels of gold. And\nhe sighed:--\n\n     \u201cAh me!  Ah me!\n       If Hofus only were rich as he!\u201d\n\n\nTo his surprise, the voice of the Mountain Spirit answered:--\n\n     \u201cHave thou thy wish!\u201d\n\n\nWhen Hofus returned home that evening his little hut was gone, and in\nits place stood a great palace. It was filled with beautiful things, and\nthe best of all was a bed of down, with curtains of silk and tassels of\ngold.\n\nHofus decided to work no more. But he was not used to being idle, and\ntime passed slowly,--the days seemed very long.\n\nOne day as he sat by the window he saw a carriage dash past. It was\ndrawn by snow-white horses. In it sat a prince, while before and behind\nwere servants in suits of blue and white. One was holding a golden\numbrella over the prince.\n\nWhen the stone-cutter saw this, he began to feel unhappy, and he\nsighed:--\n\n     \u201cAh me!  Ah me!\n       If Hofus only a prince might be!\u201d\n\n\nAnd again the same voice that he had heard on the mountain answered:--\n\n     \u201cBe thou a prince!\u201d\n\n\nStraightway Hofus was a prince. He had servants dressed in crimson and\ngold, and he rode in a carriage with a golden umbrella over his head.\n\nFor a short time he was happy, but one day, as he walked in the garden,\nhe saw that the flowers were drooping, the grass was dry and brown. And\nwhen he rode out he felt the hot sun burn him in spite of his umbrella.\n\n\u201cThe sun is mightier than I,\u201d thought he, and then he sighed:--\n\n     \u201cAh me!  Ah me!\n       If Hofus only the sun might be!\u201d\n\n\nAnd the voice answered:--\n\n     \u201cBe thou the sun!\u201d\n\nStraightway the great sun he became. He burned the grass and rice\nfields. He dried up the streams. Rich and poor alike suffered from the\nterrible heat.\n\nOne day a cloud came and rested in front of him, and hid the earth from\nhis sight. He was angry and cried:--\n\n     \u201cAh me!  Ah me!\n       If Hofus only a cloud might be!\u201d\n\n\nAnd the voice answered:--\n\n     \u201cBe thou a cloud!\u201d\n\n\nStraightway a cloud he became. He floated before the face of the sun,\nand hid the earth from it.\n\nThen day after day the cloud dropped rain. The rivers overflowed, and\nthe rice-fields were covered with water. Towns were swept away. Only the\ngreat rocks on the mountain-side stood unmoved midst the flood.\n\nThe cloud looked at them in wonder, then he sighed:--\n\n     \u201cAh me!  Ah me!\n       If Hofus only a rock might be!\u201d\n\n\nAnd the voice answered:--\n\n     \u201cBe thou a rock!\u201d\n\n\nStraightway a rock he became. Proudly he stood. The sun could not burn\nhim and the rain could not move him.\n\n\u201cNow, at last,\u201d he said, \u201cno one is mightier than I.\u201d\n\nBut one day he was waked from his dreams by a noise,--tap! tap!\ntap!--down at his feet. He looked and there was a stone-cutter driving\nhis tool into the rock. Another blow and the great rock shivered; a\nblock of stone broke away.\n\n\u201cThat man is mightier than I!\u201d cried Hofus, and he sighed:--\n\n     \u201cAh me! Ah me!\n       If Hofus only the man might be!\u201d\n\n\nAnd the voice answered:--\n\n     \u201cBe thou thyself!\u201d\n\n\nAnd straightway Hofus was himself again,--a poor stone-cutter, working\nall day upon the mountain-side, and going home at night to his little\nhut. But he was content and happy, and never again did he wish to be\nother than Hofus the stone-cutter.\n\n\n\n\nARACHNE\n\nBY JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY\n\nThere was a certain maiden of Lydia, Arachne by name, renowned\nthroughout the country for her skill as a weaver. She was as nimble with\nher fingers as Calypso, that Nymph who kept Odysseus for seven years in\nher enchanted island. She was as untiring as Penelope, the hero's wife,\nwho wove day after day while she watched for his return. Day in and\nday out, Arachne wove too. The very Nymphs would gather about her loom,\nNaiads from the water and Dryads from the trees.\n\n\u201cMaiden,\u201d they would say, shaking the leaves or the foam from their\nhair, in wonder, \u201cPallas Athena must have taught you!\u201d\n\nBut this did not please Arachne. She would not acknowledge herself a\ndebtor, even to that goddess who protected all household arts, and by\nwhose grace alone one had any skill in them.\n\n\u201cI learned not of Athena,\u201d said she. \u201cIf she can weave better, let her\ncome and try.\u201d\n\nThe Nymphs shivered at this, and an aged woman, who was looking on,\nturned to Arachne.\n\n\u201cBe more heedful of your words, my daughter,\u201d said she. \u201cThe goddess may\npardon you if you ask forgiveness, but do not strive for honors with the\nimmortals.\u201d\n\nArachne broke her thread, and the shuttle stopped humming.\n\n\u201cKeep your counsel,\u201d she said. \u201cI fear not Athena; no, nor any one\nelse.\u201d\n\nAs she frowned at the old woman, she was amazed to see her change\nsuddenly into one tall, majestic, beautiful,--a maiden of gray eyes and\ngolden hair, crowned with a golden helmet. It was Athena herself.\n\nThe bystanders shrank in fear and reverence; only Arachne was unawed and\nheld to her foolish boast.\n\nIn silence the two began to weave, and the Nymphs stole nearer, coaxed\nby the sound of the shuttles, that seemed to be humming with delight\nover the two webs,--back and forth like bees.\n\nThey gazed upon the loom where the goddess stood plying her task, and\nthey saw shapes and images come to bloom out of the wondrous colors, as\nsunset clouds grow to be living creatures when we watch them. And they\nsaw that the goddess, still merciful, was spinning; as a warning for\nArachne, the pictures of her own triumph over reckless gods and mortals.\n\nIn one corner of the web she made a story of her conquest over the\nsea-god Poseidon. For the first king of Athens had promised to dedicate\nthe city to that god who should bestow upon it the most useful\ngift. Poseidon gave the horse. But Athena gave the olive,--means of\nlivelihood,--symbol of peace and prosperity, and the city was called\nafter her name. Again she pictured a vain woman of Troy, who had been\nturned into a crane for disputing the palm of beauty with a goddess.\nOther corners of the web held similar images, and the whole shone like a\nrainbow.\n\nMeanwhile Arachne, whose head was quite turned with vanity, embroidered\nher web with stories against the gods, making light of Zeus himself and\nof Apollo, and portraying them as birds and beasts. But she wove with\nmarvelous skill; the creatures seemed to breathe and speak, yet it was\nall as fine as the gossamer that you find on the grass before rain.\n\nAthena herself was amazed. Not even her wrath at the girl's insolence\ncould wholly overcome her wonder. For an instant she stood entranced;\nthen she tore the web across, and three times she touched Arachne's\nforehead with her spindle.\n\n\u201cLive on, Arachne,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd since it is your glory to weave, you\nand yours must weave forever.\u201d So saying, she sprinkled upon the maiden\na certain magical potion.\n\nAway went Arachne's beauty; then her very human form shrank to that of a\nspider, and so remained. As a spider she spent all her days weaving and\nweaving; and you may see something like her handiwork any day among the\nrafters.\n\n\n\n\nTHE METAL KING\n\nA GERMAN FOLE-TALE\n\n(ADAPTED)\n\nOnce long ago there was a high mountain whose rocks were veined with\ngold and silver and seamed with iron. At times, from a huge rent in the\nmountain-side, there shot out roaring, red flames, and clouds of black\nsmoke. And when the village folk in the valley below saw this, they\nwould say: \u201cLook! the Metal King is at his forge.\u201d For they knew that in\nthe gloomy heart of the mountain, the Metal King and his Spirits of the\nMines wrought in gold and iron.\n\nWhen the storm raged over the valley, the Metal King left his cavern\nand riding on the wings of the wind, with thundering shouts, hurled\nhis red-hot bolts into the valley, now killing the peasants and their\ncattle, now burning houses and barns.\n\nBut when the weather was soft and mild, and the breezes blew gently\nabout the mouth of his cavern, the Metal King returned to his forge in\nthe depths of the mountain, and there shaped ploughshares and many other\nimplements of iron. These he placed outside his cavern door, as gifts to\nthe poor peasants.\n\nIt happened, on a time, there lived in that valley a lazy lad, who\nwould neither till his fields nor ply a trade. He was avaricious, but he\nlonged to win gold without mining, and wealth and fame without labor. So\nit came to pass that he set out one day to find the mountain treasure of\nthe Metal King.\n\nTaking a lighted lantern in one hand, a hatchet in the other, and a\nbundle of twigs under his arm, he entered the dark cavern. The dampness\nsmote his cheek, bats flapped their wings in his face. Shivering with\nfear and cold, he pressed on through a long passage under an arched\nand blackened roof. As he passed along he dropped his twigs, one after\nanother, so that they might guide him aright when he returned.\n\nHe came at last to a place where the passage branched off in two\ndirections,--to the right and to the left. Choosing the right-hand path,\nhe walked on and at length came to an iron door. He struck it twice with\nhis hammer. It flew open, and a strong current of air rushing forth put\nout his light.\n\n\u201cCome in! Come in!\u201d shouted a voice like the rolling of thunder, and the\ncavern echoes gave back the sounds.\n\nAlmost overcome by terror and shivering in every limb, the lad entered.\nAs he stepped forward a dazzling light shone from the vaulted roof\nupheld by massive columns, and across the crystal side-walls flittered\ncurious, shadowy figures.\n\nThe Metal King, huge and fierce-eyed, surrounded by the misshapen\nSpirits of the Mines, sat upon a block of pure silver, with a pile of\nshining gold lying before him.\n\n\u201cCome in, my friend!\u201d he shouted again, and again the echoes rolled\nthrough the cavern.\n\n\u201cCome near, and sit beside me.\u201d\n\nThe lad advanced, pale and trembling, and took his seat upon the silver\nblock.\n\n\u201cBring out more treasure,\u201d cried the Metal King, and at his command the\nMountain Spirits fluttered away like dreams, only to return in a moment\nand pile high before the wondering lad bars of red gold, mounds of\nsilver coin, and stacks of precious jewels.\n\nAnd when the lad saw all that wealth he felt his heart burst with\nlonging to grasp it, but when he tried to put out his hand, he found\nthat he could not move his arm, nor could he lift his feet, nor turn his\nhead.\n\n\u201cThou seest these riches,\u201d said the Metal King; \u201cthey are but a handful\ncompared with those thou mayest gain if thou wilt work with us in the\nmines. Hard is the service but rich the reward! Only say the word, and\nfor a year and a day thou shalt be a Mountain Spirit.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d stammered the lad, in great terror, \u201cnay, I came not to work. All\nI beg of thee is one bar of gold and a handful of the jewels that lie\nhere. If they are mine I can dress better than the village lads, and\nride in my own coach!\u201d\n\n\u201cLazy, ungrateful wretch!\u201d cried the Metal King, rising from his seat,\nwhile his figure seemed to tower until his head touched the cavern roof,\n\u201cwouldst thou seize without pay the treasures gained through the hard\nlabor of my Mountain Spirits! Hence! Get thee gone to thy place! Seek\nnot here for unearned riches! Cast away thy discontented disposition and\nthou shalt turn stones into gold. Dig well thy garden and thy fields,\nsow them and tend them diligently, search the mountain-sides; and thou\nshalt gain through thine industry mines of gold and silver!\u201d\n\nScarcely had the Metal King spoken when there was heard a screeching\nas of ravens, a crying as of night owls, and a mighty storm wind came\nrushing against the lad; and catching him up it drove him forth along\nthe dark passage, and down the mountain-side, so that in a minute he\nfound himself on the steps of his own house.\n\nAnd from that time on a strange change came over the lad. He no longer\nidled and dreamed of sudden wealth, but morning, noon, and evening\nhe labored diligently, sowing his fields, cultivating his garden,\nand mining on the mountain-side. Years came and went; all he touched\nprospered, and he grew to be the richest man in that country; but never\nagain did he see the Metal King or the Spirits of the Mines.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHOICE OF HERCULES\n\nBY XENOPHON (ADAPTED)\n\nLong, long ago, when the world was young, there were many deeds waiting\nto be wrought by daring heroes. It was then that the mighty Hercules,\nwho was yet a lad, felt an exceeding great and strong desire to go out\ninto the wide world to seek his fortune.\n\nOne day, while wandering alone and thoughtful, he came to a place where\ntwo paths met. And sitting down he gravely considered which he should\nfollow.\n\nOne path led over flowery meadows toward the darkening distance; the\nother, passing over rough stones and rugged, brown furrows, lost itself\nin the glowing sunset.\n\nAnd as Hercules gazed into the distance, he saw two stately maidens\ncoming toward him.\n\nThe first was tall and graceful, and wrapped round in a snow-white\nmantle. Her countenance was calm and beautiful. With gracious mien and\nmodest glance she drew near the lad.\n\nThe other maiden made haste to outrun the first. She, too, was tall,\nbut seemed taller than she really was. She, too, was beautiful, but her\nglance was bold. As she ran, a rosy garment like a cloud floated about\nher form, and she kept looking at her own round arms and shapely hands,\nand ever and anon she seemed to gaze admiringly at her shadow as it\nmoved along the ground. And this fair one did outstrip the first maiden,\nand rushing forward held out her white hands to the lad, exclaiming:--\n\n\u201cI see thou art hesitating, O Hercules, by what path to seek thy\nfortune. Follow me along this flowery way, and I will make it a\ndelightful and easy road. Thou shalt taste to the full of every kind of\npleasure. No shadow of annoyance shall ever touch thee, nor strain nor\nstress of war and state disturb thy peace. Instead thou shalt tread upon\ncarpets soft as velvet, and sit at golden tables, or recline upon silken\ncouches. The fairest of maidens shall attend thee, music and perfume\nshall lull thy senses, and all that is delightful to eat and drink shall\nbe placed before thee. Never shalt thou labor, but always live in joy\nand ease. Oh, come! I give my followers liberty and delight!\u201d\n\nAnd as she spoke the maiden stretched forth her arms, and the tones of\nher voice were sweet and caressing.\n\n\u201cWhat, O maiden,\u201d asked Hercules, \u201cis thy name?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy friends,\u201d said she, \u201ccall me Happiness, but mine enemies name me\nVice.\u201d\n\nEven as she spoke, the white-robed maiden, who had drawn near, glided\nforward, and addressed the lad in gracious tones and with words stately\nand winning:--\n\n\u201cO beloved youth, who wouldst wander forth in search of Life, I too,\nwould plead with thee! I, Virtue, have watched and tended thee from a\nchild. I know the fond care thy parents have bestowed to train thee for\na hero's part. Direct now thy steps along yon rugged path that leads\nto my dwelling. Honorable and noble mayest thou become through thy\nillustrious deeds.\n\n\u201cI will not seduce thee by promises of vain delights; instead will\nI recount to thee the things that really are. Lasting fame and true\nnobility come not to mortals save through pain and labor. If thou,\nO Hercules, seekest the gracious gifts of Heaven, thou must remain\nconstant in prayer; if thou wouldst be beloved of thy friends, thou must\nserve thy friends; if thou desirest to be honored of the people thou\nmust benefit the people; if thou art anxious to reap the fruits of the\nearth, thou must till the earth with labor; and if thou wishest to be\nstrong in body and accomplish heroic deeds, thou must teach thy body to\nobey thy mind. Yea, all this and more also must thou do.\u201d\n\n\u201cSeest thou not, O Hercules,\u201d cried Vice, \u201cover how difficult and\ntedious a road this Virtue would drive thee? I, instead, will conduct\nthy steps by a short and easy path to perfect Happiness.\u201d\n\n\u201cWretched being!\u201d answered Virtue, \u201cwouldst thou deceive this lad! What\nlasting Happiness hast thou to offer! Thou pamperest thy followers with\nriches, thou deludest them with idleness; thou surfeitest them with\nluxury; thou enfeeblest them with softness. In youth they grow slothful\nin body and weak in mind. They live without labor and wax fat. They come\nto a wretched old age, dissatisfied, and ashamed, and oppressed by\nthe memory of their ill deeds; and, having run their course, they lay\nthemselves down in melancholy death and their name is remembered no\nmore.\n\n\u201cBut those fortunate youths who follow me receive other counsel. I\nam the companion of virtuous men. Always I am welcome in the homes of\nartisans and in the cottages of tillers of the soil. I am the guardian\nof industrious households, and the rewarder of generous masters\nand faithful servants. I am the promoter of the labors of peace. No\nhonorable deed is accomplished without me.\n\n\u201cMy friends have sweet repose and the untroubled enjoyment of the fruits\nof their efforts. They remember their deeds with an easy conscience\nand contentment, and are beloved of their friends and honored by their\ncountry. And when they have run their course, and death overtakes them,\ntheir names are celebrated in song and praise, and they live in the\nhearts of their grateful countrymen.\n\n\u201cCome, then, O Hercules, thou son of noble parents, come, follow thou\nme, and by thy worthy and illustrious deeds secure for thyself exalted\nHappiness.\u201d\n\nShe ceased, and Hercules, withdrawing his gaze from the face of Vice,\narose from his place, and followed Virtue along the rugged, brown path\nof Labor.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SPEAKING STATUE\n\nFROM GESTA ROMANORUM (ADAPTED)\n\nThere was once a great emperor who made a law that whosoever worked on\nthe birthday of his eldest son should be put to death. He caused this\ndecree to be published throughout his empire, and, sending for his chief\nmagician, said to him:--\n\n\u201cI wish you to devise an instrument which will tell me the name of each\nlaborer who breaks my new law.\u201d\n\n\u201cSire,\u201d answered the magician, \u201cyour will shall be accomplished.\u201d And he\nstraightway constructed a wonderful, speaking statue, and placed it in\nthe public square of the capital city. By its magic power this statue\ncould discern all that went on in the empire on the birthday of the\neldest prince, and it could tell the name of each laborer who worked in\nsecret on that day. Thus things continued for some years, and many men\nwere put to death.\n\nNow, there was in the capital city a carpenter named Focus. He was a\ndiligent workman, laboring at his trade from early morning till late at\nnight. One year, when the prince's birthday came round, he continued to\nwork all that day.\n\nThe next morning he arose, dressed himself, and, before any one was\nastir in the streets, went to the magic statue and said:--\n\n\u201cO statue, statue! because you have denounced so many of our citizens,\ncausing them to be put to death, I vow, if you accuse me, I will break\nyour head!\u201d\n\nShortly after this the emperor dispatched messengers to the statue to\ninquire if the law had been broken the day before. When the statue saw\nthem, it exclaimed:--\n\n\u201cFriends, look up! What see ye written on my forehead?\u201d\n\nThey looked up and beheld three sentences that ran thus:--\n\n     \u201cTimes are altered!\n     \u201cMen grow worse!\n     \u201cHe who speaks the truth will have his head broken!\u201d\n\n\n\u201cGo,\u201d said the statue, \u201cdeclare to His Majesty what ye have seen and\nread.\u201d\n\nThe messenger accordingly departed and returned in haste to the emperor,\nand related to him all that had occurred.\n\nThe emperor ordered his guard to arm and to march instantly to the\npublic square, where the statue was, and commanded that if any one had\nattempted to injure it, he should be seized, bound hand and foot, and\ndragged to the judgment hall.\n\nThe guard hastened to do the emperor's bidding. They approached the\nstatue and said:--\n\n\u201cOur emperor commands you to tell who it is that threatened you.\u201d\n\nThe statue answered: \u201cSeize Focus the carpenter. Yesterday he defied the\nemperor's edict; this morning he threatened to break my head.\u201d\n\nThe soldiers immediately arrested Focus, and dragged him to the judgment\nhall.\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d said the emperor, \u201cwhat do I hear of you? Why do you work on\nmy son's birthday?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour Majesty,\u201d answered Focus, \u201cit is impossible for me to keep your\nlaw. I am obliged to earn eight pennies every day, therefore was I\nforced to work yesterday.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd why eight pennies?\u201d asked the emperor.\n\n\u201cEvery day through the year,\u201d answered Focus, \u201cI am bound to repay\ntwo pennies I borrowed in my youth; two I lend; two I lose; and two I\nspend.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow is this?\u201d said the emperor; \u201cexplain yourself further.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour Majesty,\u201d replied Focus, \u201clisten to me. I am bound each day to\nrepay two pennies to my old father, for when I was a boy he expended\nupon me daily the like sum. Now he is poor and needs my assistance, and\nI return what I formerly borrowed. Two other pennies I lend my son, who\nis pursuing his studies, in order that, if by chance I should fall into\npoverty, he may restore the loan to me, just as I am now doing to his\ngrandfather. Again, I lose two pennies on my wife, who is a scold\nand has an evil temper. On account of her bad disposition I consider\nwhatever I give her entirely lost. Lastly, two other pennies I spend on\nmyself for meat and drink. I cannot do all this without working\nevery day. You now know the truth, and, I pray you, give a righteous\njudgment.\u201d\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d said the emperor, \u201cyou have answered well. Go and work\ndiligently at your calling.\u201d\n\nThat same day the emperor annulled the law forbidding labor on his\nson's birthday. Not long after this he died, and Focus the carpenter,\non account of his singular wisdom, was elected emperor in his stead. He\ngoverned wisely, and after his death there was deposited in the royal\narchives a portrait of Focus wearing a crown adorned with eight pennies.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHAMPION STONE-CUTTER\n\nBY HUGH MILLER\n\nDavid Fraser was a famous Scotch hewer. On hearing that it had been\nremarked among a party of Edinburgh masons that, though regarded as the\nfirst of Glasgow stone-cutters, he would find in the eastern capital\nat least his equals, he attired himself most uncouthly in a long-tailed\ncoat of tartan, and, looking to the life the untamed, untaught,\nconceited little Celt, he presented himself on Monday morning, armed\nwith a letter of introduction from a Glasgow builder, before the foreman\nof an Edinburgh squad of masons engaged upon one of the finer buildings\nat that time in the course of erection.\n\nThe letter specified neither his qualifications nor his name. It had\nbeen written merely to secure for him the necessary employment, and the\nnecessary employment it did secure.\n\nThe better workmen of the party were engaged, on his arrival, in hewing\ncolumns, each of which was deemed sufficient work for a week; and David\nwas asked somewhat incredulously, by the foreman, if he could hew.\n\n\u201cOh, yes, HE THOUGHT he could hew.\u201d\n\n\u201cCould he hew columns such as these?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes, HE THOUGHT he could hew columns such as these.\u201d\n\nA mass of stone, in which a possible column lay hid, was accordingly\nplaced before David, not under cover of the shed, which was already\noccupied by workmen, but, agreeably to David's own request, directly\nin front of it, where he might be seen by all, and where he straightway\ncommenced a most extraordinary course of antics.\n\nButtoning his long tartan coat fast around him, he would first look\nalong the stone from the one end, anon from the other, and then examine\nit in front and rear; or, quitting it altogether for the time, he would\ntake up his stand beside the other workmen, and, after looking at them\nwith great attention, return and give it a few taps with the mallet, in\na style evidently imitative of theirs, but monstrously a caricature.\n\nThe shed all that day resounded with roars of laughter; and the only\nthoroughly grave man on the ground was he who occasioned the mirth of\nall the others.\n\nNext morning David again buttoned his coat; but he got on much better\nthis day than the former. He was less awkward and less idle, though not\nless observant than before; and he succeeded ere evening in tracing,\nin workmanlike fashion, a few draughts along the future column. He was\nevidently greatly improving!\n\nOn the morning of Wednesday he threw off his coat; and it was seen that,\nthough by no means in a hurry, he was seriously at work. There were no\nmore jokes or laughter; and it was whispered in the evening that the\nstrange Highlander had made astonishing progress during the day.\n\nBy the middle of Thursday he had made up for his two days' trifling, and\nwas abreast of the other workmen. Before night he was far ahead of them;\nand ere the evening of Friday, when they had still a full day's work\non each of their columns, David's was completed in a style that defied\ncriticism; and, his tartan coat again buttoned around him, he sat\nresting himself beside it.\n\nThe foreman went out and greeted him.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d he said, \u201cyou have beaten us all. You certainly CAN hew!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said David, \u201cI THOUGHT I could hew columns. Did the other men\ntake much more than a week to learn?\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, come, DAVID FRASER,\u201d replied the foreman, \u201cwe all guess who you\nare. You have had your week's joke out; and now, I suppose, we must give\nyou your week's wages, and let you go away!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said David, \u201cwork waits for me in Glasgow; but I just thought it\nmight be well to know how you hewed on this east side of the country.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nBILL BROWN'S TEST\n\nBY CLEVELAND MOFFETT\n\nAll firemen have courage, but it cannot be known until the test how many\nhave this particular kind,--Bill Brown's kind.\n\nWhat happened was this: Engine 29, pumping and pounding her prettiest,\nstood at the northwest corner of Greenwich and Warren streets, so close\nto the blazing drug-house that Driver Marks thought it wasn't safe there\nfor the three horses, and led them away. That was fortunate, but it left\nBrown alone, right against the cheek of the fire, watching his boiler,\nstoking in coal, keeping his steam-gauge at 75. As the fire gained,\nchunks of red-hot sandstone began to smash down on the engine. Brown ran\nhis pressure up to 80, and watched the door anxiously where the boys had\ngone in.\n\nThen the explosion came, and a blue flame, wide as a house, curled its\ntongues halfway across the street, enwrapping engine and man, setting\nfire to the elevated railway station overhead, or such wreck of it as\nthe shock had left.\n\nBill Brown stood by his engine, with a wall of fire before him and a\nsheet of fire above him. He heard quick footsteps on the pavements, and\nvoices, that grew fainter and fainter, crying, \u201cRun for your lives!\u201d\n He heard the hose-wagon horses somewhere back in the smoke go plunging\naway, mad with fright and their burns. He was alone with the fire, and\nthe skin was hanging in shreds on his hands, face, and neck. Only a\nfireman knows how one blast of flame can shrivel up a man, and the pain\nover the bared surfaces was,--well, there is no pain worse than that of\nfire scorching in upon the quick flesh seared by fire.\n\nHere, I think, was a crisis to make a very brave man quail. Bill Brown\nknew perfectly well why every one was running; there was going to be\nanother explosion in a couple of minutes, maybe sooner, out of this hell\nin front of him. And the order had come for every man to save himself,\nand every man had done it except the lads inside. And the question was,\nShould he run or should he stay and die? It was tolerably certain that\nhe would die if he stayed. On the other hand, the boys of old 29 were\nin there. Devanny and McArthur, and Gillon and Merron, his friends, his\nchums. He'd seen them drag the hose in through that door,--there it was\nnow, a long, throbbing snake of it,--and they hadn't come out. Perhaps\nthey were dead. Yes, but perhaps they weren't. If they were alive, they\nneeded water now more than they ever needed anything before. And they\ncouldn't get water if he quit his engine.\n\nBill Brown pondered this a long time, perhaps four seconds; then he fell\nto stoking in coal, and he screwed her up another notch, and he eased\nher running parts with the oiler. Explosion or not, pain or not, alone\nor not, he was going to stay and make that engine hum. He had done the\ngreatest thing a man can do,--had offered his life for his friends.\n\nIt is pleasant to know that this sacrifice was averted. A quarter of a\nminute or so before the second and terrible explosion, Devanny and his\nmen came staggering from the building. Then it was that Merron fell, and\nMcArthur checked his fight to save him. Then it was, but not until\nthen, that Bill Brown left Engine 29 to her fate (she was crushed by the\nfalling walls), and ran for his life with his comrades. He had waited\nfor them, he had stood the great test.\n\n\n\n\n\nCOLUMBUS DAY\n\n(OCTOBER 12)\n\n\n\n\nCOLUMBUS AND THE EGG\n\nBY JAMES BALDWIN (ADAPTED) [8]\n\n[Footnote 8: From Thirty More Famous Stories Retold. Copyright, 1903, by\nAmerican Book Company.]\n\n\nOne day Columbus was at a dinner which a Spanish gentleman had given\nin his honor, and several persons were present who were jealous of the\ngreat admiral's success. They were proud, conceited fellows, and they\nvery soon began to try to make Columbus uncomfortable.\n\n\u201cYou have discovered strange lands beyond the seas,\u201d they said, \u201cbut\nwhat of that? We do not see why there should be so much said about\nit. Anybody can sail across the ocean; and anybody can coast along the\nislands on the other side, just as you have done. It is the simplest\nthing in the world.\u201d\n\nColumbus made no answer; but after a while he took an egg from a dish\nand said to the company:--\n\n\u201cWho among you, gentlemen, can make this egg stand on end?\u201d\n\nOne by one those at the table tried the experiment. When the egg had\ngone entirely around and none had succeeded, all said that it could not\nbe done.\n\nThen Columbus took the egg and struck its small end gently upon the\ntable so as to break the shell a little. After that there was no trouble\nin making it stand upright.\n\n\u201cGentlemen,\u201d said he, \u201cwhat is easier than to do this which you said\nwas impossible? It is the simplest thing in the world. Anybody can do\nit,--AFTER HE HAS BEEN SHOWN HOW!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCOLUMBUS AT LA RABIDA\n\nBY WASHINGTON IRVING (ADAPTED)\n\nAbout half a league from the little seaport of Palos de Moguer, in\nAndalusia, there stood, and continues to stand at the present day,\nan ancient convent of Franciscan friars, dedicated to Santa Maria de\nRabida.\n\nOne day a stranger on foot, in humble guise, but of a distinguished air,\naccompanied by a small boy, stopped at the gate of the convent and asked\nof the porter a little bread and water for his child. While receiving\nthis humble refreshment, the prior of the convent, Juan Perez de\nMarchena, happened to pass by, and was struck with the appearance of the\nstranger. Observing from his air and accent that he was a foreigner, he\nentered into conversation with him and soon learned the particulars of\nhis story.\n\nThat stranger was Columbus.\n\nAccompanied by his little son Diego, he was on his way to the\nneighboring town of Huelva, to seek a brother-in-law, who had married a\nsister of his deceased wife.\n\nThe prior was a man of extensive information. His attention had been\nturned in some measure to geographical and nautical science. He was\ngreatly interested by the conversation of Columbus, and struck with the\ngrandeur of his views. When he found, however, that the voyager was\non the point of abandoning Spain to seek the patronage of the court of\nFrance, the good friar took the alarm.\n\nHe detained Columbus as his guest, and sent for a scientific friend\nto converse with him. That friend was Garcia Fernandez, a physician of\nPalos. He was equally struck with the appearance and conversation of\nthe stranger. Several conferences took place at the convent, at which\nveteran mariners and pilots of Palos were present.\n\nFacts were related by some of these navigators in support of the theory\nof Columbus. In a word, his project was treated with a deference in the\nquiet cloisters of La Rabida and among the seafaring men of Palos which\nhad been sought in vain among sages and philosophers.\n\nAmong the navigators of Palos was one Martin Alonzo Pinzon, the head\nof a family of wealth, members of which were celebrated for their\nadventurous expeditions. He was so convinced of the feasibility of\nColumbus's plan that he offered to engage in it with purse and person,\nand to bear the expenses of Columbus in an application to court.\n\nFray Juan Perez, being now fully persuaded of the importance of the\nproposed enterprise, advised Columbus to repair to the court, and make\nhis propositions to the Spanish sovereigns, offering to give him a\nletter of recommendation to his friend, the Prior of the Convent\nof Prado and confessor to the queen, and a man of great political\ninfluence; through whose means he would, without doubt, immediately\nobtain royal audience and favor. Martin Alonzo Pinzon, also, generously\nfurnished him with money for the journey, and the Friar took charge of\nhis youthful son, Diego, to maintain and educate him in the convent.\n\nThus aided and encouraged and elated with fresh hopes, Columbus took\nleave of the little junto at La Rabida, and set out, in the spring of\n1486, for the Castilian court, which had just assembled at Cordova,\nwhere the sovereigns were fully occupied with their chivalrous\nenterprise for the conquest of Granada. But alas! success was not yet!\nfor Columbus met with continued disappointments and discouragements,\nwhile his projects were opposed by many eminent prelates and Spanish\nscientists, as being against religion and unscientific. Yet in spite\nof this opposition, by degrees the theory of Columbus began to obtain\nproselytes. He appeared in the presence of the king with modesty,\nyet self-possession, inspired by a consciousness of the dignity and\nimportance of his errand; for he felt himself, as he afterwards\ndeclared in his letters, animated as if by a sacred fire from above, and\nconsidered himself an instrument in the hand of Heaven to accomplish\nits great designs. For nearly seven years of apparently fruitless\nsolicitation, Columbus followed the royal court from place to place, at\ntimes encouraged by the sovereigns, and at others neglected.\n\nAt last he looked round in search of some other source of patronage, and\nfeeling averse to subjecting himself to further tantalizing delays\nand disappointments of the court, determined to repair to Paris. He\ndeparted, therefore, and went to the Convent of La Rabida to seek his\nson Diego. When the worthy Friar Juan Perez de Marchena beheld Columbus\narrive once more at the gate of his convent after nearly seven years\nof fruitless effort at court, and saw by the humility of his garb the\npoverty he had experienced, he was greatly moved; but when he found that\nhe was about to carry his proposition to another country, his patriotism\ntook alarm.\n\nThe Friar had once been confessor to the queen, and knew that she was\nalways accessible to persons of his sacred calling. He therefore wrote a\nletter to her, and at the same time entreated Columbus to remain at\nthe convent until an answer could be received. The latter was easily\npersuaded, for he felt as if on leaving Spain he was again abandoning\nhis home.\n\nThe little council at La Rabida now cast round their eyes for an\nambassador to send on this momentous mission. They chose one Sebastian\nRodriguez, a pilot of Lepe, one of the most shrewd and important\npersonages in this maritime neighborhood. He so faithfully and\nsuccessfully conducted his embassy that he returned shortly with an\nanswer.\n\nIsabella had always been favorably disposed to the proposition of\nColumbus. She thanked Juan Perez for his timely services and requested\nhim to repair immediately to the court, leaving Columbus in confident\nhope until he should hear further from her. This royal letter, brought\nback by the pilot at the end of fourteen days, spread great joy in the\nlittle junto at the convent.\n\nNo sooner did the warm-hearted friar receive it than he saddled\nhis mule, and departed, privately, before midnight to the court. He\njourneyed through the countries of the Moors, and rode into the new city\nof Santa Fe where Ferdinand and Isabella were engaged in besieging the\ncapital of Granada.\n\nThe sacred office of Juan Perez gained him a ready admission into the\npresence of the queen. He pleaded the cause of Columbus with enthusiasm.\nHe told of his honorable motives, of his knowledge and experience, and\nhis perfect capacity to fulfill the undertaking. He showed the solid\nprinciples upon which the enterprise was founded, and the advantage that\nmust attend its success, and the glory it must shed upon the Spanish\nCrown.\n\nIsabella, being warm and generous of nature and sanguine of disposition,\nwas moved by the representations of Juan Perez, and requested that\nColumbus might be again sent to her. Bethinking herself of his poverty\nand his humble plight, she ordered that money should be forwarded to\nhim, sufficient to bear his traveling expenses, and to furnish him with\ndecent raiment.\n\nThe worthy friar lost no time in communicating the result of his\nmission. He transmitted the money, and a letter, by the hand of an\ninhabitant of Palos, to the physician, Garcia Fernandez, who delivered\nthem to Columbus The latter immediately changed his threadbare garb for\none more suited to the sphere of a court, and purchasing a mule, set out\nagain, reanimated by hopes, for the camp before Granada.\n\nThis time, after some delay, his mission was attended with success.\nThe generous spirit of Isabella was enkindled, and it seemed as if\nthe subject, for the first time, broke upon her mind in all its real\ngrandeur. She declared her resolution to undertake the enterprise, but\npaused for a moment, remembering that King Ferdinand looked coldly on\nthe affair, and that the royal treasury was absolutely drained by the\nwar.\n\nHer suspense was but momentary. With an enthusiasm worthy of herself\nand of the cause, she exclaimed: \u201cI undertake the enterprise for my\nown crown of Castile, and will pledge my jewels to raise the necessary\nfunds.\u201d This was the proudest moment in the life of Isabella. It stamped\nher renown forever as the patroness of the discovery of the New World.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MUTINY\n\nBY A. DE LAMARTINE (ADAPTED)\n\nWhen Columbus left the Canaries to pass with his three small ships into\nthe unknown seas, the eruptions of Teneriffe illuminated the heavens\nand were reflected in the sea. This cast terror into the minds of his\nseamen. They thought that it was the flaming sword of the angel who\nexpelled the first man from Eden, and who now was trying to drive\nback in anger those presumptuous ones who were seeking entrance to the\nforbidden and unknown seas and lands. But the admiral passed from ship\nto ship explaining to his men, in a simple way, the action of volcanoes,\nso that the sailors were no longer afraid.\n\nBut as the peak of Teneriffe sank below the horizon, a great sadness\nfell upon the men. It was their last beacon, the farthest sea-mark of\nthe Old World. They were seized with a nameless terror and loneliness.\n\nThen the admiral called them around him in his own ship, and told them\nmany stories of the things they might hope to find in the wonderful new\nworld to which they were going,--of the lands, the islands, the seas,\nthe kingdoms, the riches, the vegetation, the sunshine, the mines of\ngold, the sands covered with pearls, the mountains shining with precious\nstones, the plains loaded with spices. These stories, tinged with\nthe brilliant colors of their leader's rich imagination, filled the\ndiscouraged sailors with hope and good spirits.\n\nBut as they passed over the trackless ocean, and saw day by day the\ngreat billows rolling between them and the mysterious horizon, the\nsailors were again filled with dread. They lacked the courage to sail\nonward into the unknown distance. The compass began to vacillate, and\nno longer pointed toward the north; this confused both Columbus and his\npilots. The men fell into a panic, but the resolute and patient admiral\nencouraged them once more. So buoyed up by his faith and hope, they\ncontinued to sail onwards over the pathless waters.\n\nThe next day a heron and a tropical bird flew about the masts of the\nships, and these seemed to the wondering sailors as two witnesses come\nto confirm the reasoning of Columbus.\n\nThe weather was mild and serene, the sky clear, the waves transparent,\nthe dolphins played across the bows, the airs were warm, and the\nperfumes, which the waves brought from afar, seemed to exhale from\ntheir foam. The brilliancy of the stars and the deep beauty of the night\nbreathed a feeling of calm security that comforted and sustained the\nsailors.\n\nThe sea also began to bring its messages. Unknown vegetations floated\nupon its surface. Some were rock-plants, that had been swept off the\ncliffs by the waves; some were fresh-water plants; and others, recently\ntorn from their roots, were still full of sap. One of them carried a\nlive crab,--a little sailor afloat on a tuft of grass. These plants\nand living things could not have passed many days in the water without\nfading and dying. And all encouraged the sailors to believe that they\nwere nearing land.\n\nAt eve and morning the distant waning clouds, like those that gather\nround the mountain-tops, took the form of cliffs and hills skirting the\nhorizon. The cry of \u201cland\u201d was on the tip of every tongue. But Columbus\nby his reckoning knew that they must still be far from any land, but\nfearing to discourage his men he kept his thoughts to himself, for he\nfound no trustworthy friend among his companions whose heart was firm\nenough to bear his secret.\n\nDuring the long passage Columbus conversed with his own thoughts, and\nwith the stars, and with God whom he felt was his protector. He occupied\nhis days in making notes of what he observed. The nights he passed\non deck with his pilots, studying the stars and watching the seas.\nHe withdrew into himself, and his thoughtful gravity impressed his\ncompanions sometimes with respect and sometimes with mistrust and awe.\n\nEach morning the bows of the vessels plunged through the fantastic\nhorizon which the evening mist had made the sailors mistake for a\nshore. They kept rolling on through the boundless and bottomless abyss.\nGradually terror and discontent once more took possession of the crews.\nThey began to imagine that the steadfast east wind that drove them\nwestward prevailed eternally in this region, and that when the time came\nto sail homeward, the same wind would prevent their return. For surely\ntheir provisions and water could not hold out long enough for them to\nbeat their way eastward over those wide waters!\n\nThen the sailors began to murmur against the admiral and his seeming\nfruitless obstinacy, and they blamed themselves for obeying him, when it\nmight mean the sacrifice of the lives of one hundred and twenty sailors.\n\nBut each time the murmurs threatened to break out into mutiny,\nProvidence seemed to send more encouraging signs of land. And these for\nthe time being changed the complaints to hopes. At evening little birds\nof the most delicate species, that build their nests in the shrubs of\nthe garden and orchard, hovered warbling about the masts. Their delicate\nwings and joyous notes bore no signs of weariness or fright, as of birds\nswept far away to sea by a storm. These signs again aroused hope.\n\nThe green weeds on the surface of the ocean looked like waving corn\nbefore the ears are ripe. The vegetation beneath the water delighted\nthe eyes of the sailors tired of the endless expanse of blue. But the\nseaweed soon became so thick that they were afraid of entangling their\nrudders and keels, and of remaining prisoners forever in the forests of\nthe ocean, as ships of the northern seas are shut in by ice. Thus each\njoy soon turned to fear,--so terrible to man is the unknown.\n\nThe wind ceased, the calms of the tropics alarmed the sailors. An\nimmense whale was seen sleeping on the waters. They fancied there were\nmonsters in the deep which would devour their ships. The roll of the\nwaves drove them upon currents which they could not stem for want of\nwind. They imagined they were approaching the cataracts of the ocean,\nand that they were being hurried toward the abysses into which the\ndeluge had poured its world of waters.\n\nFierce and angry faces crowded round the mast. The murmurs rose louder\nand louder. They talked of compelling the pilots to put about and of\nthrowing the admiral into the sea. Columbus, to whom their looks\nand threats revealed these plans, defied them by his bold bearing or\ndisconcerted them by his coolness.\n\nAgain nature came to his assistance, by giving him fresh breezes from\nthe east, and a calm sea under his bows. Before the close of the day\ncame the first cry of \u201cLand ho!\u201d from the lofty poop. All the crews,\nrepeating this cry of safety, life, and triumph, fell on their knees on\nthe decks, and struck up the hymn, \u201cGlory be to God in heaven and upon\nearth.\u201d When it was over, all climbed as high as they could up the\nmasts, yards, and rigging to see with their own eyes the new land that\nhad been sighted.\n\nBut the sunrise destroyed this new hope all too quickly. The imaginary\nland disappeared with the morning mist, and once more the ships seemed\nto be sailing over a never-ending wilderness of waters.\n\nDespair took possession of the crews. Again the cry of \u201cLand ho!\u201d was\nheard. But the sailors found as before that their hopes were but a\npassing cloud. Nothing wearies the heart so much as false hopes and\nbitter disappointments.\n\nLoud reproaches against the admiral were heard from every quarter.\nBread and water were beginning to fail. Despair changed to fury. The men\ndecided to turn the heads of the vessels toward Europe, and to beat back\nagainst the winds that had favored the admiral, whom they intended to\nchain to the mast of his own vessel and to give up to the vengeance of\nSpain should they ever reach the port of their own country.\n\nThese complaints now became clamorous. The admiral restrained them by\nthe calmness of his countenance. He called upon Heaven to decide between\nhimself and the sailors. He flinched not. He offered his life as a\npledge, if they would but trust and wait for three days more. He swore\nthat, if, in the course of the third day, land was not visible on the\nhorizon, he would yield to their wishes and steer for Europe.\n\nThe mutinous men reluctantly consented and allowed him three days of\ngrace. . . . . . . . . . .\n\nAt sunrise on the second day rushes recently torn up were seen floating\nnear the vessels. A plank hewn by an axe, a carved stick, a bough of\nhawthorn in blossom, and lastly a bird's nest built on a branch which\nthe wind had broken, and full of eggs on which the parent-bird was\nsitting, were seen swimming past on the waters. The sailors brought on\nboard these living witnesses of their approach to land. They were like a\nmessage from the shore, confirming the promises of Columbus.\n\nThe overjoyed and repentant mutineers fell on their knees before the\nadmiral whom they had insulted but the day before, and craved pardon for\ntheir mistrust.\n\nAs the day and night advanced many other sights and sounds showed that\nland was very near. Toward day delicious and unknown perfumes borne on\na soft land breeze reached the vessels, and there was heard the roar of\nthe waves upon the reefs.\n\nThe dawn, as it spread over the sky, gradually raised the shores of an\nisland from the waves. Its distant extremities were lost in the morning\nmist. As the sun rose it shone on the land ascending from a low yellow\nbeach to the summit of hills whose dark-green covering contrasted\nstrongly with the clear blue of the heavens. The foam of the waves broke\non the yellow sand, and forests of tall and unknown trees stretched\naway, one above another, over successive terraces of the island. Green\nvalleys, and bright clefts in the hollows afforded a half glimpse into\nthese mysterious wilds. And thus the land of golden promises, the land\nof future greatness, first appeared to Christopher Columbus, the Admiral\nof the Ocean, and thus he gave a New World to the nations to come.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST LANDING OF COLUMBUS IN THE NEW WORLD\n\nBY WASHINGTON IRVING (ADAPTED)\n\nIt was on Friday morning, the 12th of October, that Columbus first\nbeheld the New World. As the day dawned he saw before him an island,\nseveral leagues in extent, and covered with trees like a continual\norchard. Though apparently uncultivated it was populous, for the\ninhabitants were seen issuing from all parts of the woods and running to\nthe shore. They were perfectly naked, and, as they stood gazing at\nthe ships, appeared by their attitudes and gestures to be lost in\nastonishment.\n\nColumbus made signals for the ships to cast anchor and the boats to be\nmanned and armed. He entered his own boat, richly attired in scarlet,\nand holding the royal standard; while Martin Alonzo Pinzon and his\nbrother put off in company in their boats, each with a banner of the\nenterprise emblazoned with a green cross, having on either side the\nletters \u201cF.\u201d and \u201cY.,\u201d the initials of the Castilian monarchs Fernando\nand Ysabel, surmounted by crowns.\n\nAs he approached the shore, Columbus was delighted with the purity and\nsuavity of the atmosphere, the crystal transparency of the sea, and\nthe extraordinary beauty of the vegetation. He beheld also fruits of an\nunknown kind upon the trees which overhung the shores.\n\nOn landing he threw himself on his knees, kissed the earth, and returned\nthanks to God with tears of joy. His example was followed by the\nrest. [9] \u201cAlmighty and Eternal God,\u201d prayed Columbus, \u201cwho by the energy\nof Thy creative word hast made the firmament, the earth and the sea;\nblessed and glorified be thy name in all places! May thy majesty and\ndominion be exalted for ever and ever, as Thou hast permitted thy holy\nname to be made known and spread by the most humble of thy servants, in\nthis hitherto unknown portion of Thine empire.\u201d\n\n\n[Footnote: 9: This prayer is taken from Lamartine.]\n\n\nColumbus, then rising, drew his sword, displayed the royal standard, and\nassembling around him the two captains and the rest who had landed, he\ntook solemn possession in the name of the Castilian sovereigns, giving\nthe island the name of San Salvador.\n\n\n\n\nHALLOWEEN\n\n(OCTOBER 31)\n\nTHE OLD WITCH\n\nBY THE BROTHERS GRIMM (TRANSLATED)\n\nThere was once a little girl who was very willful and who never obeyed\nwhen her elders spoke to her; so how could she be happy?\n\nOne day she said to her parents: \u201cI have heard so much of the old witch\nthat I will go and see her. People say she is a wonderful old woman,\nand has many marvelous things in her house, and I am very curious to see\nthem.\u201d\n\nBut her parents forbade her going, saying: \u201cThe witch is a wicked old\nwoman, who performs many godless deeds; and if you go near her, you are\nno longer a child of ours.\u201d\n\nThe girl, however, would not turn back at her parents' command, but went\nto the witch's house. When she arrived there the old woman asked her:--\n\n\u201cWhy are you so pale?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d she replied, trembling all over, \u201cI have frightened myself so with\nwhat I have just seen.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what did you see?\u201d inquired the old witch.\n\n\u201cI saw a black man on your steps.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was a collier,\u201d replied she.\n\n\u201cThen I saw a gray man.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was a sportsman,\u201d said the old woman.\n\n\u201cAfter him I saw a blood-red man.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was a butcher,\u201d replied the old woman.\n\n\u201cBut, oh, I was most terrified,\u201d continued the girl, \u201cwhen I peeped\nthrough your window, and saw not you, but a creature with a fiery head.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you have seen the witch in her proper dress,\u201d said the old woman.\n\u201cFor you I have long waited, and now you shall give me light.\u201d\n\nSo saying the witch changed the little girl into a block of wood, and\nthen threw it on the fire; and when it was fully alight, she sat down on\nthe hearth and warmed herself, saying:--\n\n\u201cHow good I feel! The fire has not burned like this for a long time!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nSHIPPEITARO\n\nA JAPANESE FOLK-TALE:\n\nBY MARY F. NIXON-ROULET (ADAPTED) [10]\n\n\n[Footnote 10: From Japanese Folk-Stories and Fairy Tales. Copyright,\n1908, by American Book Company.]\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a brave soldier lad who was seeking his\nfortune in the wide, wide world. One day he lost his way in a pathless\nforest, and wandered about until he came at length to a small clearing\nin the midst of which stood a ruined temple. The huge trees waved above\nits walls, and the leaves in the thicket whispered around them. No sun\never shone there, and no human being lived there.\n\nA storm was coming up, and the soldier lad took refuge among the ruins.\n\n\u201cHere is all I want,\u201d said he. \u201cHere I shall have shelter from the\nstorm-god's wrath, and a comfortable place to sleep in.\u201d\n\nSo he wrapped himself in his cloak, and, lying down, was soon fast\nasleep. But his slumbers did not last long. At midnight he was wakened\nby fearful shrieks, and springing to his feet, he looked out at the\ntemple door.\n\nThe storm was over. Moonlight shone on the clearing. And there he saw\nwhat seemed to be a troop of monstrous cats, who like huge phantoms\nmarched across the open space in front of the temple. They broke into\na wild dance, uttering shrieks, howls, and wicked laughs. Then they all\nsang together:--\n\n     \u201cWhisper not to Shippeitaro\n       That the Phantom Cats are near;\n       Whisper not to Shippeitaro,\n       Lest he soon appear!\u201d\n\n\nThe soldier lad crouched low behind the door, for brave as he was he did\nnot wish these fearful creatures to see him. But soon, with a chorus of\nwild yells, the Phantom Cats disappeared as quickly as they had come,\nand all was quiet as before.\n\nThen the soldier lad lay down and went to sleep again, nor did he waken\ntill the sun peered into the temple and told him that it was morning. He\nquickly found his way out of the forest and walked on until he came to\nthe cottage of a peasant.\n\nAs he approached he heard sounds of bitter weeping. A beautiful young\nmaiden met him at the door, and her eyes were red with crying. She\ngreeted him kindly.\n\n\u201cMay I have some food?\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cEnter and welcome,\u201d she replied. \u201cMy parents are just having breakfast.\nYou may join them, for no one passes our door hungry.\u201d\n\nThanking her the lad entered, and her parents greeted him courteously\nbut sadly, and shared their breakfast with him. He ate heartily, and,\nwhen he was finished, rose to go.\n\n\u201cThank you many times for this good meal, kind friends,\u201d said he, \u201cand\nmay happiness be yours.\u201d\n\n\u201cHappiness can never again be ours!\u201d answered the old man, weeping.\n\n\u201cYou are in trouble, then,\u201d said the lad. \u201cTell me about it; perhaps I\ncan help you in some way.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d replied the old man, \u201cThere is within yonder forest a ruined\ntemple. It is the abode of horrors too terrible for words. Each year a\ndemon, whom no one has ever seen, demands that the people of this land\ngive him a beautiful maiden to devour. She is placed in a cage and\ncarried to the temple just at sunset. This year it is my daughter's\nturn to be offered to the fiend!\u201d And the old man buried his face in his\nhands and groaned.\n\nThe soldier lad paused to think for a moment, then he said:--\n\n\u201cIt is terrible, indeed! But do not despair. I think I know a way to\nhelp you. Who is Shippeitaro?\u201d\n\n\u201cShippeitaro is a beautiful dog, owned by our lord, the prince,\u201d\n answered the old man.\n\n\u201cThat is just the thing!\u201d cried the lad. \u201cOnly keep your daughter\nclosely at home. Do not let her out of your sight. Trust me and she\nshall be saved.\u201d\n\nThen the soldier lad hurried away, and found the castle of the prince.\nHe begged that he might borrow Shippeitaro just for one night.\n\n\u201cYou may take him upon the condition that you bring him back safely,\u201d\n said the prince.\n\n\u201cTo-morrow he shall return in safety,\u201d answered the lad.\n\nTaking Shippeitaro with him, he hurried to the peasant's cottage, and,\nwhen evening was come, he placed the dog in the cage which was to have\ncarried the maiden. The bearers then took the cage to the ruined temple,\nand, placing it on the ground, ran away as fast as their legs would\ncarry them.\n\nThe lad, laughing softly to himself, hid inside the temple as before,\nand so quiet was the spot that he fell asleep. At midnight he was\naroused by the same wild shrieks he had heard the night before. He rose\nand looked out at the temple door.\n\nThrough the darkness, into the moonlight, came the troop of Phantom\nCats. This time they were led by a fierce, black Tomcat. As they came\nnearer they chanted with unearthly screeches:--\n\n     \u201cWhisper not to Shippeitaro\n       That the Phantom Cats are near;\n       Whisper not to Shippeitaro,\n       Lest he soon appear!\u201d\n\n\nWith that the great Tomcat caught sight of the cage and, uttering a\nfearful yowl, sprang upon it, With one blow of his claws he tore open\nthe lid, when, instead of the dainty morsel he expected, out jumped\nShippeitaro!\n\nThe dog sprang upon the Tomcat, and caught him by the throat; while the\nPhantom Cats stood still in amazement. Drawing his sword the lad hurried\nto Shippeitaro's side, and what with Shippeitaro's teeth and the lad's\nhard blows, in an instant the great Tomcat was torn and cut into pieces.\nWhen the Phantom Cats saw this, they uttered one wild shriek and fled\naway, never to return again.\n\nThen the soldier lad, leading Shippeitaro, returned in triumph to the\npeasant's cottage. There in terror the maiden awaited his arrival, but\ngreat was the joy of herself and her parents when they knew that the\nTomcat was no more.\n\n\u201cOh, sir,\u201d cried the maiden, \u201cI can never thank you! I am the only child\nof my parents, and no one would have been left to care for them if I had\nbeen the monster's victim.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not thank me,\u201d answered the lad. \u201cThank the brave Shippeitaro. It\nwas he who sprang upon the great Tomcat and chased away the Phantom\nCreatures.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nHANSEL AND GRETHEL\n\nBY THE BROTHERS GRIMM (ADAPTED)\n\nHard-by a great forest dwelt a poor wood-cutter with his two children\nand his wife who was their stepmother. The boy was called Hansel and the\ngirl Grethel. The wood-cutter had little to bite and to break, and once\nwhen a great famine fell on the land he could no longer get daily bread.\nNow when he thought over this by night in his bed, and tossed about in\nhis trouble, he groaned, and said to his wife:--\n\n\u201cWhat is to become of us? How are we to feed our poor children, when we\nno longer have anything even for ourselves?\u201d\n\n\u201cI'll tell you what, husband,\u201d answered the woman; \u201cearly to-morrow\nmorning we will take the children out into the woods where it is the\nthickest; there we will light a fire for them, and give each of them\none piece of bread more, and then we will go to our work and leave them\nalone. They will not find the way home again, and we shall be rid of\nthem.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, wife,\u201d said the man, \u201cI will not do that; how can I bear to leave\nmy children alone in the woods?--the wild beasts would soon come and\ntear them to pieces.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, you fool!\u201d said she. \u201cThen we must all four die of hunger; you may\nas well plane the planks for our coffins.\u201d And she left him no peace\nuntil he said he would do as she wished.\n\n\u201cBut I feel very sorry for the poor children, all the same,\u201d said the\nman.\n\nThe two children had also not been able to sleep for hunger, and had\nheard what their father's wife had said to their father.\n\nGrethel wept bitter tears, and said to Hansel, \u201cNow all is over with\nus.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe quiet, Grethel,\u201d said Hansel, \u201cdo not be troubled; I will soon find\na way to help us.\u201d\n\nAnd when the old folks had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his little\ncoat, opened the door below, and crept outside. The moon shone brightly,\nand the white pebbles which lay in front of the house shone like real\nsilver pennies. Hansel stooped and put as many of them in the little\npocket of his coat as he could make room for. Then he went back, and\nsaid to Grethel, \u201cBe at ease, dear little sister, and sleep in peace;\nGod will not forsake us.\u201d And he lay down again in his bed.\n\nWhen the day dawned, but before the sun had risen, the woman came and\nawoke the two children, saying:--\n\n\u201cGet up, you lazy things! we are going into the forest to fetch wood.\u201d\n She gave each a little piece of bread, and said, \u201cThere is something for\nyour dinner, but do not eat it up before then, for you will get nothing\nelse.\u201d\n\nGrethel took the bread under her apron, as Hansel had the stones in his\npocket. Then they all set out together on the way to the forest, and\nHansel threw one after another of the white pebble-stones out of his\npocket on the road.\n\nWhen they had reached the middle of the forest, the father said, \u201cNow,\nchildren, pile up some wood and I will light a fire that you may not be\ncold.\u201d\n\nHansel and Grethel drew brushwood together till it was as high as a\nlittle hill.\n\nThe brushwood was lighted, and when the flames were burning very high\nthe woman said:--\n\n\u201cNow, children, lie down by the fire and rest; we will go into the\nforest and cut some wood. When we have done, we will come back and fetch\nyou away.\u201d\n\nHansel and Grethel sat by the fire, and when noon came, each ate a\nlittle piece of bread, and as they heard the strokes of the wood-axe\nthey were sure their father was near. But it was not the axe, it was\na branch which he had tied to a dry tree, and the wind was blowing it\nbackward and forward. As they had been sitting such a long time they\nwere tired, their eyes shut, and they fell fast asleep. When at last\nthey awoke, it was dark night.\n\nGrethel began to cry, and said, \u201cHow are we to get out of the forest\nnow?\u201d\n\nBut Hansel comforted her, saying, \u201cJust wait a little, until the moon\nhas risen, and then we will soon find the way.\u201d\n\nAnd when the full moon had risen, Hansel took his little sister by the\nhand, and followed the pebbles, which shone like bright silver pieces,\nand showed them the way.\n\nThey walked the whole night long, and by break of day came once more to\ntheir father's house.\n\nThey knocked at the door, and when the woman opened it, and saw that it\nwas Hansel and Grethel, she said, \u201cYou naughty children, why have you\nslept so long in the forest? we thought you were never coming back at\nall!\u201d\n\nThe father, however, was glad, for it had cut him to the heart to leave\nthem behind alone.\n\nNot long after, there was once more a great lack of food in all parts,\nand the children heard the woman saying at night to their father:--\n\n\u201cEverything is eaten again; we have one half-loaf left, and after that\nthere is an end. The children must go; we will take them farther into\nthe wood, so that they will not find their way out again; there is no\nother means of saving ourselves!\u201d\n\nThe man's heart was heavy, and he thought, \u201cIt would be better to share\nour last mouthful with the children.\u201d\n\nThe woman, however, would listen to nothing he had to say, but scolded\nhim. He who says A must say B, too, and as he had given way the first\ntime, he had to do so a second time also.\n\nThe children were still awake and had heard the talk. When the old folks\nwere asleep, Hansel again got up, and wanted to go and pick up pebbles,\nbut the woman had locked the door, and he could not get out.\n\nSo he comforted his little sister, and said:--\n\n\u201cDo not cry, Grethel; go to sleep quietly, the good God will help us.\u201d\n\nEarly in the morning came the woman, and took the children out of their\nbeds. Their bit of bread was given to them, but it was still smaller\nthan the time before. On the way into the forest Hansel crumbled his\nin his pocket, and often threw a morsel on the ground until little by\nlittle, he had thrown all the crumbs on the path.\n\nThe woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they had\nnever in their lives been before. Then a great fire was again made, and\nshe said:--\n\n\u201cJust sit there, you children, and when you are tired you may sleep a\nlittle; we are going into the forest to cut wood, and in the evening\nwhen we are done, we will come and fetch you away.\u201d\n\nWhen it was noon, Grethel shared her piece of bread with Hansel, who had\nscattered his by the way. Then they fell asleep, and evening came and\nwent, but no one came to the poor children.\n\nThey did not awake until it was dark night, and Hansel comforted his\nlittle sister, and said:--\n\n\u201cJust wait, Grethel, until the moon rises, and then we shall see the\ncrumbs of bread which I have scattered about; they will show us our way\nhome again.\u201d\n\nWhen the moon came they set out, but they found no crumbs, for the many\nthousands of birds which fly about in the woods and fields had picked\nthem all up.\n\nHansel said to Grethel, \u201cWe shall soon find the way.\u201d\n\nBut they did not find it. They walked the whole night and all the next\nday, too, from morning till evening, but they did not get out of the\nforest; they were very hungry, for they had nothing to eat but two or\nthree berries which grew on the ground. And as they were so tired that\ntheir legs would carry them no longer, they lay down under a tree and\nfell asleep.\n\nIt was now three mornings since they had left their father's house. They\nbegan to walk again, but they always got deeper into the forest, and if\nhelp did not come soon, they must die of hunger and weariness. When it\nwas midday, they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting on a bough. It\nsang so sweetly that they stood still and listened to it. And when\nit had done, it spread its wings and flew away before them, and they\nfollowed it until they reached a little house, on the roof of which it\nperched; and when they came quite up to the little house, they saw it\nwas built of bread and covered with cakes, but that the windows were of\nclear sugar.\n\n\u201cWe will set to work on that,\u201d said Hansel, \u201cand have a good meal.\nI will eat a bit of the roof, and you, Grethel, can eat some of the\nwindow, it will taste sweet.\u201d\n\nHansel reached up, and broke off a little of the roof to try how it\ntasted, and Grethel leaned against the window and nibbled at the panes.\n\nThen a soft voice cried from the room,--\n\n     \u201cNibble, nibble, gnaw,\n       Who is nibbling at my little house?\u201d\n\n\nThe children answered:--\n\n          \u201cThe wind, the wind,\n            The wind from heaven\u201d;\n\nand went on eating. Hansel, who thought the roof tasted very nice, tore\ndown a great piece of it; and Grethel pushed out the whole of one round\nwindow-pane, sat down, and went to eating it.\n\nAll at once the door opened, and a very, very old woman, who leaned on\ncrutches, came creeping out. Hansel and Grethel were so scared that they\nlet fall what they had in their hands.\n\nThe old woman, however, nodded her head, and said, \u201cOh, you dear\nchildren, who has brought you here? Do come in, and stay with me. No\nharm shall happen to you.\u201d\n\nShe took them both by the hand, and led them into her little house. Then\ngood food was set before them, milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples,\nand nuts. Afterwards two pretty little beds were covered with clean\nwhite linen, and Hansel and Grethel lay down in them, and thought they\nwere in heaven.\n\nThe old woman had only pretended to be so kind; she was in reality a\nwicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had built the little\nbread house in order to coax them there.\n\nEarly in the morning, before the children were awake, she was already\nup, and when she saw both of them sleeping and looking so pretty, with\ntheir plump red cheeks, she muttered to herself, \u201cThat will be a dainty\nmouthful!\u201d\n\nThen she seized Hansel, carried him into a little stable, and shut him\nin behind a grated door. He might scream as he liked,--it was of no use.\nThen she went to Grethel, shook her till she awoke and cried: \u201cGet up,\nlazy thing; fetch some water, and cook something good for your brother;\nhe is in the stable outside, and is to be made fat. When he is fat, I\nwill eat him.\u201d\n\nGrethel began to weep, but it was all in vain; she was forced to do what\nthe wicked witch told her.\n\nAnd now the best food was cooked for poor Hansel, but Grethel got\nnothing but crab-shells.\n\nEvery morning the woman crept to the little stable, and cried, \u201cHansel,\nstretch out your finger that I may feel if you will soon be fat.\u201d\n\nHansel, however, stretched out a little bone to her, and the old woman,\nwho had dim eyes, could not see it; she thought it was Hansel's finger,\nand wondered why he grew no fatter. When four weeks had gone by, and\nHansel still was thin, she could wait no longer.\n\n\u201cCome, Grethel,\u201d she cried to the girl, \u201cfly round and bring some water.\nLet Hansel be fat or lean, to-morrow I will kill him, and cook him.\u201d\n\nAh, how sad was the poor little sister when she had to fetch the water,\nand how her tears did flow down over her cheeks!\n\n\u201cDear God, do help us,\u201d she cried. \u201cIf the wild beasts in the forest had\nbut eaten us, we should at any rate have died together.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust keep your noise to yourself,\u201d said the old woman; \u201call that won't\nhelp you at all.\u201d\n\nEarly in the morning, Grethel had to go out and hang up the kettle with\nthe water, and light the fire.\n\n\u201cWe will bake first,\u201d said the old woman. \u201cI have already heated the\noven, and got the dough ready.\u201d\n\nShe pushed poor Grethel out to the oven, from which the flames of fire\nwere already darting.\n\n\u201cCreep in,\u201d said the witch, \u201cand see if it is heated, so that we can\nshut the bread in.\u201d And when once Grethel was inside, she meant to shut\nthe oven and let her bake in it, and then she would eat her, too.\n\nBut Grethel saw what she had in her mind, and said, \u201cI do not know how I\nam to do it; how do you get in?\u201d\n\n\u201cSilly goose,\u201d said the old woman. \u201cThe door is big enough; just look, I\ncan get in myself!\u201d and she crept up and thrust her head into the oven.\nThen Grethel gave her a push that drove her far into it, and shut the\niron door, tight.\n\nGrethel ran as quick as lightning to Hansel, opened his little stable,\nand cried, \u201cHansel, we are saved! The old witch is dead!\u201d\n\nThen Hansel sprang out like a bird from its cage when the door is opened\nfor it. How they did dance about and kiss each other. And as they had\nno longer any need to fear her, they went into the witch's house, and in\nevery corner there stood chests full of pearls and jewels.\n\n\u201cThese are far better than pebbles!\u201d said Hansel, and filled his\npockets, and Grethel said, \u201cI, too, will take something home with me,\u201d\n and filled her pinafore.\n\n\u201cBut now we will go away,\u201d said Hansel, \u201cthat we may get out of the\nwitch's forest.\u201d When they had walked for two hours, they came to a\ngreat piece of water. \u201cWe cannot get over,\u201d said Hansel; \u201cI see no\nfoot-plank and no bridge.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd no boat crosses, either,\u201d answered Grethel, \u201cbut a white duck is\nswimming there; if I ask her, she will help us over.\u201d Then she cried,--\n\n     \u201cLittle duck, little duck, dost thou see,\n       Hansel and Grethel are waiting for thee?\n       There's never a plank or bridge in sight,\n       Take us across on thy back so white.\u201d\n\n\nThe duck came to them, and Hansel sat on its back, and told his sister\nto sit by him.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Grethel, \u201cthat will be too heavy for the little duck; she\nshall take us across, one after the other.\u201d\n\nThe good little duck did so, and when they were once safely across and\nhad walked for a short time, they knew where they were, and at last they\nsaw from afar their father's house.\n\nThen they began to run, rushed in, and threw themselves into their\nfather's arms. The man had not known one happy hour since he had left\nthe children in the forest; the woman, however, was dead. Grethel\nemptied her pinafore until pearls and precious stones rolled about the\nfloor, and Hansel threw one handful after another out of his pocket\nto add to them. Then all care was at an end, and they lived happily\ntogether ever after.\n\nMy tale is done; there runs a mouse; whosoever catches it may make\nhimself a big fur cap out of it.\n\n\n\n\nBURG HILL'S ON FIRE\n\nA CELTIC FAIRY TALE\n\nBY ELIZABETH W. GRIERSON (ADAPTED)\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a rich farmer who had a thrifty wife. She\nused to go out and gather all the little bits of wool which she could\nfind on the hillsides, and bring them home. Then, after her family had\ngone to bed, she would sit up and card the wool and spin it into yarn,\nthen she would weave the yarn into cloth to make garments for her\nchildren.\n\nBut all this work made her feel very tired, so that one night, sitting\nat her loom, she laid down her shuttle and cried:--\n\n\u201cOh, that some one would come from far or near, from land or sea, to\nhelp me!\u201d\n\nNo sooner had the words left her lips than she heard some one knocking\nat the door.\n\n\u201cWho is there?\u201d cried she.\n\n\u201cTell Quary, good housewife,\u201d answered a wee, wee voice. \u201cOpen the door\nto me. As long as I have you'll get.\u201d\n\nShe opened the door and there on the threshold stood a queer, little\nwoman, dressed in a green gown and wearing a white cap on her head.\n\nThe good housewife was so astonished that she stood and stared at her\nstrange visitor; but without a word the little woman ran past her, and\nseated herself at the spinning-wheel.\n\nThe good housewife shut the door, but just then she heard another knock.\n\n\u201cWho is there?\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cTell Quary, good housewife. Open the door to me,\u201d said another wee, wee\nvoice. \u201cAs long as I have you'll get.\u201d\n\nAnd when she opened the door there was another queer, little woman, in a\nlilac frock and a green cap, standing on the threshold.\n\nShe, too, ran into the house without waiting to say, \u201cBy your leave,\u201d\n and picking up the distaff, began to put some wool on it.\n\nThen before the housewife could get the door shut, a funny little\nmanikin, with green trousers and a red cap, came running in, and\nfollowed the tiny women into the kitchen, seized hold of a handful of\nwool, and began to card it. Another wee, wee woman followed him, and\nthen another tiny manikin, and another, and another, until it seemed\nto the good housewife that all the fairies and pixies in Scotland were\ncoming into her house.\n\nThe kitchen was alive with them. Some of them hung the great pot over\nthe fire to boil water to wash the wool that was dirty. Some teased the\nclean wool, and some carded it. Some spun it into yarn, and some wove\nthe yarn into great webs of cloth.\n\nAnd the noise they made was like to make her head run round. \u201cSplash!\nsplash! Whirr! whirr! Clack! clack!\u201d The water in the pot bubbled over.\nThe spinning-wheel whirred. The shuttle in the loom flew backwards and\nforwards.\n\nAnd the worst of it was that all the Fairies cried out for something\nto eat, and although the good housewife put on her griddle and baked\nbannocks as fast as she could, the bannocks were eaten up the moment\nthey were taken off the fire, and yet the Fairies shouted for more.\n\nAt last the poor woman was so troubled that she went into the next room\nto wake her husband. But although she shook him with all her might, she\ncould not wake him. It was very plain to see that he was bewitched.\n\nFrightened almost out of her senses, and leaving the Fairies eating her\nlast batch of bannocks, she stole out of the house and ran as fast as\nshe could to the cottage of the Wise Man who lived a mile away.\n\nShe knocked at his door till he got up and put his head out of the\nwindow, to see who was there; then she told him the whole story.\n\n\u201cThou foolish woman,\u201d said he, \u201clet this be a lesson to thee never to\npray for things thou dost not need! Before thy husband can be loosed\nfrom the spell the Fairies must be got out of the house and the\nfulling-water, which they have boiled, must be thrown over him. Hurry\nto the little hill that lies behind thy cottage, climb to the top of\nit, and set the bushes on fire; then thou must shout three times: 'BURG\nHILL'S ON FIRE!' Then will all the little Fairies run out to see if\nthis be true, for they live under the hill. When they are all out of the\ncottage, do thou slip in as quickly as thou canst, and turn the kitchen\nupside down. Upset everything the Fairies have worked with, else the\nthings their fingers have touched will open the door to them, and let\nthem in, in spite of thee.\u201d\n\nSo the good housewife hurried away. She climbed to the top of the little\nhill back of her cottage, set the bushes on fire, and cried out three\ntimes as loud as she was able: \u201cBURG HILL'S ON FIRE!\u201d\n\nAnd sure enough, the door of the cottage was flung wide open, and all\nthe little Fairies came running out, knocking each other over in their\neagerness to be first at the hill.\n\nIn the confusion the good housewife slipped away, and ran as fast as she\ncould to her cottage; and when she was once inside, it did not take her\nlong to bar the door, and turn everything upside down.\n\nShe took the band off the spinning-wheel, and twisted the head of the\ndistaff the wrong way. She lifted the pot of fulling-water off the fire,\nand turned the room topsy-turvy, and threw down the carding-combs.\n\nScarcely had she done so, when the Fairies returned, and knocked at the\ndoor.\n\n\u201cGood housewife! let us in,\u201d they cried.\n\n\u201cThe door is shut and bolted, and I will not open it,\u201d answered she.\n\n\u201cGood spinning-wheel, get up and open the door,\u201d they cried.\n\n\u201cHow can I,\u201d answered the spinning-wheel, \u201cseeing that my band is\nundone?\u201d\n\n\u201cKind distaff, open the door for us,\u201d said they.\n\n\u201cThat would I gladly do,\u201d said the distaff, \u201cbut I cannot walk, for my\nhead is turned the wrong way.\u201d\n\n\u201cWeaving-loom, have pity, and open the door.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am all topsy-turvy, and cannot move,\u201d sighed the loom.\n\n\u201cFulling-water, open the door,\u201d they implored.\n\n\u201cI am off the fire,\u201d growled the fulling-water, \u201cand all my strength is\ngone.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! Is there nothing that will come to our aid, and open the door?\u201d\n they cried.\n\n\u201cI will,\u201d said a little barley-bannock, that had lain hidden, toasting\non the hearth; and it rose and trundled like a wheel quickly across the\nfloor.\n\nBut luckily the housewife saw it, and she nipped it between her finger\nand thumb, and, because it was only half-baked, it fell with a \u201csplatch\u201d\n on the cold floor.\n\nThen the Fairies gave up trying to get into the kitchen, and instead\nthey climbed up by the windows into the room where the good housewife's\nhusband was sleeping, and they swarmed upon his bed and tickled him\nuntil he tossed about and muttered as if he had a fever.\n\nThen all of a sudden the good housewife remembered what the Wise Man had\nsaid about the fulling-water. She ran to the kitchen and lifted a cupful\nout of the pot, and carried it in, and threw it over the bed where her\nhusband was.\n\nIn an instant he woke up in his right senses. Then he jumped out of bed,\nran across the room and opened the door, and the Fairies vanished. And\nthey have never been seen from that day to this.\n\n\n\n\nTHE KING OF THE CATS\n\nAN ENGLISH FOLK-TALE\n\nBY ERNEST RHYS\n\nOnce upon a time there were two brothers who lived in a lonely house in\na very lonely part of Scotland. An old woman used to do the cooking,\nand there was no one else, unless we count her cat and their own dogs,\nwithin miles of them.\n\nOne autumn afternoon the elder of the two, whom we will call Elshender,\nsaid he would not go out; so the younger one, Fergus, went alone to\nfollow the path where they had been shooting the day before, far across\nthe mountains.\n\nHe meant to return home before the early sunset; however, he did not do\nso, and Elshender became very uneasy as he watched and waited in vain\ntill long after their usual supper-time. At last Fergus returned, wet\nand exhausted, nor did he explain why he was so late.\n\nBut after supper when the two brothers were seated before the fire, on\nwhich the peat crackled cheerfully, the dogs lying at their feet, and\nthe old woman's black cat sitting gravely with half-shut eyes on the\nhearth between them, Fergus recovered himself and began to tell his\nadventures.\n\n\u201cYou must be wondering,\u201d said he, \u201cwhat made me so late. I have had a\nvery, very strange adventure to-day. I hardly know what to say about it.\nI went, as I told you I should, along our yesterday's track. A mountain\nfog came on just as I was about to turn homewards, and I completely lost\nmy way. I wandered about for a long time not knowing where I was, till\nat last I saw a light, and made for it, hoping to get help.\n\n\u201cAs I came near it, it disappeared, and I found myself close to an old\noak tree. I climbed into the branches the better to look for the light,\nand, behold! there it was right beneath me, inside the hollow trunk of\nthe tree. I seemed to be looking down into a church, where a funeral was\ntaking place. I heard singing, and saw a coffin surrounded by torches,\nall carried by--But I know you won't believe me, Elshender, if I tell\nyou!\u201d\n\nHis brother eagerly begged him to go on, and threw a dry peat on the\nfire to encourage him. The dogs were sleeping quietly, but the cat was\nsitting up, and seemed to be listening just as carefully and cannily as\nElshender himself. Both brothers, indeed, turned their eyes on the cat\nas Fergus took up his story.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he continued, \u201cit is as true as I sit here. The coffin and the\ntorches were both carried by CATS, and upon the coffin were marked a\ncrown and a scepter!\u201d\n\nHe got no farther, for the black cat started up, shrieking:--\n\n\u201cMy stars! old Peter's dead, and I'm the King o' the Cats!\u201d--Then rushed\nup the chimney, and was seen no more.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STRANGE VISITOR\n\nAN ENGLISH FOLK-TALE\n\nBY JOSEPH JACOBS\n\nA woman was sitting at her reel one night; and still she sat, and still\nshe reeled, and still she wished for company.\n\nIn came a pair of broad, broad soles, and sat down\nat the fireside!\n\nAnd still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she\nwished for company.\n\nIn came a pair of small, small legs, and sat down\non the broad, broad soles!\n\nAnd still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she\nwished for company.\n\nIn came a pair of thick, thick knees, and sat down\non the small, small legs!\n\nAnd still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she\nwished for company.\n\nIn came a pair of thin, thin thighs, and sat down\non the thick, thick knees!\n\nAnd still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she\nwished for company.\n\nIn came a pair of huge, huge hips, and sat down\non the thin, thin thighs!\n\nAnd still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she\nwished for company.\n\nIn came a wee, wee waist, and sat down on the\nhuge, huge hips!\n\nAnd still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she\nwished for company.\n\nIn came a pair of broad, broad shoulders, and sat\ndown on the wee, wee waist!\n\nAnd still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she\nwished for company.\n\nIn came a pair of small, small arms, and sat down\non the broad, broad shoulders!\n\nAnd still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she\nwished for company.\n\nIn came a pair of huge, huge hands, and sat down\non the small, small arms!\n\nAnd still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she\nwished for company.\n\nIn came a small, small neck, and sat down on the\nbroad, broad shoulders!\n\nAnd still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she\nwished for company.\n\nIn came a huge, huge head, and sat down on the\nsmall, small neck!\n\n. . . . . . . . .\n\n\u201cHow did you get such broad, broad feet?\u201d quoth the Woman.\n\u201cMuch tramping, much tramping!\u201d (GRUFFLY.)\n\n\u201cHow did you get such small, small legs?\u201d \u201cAIH-H-H!--late--and\nWEE-E-E-moul!\u201d (WHININGLY.)\n\n\u201cHow did you get such thick, thick knees?\u201d \u201cMuch praying, much praying!\u201d\n (PIOUSLY.)\n\n\u201cHow did you get such thin, thin thighs?\u201d \u201cAih-h-h!--late--and\nwee-e-e-moul!\u201d (WHININGLY.)\n\n\u201cHow did you get such big, big hips?\u201d \u201cMuch sitting, much sitting!\u201d\n (GRUFFLY.)\n\n\u201cHow did you get such a wee, wee waist?\u201d \u201cAih-h-h!--late--and\nwee-e-e-moul!\u201d (WHININGLY.)\n\n\u201cHow did you get such broad, broad shoulders?\u201d \u201cWith carrying broom,\nwith carrying broom!\u201d     (GRUFFLY.)\n\n\u201cHow did you get such small arms?\u201d \u201cAih-h-h!--late--and wee-e-e-moul!\u201d\n (WHININGLY.)\n\n\u201cHow did you get such huge, huge hands?\u201d \u201cThreshing with an iron flail!\nThreshing with an     iron flail!\u201d (GRUFFLY.)\n\n\u201cHow did you get such a small, small neck?\u201d \u201cAih-h-h!--late--and\nwee-e-e-moul!\u201d (PITIFULLY.)\n\n\u201cHow did you get such a huge, huge head?\u201d \u201cMuch knowledge, much\nknowledge!\u201d (KEENLY.)\n\n\u201cWhat do you come for?\u201d \u201cFOR YOU!!!\u201d (AT THE TOP OF THE VOICE, WITH A\nWAVE OF THE ARMS AND A STAMP OF THE FEET.)\n\n\n\n\nTHE BENEVOLENT GOBLIN\n\nFROM GESTA ROMANORUM (ADAPTED)\n\nIn the kingdom of England there is a hillock in the midst of a dense\nwood. Thither in old days knights and their followers were wont to\nrepair when tired and thirsty after the chase. When one of their number\ncalled out, \u201cI thirst!\u201d there immediately started up a Goblin with\na cheerful countenance, clad in a crimson robe, and bearing in his\noutstretched hand a large drinking-horn richly ornamented with gold and\nprecious jewels, and full of the most delicious, unknown beverage.\n\nThe Goblin presented the horn to the thirsty knight, who drank and\ninstantly felt refreshed and cool. After the drinker had emptied the\nhorn, the Goblin offered a silken napkin to wipe the mouth. Then,\nwithout waiting to be thanked, the strange creature vanished as suddenly\nas he had come.\n\nNow once there was a knight of churlish nature, who was hunting alone\nin those parts. Feeling thirsty and fatigued, he visited the hillock and\ncried out:--\n\n\u201cI thirst!\u201d\n\nInstantly the Goblin appeared and presented the horn.\n\nWhen the knight had drained it of its delicious beverage, instead of\nreturning the horn, he thrust it into his bosom, and rode hastily away.\n\nHe boasted far and wide of his deed, and his feudal lord hearing thereof\ncaused him to be bound and cast into prison; then fearing lest he, too,\nmight become partaker in the theft and ingratitude of the knight, the\nlord presented the jeweled horn to the King of England, who carefully\npreserved it among the royal treasures. But never again did the\nbenevolent Goblin return to the hillock in the wood.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PHANTOM KNIGHT OF THE VANDAL CAMP\n\nFROM GESTA ROMANORUM (ADAPTED)\n\nThere was once in Great Britain, a knight named Albert, strong in arms\nand adorned with every virtue. One day as he was seeking for adventure,\nhe chanced to wander into a castle where he was hospitably entertained.\n\nAt night, after supper, as was usual in great families during the\nwinter, the household gathered about the hearth and occupied the time in\nrelating divers tales.\n\nAt last they told how in the near-by plain of Wandlesbury there was a\nhaunted mound. There in old days the Vandals, who laid waste the land\nand slaughtered Christians, had pitched their camp and built about it a\ngreat rampart. And it was further related that in the hush of the night,\nif any one crossed the plain, ascended the mound, and called out in a\nloud voice, \u201cLet my adversary appear!\u201d there immediately started up\nfrom the ruined ramparts a huge, ghostly figure, armed and mounted for\nbattle. This phantom then attacked the knight who had cried out and\nspeedily overcame him.\n\nNow, when Albert heard this marvelous tale, he greatly doubted its\ntruth, and was determined to put the matter to a test. As the moon\nwas shining brightly, and the night was quiet, he armed, mounted, and\nimmediately hastened to the plain of Wandlesbury, accompanied by a\nsquire of noble blood.\n\nHe ascended the mound, dismissed his attendant, and shouted:--\n\n\u201cLet my adversary appear!\u201d\n\nInstantly there sprang from the ruins a huge, ghostly knight completely\narmed and mounted on an enormous steed.\n\nThis phantom rushed upon Albert, who spurred his horse, extended his\nshield, and drove at his antagonist with his lance. Both knights were\nshaken by the encounter. Albert, however, so resolutely and with so\nstrong an arm pressed his adversary that the latter was thrown violently\nto the ground. Seeing this Albert hastily seized the steed of the fallen\nknight, and started to leave the mound.\n\nBut the phantom, rising to his feet, and seeing his horse led away,\nflung his lance and cruelly wounded Albert in the thigh. This done he\nvanished as suddenly as he had appeared.\n\nOur knight, overjoyed at his victory, returned in triumph to the castle,\nwhere the household crowded around him and praised his bravery. But when\nhe put off his armor he found the cuish from his right thigh filled with\nclots of blood from an angry wound in his side. The family, alarmed,\nhastened to apply healing herbs and bandages.\n\nThe captured horse was then brought forward. He was prodigiously large,\nand black as jet. His eyes were fierce and flashing, his neck proudly\narched, and he wore a glittering war-saddle upon his back.\n\nAs the first streaks of dawn began to appear, the animal reared wildly,\nsnorted as if with pain and anger, and struck the ground so furiously\nwith his hoofs that the sparks flew. The black cock of the castle crew\nand the horse, uttering a terrible cry, instantly disappeared.\n\nAnd every year, on the selfsame night, at the selfsame hour, the wounds\nof the knight Albert broke out afresh, and tormented him with agony.\nThus till his dying day he bore in his body a yearly reminder of his\nencounter with the Phantom Knight of the Vandal Camp.\n\n\n\n\nTHANKSGIVING DAY\n\n(LAST THURSDAY IN NOVEMBER)\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST HARVEST-HOME IN PLYMOUTH\n\nBY W. DE LOSS LOVE, JR (ADAPTED)\n\nAfter prayer and fasting and a farewell feast, the Pilgrim Fathers left\nthe City of Leyden, and sought the new and unknown land. \u201cSo they lefte\nye goodly & pleasante citie,\u201d writes their historian Bradford, \u201cwhich\nhad been ther resting place near 12 years, but they knew they were\npilgrimes & looked not much on those things, but lift up their eyes to\nye Heavens their dearest cuntrie, and quieted their spirits.\u201d\n\nWhen, after many vexing days upon the deep, the pilgrims first sighted\nthe New World, they were filled with praise and thanksgiving. Going\nashore they fell upon their knees and blessed the God of Heaven. And\nafter that, whenever they were delivered from accidents or despair, they\ngave God \u201csolemne thanks and praise.\u201d Such were the Pilgrims and such\ntheir habit day by day.\n\nThe first winter in the New World was marked by great suffering and\nwant. Hunger and illness thinned the little colony, and caused many\ngraves to be made on the near-by hillside.\n\nThe spring of 1621 opened. The seed was sown in the fields. The\ncolonists cared for it without ceasing, and watched its growth with\nanxiety; for well they knew that their lives depended upon a full\nharvest.\n\nThe days of spring and summer flew by, and the autumn came. Never in\nHolland or England had the Pilgrims seen the like of the treasures\nbounteous Nature now spread before them. The woodlands were arrayed in\ngorgeous colors, brown, crimson, and gold, and swarmed with game of all\nkinds, that had been concealed during the summer. The little farm-plots\nhad been blessed by the sunshine and showers, and now plentiful crops\nstood ready for the gathering. The Pilgrims, rejoicing, reaped the fruit\nof their labors, and housed it carefully for the winter. Then, filled\nwith the spirit of thanksgiving, they held the first harvest-home in New\nEngland.\n\nFor one whole week they rested from work, feasted, exercised their\narms, and enjoyed various recreations. Many Indians visited the colony,\namongst these their greatest king, Massasoit, with ninety of his braves.\nThe Pilgrims entertained them for three days. And the Indians went out\ninto the woods and killed fine deer, which they brought to the colony\nand presented to the governor and the captain and others. So all made\nmerry together.\n\nAnd bountiful was the feast. Oysters, fish and wild turkey, Indian\nmaize and barley bread, geese and ducks, venison and other savory meats,\ndecked the board. Kettles, skillets, and spits were overworked, while\nknives and spoons, kindly assisted by fingers, made merry music on\npewter plates. Wild grapes, \u201cvery sweete and strong,\u201d added zest to\nthe feast. As to the vegetables, why, the good governor describes them\nthus:--\n\n     \u201cAll sorts of grain which our own land doth yield,\n       Was hither brought, and sown in every field;\n       As wheat and rye, barley, oats, beans, and pease\n       Here all thrive and they profit from them raise;\n       All sorts of roots and herbs in gardens grow,--\n       Parsnips, carrots, turnips, or what you'll sow,\n       Onions, melons, cucumbers, radishes,\n       Skirets, beets, coleworts and fair cabbages.\u201d\n\n\nThus a royal feast it was the Pilgrims spread that first golden autumn\nat Plymouth, a feast worthy of their Indian guests.\n\nAll slumbering discontents they smothered with common rejoicings. When\nthe holiday was over, they were surely better, braver men because they\nhad turned aside to rest awhile and be thankful together. So the exiles\nof Leyden claimed the harvests of New England.\n\nThis festival was the bursting into life of a new conception of man's\ndependence on God's gifts in Nature. It was the promise of autumnal\nThanksgivings to come.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MASTER OF THE HARVEST\n\nBY MRS. ALFRED GATTY (ADAPTED)\n\nThe Master of the Harvest walked by the side of his cornfields in the\nspringtime. A frown was on his face, for there had been no rain for\nseveral weeks, and the earth was hard from the parching of the east\nwinds. The young wheat had not been able to spring up.\n\nSo as he looked over the long ridges that stretched in rows before him,\nhe was vexed and began to grumble and say:--\n\n\u201cThe harvest will be backward, and all things will go wrong.\u201d\n\nThen he frowned more and more, and uttered complaints against Heaven\nbecause there was no rain; against the earth because it was so dry;\nagainst the corn because it had not sprung up.\n\nAnd the Master's discontent was whispered all over the field, and\nalong the ridges where the corn-seed lay. And the poor little seeds\nmurmured:--\n\n\u201cHow cruel to complain! Are we not doing our best? Have we let one drop\nof moisture pass by unused? Are we not striving every day to be ready\nfor the hour of breaking forth? Are we idle? How cruel to complain!\u201d\n\nBut of all this the Master of the Harvest heard nothing, so the gloom\ndid not pass from his face. Going to his comfortable home he repeated\nto his wife the dark words, that the drought would ruin the harvest, for\nthe corn was not yet sprung up.\n\nThen his wife spoke cheering words, and taking her Bible she wrote some\ntexts upon the flyleaf, and after them the date of the day.\n\nAnd the words she wrote were these: \u201cThe eyes of all wait upon Thee; and\nThou givest them their meat in due season. Thou openest Thine hand\nand satisfiest the desire of every living thing. How excellent is Thy\nloving-kindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust\nunder the shadow of Thy wings. Thou hast put gladness in my heart, more\nthan in the time that their corn and their wine increased.\u201d\n\nAnd so a few days passed as before, and the house was gloomy with the\ndiscontent of the Master. But at last one evening there was rain all\nover the land, and when the Master of the Harvest went out the next\nmorning for his early walk by the cornfields, the corn had sprung up at\nlast.\n\nThe young shoots burst out at once, and very soon all along the ridges\nwere to be seen rows of tender blades, tinting the whole field with a\ndelicate green. And day by day the Master of the Harvest saw them, and\nwas satisfied, but he spoke of other things and forgot to rejoice.\n\nThen a murmur rose among the corn-blades.\n\n\u201cThe Master was angry because we did not come up; now that we have come\nforth why is he not glad? Are we not doing our best? From morning and\nevening dews, from the glow of the sun, from the juices of the earth,\nfrom the freshening breezes, even from clouds and rain, are we not\ntaking food and strength, warmth and life? Why does he not rejoice?\u201d\n\nAnd when the Master's wife asked him if the wheat was doing well he\nanswered, \u201cFairly well,\u201d and nothing more.\n\nBut the wife opened her Book, and wrote again on the flyleaf: \u201cWho hath\ndivided a watercourse for the overflowing of waters, or a way for the\nlightning of thunder, to cause it to rain on the earth where no man is,\non the wilderness wherein there is no man, to satisfy the desolate and\nwaste ground, and to cause the bud of the tender herb to spring forth?\nFor He maketh small the drops of water; they pour down rain according\nto the vapor thereof, which the clouds do drop and distil upon man\nabundantly. Also can any understand the spreadings of the clouds, or the\nnoise of his tabernacle?\u201d\n\nVery peaceful were the next few weeks. All nature seemed to rejoice in\nthe fine weather. The corn-blades shot up strong and tall. They burst\ninto flowers and gradually ripened into ears of grain. But alas! the\nMaster of the Harvest had still some fault to find. He looked at the\nears and saw that they were small. He grumbled and said:--\n\n\u201cThe yield will be less than it ought to be. The harvest will be bad.\u201d\n\nAnd the voice of his discontent was breathed over the cornfield where\nthe plants were growing and growing. They shuddered and murmured: \u201cHow\nthankless to complain! Are we not growing as fast as we can? If we were\nidle would we bear wheat-ears at all? How thankless to complain!\u201d\n\nMeanwhile a few weeks went by and a drought settled on the land. Rain\nwas needed, so that the corn-ears might fill. And behold, while the\nwish for rain was yet on the Master's lips, the sky became full of\nheavy clouds, darkness spread over the land, a wild wind arose, and the\nroaring of thunder announced a storm. And such a storm! Along the ridges\nof corn-plants drove the rain-laden wind, and the plants bent down\nbefore it and rose again like the waves of the sea. They bowed down and\nthey rose up. Only where the whirlwind was the strongest they fell to\nthe ground and could not rise again.\n\nAnd when the storm was over, the Master of the Harvest saw here\nand there patches of over-weighted corn, yet dripping from the\nthunder-shower, and he grew angry with them, and forgot to think of the\nlong ridges where the corn-plants were still standing tall and strong,\nand where the corn-ears were swelling and rejoicing.\n\nHis face grew darker than ever. He railed against the rain. He railed\nagainst the sun because it did not shine. He blamed the wheat because it\nmight perish before the harvest.\n\n\u201cBut why does he always complain?\u201d moaned the corn-plants. \u201cHave we not\ndone our best from the first? Has not God's blessing been with us? Are\nwe not growing daily more beautiful in strength and hope? Why does not\nthe Master trust, as we do, in the future richness of the harvest?\u201d\n\nOf all this the Master of the Harvest heard nothing. But his wife wrote\non the flyleaf of her Book: \u201cHe watereth the hills from his chambers,\nthe earth is satisfied with the fruit of thy works. He causeth the grass\nto grow for the cattle and herb for the service of man, that he may\nbring forth food out of the earth, and wine that maketh glad the heart\nof man, and oil to make his face to shine, and bread which strengtheneth\nman's heart.\u201d\n\nAnd day by day the hours of sunshine were more in number. And by degrees\nthe green corn-ears ripened into yellow, and the yellow turned into\ngold, and the abundant harvest was ready, and the laborers were not\nwanting.\n\nThen the bursting corn broke out into songs of rejoicing. \u201cAt least we\nhave not labored and watched in vain! Surely the earth hath yielded her\nincrease! Blessed be the Lord who daily loadeth us with benefits! Where\nnow is the Master of the Harvest? Come, let him rejoice with us!\u201d\n\nAnd the Master's wife brought out her Book and her husband read the\ntexts she had written even from the day when the corn-seeds were held\nback by the first drought, and as he read a new heart seemed to grow\nwithin him, a heart that was thankful to the Lord of the Great Harvest.\nAnd he read aloud from the Book:--\n\n\u201cThou visitest the earth and waterest it; thou greatly enrichest it with\nthe river of God which is full of water; thou preparest them corn,\nwhen thou hast so provided for it. Thou waterest the ridges thereof\nabundantly; thou settlest the furrows thereof; thou makest it soft with\nshowers; thou blessest the springing thereof. Thou crownest the year\nwith thy goodness, and thy paths drop fatness. They drop upon the\npastures of the wilderness, and the little hills rejoice on every side.\nThe pastures are clothed with flocks. The valleys also are covered over\nwith corn; they shout for joy, they also sing.--O that men would praise\nthe Lord for His goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children\nof men!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nSAINT CUTHBERT'S EAGLE\n\nBY THE VENERABLE BEDE (ADAPED)\n\nOnce upon a time, the good Saint Cuthbert of Lindesfarne, went forth\nfrom his monastery to preach to the poor. He took with him a young lad\nas his only attendant. Together they walked along the dusty way. The\nheat of the noonday sun beat upon their heads, and fatigue overcame\nthem.\n\n\u201cSon,\u201d said Saint Cuthbert, \u201cdo you know any one on the road, whom we\nmay ask for food and a place in which to rest?\u201d\n\n\u201cI was just thinking the same thing,\u201d answered the lad, \u201cbut I know\nnobody on the road who will entertain us. Alas! why did we not bring\nalong provisions? How can we proceed on our long journey without them?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son,\u201d answered the saint, \u201clearn to have trust in God, who never\nwill suffer those to perish of hunger who believe in Him.\u201d\n\nThen looking up and seeing an eagle flying in the air, he added, \u201cDo you\nsee the eagle yonder? It is possible for God to feed us by means of this\nbird.\u201d\n\nWhile they were talking thus, they came to a river, and, lo! the eagle\nstood on the bank.\n\n\u201cSon,\u201d said Saint Cuthbert, \u201crun and see what provision God has made for\nus by his handmaid the bird.\u201d\n\nThe lad ran, and found a good-sized fish that the eagle had just caught.\nThis he brought to the saint.\n\n\u201cWhat have you done?\u201d exclaimed the good man, \u201cwhy have you not given a\npart to God's handmaid? Cut the fish in two pieces, and give her one, as\nher service well deserves.\u201d\n\nThe lad did as he was bidden, and the eagle, taking the half fish in her\nbeak, flew away.\n\nThen entering a neighboring village, Saint Cuthbert gave the other half\nto a peasant to cook, and while the lad and the villagers feasted, the\ngood saint preached to them the Word of God.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EARS OF WHEAT\n\nBY THE BROTHERS GRIMM (TRANSLATED)\n\nAges upon ages ago, says the German grandmother, when angels used to\nwander on earth, the ground was more fruitful than it is now. Then\nthe stalks of wheat bore not fifty or sixty fold, but four times five\nhundred fold. Then the wheat-ears grew from the bottom to the top of the\nstalk. But the men of the earth forgot that this blessing came from God,\nand they became idle and selfish.\n\nOne day a woman went through a wheat-field, and her little child, who\naccompanied her, fell into a puddle and soiled her frock. The mother\ntore off a handful of the wheat-ears and cleaned the child's dress with\nthem.\n\nJust then an angel passed by and saw her. Wrathfully he spoke:--\n\n\u201cWasteful woman, no longer shall the wheat-stalks produce ears. You\nmortals are not worthy of the gifts of Heaven!\u201d\n\nSome peasants who were gathering wheat in the fields heard this, and\nfalling on their knees, prayed and entreated the angel to leave the\nwheat alone, not only on their account, but for the sake of the little\nbirds who otherwise must perish of hunger.\n\nThe angel pitied their distress, and granted a part of the prayer. And\nfrom that day to this the ears of wheat have grown as they do now.\n\n\n\n\nHOW INDIAN CORN CAME INTO THE WORLD\n\nAN OJIBBEWAY LEGEND\n\nBY HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT (ADAPTED)\n\nLong, long ago, in a beautiful part of this country, there lived an\nIndian with his wife and children. He was poor and found it hard to\nprovide food enough for his family. But though needy he was kind and\ncontented, and always gave thanks to the Great Spirit for everything\nthat he received. His eldest son, Wunzh, was likewise kind and gentle\nand thankful of heart, and he longed greatly to do something for his\npeople.\n\nThe time came that Wunzh reached the age when every Indian boy fasts so\nthat he may see in a vision the Spirit that is to be his guide through\nlife. Wunph's father built him a little lodge apart, so that the boy\nmight rest there undisturbed during his days of fasting. Then Wunzh\nwithdrew to begin the solemn rite.\n\nOn the first day he walked alone in the woods looking at the flowers and\nplants, and filling his mind with the beautiful images of growing things\nso that he might see them in his night-dreams. He saw how the flowers\nand herbs and berries grew, and he knew that some were good for food,\nand that others healed wounds and cured sickness. And his heart was\nfilled with even a greater longing to do something for his family and\nhis tribe.\n\n\u201cTruly,\u201d thought he, \u201cthe Great Spirit made all things. To Him we owe\nour lives. But could He not make it easier for us to get our food than\nby hunting and catching fish? I must try to find this out in my vision.\u201d\n\nSo Wunzh returned to his lodge and fasted and slept. On the third day he\nbecame weak and faint. Soon he saw in a vision a young brave coming down\nfrom the sky and approaching the lodge. He was clad in rich garments of\ngreen and yellow colors. On his head was a tuft of nodding green plumes,\nand all his motions were graceful and swaying.\n\n\u201cI am sent to you, O Wunzh,\u201d said the sky-stranger, \u201cby that Great\nSpirit who made all things in sky and earth. He has seen your fasting,\nand knows how you wish to do good to your people, and that you do not\nseek for strength in war nor for the praise of warriors. I am sent to\ntell you how you may do good to your kindred. Arise and wrestle with me,\nfor only by overcoming me may you learn the secret.\u201d\n\nWunzh, though he was weak from fasting, felt courage grow in his heart,\nand he arose and wrestled with the stranger. But soon he became weaker\nand exhausted, and the stranger, seeing this, smiled gently on him and\nsaid: \u201cMy friend, this is enough for once, I will come again to-morrow.\u201d\n And he vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.\n\nThe next day the stranger came, and Wunzh felt himself weaker than\nbefore; nevertheless he rose and wrestled bravely. Then the stranger\nspoke a second time. \u201cMy friend,\u201d he said, \u201chave courage! To-morrow will\nbe your last trial.\u201d And he disappeared from Wunzh's sight.\n\nOn the third day the stranger came as before, and the struggle was\nrenewed. And Wunzh, though fainter in body, grew strong in mind and\nwill, and he determined to win or perish in the attempt. He exerted all\nhis powers, and, lo! in a while, he prevailed and overcame the stranger.\n\n\u201cO Wunzh, my friend,\u201d said the conquered one, \u201cyou have wrestled\nmanfully. You have met your trial well. To-morrow I shall come again\nand you must wrestle with me for the last time. You will prevail. Do you\nthen strip off my garments, throw me down, clean the earth of roots and\nweeds, and bury me in that spot. When you have done so, leave my body in\nthe ground. Come often to the place and see whether I have come to life,\nbut be careful not to let weeds or grass grow on my grave. If you do all\nthis well, you will soon discover how to benefit your fellow creatures.\u201d\n Having said this the stranger disappeared.\n\nIn the morning Wunzh's father came to him with food. \u201cMy son,\u201d he said,\n\u201cyou have fasted long. It is seven days since you have tasted food, and\nyou must not sacrifice your life. The Master of Life does not require\nthat.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy father,\u201d replied the boy, \u201cwait until the sun goes down to-morrow.\nFor a certain reason I wish to fast until that hour.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well,\u201d said the old man, \u201cI shall wait until the time arrives when\nyou feel inclined to eat.\u201d And he went away.\n\nThe next day, at the usual hour, the sky stranger came again. And,\nthough Wunzh had fasted seven days, he felt a new power arise within\nhim. He grasped the stranger with superhuman strength, and threw him\ndown. He took from him his beautiful garments, and, finding him dead,\nburied him in the softened earth, and did all else as he had been\ndirected.\n\nHe then returned to his father's lodge, and partook sparingly of food.\nThere he abode for some time. But he never forgot the grave of his\nfriend. Daily he visited it, and pulled up the weeds and grass, and kept\nthe earth soft and moist. Very soon, to his great wonder, he saw the\ntops of green plumes coming through the ground.\n\nWeeks passed by, the summer was drawing to a close. One day Wunzh asked\nhis father to follow him. He led him to a distant meadow. There, in\nthe place where the stranger had been buried, stood a tall and graceful\nplant, with bright-colored, silken hair, and crowned by nodding green\nplumes. Its stalk was covered with waving leaves, and there grew from\nits sides clusters of milk-filled ears of corn, golden and sweet, each\near closely wrapped in its green husks.\n\n\u201cIt is my friend!\u201d shouted the boy joyously; \u201cit is Mondawmin, the\nIndian Corn! We need no longer depend on hunting, so long as this gift\nis planted and cared for. The Great Spirit has heard my voice and has\nsent us this food.\u201d\n\nThen the whole family feasted on the ears of corn and thanked the Great\nSpirit who gave it. So Indian Corn came into the world.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NUTCRACKER DWARF\n\nBY COUNT FRANZ POCCI (TRANSLATED)\n\nTwo boys gathered some hazelnuts in the woods. They sat down under a\ntree and tried to eat them, but they did not have their knives, and\ncould not bite open the nuts with their teeth.\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d they complained, \u201cif only some one would come and open the nuts\nfor us!\u201d\n\nHardly had they said this when a little man came through the woods. And\nsuch a strange little man! He had a great, great head, and from the back\nof it a slender pigtail hung down to his heels. He wore a golden cap, a\nred coat and yellow stockings.\n\n\nAs he came near he sang:--\n\n          \u201cHight! hight!  Bite! bite!\n            Hans hight I!  Nuts bite I!\n            I chase the squirrels through the trees,\n            I gather nuts just as I please,\n            I place them 'twixt my jaws so strong,\n            And crack and eat them all day long!\u201d\n\n\nThe boys almost died of laughter when they saw this funny little man,\nwho they knew was a Wood Dwarf.\n\nThey called out to him: \u201cIf you know how to crack nuts, why, come here\nand open ours.\u201d\n\nBut the little man grumbled through his long white beard:--\n\n          \u201cIf I crack the nuts for you\n            Promise that you'll give me two.\u201d\n\n\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d cried the boys, \u201cyou shall have all the nuts you wish, only\ncrack some for us, and be quick about it!\u201d\n\nThe little man stood before them, for he could not sit down because of\nhis long, stiff pigtail that hung down behind, and he sang:--\n\n          \u201cLift my pigtail, long and thin,\n            Place your nuts my jaws within,\n            Pull the pigtail down, and then\n            I'll crack your nuts, my little men.\u201d\n\n\nThe boys did as they were told, laughing hard all the time. Whenever\nthey pulled down the pigtail, there was a sharp CRACK, and a broken nut\nsprang out of the Nutcracker's mouth.\n\nSoon all the hazelnuts were opened, and the little man grumbled again:--\n\n          \u201cHight! hight!  Bite! bite!\n            Your nuts are cracked, and now my pay\n            I'll take and then I'll go away.\u201d\n\n\nNow one of the boys wished to give the little man his promised reward,\nbut the other, who was a bad boy, stopped him, saying:--\n\n\u201cWhy do you give that old fellow our nuts? There are only enough for us.\nAs for you, Nutcracker, go away from here and find some for yourself.\u201d\n\nThen the little man grew angry, and he grumbled horribly:--\n\n     \u201cIf you do not pay my fee,\n       Why, then, you've told a lie to me!\n       I am hungry, you're well fed,\n       Quick, or I'll bite off your head!\u201d\n\n\nBut the bad boy only laughed and said: \u201cYou 'll bite off my head, will\nyou! Go away from here just as fast as you can, or you shall feel these\nnut-shells,\u201d and he shook his fist at the little man.\n\nThe Nutcracker grew red with rage. He pulled up his pigtail, snapping\nhis jaws together,--CRACK,--and the bad boy's head was off.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PUMPKIN PIRATES\n\nA TALE FROM LUCIAN\n\nBY ALFRED J. CHURCH (ADAPTED)\n\nOnce upon a time, one Lucian the Greek was filled with a desire to see\nstrange countries, and especially to discover whether there was any\nopposite shore to the ocean by which he lived.\n\nSo having purchased a vessel, he strengthened it for a voyage, that he\nknew would without doubt be long and stormy. Then he chose fifty stout\nyoung fellows having the same love of adventure as himself, and next he\nhired the best captain that could be got for money, and put a store of\nprovisions and water on board.\n\nAll this being done, he set sail. For many days he and his companions\nvoyaged on deep waters and in strange seas. At times the wind was\nfair and gentle, and at others it blew so hard that the sea rose in a\nterrible manner.\n\nOne day there came a violent whirlwind which twisted the ship about,\nand, lifting it into the air, carried it upward into the sky, until it\nreached the Moon. There Lucian and his comrades disembarked and visited\nthe inhabitants of Moonland. They took part in a fierce battle between\nthe Moon-Folk, the Sun-Folk, and an army of Vulture-Horsemen; and,\nafter many other wonderful adventures, they departed from Moonland,\nand sailing through the sky, visited the Morning Star. Then the wind\ndropping, the ship settled once more upon the sea, and they sailed on\nthe water.\n\nOne morning the wind began to blow vehemently, and they were driven by\nstorm for days. On the third day they fell in with the Pumpkin Pirates.\nThese were savages who were wont to sally forth from the islands that\nlay in the seas thereabouts, and plunder them that sailed by.\n\nFor ships they had large pumpkins, each being not less than ninety feet\nin length. These pumpkins they dried, and afterward dug out all the\ninner part of them till they were quite hollow. For masts they had\nreeds, and for sails, in the place of canvas, pumpkin leaves.\n\nThese savages attacked Lucian's vessel with two ships' or rather two\npumpkins' crews, and wounded many of his company. For stones they used\nthe pumpkin-seeds, which were about the bigness of a large apple.\n\nLucian's company fought for some time, without gaining the advantage,\nwhen about noon they saw coming toward them, in the rear of the Pumpkin\nPirates, the Nut-Shell Sailors. These two tribes were at war with each\nother.\n\nAs soon as the Pumpkin Pirates saw the others approaching, they left\noff fighting Lucian's crew, and prepared to give battle to the Nut-Shell\nSailors. When Lucian saw this he ordered the captain to set all sails;\nand they departed with speed. But looking back he could see that the\nNut-Shell Sailors had the best of the battle, being superior in numbers,\nhaving five crews against two of the Pumpkin Pirates, and also because\ntheir ships were stronger. As for their ships, they were the shells of\nnuts which had been split in half, each measuring fifteen fathoms, or\nthereabouts.\n\nAs soon as the Pumpkin Pirates and the Nut-Shell Sailors were out\nof sight, Lucian set himself to dressing the wounds of his injured\ncompanions. And from that time on both Lucian and his crew wore their\narmor continually, not knowing when another strange enemy might come\nupon them.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SPIRIT OF THE CORN\n\nAN IROQUOIS LEGEND\n\nBY HARRIET MAXWELL CONVERSE (ADAPTED)\n\nThere was a time, says the Iroquois grandmother, when it was not needful\nto plant the corn-seed nor to hoe the fields, for the corn sprang up of\nitself, and filled the broad meadows. Its stalks grew strong and tall,\nand were covered with leaves like waving banners, and filled with ears\nof pearly grain wrapped in silken green husks.\n\nIn those days Onatah, the Spirit of the Corn, walked upon the earth. The\nsun lovingly touched her dusky face with the blush of the morning,\nand her eyes grew soft as the gleam of the stars on dark streams. Her\nnight-black hair was spread before the breeze like a wind-driven cloud.\n\nAs she walked through the fields, the corn, the Indian maize, sprang up\nof itself from the earth and filled the air with its fringed tassels and\nwhispering leaves. With Onatah walked her two sisters, the Spirits of\nthe Squash and the Bean. As they passed by, squash-vines and bean-plants\ngrew from the corn-hills.\n\nOne day Onatah wandered away alone in search of early dew. Then the Evil\nOne of the earth, Hahgwehdaetgah, followed swiftly after. He grasped her\nby the hair and dragged her beneath the ground down to his gloomy cave.\nThen, sending out his fire-breathing monsters, he blighted Onatah's\ngrain. And when her sisters, the Spirits of the Squash and the Bean,\nsaw the flame-monsters raging through the fields, they flew far away in\nterror.\n\nAs for poor Onatah, she lay a trembling captive in the dark prison-cave\nof the Evil One. She mourned the blight of her cornfields, and sorrowed\nover her runaway sisters.\n\n\u201cO warm, bright sun!\u201d she cried, \u201cif I may walk once more upon the\nearth, never again will I leave my corn!\u201d\n\nAnd the little birds of the air heard her cry, and winging their way\nupward they carried her vow and gave it to the sun as he wandered\nthrough the blue heavens.\n\nThe sun, who loved Onatah, sent out many searching beams of light. They\npierced through the damp earth, and entering the prison-cave, guided her\nback again to her fields.\n\nAnd ever after that she watched her fields alone, for no more did her\nsisters, the Spirits of the Squash and Bean, watch with her. If\nher fields thirsted, no longer could she seek the early dew. If the\nflame-monsters burned her corn, she could not search the skies for\ncooling winds. And when the great rains fell and injured her harvest,\nher voice grew so faint that the friendly sun could not hear it.\n\nBut ever Onatah tenderly watched her fields and the little birds of the\nair flocked to her service. They followed her through the rows of corn,\nand made war on the tiny enemies that gnawed at the roots of the grain.\n\nAnd at harvest-time the grateful Onatah scattered the first gathered\ncorn over her broad lands, and the little birds, fluttering and singing,\njoyfully partook of the feast spread for them on the meadow-ground.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HORN OF PLENTY\n\nBY OVID (ADAPTED)\n\nAeneus, King of Aetolia, had a daughter whose name was Deianira. So\nbeautiful was the maiden that her fame spread throughout the world, and\nmany princes came to woo her. Among these were two strangers, who drove\nall the other suitors from the hall of King Aeneus.\n\nOne was Hercules, huge of limb and broad of shoulder. He was clad in\nthe skins of beasts, and carried in his hand a knotted club. His tangled\nhair hung down upon his brawny neck, and his fierce eyes gleamed from\nbehind his shaggy brows.\n\nThe other stranger was Achelous, god of the Calydonian River. Slender\nand graceful was he, and clad in flowing green raiment. In his hand\nhe carried a staff of plaited reeds, and on his head was a crown of\nwater-lilies. His voice was soft and caressing, like the gentle murmur\nof summer brooks.\n\n\u201cO King Aeneus,\u201d said Achelous, standing before the throne, \u201cbehold I\nam the King of Waters. If thou wilt receive me as thy son-in-law I will\nmake the beautiful Deianira queen of my river kingdom.\u201d\n\n\u201cKing Aeneus,\u201d said the mighty Hercules, stepping forward, \u201cDeianira is\nmine, and I will not yield her to this river-god.\u201d\n\n\u201cImpertinent stranger!\u201d cried Achelous, turning toward the hero, while\nhis voice rose till it sounded like the thunder of distant cataracts,\nand his green garment changed to the blackness of night,--\u201cimpertinent\nstranger! how darest thou claim this maiden,--thou who hast mortal blood\nin thy veins! Behold me, the god Achelous, the powerful King of the\nWaters! I wind with majesty through the rich lands of my wide realms. I\nmake all fields through which I flow beautiful with grass and flowers.\nBy my right divine I claim this maiden.\u201d\n\nBut with scowling eye and rising wrath Hercules made answer. \u201cThou\nwouldst fight with words, like a woman, while I would win by my\nstrength! My right hand is better than my tongue. If thou wouldst have\nthe maiden, then must thou first overcome me in combat.\u201d\n\nThereupon Achelous threw off his raiment and began to prepare himself\nfor the struggle. Hercules took off his garment of beasts' skins, and\ncast aside his club. The two then anointed their bodies with oil, and\nthrew yellow sand upon themselves.\n\nThey took their places, they attacked, they retired, they rushed again\nto the conflict. They stood firm, and they yielded not. Long they\nbravely wrestled and fought; till at length Hercules by his might\novercame Achelous and bore him to the ground. He pressed him down, and,\nwhile the fallen river-god lay panting for breath, the hero seized him\nby the neck.\n\nThen did Achelous have recourse to his magic arts. Transforming himself\ninto a serpent he escaped from the hero. He twisted his body into\nwinding folds, and darted out his forked tongue with frightful hissings.\n\nBut Hercules laughed mockingly, and cried out: \u201cAh, Achelous! While yet\nin my cradle I strangled two serpents! And what art thou compared to the\nHydra whose hundred heads I cut off? Every time I cut of I one head two\nothers grew in its place. Yet did I conquer that horror, in spite of its\nbranching serpents that darted from every wound! Thinkest thou, then,\nthat I fear thee, thou mimic snake?\u201d And even as he spake he gripped, as\nwith a pair of pincers, the back of the river-god's head.\n\nAnd Achelous struggled in vain to escape. Then, again having recourse to\nhis magic, he became a raging bull, and renewed the fight. But Hercules,\nthat mighty hero, threw his huge arms over the brawny neck of the bull,\nand dragged him about. Then seizing hold of his horns, he bent his head\nto one side, and bearing down fastened them into the ground. And that\nwas not enough, but with relentless hand he broke one of the horns, and\ntore it from Achelous's forehead.\n\nThe river-god returned to his own shape. He roared aloud with rage and\npain, and hiding his mutilated head in his mantle, rushed from the hall\nand plunged into the swirling waters of his stream.\n\nThen the goddess of Plenty, and all the Wood-Nymphs and Water-Nymphs\ncame forward to greet the conqueror with song and dance. They took\nthe huge horn of Achelous and heaped it high with the rich and glowing\nfruits and flowers of autumn. They wreathed it with vines and with\nclustering grapes, and bearing it aloft presented it to Hercules and his\nbeautiful bride Deianira.\n\nAnd ever since that day has the Horn of Plenty gladdened men's hearts at\nHarvest-Time.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTMAS DAY\n\n(DECEMBER 25)\n\nLITTLE PICCOLA\n\nAFTER CELIA THAXTER\n\nIn the sunny land of France there lived many years ago a sweet little\nmaid named Piccola.\n\nHer father had died when she was a baby, and her mother was very poor\nand had to work hard all day in the fields for a few sous.\n\nLittle Piccola had no dolls and toys, and she was often hungry and cold,\nbut she was never sad nor lonely.\n\nWhat if there were no children for her to play with! What if she did not\nhave fine clothes and beautiful toys! In summer there were always the\nbirds in the forest, and the flowers in the fields and meadows,--the\nbirds sang so sweetly, and the flowers were so bright and pretty!\n\nIn the winter when the ground was covered with snow, Piccola helped her\nmother, and knit long stockings of blue wool.\n\nThe snow-birds had to be fed with crumbs, if she could find any, and\nthen, there was Christmas Day.\n\nBut one year her mother was ill and could not earn any money. Piccola\nworked hard all the day long, and sold the stockings which she knit,\neven when her own little bare feet were blue with the cold.\n\nAs Christmas Day drew near she said to her mother, \u201cI wonder what the\ngood Saint Nicholas will bring me this year. I cannot hang my stocking\nin the fireplace, but I shall put my wooden shoe on the hearth for him.\nHe will not forget me, I am sure.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not think of it this year, my dear child,\u201d replied her mother. \u201cWe\nmust be glad if we have bread enough to eat.\u201d\n\nBut Piccola could not believe that the good saint would forget her. On\nChristmas Eve she put her little wooden patten on the hearth before the\nfire, and went to sleep to dream of Saint Nicholas.\n\nAs the poor mother looked at the little shoe, she thought how unhappy\nher dear child would be to find it empty in the morning, and wished that\nshe had something, even if it were only a tiny cake, for a Christmas\ngift. There was nothing in the house but a few sous, and these must be\nsaved to buy bread.\n\nWhen the morning dawned Piccola awoke and ran to her shoe.\n\nSaint Nicholas had come in the night. He had not forgotten the little\nchild who had thought of him with such faith.\n\nSee what he had brought her. It lay in the wooden patten, looking up at\nher with its two bright eyes, and chirping contentedly as she stroked\nits soft feathers.\n\nA little swallow, cold and hungry, had flown into the chimney and down\nto the room, and had crept into the shoe for warmth.\n\nPiccola danced for joy, and clasped the shivering swallow to her breast.\n\nShe ran to her mother's bedside. \u201cLook, look!\u201d she cried. \u201cA Christmas\ngift, a gift from the good Saint Nicholas!\u201d And she danced again in her\nlittle bare feet.\n\nThen she fed and warmed the bird, and cared for it tenderly all winter\nlong; teaching it to take crumbs from her hand and her lips, and to sit\non her shoulder while she was working.\n\nIn the spring she opened the window for it to fly away, but it lived\nin the woods near by all summer, and came often in the early morning to\nsing its sweetest songs at her door.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STRANGER CHILD\n\nA LEGEND\n\nBY COUNT FRANZ POCCI (TRANSLATED)\n\nThere once lived a laborer who earned his daily bread by cutting wood.\nHis wife and two children, a boy and girl, helped him with his work. The\nboy's name was Valentine, and the girl's, Marie. They were obedient and\npious and the joy and comfort of their poor parents.\n\nOne winter evening, this good family gathered about the table to eat\ntheir small loaf of bread, while the father read aloud from the Bible.\nJust as they sat down there came a knock on the window, and a sweet\nvoice called:--\n\n\u201cO let me in! I am a little child, and I have nothing to eat, and no\nplace to sleep in. I am so cold and hungry! Please, good people, let me\nin!\u201d\n\nValentine and Marie sprang from the table and ran to open the door,\nsaying:--\n\n\u201cCome in, poor child, we have but very little ourselves, not much more\nthan thou hast, but what we have we will share with thee.\u201d\n\nThe stranger Child entered, and going to the fire began to warm his cold\nhands.\n\nThe children gave him a portion of their bread, and said:--\n\n\u201cThou must be very tired; come, lie down in our bed, and we will sleep\non the bench here before the fire.\u201d\n\nThen answered the stranger Child: \u201cMay God in Heaven reward you for your\nkindness.\u201d\n\nThey led the little guest to their small room, laid him in their bed,\nand covered him closely, thinking to themselves:--\n\n\u201cOh! how much we have to be thankful for! We have our nice warm room and\ncomfortable bed, while this Child has nothing but the sky for a roof,\nand the earth for a couch.\u201d\n\nWhen the parents went to their bed, Valentine and Marie lay down on the\nbench before the fire, and said one to the other:--\n\n\u201cThe stranger Child is happy now, because he is so warm! Good-night!\u201d\n\nThen they fell asleep.\n\nThey had not slept many hours, when little Marie awoke, and touching her\nbrother lightly, whispered:--\n\n\u201cValentine, Valentine, wake up! wake up! Listen to the beautiful music\nat the window.\u201d\n\nValentine rubbed his eyes and listened. He heard the most wonderful\nsinging and the sweet notes of many harps.\n\n     \u201cBlessed Child,\n       Thee we greet,\n       With sound of harp\n       And singing sweet.\n\n     \u201cSleep in peace,\n       Child so bright,\n       We have watched thee\n       All the night.\n\n     \u201cBlest the home\n       That holdeth Thee,\n       Peace, and love,\n       Its guardians be.\u201d\n\n\nThe children listened to the beautiful singing, and it seemed to fill\nthem with unspeakable happiness. Then creeping to the window they looked\nout.\n\nThey saw a rosy light in the east, and, before the house in the snow,\nstood a number of little children holding golden harps and lutes in\ntheir hands, and dressed in sparkling, silver robes.\n\nFull of wonder at this sight, Valentine and Marie continued to gaze out\nat the window, when they heard a sound behind them, and turning saw the\nstranger Child standing near. He was clad in a golden garment, and wore\na glistening, golden crown upon his soft hair. Sweetly he spoke to the\nchildren:--\n\n\u201cI am the Christ Child, who wanders about the world seeking to bring\njoy and good things to loving children. Because you have lodged me this\nnight I will leave with you my blessing.\u201d\n\nAs the Christ Child spoke He stepped from the door, and breaking off\na bough from a fir tree that grew near, planted it in the ground,\nsaying:--\n\n\u201cThis bough shall grow into a tree, and every year it shall bear\nChristmas fruit for you.\u201d\n\nHaving said this He vanished from their sight, together with the\nsilver-clad, singing children--the angels.\n\nAnd, as Valentine and Marie looked on in wonder, the fir bough grew, and\ngrew, and grew, into a stately Christmas Tree laden with golden apples,\nsilver nuts, and lovely toys. And after that, every year at Christmas\ntime, the Tree bore the same wonderful fruit.\n\nAnd you, dear boys and girls, when you gather around your richly\ndecorated trees, think of the two poor children who shared their bread\nwith a stranger child, and be thankful.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT CHRISTOPHER\n\nA GOLDEN LEGEND\n\nENGLISHED BY WILLIAM CAXTON (ADAPTED)\n\nChristopher was a Canaanite, and he was of a right great stature, twelve\ncubits in height, and had a terrible countenance. And it is said that as\nhe served and dwelled with the King of Canaan, it came in his mind that\nhe would seek the greatest prince that was in the world, and him would\nhe serve and obey.\n\nSo he went forth and came to a right great king, whom fame said was the\ngreatest of the world. And when the king saw him he received him into\nhis service, and made him to dwell in his court.\n\nUpon a time a minstrel sang before him a song in which he named oft the\ndevil. And the king, who was a Christian, when he heard him name the\ndevil, made anon the sign of the cross.\n\nAnd when Christopher saw that he marveled, and asked what the sign might\nmean. And because the king would not say, he said: \u201cIf thou tell me not,\nI shall no longer dwell with thee.\u201d\n\nAnd then the King told him, saying: \u201cAlway when I hear the devil named\nmake I this sign lest he grieve or annoy me.\u201d\n\nThen said Christopher to him: \u201cFearest thou the devil? Then is the devil\nmore mighty and greater than thou art. I am then deceived, for I had\nsupposed that I had found the most mighty and the most greatest lord in\nall the world! Fare thee well, for I will now go seek the devil to be my\nlord and I his servant.\u201d\n\nSo Christopher departed from this king and hastened to seek the devil.\nAnd as he went by a great desert he saw a company of knights, and one of\nthem, a knight cruel and horrible, came to him and demanded whither he\nwent.\n\nAnd Christopher answered: \u201cI go to seek the devil for to be my master.\u201d\n\nThen said the knight: \u201cI am he that thou seekest.\u201d\n\nAnd then Christopher was glad and bound himself to be the devil's\nservant, and took him for his master and lord.\n\nNow, as they went along the way they found there a cross, erect and\nstanding. And anon as the devil saw the cross he was afeared and fled.\nAnd when Christopher saw that he marveled and demanded why he was\nafeared, and why he fled away. And the devil would not tell him in no\nwise.\n\nThen Christopher said to him: \u201cIf thou wilt not tell me, I shall anon\ndepart from thee and shall serve thee no more.\u201d\n\nWherefore the devil was forced to tell him and said: \u201cThere was a man\ncalled Christ, which was hanged on the cross, and when I see his sign I\nam sore afraid and flee from it.\u201d\n\nTo whom Christopher said: \u201cThen he is greater and more mightier than\nthou, since thou art afraid of his sign, and I see well that I have\nlabored in vain, and have not founden the greatest lord of the world. I\nwill serve thee no longer, but I will go seek Christ.\u201d\n\nAnd when Christopher had long sought where he should find Christ, at\nlast he came into a great desert, to a hermit that dwelt there. And he\ninquired of him where Christ was to be found.\n\nThen answered the hermit: \u201cThe king whom thou desirest to serve,\nrequireth that thou must often fast.\u201d\n\nChristopher said: \u201cRequire of me some other thing and I shall do it, but\nfast I may not.\u201d\n\nAnd the hermit said: \u201cThou must then wake and make many prayers.\u201d\n\nAnd Christopher said: \u201cI do not know how to pray, so this I may not do.\u201d\n\nAnd the hermit said: \u201cSeest thou yonder deep and wide river, in which\nmany people have perished? Because thou art noble, and of high stature\nand strong of limb, so shalt thou live by the river and thou shalt bear\nover all people who pass that way. And this thing will be pleasing to\nour Lord Jesu Christ, whom thou desirest to serve, and I hope he shall\nshow himself to thee.\u201d\n\nThen said Christopher: \u201cCertes, this service may I well do, and I\npromise Him to do it.\u201d\n\nThen went Christopher to this river, and built himself there a hut. He\ncarried a great pole in his hand, to support himself in the water, and\nbore over on his shoulders all manner of people to the other side. And\nthere he abode, thus doing many days.\n\nAnd on a time, as he slept in his hut, he heard the voice of a child\nwhich called him:--\n\n\u201cChristopher, Christopher, come out and bear me over.\u201d\n\nThen he awoke and went out, but he found no man. And when he was again\nin his house he heard the same voice, crying:--\n\n\u201cChristopher, Christopher, come out and bear me over.\u201d\n\nAnd he ran out and found nobody.\n\nAnd the third time he was called and ran thither, and he found a Child\nby the brink of the river, which prayed him goodly to bear him over the\nwater.\n\nAnd then Christopher lifted up the Child on his shoulders, and took his\nstaff, and entered into the river for to pass over. And the water of the\nriver arose and swelled more and more; and the Child was heavy as lead,\nand always as Christopher went farther the water increased and grew\nmore, and the Child more and more waxed heavy, insomuch that Christopher\nsuffered great anguish and was afeared to be drowned.\n\nAnd when he was escaped with great pain, and passed over the water, and\nset the Child aground, he said:--\n\n\u201cChild, thou hast put me in great peril. Thou weighest almost as I had\nall the world upon me. I might bear no greater burden.\u201d\n\nAnd the Child answered: \u201cChristopher, marvel thee nothing, for thou hast\nnot only borne all the world upon thee, but thou hast borne Him that\ncreated and made all the world, upon thy shoulders. I am Jesu Christ the\nKing whom thou servest. And that thou mayest know that I say the truth,\nset thy staff in the earth by thy house, and thou shalt see to-morn that\nit shall bear flowers and fruit.\u201d\n\nAnd anon the Child vanished from his eyes.\n\nAnd then Christopher set his staff in the earth, and when he arose on\nthe morn, he found his staff bearing flowers, leaves, and dates.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHRISTMAS ROSE\n\nAN OLD LEGEND\n\nBY LIZZIE DEAS (ADAPTED)\n\nWhen the Magi laid their rich offerings of myrrh, frankincense, and\ngold, by the bed of the sleeping Christ Child, legend says that a\nshepherd maiden stood outside the door quietly weeping.\n\nShe, too, had sought the Christ Child. She, too, desired to bring him\ngifts. But she had nothing to offer, for she was very poor indeed. In\nvain she had searched the countryside over for one little flower to\nbring Him, but she could find neither bloom nor leaf, for the winter had\nbeen cold.\n\nAnd as she stood there weeping, an angel passing saw her sorrow, and\nstooping he brushed aside the snow at her feet. And there sprang up on\nthe spot a cluster of beautiful winter roses,--waxen white with pink\ntipped petals.\n\n\u201cNor myrrh, nor frankincense, nor gold,\u201d said the angel, \u201cis offering\nmore meet for the Christ Child than these pure Christmas Roses.\u201d\n\nJoyfully the shepherd maiden gathered the flowers and made her offering\nto the Holy Child.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WOODEN SHOES OF LITTLE WOLFF\n\nBY FRANCOIS COPPEE (ADAPTED)\n\nOnce upon a time,--so long ago that the world has forgotten the\ndate,--in a city of the North of Europe,--the name of which is so hard\nto pronounce that no one remembers it,--there was a little boy, just\nseven years old, whose name was Wolff. He was an orphan and lived with\nhis aunt, a hard-hearted, avaricious old woman, who never kissed him but\nonce a year, on New Year's Day; and who sighed with regret every time\nshe gave him a bowlful of soup.\n\nThe poor little boy was so sweet-tempered that he loved the old woman in\nspite of her bad treatment, but he could not look without trembling at\nthe wart, decorated with four gray hairs, which grew on the end of her\nnose.\n\nAs Wolff's aunt was known to have a house of her own and a woolen\nstocking full of gold, she did not dare to send her nephew to the school\nfor the poor. But she wrangled so that the schoolmaster of the rich\nboys' school was forced to lower his price and admit little Wolff among\nhis pupils. The bad schoolmaster was vexed to have a boy so meanly clad\nand who paid so little, and he punished little Wolff severely without\ncause, ridiculed him, and even incited against him his comrades, who\nwere the sons of rich citizens. They made the orphan their drudge and\nmocked at him so much that the little boy was as miserable as the\nstones in the street, and hid himself away in corners to cry--when the\nChristmas season came.\n\nOn the Eve of the great Day the schoolmaster was to take all his pupils\nto the midnight mass, and then to conduct them home again to their\nparents' houses.\n\nNow as the winter was very severe, and a quantity of snow had fallen\nwithin the past few days, the boys came to the place of meeting warmly\nwrapped up, with fur-lined caps drawn down over their ears, padded\njackets, gloves and knitted mittens, and good strong shoes with thick\nsoles. Only little Wolff presented himself shivering in his thin\neveryday clothes, and wearing on his feet socks and wooden shoes.\n\nHis naughty comrades tried to annoy him in every possible way, but\nthe orphan was so busy warming his hands by blowing on them, and was\nsuffering so much from chilblains, that he paid no heed to the taunts of\nthe others. Then the band of boys, marching two by two, started for the\nparish church.\n\nIt was comfortable inside the church, which was brilliant with lighted\ntapers. And the pupils, made lively by the gentle warmth, the sound of\nthe organ, and the singing of the choir, began to chatter in low tones.\nThey boasted of the midnight treats awaiting them at home. The son of\nthe Mayor had seen, before leaving the house, a monstrous goose larded\nwith truffles so that it looked like a black-spotted leopard. Another\nboy told of the fir tree waiting for him, on the branches of which hung\noranges, sugar-plums, and punchinellos. Then they talked about what the\nChrist Child would bring them, or what he would leave in their shoes\nwhich they would certainly be careful to place before the fire when they\nwent to bed. And the eyes of the little rogues, lively as a crowd of\nmice, sparkled with delight as they thought of the many gifts they\nwould find on waking,--the pink bags of burnt almonds, the bonbons, lead\nsoldiers standing in rows, menageries, and magnificent jumping-jacks,\ndressed in purple and gold.\n\nLittle Wolff, alas! knew well that his miserly old aunt would send him\nto bed without any supper; but as he had been good and industrious all\nthe year, he trusted that the Christ Child would not forget him, so he\nmeant that night to set his wooden shoes on the hearth.\n\nThe midnight mass was ended. The worshipers hurried away, anxious to\nenjoy the treats awaiting them in their homes. The band of pupils, two\nby two, following the schoolmaster, passed out of the church.\n\nNow, under the porch, seated on a stone bench, in the shadow of an\narched niche, was a child asleep,--a little child dressed in a white\ngarment and with bare feet exposed to the cold. He was not a beggar, for\nhis dress was clean and new, and--beside him upon the ground, tied in a\ncloth, were the tools of a carpenter's apprentice.\n\nUnder the light of the stars, his face, with its closed eyes, shone\nwith an expression of divine sweetness, and his soft, curling blond hair\nseemed to form an aureole of light about his forehead. But his tender\nfeet, blue with the cold on this cruel night of December, were pitiful\nto see!\n\nThe pupils so warmly clad and shod, passed with indifference before\nthe unknown child. Some, the sons of the greatest men in the city, cast\nlooks of scorn on the barefooted one. But little Wolff, coming last\nout of the church, stopped deeply moved before the beautiful, sleeping\nchild.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said the orphan to himself, \u201chow dreadful! This poor little one\ngoes without stockings in weather so cold! And, what is worse, he has no\nshoe to leave beside him while he sleeps, so that the Christ Child may\nplace something in it to comfort him in all his misery.\u201d\n\nAnd carried away by his tender heart, little Wolff drew off the wooden\nshoe from his right foot, placed it before the sleeping child; and as\nbest as he was able, now hopping, now limping, and wetting his sock in\nthe snow, he returned to his aunt.\n\n\u201cYou good-for-nothing!\u201d cried the old woman, full of rage as she saw\nthat one of his shoes was gone. \u201cWhat have you done with your shoe,\nlittle beggar?\u201d\n\nLittle Wolff did not know how to lie, and, though shivering with terror\nas he saw the gray hairs on the end of her nose stand upright, he tried,\nstammering, to tell his adventure.\n\nBut the old miser burst into frightful laughter. \u201cAh! the sweet young\nmaster takes off his shoe for a beggar! Ah! master spoils a pair of\nshoes for a barefoot! This is something new, indeed! Ah! well, since\nthings are so, I will place the shoe that is left in the fireplace, and\nto-night the Christ Child will put in a rod to whip you when you wake.\nAnd to-morrow you shall have nothing to eat but water and dry bread, and\nwe shall see if the next time you will give away your shoe to the first\nvagabond that comes along.\u201d\n\nAnd saying this the wicked woman gave him a box on each ear, and made\nhim climb to his wretched room in the loft. There the heartbroken little\none lay down in the darkness, and, drenching his pillow with tears, fell\nasleep.\n\nBut in the morning, when the old woman, awakened by the cold and shaken\nby her cough, descended to the kitchen, oh! wonder of wonders! she\nsaw the great fireplace filled with bright toys, magnificent boxes of\nsugar-plums, riches of all sorts, and in front of all this treasure, the\nwooden shoe which her nephew had given to the vagabond, standing beside\nthe other shoe which she herself had placed there the night before,\nintending to put in it a handful of switches.\n\nAnd as little Wolff, who had come running at the cries of his aunt,\nstood in speechless delight before all the splendid Christmas gifts,\nthere came great shouts of laughter from the street.\n\nThe old woman and the little boy went out to learn what it was all\nabout, and saw the gossips gathered around the public fountain. What\ncould have happened? Oh, a most amusing and extraordinary thing! The\nchildren of all the rich men of the city, whose parents wished to\nsurprise them with the most beautiful gifts, had found nothing but\nswitches in their shoes!\n\nThen the old woman and little Wolff remembered with alarm all the riches\nthat were in their own fireplace, but just then they saw the pastor of\nthe parish church arriving with his face full of perplexity.\n\nAbove the bench near the church door, in the very spot where the night\nbefore a child, dressed in white, with bare feet exposed to the great\ncold, had rested his sleeping head, the pastor had seen a golden\ncircle wrought into the old stones. Then all the people knew that the\nbeautiful, sleeping child, beside whom had lain the carpenter's tools,\nwas the Christ Child himself, and that he had rewarded the faith and\ncharity of little Wolff.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PINE TREE\n\nBY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (TRANSLATED)\n\n\nI. WHEN IT WAS LITTLE\n\nOut in the woods stood such a nice little Pine Tree: he had a good\nplace; the sun could get at him; there was fresh air enough; and round\nhim grew many big comrades, both pines and firs. But the little Pine\nwanted so very much to be a grown-up tree.\n\nHe did not think of the warm sun and of the fresh air, he did not care\nfor the little cottage-children who ran about and prattled when they\nwere looking for wild strawberries and raspberries. Often they came with\na whole jug full, or had their strawberries strung on a straw, and sat\ndown near the little Tree and said, \u201cOh, what a nice little fellow!\u201d\n This was what the Tree could not bear to hear.\n\nThe year after he had shot up a good deal, and the next year after he\nwas still bigger; for with pine trees one can always tell by the shoots\nhow many years old they are.\n\n\u201cOh, were I but such a big tree as the others are,\u201d sighed the little\nTree. \u201cThen I could spread my branches so far, and with the tops look\nout into the wide world! Birds would build nests among my branches; and\nwhen there was a breeze, I could nod as grandly as the others there.\u201d\n\nHe had no delight at all in the sunshine, or in the birds, or the red\nclouds which morning and evening sailed above him.\n\nWhen now it was winter and the snow all around lay glittering white,\na hare would often come leaping along, and jump right over the little\nTree. Oh, that made him so angry! But two winters went by, and with\nthe third the Tree was so big that the hare had to go round it. \u201cOh, to\ngrow, to grow, to become big and old, and be tall,\u201d thought the Tree:\n\u201cthat, after all, is the most delightful thing in the world!\u201d\n\nIn autumn the wood-cutters always came and felled some of the largest\ntrees. This happened every year, and the young Pine Tree, that was now\nquite well grown, trembled at the sight; for the great stately trees\nfell to the earth with noise and cracking, the branches were lopped off,\nand the trees looked quite bare, they were so long and thin; you would\nhardly know them for trees, and then they were laid on carts, and horses\ndragged them out of the wood.\n\nWhere did they go to? What became of them?\n\nIn spring, when the Swallow and the Stork came, the Tree asked them,\n\u201cDon't you know where they have been taken? Have you not met them\nanywhere?\u201d\n\nThe Swallow did not know anything about it; but the Stork looked\ndoubtful, nodded his head, and said, \u201cYes; I have it; I met many new\nships as I was flying from Egypt; on the ships were splendid masts, and\nI dare say it was they that smelt so of pine. I wish you joy, for they\nlifted themselves on high in fine style!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, were I but old enough to fly across the sea! How does the sea\nreally look? and what is it like?\u201d\n\n\u201cAye, that takes a long time to tell,\u201d said the Stork, and away he went.\n\n\u201cRejoice in thy youth!\u201d said the Sunbeams, \u201crejoice in thy hearty\ngrowth, and in the young life that is in thee!\u201d\n\nAnd the Wind kissed the Tree, and the Dew wept tears over him, but the\nPine Tree understood it not.\n\n\n\nII. CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS\n\n\nWhen Christmas came, quite young trees were cut down; trees which were\nnot even so large or of the same age as this Pine Tree, who had no rest\nor peace, but always wanted to be off. These young trees, and they were\nalways the finest looking, always kept their branches; they were laid on\ncarts, and the horses drew them out of the wood.\n\n\u201cWhere are they going to?\u201d asked the Pine Tree. \u201cThey are not taller\nthan I; there was one, indeed, that was much shorter;--and why do they\nkeep all their branches? Where are they carrying them to?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe know! we know!\u201d chirped the Sparrows. \u201cWe have peeped in at the\nwindows down there in the town. We know where they are carrying them\nto. Oh, they are going to where it is as bright and splendid as you can\nthink! We peeped through the windows, and saw them planted in the middle\nof the warm room, and dressed with the most splendid things,--with\ngilded apples, with gingerbread, with toys and many hundred lights!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd then?\u201d asked the Pine Tree, and he trembled in every bough. \u201cAnd\nthen? What happens then?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe did not see anything more: it beat everything!\u201d\n\n\u201cI wonder if I am to sparkle like that!\u201d cried the Tree, rejoicing.\n\u201cThat is still better than to go over the sea! How I do suffer for very\nlonging! Were Christmas but come! I am now tall, and stretch out like\nthe others that were carried off last year! Oh, if I were already on\nthe cart! I wish I were in the warm room with all the splendor and\nbrightness. And then? Yes; then will come something better, something\nstill grander, or why should they dress me out so? There must come\nsomething better, something still grander,--but what? Oh, how I long,\nhow I suffer! I do not know myself what is the matter with me!\u201d\n\n\u201cRejoice in us!\u201d said the Air and the Sunlight; \u201crejoice in thy fresh\nyouth out here in the open air!\u201d\n\nBut the Tree did not rejoice at all; he grew and grew; and he stood\nthere in all his greenery; rich green was he winter and summer. People\nthat saw him said, \u201cThat's a fine tree!\u201d and toward Christmas he was\nthe first that was cut down. The axe struck deep into the very pith; the\nTree fell to the earth with a sigh: he felt a pang--it was like a swoon;\nhe could not think of happiness, for he was sad at being parted from his\nhome, from the place where he had sprung up. He well knew that he should\nnever see his dear old comrades, the little bushes and flowers around\nhim, any more; perhaps not even the birds! The setting off was not at\nall pleasant.\n\nThe Tree only came to himself when he was unloaded in a courtyard with\nother trees, and heard a man say, \u201cThat one is splendid! we don't want\nthe others.\u201d Then two servants came in rich livery and carried the\nPine Tree into a large and splendid room. Portraits were hanging on the\nwalls, and near the white porcelain stove stood two large Chinese vases\nwith lions on the covers. There, too, were large easy-chairs, silken\nsofas, large tables full of picture-books, and full of toys worth a\nhundred times a hundred dollars--at least so the children said. And the\nPine Tree was stuck upright in a cask filled with sand: but no one could\nsee that it was a cask, for green cloth was hung all around it, and it\nstood on a gayly colored carpet. Oh, how the Tree quivered! What was to\nhappen? The servants, as well as the young ladies, dressed it. On one\nbranch there hung little nets cut out of colored paper; each net was\nfilled with sugar-plums; gilded apples and walnuts hung as though they\ngrew tightly there, and more than a hundred little red, blue, and white\ntapers were stuck fast into the branches. Dolls that looked for all the\nworld like men--the Tree had never seen such things before--fluttered\namong the leaves, and at the very top a large star of gold tinsel was\nfixed. It was really splendid--splendid beyond telling.\n\n\u201cThis evening!\u201d said they all; \u201chow it will shine this evening!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d thought the Tree, \u201cif it were only evening! If the tapers were but\nlighted! And then I wonder what will happen! I wonder if the other trees\nfrom the forest will come to look at me! I wonder if the sparrows will\nbeat against the window-panes! I wonder if I shall take root here, and\nstand dressed so winter and summer!\u201d\n\nAye, aye, much he knew about the matter! but he had a real back-ache\nfor sheer longing, and a back-ache with trees is the same thing as a\nhead-ache with us.\n\n\nIII. CHRISTMAS IN THE HOUSE\n\n\nThe candles were now lighted. What brightness! What splendor! The Tree\ntrembled so in every bough that one of the tapers set fire to a green\nbranch. It blazed up splendidly.\n\nNow the Tree did not even dare to tremble. That was a fright! He was so\nafraid of losing something of all his finery, that he was quite confused\namidst the glare and brightness; and now both folding-doors opened, and\na troop of children rushed in as if they would tip the whole Tree over.\nThe older folks came quietly behind; the little ones stood quite still,\nbut only for a moment, then they shouted so that the whole place echoed\ntheir shouts, they danced round the Tree, and one present after another\nwas pulled off.\n\n\u201cWhat are they about?\u201d thought the Tree. \u201cWhat is to happen now?\u201d And\nthe lights burned down to the very branches, and as they burned down\nthey were put out one after the other, and then the children had leave\nto plunder the Tree. Oh, they rushed upon it so that it cracked in all\nits limbs; if its tip-top with the gold star on it had not been fastened\nto the ceiling, it would have tumbled over.\n\nThe children danced about with their pretty toys; no one looked at the\nTree except the old nurse, who peeped in among the branches; but it was\nonly to see if there was a fig or an apple that had been forgotten.\n\n\u201cA story! a story!\u201d cried the children, and they dragged a little fat\nman toward the Tree. He sat down under it, and said, \u201cNow we are in the\nshade, and the Tree can hear very well too. But I shall tell only\none story. Now which will you have: that about Ivedy-Avedy, or about\nKlumpy-Dumpy who tumbled downstairs, and came to the throne after all,\nand married the princess?\u201d\n\n\u201cIvedy-Avedy,\u201d cried some; \u201cKlumpy-Dumpy,\u201d cried the others. There was\nsuch a bawling and screaming!--the Pine Tree alone was silent, and he\nthought to himself, \u201cAm I not to bawl with the rest?--am I to do nothing\nwhatever?\u201d--for he was one of them, and he had done what he had to do.\n\nAnd the man told about Klumpy-Dumpy who tumbled downstairs, and came to\nthe throne after all, and married the princess. And the children clapped\ntheir hands, and cried out, \u201cGo on, go on!\u201d They wanted to hear about\nIvedy-Avedy too, but the little man only told them about Klumpy-Dumpy.\nThe Pine Tree stood quite still and thoughtful: the birds in the wood\nhad never told anything like this. \u201cKlumpy-Dumpy fell downstairs, and\nyet he married the princess! Yes, yes, that's the way of the world!\u201d\n thought the Pine Tree, and he believed it all, because it was such a\nnice man who told the story.\n\n\u201cWell, well! who knows, perhaps I may fall downstairs, too, and so get a\nprincess!\u201d And he looked forward with joy to the next day when he should\nbe decked out with lights and toys, fruits and tinsel.\n\n\u201cTo-morrow I won't tremble!\u201d thought the Pine Tree. \u201cI will enjoy to\nthe full all my splendor! To-morrow I shall hear again the story of\nKlumpy-Dumpy, and perhaps that of Ivedy-Avedy too.\u201d And the whole night\nthe Tree stood still in deep thought.\n\nIn the morning the servant and the maid came in.\n\n\nIV. IN THE ATTIC\n\n\n\u201cNow all the finery will begin again,\u201d thought the Pine. But they\ndragged him out of the room, and up the stairs into the attic; and here\nin a dark corner, where no daylight could enter, they left him. \u201cWhat's\nthe meaning of this?\u201d thought the Tree. \u201cWhat am I to do here? What\nshall I see and hear now, I wonder?\u201d And he leaned against the wall and\nstood and thought and thought. And plenty of time he had, for days and\nnights passed, and nobody came up; and when at last somebody did come,\nit was only to put some great trunks in the corner. There stood the Tree\nquite hidden; it seemed as if he had been entirely forgotten.\n\n\u201c'T is now winter out-of-doors!\u201d thought the Tree. \u201cThe earth is hard\nand covered with snow; men cannot plant me now; therefore I have been\nput up here under cover till spring! How thoughtful that is! How good\nmen are, after all! If it were not so dark here, and so terribly lonely!\nNot even a hare. Out there it was so pleasant in the woods, when the\nsnow was on the ground, and the hare leaped by; yes--even when he jumped\nover me; but I did not like it then. It is terribly lonely here!\u201d\n\n\u201cSqueak! squeak!\u201d said a little Mouse at the same moment, peeping out of\nhis hole. And then another little one came. They snuffed about the Pine\nTree, and rustled among the branches.\n\n\u201cIt is dreadfully cold,\u201d said the little Mouse. \u201cBut for that, it would\nbe delightful here, old Pine, wouldn't it!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am by no means old,\u201d said the Pine Tree. \u201cThere are many a good deal\nolder than I am.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere do you come from?\u201d asked the Mice; \u201cand what can you do?\u201d They\nwere so very curious. \u201cTell us about the most beautiful spot on earth.\nHave you been there? Were you ever in the larder, where cheeses lie on\nthe shelves, and hams hang from above; where one dances about on tallow\ncandles; where one goes in lean and comes out fat?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don't know that place,\u201d said the Tree. \u201cBut I know the wood where the\nsun shines, and where the little birds sing.\u201d\n\nAnd then he told his story from his youth up; and the little Mice had\nnever heard the like before; and they listened and said, \u201cWell, to be\nsure! How much you have seen! How happy you must have been!\u201d\n\n\u201cI!\u201d said the Pine Tree, and he thought over what he had himself told.\n\u201cYes, really those were happy times.\u201d And then he told about Christmas\nEve, when he was decked out with cakes and candles.\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d said the little Mice, \u201chow lucky you have been, old Pine Tree!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not at all old,\u201d said he. \u201cI came from the wood this winter; I am\nin my prime, and am only rather short of my age.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat delightful stories you know!\u201d said the Mice: and the next night\nthey came with four other little Mice, who were to hear what the Tree\nhad to tell; and the more he told, the more plainly he remembered all\nhimself; and he thought: \u201cThat was a merry time! But it can come! it can\ncome! Klumpy-Dumpy fell down stairs, and yet he got a princess! Maybe I\ncan get a princess too!\u201d And all of a sudden he thought of a nice little\nBirch Tree growing out in the woods: to the Pine, that would be a really\ncharming princess.\n\n\u201cWho is Klumpy-Dumpy?\u201d asked the little Mice.\n\nSo then the Pine Tree told the whole fairy tale, for he could remember\nevery single word of it; and the little Mice jumped for joy up to the\nvery top of the Tree. Next night two more Mice came, and on Sunday two\nRats, even; but they said the stories were not amusing, which vexed\nthe little Mice, because they, too, now began to think them not so very\namusing either.\n\n\u201cDo you know only that one story?\u201d asked the Rats.\n\n\u201cOnly that one!\u201d answered the Tree. \u201cI heard it on my happiest evening;\nbut I did not then know how happy I was.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a very stupid story! Don't you know one about bacon and tallow\ncandles? Can't you tell any larder-stories?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said the Tree.\n\n\u201cThank you, then,\u201d said the Rats; and they went home.\n\nAt last the little Mice stayed away also; and the Tree sighed: \u201cAfter\nall, it was very pleasant when the sleek little Mice sat round me and\nheard what I told them. Now that too is over. But I will take good care\nto enjoy myself when I am brought out again.\u201d\n\nBut when was that to be? Why, it was one morning when there came a\nnumber of people and set to work in the loft. The trunks were moved, the\ntree was pulled out and thrown down; they knocked him upon the floor,\nbut a man drew him at once toward the stairs, where the daylight shone.\n\n\nV. OUT OF DOORS AGAIN\n\n\n\u201cNow life begins again,\u201d thought the Tree. He felt the fresh air, the\nfirst sunbeam,--and now he was out in the courtyard. All passed so\nquickly that the Tree quite forgot to look to himself, there was so much\ngoing on around him. The court adjoined a garden, and all was in flower;\nthe roses hung over the fence, so fresh and smelling so sweetly;\nthe lindens were in blossom, the Swallows flew by, and said,\n\u201cQuirre-virre-vit! my husband is come!\u201d But it was not the Pine Tree\nthat they meant.\n\n\u201cNow, I shall really live,\u201d said he with joy, and spread out his\nbranches; dear! dear! they were all dry and yellow. It was in a corner\namong weeds and nettles that he lay. The golden star of tinsel was still\non top of the Tree, and shone in the bright sunshine.\n\nIn the courtyard a few of the merry children were playing who had danced\nat Christmas round the Tree, and were so glad at the sight of him. One\nof the littlest ran and tore off the golden star.\n\n\u201cSee what is still on the ugly old Christmas Tree!\u201d said he, and he\ntrampled on the branches, so that they cracked under his feet.\n\nAnd the Tree saw all the beauty of the flowers, and the freshness in the\ngarden; he saw himself, and he wished he had stayed in his dark corner\nin the attic: he thought of his fresh youth in the wood, of the merry\nChristmas Eve, and of the little Mice who had heard so gladly the story\nof Klumpy-Dumpy.\n\n\u201cGone! gone!\u201d said the poor Tree. \u201cHad I but been happy when I could be.\nGone! gone!\u201d\n\nAnd the gardener's boy came and chopped the Tree into small pieces;\nthere was a whole heap lying there. The wood flamed up finely under\nthe large brewing kettle, and it sighed so deeply! Each sigh was like a\nlittle shot. So the children ran to where it lay and sat down before the\nfire, and peeped in at the blaze, and shouted \u201cPiff! paff!\u201d But at every\nsnap there was a deep sigh. The Tree was thinking of summer days in\nthe wood, and of winter nights when the stars shone; it was thinking\nof Christmas Eve and Klumpy-Dumpy, the only fairy tale it had heard and\nknew how to tell,--and so the Tree burned out.\n\nThe boys played about in the court, and the youngest wore the gold star\non his breast which the Tree had worn on the happiest evening of his\nlife. Now, that was gone, the Tree was gone, and gone too was the story.\nAll, all was gone, and that's the way with all stories.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO\n\nBY FRANCES BROWNE (ADAPTED)\n\nOnce upon a time there stood in the midst of a bleak moor, in the North\nCountry, a certain village. All its inhabitants were poor, for their\nfields were barren, and they had little trade; but the poorest of them\nall were two brothers called Scrub and Spare, who followed the cobbler's\ncraft. Their hut was built of clay and wattles. The door was low and\nalways open, for there was no window. The roof did not entirely keep out\nthe rain and the only thing comfortable was a wide fireplace, for which\nthe brothers could never find wood enough to make sufficient fire.\nThere they worked in most brotherly friendship, though with little\nencouragement.\n\nOn one unlucky day a new cobbler arrived in the village. He had lived in\nthe capital city of the kingdom and, by his own account, cobbled for the\nqueen and the princesses. His awls were sharp, his lasts were new; he\nset up his stall in a neat cottage with two windows. The villagers soon\nfound out that one patch of his would outwear two of the brothers'.\nIn short, all the mending left Scrub and Spare, and went to the new\ncobbler.\n\nThe season had been wet and cold, their barley did not ripen well, and\nthe cabbages never half-closed in the garden. So the brothers were poor\nthat winter, and when Christmas came they had nothing to feast on but\na barley loaf and a piece of rusty bacon. Worse than that, the snow was\nvery deep and they could get no firewood.\n\nTheir hut stood at the end of the village; beyond it spread the bleak\nmoor, now all white and silent. But that moor had once been a forest;\ngreat roots of old trees were still to be found in it, loosened from\nthe soil and laid bare by the winds and rains. One of these, a rough,\ngnarled log, lay hard by their door, the half of it above the snow, and\nSpare said to his brother:--\n\n\u201cShall we sit here cold on Christmas while the great root lies yonder?\nLet us chop it up for firewood, the work will make us warm.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Scrub, \u201cit's not right to chop wood on Christmas; besides,\nthat root is too hard to be broken with any hatchet.\u201d\n\n\u201cHard or not, we must have a fire,\u201d replied Spare. \u201cCome, brother, help\nme in with it. Poor as we are there is nobody in the village will have\nsuch a yule log as ours.\u201d\n\nScrub liked a little grandeur, and, in hopes of having a fine yule log,\nboth brothers strained and strove with all their might till, between\npulling and pushing, the great old root was safe on the hearth, and\nbeginning to crackle and blaze with the red embers.\n\nIn high glee the cobblers sat down to their bread and bacon. The door\nwas shut, for there was nothing but cold moonlight and snow outside;\nbut the hut, strewn with fir boughs and ornamented with holly, looked\ncheerful as the ruddy blaze flared up and rejoiced their hearts.\n\nThen suddenly from out the blazing root they heard: \u201cCuckoo! cuckoo!\u201d\n as plain as ever the spring-bird's voice came over the moor on a May\nmorning.\n\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d said Scrub, terribly frightened; \u201cit is something bad!\u201d\n\n\u201cMaybe not,\u201d said Spare.\n\nAnd out of the deep hole at the side of the root, which the fire had not\nreached, flew a large, gray cuckoo, and lit on the table before them.\nMuch as the cobblers had been surprised, they were still more so when it\nsaid:--\n\n\u201cGood gentlemen, what season is this?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt's Christmas,\u201d said Spare.\n\n\u201cThen a merry Christmas to you!\u201d said the cuckoo. \u201cI went to sleep in\nthe hollow of that old root one evening last summer, and never woke till\nthe heat of your fire made me think it was summer again. But now since\nyou have burned my lodging, let me stay in your hut till the spring\ncomes round,--I only want a hole to sleep in, and when I go on my\ntravels next summer be assured I will bring you some present for your\ntrouble.\u201d\n\n\u201cStay and welcome,\u201d said Spare, while Scrub sat wondering if it were\nsomething bad or not.\n\n\u201cI'll make you a good warm hole in the thatch,\u201d said Spare. \u201cBut you\nmust be hungry after that long sleep,--here is a slice of barley bread.\nCome help us to keep Christmas!\u201d\n\nThe cuckoo ate up the slice, drank water from a brown jug, and flew into\na snug hole which Spare scooped for it in the thatch of the hut.\n\nScrub said he was afraid it wouldn't be lucky; but as it slept on and\nthe days passed he forgot his fears.\n\nSo the snow melted, the heavy rains came, the cold grew less, the days\nlengthened, and one sunny morning the brothers were awakened by the\ncuckoo shouting its own cry to let them know the spring had come.\n\n\u201cNow I'm going on my travels,\u201d said the bird, \u201cover the world to tell\nmen of the spring. There is no country where trees bud, or flowers\nbloom, that I will not cry in before the year goes round. Give me\nanother slice of barley bread to help me on my journey, and tell me what\npresent I shall bring you at the twelvemonth's end.\u201d\n\nScrub would have been angry with his brother for cutting so large a\nslice, their store of barley being low, but his mind was occupied with\nwhat present it would be most prudent to ask for.\n\n\u201cThere are two trees hard by the well that lies at the world's end,\u201d\n said the cuckoo; \u201cone of them is called the golden tree, for its leaves\nare all of beaten gold. Every winter they fall into the well with a\nsound like scattered coin, and I know not what becomes of them. As for\nthe other, it is always green like a laurel. Some call it the wise, and\nsome the merry, tree. Its leaves never fall, but they that get one\nof them keep a blithe heart in spite of all misfortunes, and can make\nthemselves as merry in a hut as in a palace.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood master cuckoo, bring me a leaf off that tree!\u201d cried Spare.\n\n\u201cNow, brother, don't be a fool!\u201d said Scrub; \u201cthink of the leaves of\nbeaten gold! Dear master cuckoo, bring me one of them!\u201d\n\nBefore another word could be spoken the cuckoo had flown out of the open\ndoor, and was shouting its spring cry over moor and meadow.\n\nThe brothers were poorer than ever that year. Nobody would send them a\nsingle shoe to mend, and Scrub and Spare would have left the village\nbut for their barley-field and their cabbage-garden. They sowed their\nbarley, planted their cabbage, and, now that their trade was gone,\nworked in the rich villagers' fields to make out a scanty living.\n\nSo the seasons came and passed; spring, summer, harvest, and winter\nfollowed each other as they have done from the beginning. At the end of\nthe latter Scrub and Spare had grown so poor and ragged that their old\nneighbors forgot to invite them to wedding feasts or merrymakings,\nand the brothers thought the cuckoo had forgotten them, too, when at\ndaybreak on the first of April they heard a hard beak knocking at their\ndoor, and a voice crying:--\n\n\u201cCuckoo! cuckoo! Let me in with my presents!\u201d\n\nSpare ran to open the door, and in came the cuckoo, carrying on one\nside of its bill a golden leaf larger than that of any tree in the North\nCountry; and in the other side of its bill, one like that of the common\nlaurel, only it had a fresher green.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d it said, giving the gold to Scrub and the green to Spare, \u201cit is\na long carriage from the world's end. Give me a slice of barley bread,\nfor I must tell the North Country that the spring has come.\u201d\n\nScrub did not grudge the thickness of that slice, though it was cut\nfrom their last loaf. So much gold had never been in the cobbler's hands\nbefore, and he could not help exulting over his brother.\n\n\u201cSee the wisdom of my choice,\u201d he said, holding up the large leaf of\ngold. \u201cAs for yours, as good might be plucked from any hedge, I wonder a\nsensible bird would carry the like so far.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood master cobbler,\u201d cried the cuckoo, finishing its slice,\n\u201cyour conclusions are more hasty than courteous. If your brother is\ndisappointed this time, I go on the same journey every year, and for\nyour hospitable entertainment will think it no trouble to bring each of\nyou whichever leaf you desire.\u201d\n\n\u201cDarling cuckoo,\u201d cried Scrub, \u201cbring me a golden one.\u201d\n\nAnd Spare, looking up from the green leaf on which he gazed as though it\nwere a crown-jewel, said:--\n\n\u201cBe sure to bring me one from the merry tree.\u201d\n\nAnd away flew the cuckoo.\n\n\u201cThis is the feast of All Fools, and it ought to be your birthday,\u201d said\nScrub. \u201cDid ever man fling away such an opportunity of getting rich?\nMuch good your merry leaves will do in the midst of rags and poverty!\u201d\n\nBut Spare laughed at him, and answered with quaint old proverbs\nconcerning the cares that come with gold, till Scrub, at length getting\nangry, vowed his brother was not fit to live with a respectable man; and\ntaking his lasts, his awls, and his golden leaf, he left the wattle hut,\nand went to tell the villagers.\n\nThey were astonished at the folly of Spare, and charmed with Scrub's\ngood sense, particularly when he showed them the golden leaf, and told\nthat the cuckoo would bring him one every spring.\n\nThe new cobbler immediately took him into partnership; the greatest\npeople sent him their shoes to mend. Fairfeather, a beautiful village\nmaiden, smiled graciously upon him; and in the course of that summer\nthey were married, with a grand wedding feast, at which the whole\nvillage danced except Spare, who was not invited, because the bride\ncould not bear his low-mindedness, and his brother thought him a\ndisgrace to the family.\n\nAs for Scrub he established himself with Fairfeather in a cottage close\nby that of the new cobbler, and quite as fine. There he mended shoes to\neverybody's satisfaction, had a scarlet coat and a fat goose for\ndinner on holidays. Fairfeather, too, had a crimson gown, and fine blue\nribbons; but neither she nor Scrub was content, for to buy this grandeur\nthe golden leaf had to be broken and parted With piece by piece, so the\nlast morsel was gone before the cuckoo came with another.\n\nSpare lived on in the old hut, and worked in the cabbage-garden. (Scrub\nhad got the barley-field because he was the elder.) Every day his coat\ngrew more ragged, and the hut more weather-beaten; but people remarked\nthat he never looked sad or sour. And the wonder was that, from the time\nany one began to keep his company, he or she grew kinder, happier, and\ncontent.\n\nEvery first of April the cuckoo came tapping at their doors with the\ngolden leaf for Scrub, and the green for Spare. Fairfeather would have\nentertained it nobly with wheaten bread and honey, for she had some\nnotion of persuading it to bring two golden leaves instead of one; but\nthe cuckoo flew away to eat barley bread with Spare, saying it was not\nfit company for fine people, and liked the old hut where it slept so\nsnugly from Christmas till spring.\n\nScrub spent the golden leaves, and remained always discontented; and\nSpare kept the merry ones.\n\nI do not know how many years passed in this manner, when a certain great\nlord, who owned that village, came to the neighborhood. His castle stood\non the moor. It was ancient and strong, with high towers and a deep\nmoat. All the country as far as one could see from the highest turret\nbelonged to its lord; but he had not been there for twenty years, and\nwould not have come then only he was melancholy. And there he lived in\na very bad temper. The servants said nothing would please him, and the\nvillagers put on their worst clothes lest he should raise their rents.\n\nBut one day in the harvest-time His Lordship chanced to meet Spare\ngathering water-cresses at a meadow stream, and fell into talk with the\ncobbler. How it was nobody could tell, but from that hour the great lord\ncast away his melancholy. He forgot all his woes, and went about with a\nnoble train, hunting, fishing, and making merry in his hall, where all\ntravelers were entertained, and all the poor were welcome.\n\nThis strange story spread through the North Country, and great company\ncame to the cobbler's hut,--rich men who had lost their money, poor men\nwho had lost their friends, beauties who had grown old, wits who had\ngone out of fashion,--all came to talk with Spare, and, whatever their\ntroubles had been, all went home merry.\n\nThe rich gave him presents, the poor gave him thanks. Spare's coat\nceased to be ragged, he had bacon with his cabbage, and the villagers\nbegan to think there was some sense in him.\n\n\nBy this time his fame had reached the capital city, and even the court.\nThere were a great many discontented people there; and the king had\nlately fallen into ill humor because a neighboring princess, with seven\nislands for her dowry, would not marry his eldest son.\n\nSo a royal messenger was sent to Spare, with a velvet mantle, a diamond\nring, and a command that he should repair to court immediately.\n\n\u201cTo-morrow is the first of April,\u201d said Spare, \u201cand I will go with you\ntwo hours after sunrise.\u201d\n\nThe messenger lodged all night at the castle, and the cuckoo came at\nsunrise with the merry leaf.\n\n\u201cCourt is a fine place,\u201d it said, when the cobbler told it he was going,\n\u201cbut I cannot come there; they would lay snares and catch me; so be\ncareful of the leaves I have brought you, and give me a farewell slice\nof barley bread.\u201d\n\nSpare was sorry to part with the cuckoo, little as he had of its\ncompany, but he gave it a slice which would have broken Scrub's heart in\nformer times, it was so thick and large. And having sewed up the leaves\nin the lining of his leather doublet, he set out with the messenger on\nhis way to court.\n\nHis coming caused great surprise there. Everybody wondered what the king\ncould see in such a common-looking man; but scarcely had His Majesty\nconversed with him half an hour, when the princess and her seven islands\nwere forgotten and orders given that a feast for all comers should be\nspread in the banquet hall.\n\nThe princes of the blood, the great lords and ladies, the ministers of\nstate, after that discoursed with Spare, and the more they talked the\nlighter grew their hearts, so that such changes had never been seen at\ncourt.\n\nThe lords forgot their spites and the ladies their envies, the princes\nand ministers made friends among themselves, and the judges showed no\nfavor.\n\nAs for Spare, he had a chamber assigned him in the palace, and a seat\nat the king's table. One sent him rich robes, and another costly jewels;\nbut in the midst of all his grandeur he still wore the leathern doublet,\nand continued to live at the king's court, happy and honored, and making\nall others merry and content.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHRISTMAS FAIRY OF STRASBURG\n\nA GERMAN FOLK-TALE\n\nBY J. STIRLING COYNE (ADAPTED)\n\nOnce, long ago, there lived near the ancient city of Strasburg, on the\nriver Rhine, a young and handsome count, whose name was Otto. As the\nyears flew by he remained unwed, and never so much as cast a glance at\nthe fair maidens of the country round; for this reason people began to\ncall him \u201cStone-Heart.\u201d\n\nIt chanced that Count Otto, on one Christmas Eve, ordered that a great\nhunt should take place in the forest surrounding his castle. He and his\nguests and his many retainers rode forth, and the chase became more\nand more exciting. It led through thickets, and over pathless tracts\nof forest, until at length Count Otto found himself separated from his\ncompanions.\n\nHe rode on by himself until he came to a spring of clear, bubbling\nwater, known to the people around as the \u201cFairy Well.\u201d Here Count Otto\ndismounted. He bent over the spring and began to lave his hands in the\nsparkling tide, but to his wonder he found that though the weather was\ncold and frosty, the water was warm and delightfully caressing. He\nfelt a glow of joy pass through his veins, and, as he plunged his hands\ndeeper, he fancied that his right hand was grasped by another, soft\nand small, which gently slipped from his finger the gold ring he always\nwore. And, lo! when he drew out his hand, the gold ring was gone.\n\nFull of wonder at this mysterious event, the count mounted his horse and\nreturned to his castle, resolving in his mind that the very next day he\nwould have the Fairy Well emptied by his servants.\n\nHe retired to his room, and, throwing himself just as he was upon his\ncouch, tried to sleep; but the strangeness of the adventure kept him\nrestless and wakeful.\n\nSuddenly he heard the hoarse baying of the watch-hounds in the\ncourtyard, and then the creaking of the drawbridge, as though it were\nbeing lowered. Then came to his ear the patter of many small feet on\nthe stone staircase, and next he heard indistinctly the sound of light\nfootsteps in the chamber adjoining his own.\n\nCount Otto sprang from his couch, and as he did so there sounded a\nstrain of delicious music, and the door of his chamber was flung open.\nHurrying into the next room, he found himself in the midst of numberless\nFairy beings, clad in gay and sparkling robes. They paid no heed to\nhim, but began to dance, and laugh, and sing, to the sound of mysterious\nmusic.\n\nIn the center of the apartment stood a splendid Christmas Tree, the\nfirst ever seen in that country. Instead of toys and candles there hung\non its lighted boughs diamond stars, pearl necklaces, bracelets of\ngold ornamented with colored jewels, aigrettes of rubies and sapphires,\nsilken belts embroidered with Oriental pearls, and daggers mounted in\ngold and studded with the rarest gems. The whole tree swayed, sparkled,\nand glittered in the radiance of its many lights.\n\nCount Otto stood speechless, gazing at all this wonder, when suddenly\nthe Fairies stopped dancing and fell back, to make room for a lady of\ndazzling beauty who came slowly toward him.\n\nShe wore on her raven-black tresses a golden diadem set with jewels.\nHer hair flowed down upon a robe of rosy satin and creamy velvet. She\nstretched out two small, white hands to the count and addressed him in\nsweet, alluring tones:--\n\n\u201cDear Count Otto,\u201d said she, \u201cI come to return your Christmas visit. I\nam Ernestine, the Queen of the Fairies. I bring you something you lost\nin the Fairy Well.\u201d\n\nAnd as she spoke she drew from her bosom a golden casket, set with\ndiamonds, and placed it in his hands. He opened it eagerly and found\nwithin his lost gold ring.\n\nCarried away by the wonder of it all, and overcome by an irresistible\nimpulse, the count pressed the Fairy Ernestine to his heart, while she,\nholding him by the hand, drew him into the magic mazes of the dance. The\nmysterious music floated through the room, and the rest of that Fairy\ncompany circled and whirled around the Fairy Queen and Count Otto, and\nthen gradually dissolved into a mist of many colors, leaving the count\nand his beautiful guest alone.\n\nThen the young man, forgetting all his former coldness toward the\nmaidens of the country round about, fell on his knees before the Fairy\nand besought her to become his bride. At last she consented on the\ncondition that he should never speak the word \u201cdeath\u201d in her presence.\n\nThe next day the wedding of Count Otto and Ernestine, Queen of the\nFairies, was celebrated with great pomp and magnificence, and the two\ncontinued to live happily for many years.\n\nNow it happened on a time, that the count and his Fairy wife were\nto hunt in the forest around the castle. The horses were saddled and\nbridled, and standing at the door, the company waited, and the count\npaced the hall in great impatience; but still the Fairy Ernestine\ntarried long in her chamber. At length she appeared at the door of the\nhall, and the count addressed her in anger.\n\n\u201cYou have kept us waiting so long,\u201d he cried, \u201cthat you would make a\ngood messenger to send for Death!\u201d\n\nScarcely had he spoken the forbidden and fatal word, when the Fairy,\nuttering a wild cry, vanished from his sight. In vain Count Otto,\noverwhelmed with grief and remorse, searched the castle and the Fairy\nWell, no trace could he find of his beautiful, lost wife but the imprint\nof her delicate hand set in the stone arch above the castle gate.\n\nYears passed by, and the Fairy Ernestine did not return. The count\ncontinued to grieve. Every Christmas Eve he set up a lighted tree in\nthe room where he had first met the Fairy, hoping in vain that she would\nreturn to him.\n\nTime passed and the count died. The castle fell into ruins. But to this\nday may be seen above the massive gate, deeply sunken in the stone arch,\nthe impress of a small and delicate hand.\n\nAnd such, say the good folk of Strasburg, was the origin of the\nChristmas Tree.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE PURSES\n\nA LEGEND\n\nBY WILLIAM S. WALSH (ADAPTED)\n\nWhen Saint Nicholas was Bishop of Myra, there were among his people\nthree beautiful maidens, daughters of a nobleman. Their father was so\npoor that he could not afford to give them dowries, and as in that land\nno maid might marry without a dowry, so these three maidens could not\nwed the youths who loved them.\n\nAt last the father became so very poor that he no longer had money with\nwhich to buy food or clothes for his daughters, and he was overcome by\nshame and sorrow. As for the daughters they wept continually, for they\nwere both cold and hungry.\n\nOne day Saint Nicholas heard of the sad state of this noble family. So\nat night, when the maidens were asleep, and the father was watching,\nsorrowful and lonely, the good saint took a handful of gold, and, tying\nit in a purse, set off for the nobleman's house. Creeping to the open\nwindow he threw the purse into the chamber, so that it fell on the bed\nof the sleeping maidens.\n\nThe father picked up the purse, and when he opened it and saw the gold,\nhe rejoiced greatly, and awakened his daughters. He gave most of the\ngold to his eldest child for a dowry, and thus she was enabled to wed\nthe young man whom she loved.\n\nA few days later Saint Nicholas filled another purse with gold, and,\nas before, went by night to the nobleman's house, and tossed the purse\nthrough the open window. Thus the second daughter was enabled to marry\nthe young man whom she loved.\n\nNow, the nobleman felt very grateful to the unknown one who threw purses\nof gold into his room and he longed to know who his benefactor was and\nto thank him. So the next night he watched beneath the open window.\nAnd when all was dark, lo! good Saint Nicholas came for the third time,\ncarrying a silken purse filled with gold, and as he was about to throw\nit on the youngest maiden's bed, the nobleman caught him by his robe,\ncrying:--\n\n\u201cOhs good Saint Nicholas! why do you hide yourself thus?\u201d\n\nAnd he kissed the saint's hands and feet, but Saint Nicholas, overcome\nwith confusion at having his good deed discovered, begged the nobleman\nto tell no man what had happened.\n\nThus the nobleman's third daughter was enabled to marry the young man\nwhom she loved; and she and her father and her two sisters lived happily\nfor the remainder of their lives.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THUNDER OAK\n\nA SCANDINAVIAN LEGEND\n\nWILLIAM S. WALSH AND OTHER SOURCES\n\nWhen the heathen raged through the forests of the ancient Northland\nthere grew a giant tree branching with huge limbs toward the clouds. It\nwas the Thunder Oak of the war-god Thor.\n\nThither, under cover of night, heathen priests were wont to bring\ntheir victims--both men and beasts--and slay them upon the altar of the\nthunder-god. There in the darkness was wrought many an evil deed, while\nhuman blood was poured forth and watered the roots of that gloomy tree,\nfrom whose branches depended the mistletoe, the fateful plant that\nsprang from the blood-fed veins of the oak. So gloomy and terror-ridden\nwas the spot on which grew the tree that no beasts of field or forest\nwould lodge beneath its dark branches, nor would birds nest or perch\namong its gnarled limbs.\n\nLong, long ago, on a white Christmas Eve, Thor's priests held their\nwinter rites beneath the Thunder Oak. Through the deep snow of the\ndense forest hastened throngs of heathen folk, all intent on keeping\nthe mystic feast of the mighty Thor. In the hush of the night the folk\ngathered in the glade where stood the tree. Closely they pressed around\nthe great altar-stone under the overhanging boughs where stood the\nwhite-robed priests. Clearly shone the moonlight on all.\n\nThen from the altar flashed upward the sacrificial flames, casting their\nlurid glow on the straining faces of the human victims awaiting the blow\nof the priest's knife.\n\nBut the knife never fell, for from the silent avenues of the dark forest\ncame the good Saint Winfred and his people. Swiftly the saint drew from\nhis girdle a shining axe. Fiercely he smote the Thunder Oak, hewing a\ndeep gash in its trunk. And while the heathen folk gazed in horror and\nwonder, the bright blade of the axe circled faster and faster around\nSaint Winfred's head, and the flakes of wood flew far and wide from the\ndeepening cut in the body of the tree.\n\nSuddenly there was heard overhead the sound of a mighty, rushing wind. A\nwhirling blast struck the tree. It gripped the oak from its foundations.\nBackward it fell like a tower, groaning as it split into four pieces.\n\nBut just behind it, unharmed by the ruin, stood a young fir tree,\npointing its green spire to heaven.\n\nSaint Winfred dropped his axe, and turned to speak to the people.\nJoyously his voice rang out through the crisp, winter air:--\n\n\u201cThis little tree, a young child of the forest, shall be your holy tree\nto-night. It is the tree of peace, for your houses are built of fir. It\nis the sign of endless life, for its leaves are forever green. See how\nit points upward to heaven! Let this be called the tree of the Christ\nChild. Gather about it, not in the wildwood, but in your own homes.\nThere it will shelter no deeds of blood, but loving gifts and rites of\nkindness. So shall the peace of the White Christ reign in your hearts!\u201d\n\nAnd with songs of joy the multitude of heathen folk took up the little\nfir tree and bore it to the house of their chief, and there with good\nwill and peace they kept the holy Christmastide.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHRISTMAS THORN OF GLASTONBURY\n\nA LEGEND OF ANCIENT BRITAIN\n\nADAPTED FROM WILLIAM OF MALMESBURY AND OTHER SOURCES\n\nThere is a golden Christmas legend and it relates how Joseph of\nArimathea--that good man and just, who laid our Lord in his own\nsepulcher, was persecuted by Pontius Pilate, and how he fled from\nJerusalem carrying with him the Holy Grail hidden beneath a cloth of\nsamite, mystical and white.\n\nFor many moons he wandered, leaning on his staff cut from a white-thorn\nbush. He passed over raging seas and dreary wastes, he wandered through\ntrackless forests, climbed rugged mountains, and forded many floods.\nAt last he came to Gaul where the Apostle Philip was preaching the glad\ntidings to the heathen. And there Joseph abode for a little space.\n\nNow, upon a night while Joseph lay asleep in his hut, he was wakened\nby a radiant light. And as he gazed with wondering eyes he saw an angel\nstanding by his couch, wrapped in a cloud of incense.\n\n\u201cJoseph of Arimathea,\u201d said the angel, \u201ccross thou over into Britain and\npreach the glad tidings to King Arvigarus. And there, where a Christmas\nmiracle shall come to pass, do thou build the first Christian church in\nthat land.\u201d\n\nAnd while Joseph lay perplexed and wondering in his heart what answer he\nshould make, the angel vanished from his sight.\n\nThen Joseph left his hut and calling the Apostle Philip, gave him the\nangel's message. And, when morning dawned, Philip sent him on his way,\naccompanied by eleven chosen followers. To the water's side they went,\nand embarking in a little ship, they came unto the coasts of Britain.\n\nAnd they were met there by the heathen who carried them before Arvigarus\ntheir king. To him and to his people did Joseph of Arimathea preach the\nglad tidings; but the king's heart, though moved, was not convinced.\nNevertheless he gave to Joseph and his followers Avalon, the happy isle,\nthe isle of the blessed, and he bade them depart straightway and build\nthere an altar to their God.\n\nAnd a wonderful gift was this same Avalon, sometimes called the Island\nof Apples, and also known to the people of the land as Ynis-witren, the\nIsle of Glassy Waters. Beautiful and peaceful was it. Deep it lay in\nthe midst of a green valley, and the balmy breezes fanned its apple\norchards, and scattered afar the sweet fragrance of rosy blossoms or\nripened fruit. Soft grew the green grass beneath the feet. The smooth\nwaves gently lapped the shore, and water-lilies floated on the surface\nof the tide; while in the blue sky above sailed the fleecy clouds.\n\nAnd it was on the holy Christmas Eve that Joseph and his companions\nreached the Isle of Avalon. With them they carried the Holy Grail hidden\nbeneath its cloth of snow-white samite. Heavily they toiled up the\nsteep ascent of the hill called Weary-All. And when they reached the top\nJoseph thrust his thorn-staff into the ground.\n\nAnd, lo! a miracle! the thorn-staff put forth roots, sprouted and\nbudded, and burst into a mass of white and fragrant flowers! And on the\nspot where the thorn had bloomed, there Joseph built the first Christian\nchurch in Britain. And he made it \u201cwattled all round\u201d of osiers gathered\nfrom the water's edge. And in the chapel they placed the Holy Grail.\n\nAnd so, it is said, ever since at Glastonbury Abbey--the name by which\nthat Avalon is known to-day--on Christmas Eve the white thorn buds and\nblooms.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE KINGS OF COLOGNE\n\nA LEGEND OF THE MIDDLE AGES\n\nBY JOHN OF HILDESHEIM-MODERNIZED BY H. S. MORRIS (ADAPTED)\n\nTHE STAR\n\nNow, when the Children of Israel were gone out of Egypt, and had won and\nmade subject to them Jerusalem and all the land lying about, there was\nin the Kingdom of Ind a tall hill called the Hill of Vaws, or the Hill\nof Victory. On this hill were stationed sentinels of Ind, who watched\nday and night against the Children of Israel, and afterward against the\nRomans.\n\nAnd if an enemy approached, the keepers of the Hill of Vaws made a great\nfire to warn the inhabitants of the land so that the men might make\nready to defend themselves.\n\nNow in the time when Balaam prophesied of the Star that should betoken\nthe birth of Christ, all the great lords and the people of Ind and in\nthe East desired greatly to see this Star of which he spake; and they\ngave gifts to the keepers of the Hill of Vaws, and bade them, if they\nsaw by night or by day any star in the air, that had not been seen\naforetime, that they, the keepers, should send anon word to the people\nof Ind.\n\nAnd thus was it that for so long a time the fame of this Star was borne\nthroughout the lands of the East. And the more the Star was sought for,\nand the more its fame increased, so much the more all the people of the\nLand of Ind desired to see it. So they ordained twelve of the wisest\nand greatest of the clerks of astronomy, that were in all that country\nabout, and gave them great hire to keep watch upon the Hill of Vaws for\nthe Star that was prophesied of Balaam.\n\nNow, when Christ was born in Bethlehem of Judea, His Star began to rise\nin the manner of a sun, bright shining. It ascended above the Hill\nof Vaws, and all that day in the highest air it abode without moving,\ninsomuch that when the sun was hot and most high there was no difference\nin shining betwixt them.\n\nBut when the day of the nativity was passed the Star ascended up into\nthe firmament, and it had right many long streaks and beams, more\nburning and brighter than a brand of fire; and, as an eagle flying and\nbeating the air with his wings, right so the streaks and beams of the\nStar stirred about.\n\nThen all the people, both man and woman, of all that country about when\nthey saw this marvelous Star, were full of wonder thereat; yet they knew\nwell that it was the Star that was prophesied of Balaam, and long time\nwas desired of all the people in that country.\n\nNow, when the three worshipful kings, who at that time reigned in Ind,\nChaldea, and Persia, were informed by the astronomers of this Star, they\nwere right glad that they had grace to see the Star in their days.\n\nWherefore these three worshipful kings, Melchior, Balthazar, and Jasper\n(in the same hour the Star appeared to all three), though each of them\nwas far from the other, and none knew of the others' purpose, decided\nto go and seek and worship the Lord and King of the Jews, that was new\nborn, as the appearance of the Star announced.\n\nSo each king prepared great and rich gifts, and trains of mules, camels,\nand horses charged with treasure, and together with a great multitude of\npeople they set forth on their journeys.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHILD\n\n\nNow, when these three worshipful kings were passed forth out of their\nkingdoms, the Star went before each king and his people. When they\nstood still and rested, the Star stood still; and when they went forward\nagain, the Star always went before them in virtue and strength and gave\nlight all the way.\n\nAnd, as it is written, in the time that Christ was born, there was peace\nin all the world, wherefore in all the cities and towns through which\nthey went there was no gate shut neither by night nor by day; and all\nthe people of those same cities and towns marveled wonderfully as they\nsaw kings and vast multitudes go by in great haste; but they knew not\nwhat they were, nor whence they came, nor whither they should go.\n\nFurthermore these three kings rode forth over hills, waters, valleys,\nplains, and other divers and perilous places without hindrance, for all\nthe way seemed to them plain and even. And they never took shelter by\nnight nor by day, nor ever rested, nor did their horses and other beasts\never eat or drink till they had come to Bethlehem. And all this time it\ndid seem to them as one day.\n\nBut when the three blessed kings had come near to Jerusalem, then a\ngreat cloud of darkness hid the Star from their sight. And when Melchior\nand his people were come fast by the city, they abode in fog and\ndarkness. Then came Balthazar, and he abode under the same cloud near\nunto Melchior. Thereupon appeared Jasper with all his host.\n\nSo these three glorious kings, each with his host and burdens and\nbeasts, met together in the highway without the city of Jerusalem. And,\nnotwithstanding that none of them ever before had seen the other, nor\nknew him, nor had heard of his coming, yet at their meeting each one\nwith great reverence and joy kissed the other. So afterward, when they\nhad spoken together and each had told his purpose and the cause of his\njourney, they were much more glad and fervent. So they rode forth, and\nat the uprising of the sun, they came into Jerusalem. And yet the Star\nappeared not.\n\nSo then these three worshipful kings, when they were come into the city,\nasked of the people concerning the Child that was born; and when Herod\nheard this he was troubled and all Jerusalem with him, and he privately\nsummoned to him these three kings and learned of them the time when\nthe Star appeared. He then sent them forth, bidding them find the young\nChild and return to him.\n\nNow when these three kings were passed out of Jerusalem the Star\nappeared to them again as it did erst, and went before them till they\nwere come to Bethlehem.\n\nNow, the nearer the kings came to the place where Christ was born, the\nbrighter shined the Star, and they entered Bethlehem the sixth hour\nof the day. And they rode through the streets till they came before a\nlittle house. There the Star stood still, and then descended and shone\nwith so great a light that the little house was full of radiance; till\nanon the Star went upward again into the air, and stood still always\nabove the same place.\n\nAnd the three kings went into the little house and found the Child with\nhis mother, and they fell down and worshiped him, and offered him gifts.\n\nAnd you shall understand that these three kings had brought great gifts\nfrom their own lands, rich ornaments and divers golden vessels, and many\njewels and precious stones, and both gold and silver,--these they had\nbrought to offer to the King of the Jews. But when they found the Lord\nin a little-house, in poor clothes, and when they saw that the Star gave\nso great and holy a light in all the place that it seemed as though they\nstood in a furnace of fire, then were they so sore afraid, that of all\nthe rich jewels and ornaments they had brought with them, they chose\nfrom their treasures what came first to their hands. For Melchior took\na round apple of gold in his hand, and thirty gilt pennies, and these he\noffered unto our Lord; and Balthazar took out of his treasury incense;\nand Jasper took out myrrh, and that he offered with weeping and tears.\n\nAnd now after these three kings had worshiped the Lord, they abode in\nBethlehem for a little space, and as they abode, there came a command\nto them, in their sleep, that they should not return to Herod; and so by\nanother way they went home to their kingdoms. But the Star that had gone\nbefore appeared no more.\n\nSo these three kings, who had suddenly met together in the highway\nbefore Jerusalem, went home together with great joy and honor. And when,\nafter many days' journey over perilous places, they had come to the Hill\nof Vaws, they made there a fair chapel in worship of the Child they had\nsought. Also they agreed to meet together at the same place once in the\nyear, and they ordained that the Hill of Vaws should be the place of\ntheir burial.\n\nSo when the three worshipful kings had done what they would, they took\nleave of each other, and each one with his people rode to his own land\nrejoicing.\n\n\n\n\nHOW THEY CAME TO COLOGNE\n\n\nNow, after many years, a little before the feast of Christmas, there\nappeared a wonderful Star above the cities where these three kings\ndwelt, and they knew thereby that their time was come when they should\npass from earth. Then with one consent they built, at the Hill of\nVaws, a fair and large tomb, and there the three Holy Kings, Melchior,\nBalthazar, and Jasper died, and were buried in the same tomb by their\nsorrowing people.\n\nNow after much time had passed away, Queen Helen, the mother of the\nEmperor Constantine, began to think greatly of the bodies of these three\nkings, and she arrayed herself, and, accompanied by many attendants,\nwent into the Land of Ind.\n\nAnd you shall understand that after she had found the bodies of\nMelchior, Balthazar, and Jasper, Queen Helen put them into one chest\nand ornamented it with great riches, and she brought them into\nConstantinople, with joy and reverence, and laid them in a church that\nis called Saint Sophia; and this church the Emperor Constantine did\nmake,--he alone, with a little child, set up all the marble pillars\nthereof.\n\nNow, after the death of the Emperor Constantine a persecution against\nthe Christian faith arose, and in this persecution the bodies of\nthe three worshipful kings were set at naught. Then came the Emperor\nMauricius of Rome, and, through his counsel, the bodies of these three\nkings were carried to Italy, and there they were laid in a fair church\nin the city of Milan.\n\nThen afterward, in the process of time, the city of Milan rebelled\nagainst the Emperor Frederick the First, and he, being sore beset, sent\nto Rainald, Archbishop of Cologne, asking for help.\n\nThis Archbishop with his army did take the city of Milan, and delivered\nit to the Emperor. And for this service did the Emperor grant, at the\nArchbishop's great entreaty, that he should carry forth to Cologne the\nbodies of the three blessed kings.\n\nThen the Archbishop, with great solemnity and in procession, did carry\nforth from the city of Milan the bodies of the three kings, and brought\nthem unto Cologne and there placed them in the fair church of Saint\nPeter. And all the people of the country roundabout, with all the\nreverence they might, received these relics, and there in the city of\nCologne they are kept and beholden of all manner of nations unto this\nday.\n\n\nThus endeth the legend of these three blessed kings,--Melchior,\nBalthazar, and Jasper.\n\n\n\n\n\nARBOR DAY\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE TREE THAT LONGED FOR OTHER LEAVES\n\nBY FRIEDRICH RUCHERT (TRANSLATED)\n\nThere was a little tree that stood in the woods through both good and\nstormy weather, and it was covered from top to bottom with needles\ninstead of leaves. The needles were sharp and prickly, so the little\ntree said to itself:--\n\n\u201cAll my tree comrades have beautiful green leaves, and I have only sharp\nneedles. No one will touch me. If I could have a wish I would ask for\nleaves of pure gold.\u201d\n\nWhen night came the little tree fell asleep, and, lo! in the morning it\nwoke early and found itself covered with glistening, golden leaves.\n\n\u201cAh, ah!\u201d said the little tree, \u201chow grand I am! No other tree in the\nwoods is dressed in gold.\u201d\n\nBut at evening time there came a peddler with a great sack and a long\nbeard. He saw the glitter of the golden leaves. He picked them all and\nhurried away leaving the little tree cold and bare.\n\n\u201cAlas! alas!\u201d cried the little tree in sorrow; \u201call my golden leaves\nare gone! I am ashamed to stand among the other trees that have such\nbeautiful foliage. If I only had another wish I would ask for leaves of\nglass.\u201d\n\nThen the little tree fell asleep, and when it woke early, it found\nitself covered with bright and shining leaves of glass.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said the little tree, \u201cI am happy. No tree in the woods glistens\nlike me.\u201d\n\nBut there came a fierce storm-wind driving through the woods. It struck\nthe glass, and in a moment all the shining leaves lay shattered on the\nground.\n\n\u201cMy leaves, my glass leaves!\u201d moaned the little tree; \u201cthey lie broken\nin the dust, while all the other trees are still dressed in their\nbeautiful foliage. Oh! if I had another wish I would ask for green\nleaves.\u201d\n\nThen the little tree slept again, and in the morning it was covered with\nfresh, green foliage. And it laughed merrily, and said: \u201cNow, I need not\nbe ashamed any more. I am like my comrades of the woods.\u201d\n\nBut along came a mother-goat, looking for grass and herbs for herself\nand her young ones. She saw the crisp, new leaves; and she nibbled, and\nnibbled, and nibbled them all away, and she ate up both stems and tender\nshoots, till the little tree stood bare.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d cried the little tree in anguish, \u201cI want no more leaves,\nneither gold ones nor glass ones, nor green and red and yellow ones! If\nI could only have my needles once more, I would never complain again.\u201d\n\nAnd sorrowfully the little tree fell asleep, but when it saw itself in\nthe morning sunshine, it laughed and laughed and laughed. And all the\nother trees laughed, too, but the little tree did not care. Why did they\nlaugh? Because in the night all its needles had come again! You may see\nthis for yourself. Just go into the woods and look, but do not touch the\nlittle tree. Why not? BECAUSE IT PRICKS.\n\n\n\n\nWHY THE EVERGREEN TREES NEVER LOSE THEIR LEAVES\n\nBY FLORENCE HOLBROOK\n\nWinter was coming, and the birds had flown far to the south, where the\nair was warm and they could find berries to eat. One little bird had\nbroken its wing and could not fly with the others. It was alone in the\ncold world of frost and snow. The forest looked warm, and it made its\nway to the trees as well as it could, to ask for help.\n\nFirst it came to a birch tree. \u201cBeautiful birch tree,\u201d it said, \u201cmy\nwing is broken, and my friends have flown away. May I live among your\nbranches till they come back to me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, indeed,\u201d answered the birch tree, drawing her fair green leaves\naway. \u201cWe of the great forest have our own birds to help. I can do\nnothing for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe birch is not very strong,\u201d said the little bird to itself, \u201cand it\nmight be that she could not hold me easily. I will ask the oak.\u201d So the\nbird said: \u201cGreat oak tree, you are so strong, will you not let me live\non your boughs till my friends come back in the springtime?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the springtime!\u201d cried the oak. \u201cThat is a long way off. How do I\nknow what you might do in all that time? Birds are always looking for\nsomething to eat, and you might even eat up some of my acorns.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may be that the willow will be kind to me,\u201d thought the bird, and\nit said: \u201cGentle willow, my wing is broken, and I could not fly to\nthe south with the other birds. May I live on your branches till the\nspringtime?\u201d\n\nThe willow did not look gentle then, for she drew herself up proudly and\nsaid: \u201cIndeed, I do not know you, and we willows never talk to people\nwhom we do not know. Very likely there are trees somewhere that will\ntake in strange birds. Leave me at once.\u201d\n\nThe poor little bird did not know what to do. Its wing was not yet\nstrong, but it began to fly away as well as it could. Before it had gone\nfar a voice was heard. \u201cLittle bird,\u201d it said, \u201cwhere are you going?\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, I do not know,\u201d answered the bird sadly. \u201cI am very cold.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome right here, then,\u201d said the friendly spruce tree, for it was her\nvoice that had called.\n\n\u201cYou shall live on my warmest branch all winter if you choose.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you really let me?\u201d asked the little bird eagerly.\n\n\u201cIndeed, I will,\u201d answered the kind-hearted spruce tree. \u201cIf your\nfriends have flown away, it is time for the trees to help you. Here is\nthe branch where my leaves are thickest and softest.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy branches are not very thick,\u201d said the friendly pine tree, \u201cbut I am\nbig and strong, and I can keep the North Wind from you and the spruce.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can help, too,\u201d said a little juniper tree. \u201cI can give you berries\nall winter long, and every bird knows that juniper berries are good.\u201d\n\nSo the spruce gave the lonely little bird a home; the pine kept the cold\nNorth Wind away from it; and the juniper gave it berries to eat. The\nother trees looked on and talked together wisely.\n\n\u201cI would not have strange birds on my boughs,\u201d said the birch.\n\n\u201cI shall not give my acorns away for any one,\u201d said the oak.\n\n\u201cI never have anything to do with strangers,\u201d said the willow, and the\nthree trees drew their leaves closely about them.\n\nIn the morning all those shining, green leaves lay on the ground, for\na cold North Wind had come in the night, and every leaf that it touched\nfell from the tree.\n\n\u201cMay I touch every leaf in the forest?\u201d asked the wind in its frolic.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said the Frost King. \u201cThe trees that have been kind to the little\nbird with the broken wing may keep their leaves.\u201d\n\nThis is why the leaves of the spruce, the pine, and the juniper are\nalways green.\n\n\n\n\nWHY THE ASPEN QUIVERS\n\nOLD LEGEND\n\nLong, long ago, so the legend says, when Joseph and Mary and the Holy\nBabe fled out of Bethlehem into Egypt, they passed through the\ngreen wildwood. And flowers and trees and plants bent their heads in\nreverence.\n\nBut the proud aspen held its head high and refused even to look at the\nHoly Babe. In vain the birds sang in the aspen's branches, entreating it\nto gaze for one moment at the wonderful One; the proud tree still held\nits head erect in scorn.\n\nThen outspake Mary, his mother. \u201cO aspen tree,\u201d she said, \u201cwhy do you\nnot gaze on the Holy Child? Why do you not bow your head? A star arose\nat his birth, angels sang his first lullaby, kings and shepherds came to\nthe brightness of his rising; why, then, O aspen, do you refuse to honor\nyour Lord and mine?\u201d\n\nBut the aspen could not answer. A strange shivering passed through its\nstem and along its boughs, which set its leaves a-quivering. It trembled\nbefore the Holy Babe.\n\nAnd so from age to age, even unto this day, the proud aspen shakes and\nshivers.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WONDER TREE\n\nBY FRIEDRICH ADOLPH KRUMMACHER (ADAPTED)\n\nOne day in the springtime, Prince Solomon was sitting under the palm\ntrees in the royal gardens, when he saw the Prophet Nathan walking near.\n\n\u201cNathan,\u201d said the Prince, \u201cI would see a wonder.\u201d\n\nThe Prophet smiled. \u201cI had the same desire in the days of my youth,\u201d he\nreplied.\n\n\u201cAnd was it fulfilled?\u201d asked Solomon.\n\n\u201cA Man of God came to me,\u201d said Nathan, \u201chaving a pomegranate seed in\nhis hand. 'Behold,' he said, 'what will become of this.' Then he made a\nhole in the ground, and planted the seed, and covered it over. When he\nwithdrew his hand the clods of earth opened, and I saw two small leaves\ncoming forth. But scarcely had I beheld them, when they joined together\nand became a small stem wrapped in bark; and the stem grew before my\neyes,--and it grew thicker and higher and became covered with branches.\n\n\u201cI marveled, but the Man of God motioned me to be silent. 'Behold,' said\nhe, 'new creations begin.'\n\n\u201cThen he took water in the palm of his hand, and sprinkled the branches\nthree times, and, lo! the branches were covered with green leaves, so\nthat a cool shade spread above us, and the air was fined with perfume.\n\n\u201c'From whence come this perfume and this shade?' cried I.\n\n\u201c'Dost thou not see,' he answered, 'these crimson flowers bursting from\namong the leaves, and hanging in clusters?'\n\n\u201cI was about to speak, but a gentle breeze moved the leaves, scattering\nthe petals of the flowers around us. Scarcely had the falling flowers\nreached the ground when I saw ruddy pomegranates hanging beneath the\nleaves of the tree, like almonds on Aaron's rod. Then the Man of God\nleft me, and I was lost in amazement.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere is he, this Man of God?\u201d asked Prince Solomon eagerly. \u201cWhat is\nhis name? Is he still alive?\u201d\n\n\n\u201cSon of David,\u201d answered Nathan, \u201cI have spoken to thee of a vision.\u201d\n\nWhen the Prince heard this he was grieved to the heart. \u201cHow couldst\nthou deceive me thus?\u201d he asked.\n\nBut the Prophet replied: \u201cBehold in thy father's gardens thou mayest\ndaily see the unfolding of wonder trees. Doth not this same miracle\nhappen to the fig, the date, and the pomegranate? They spring from the\nearth, they put out branches and leaves, they flower, they fruit,--not\nin a moment, perhaps, but in months and years,--but canst thou tell the\ndifference betwixt a minute, a month, or a year in the eyes of Him with\nwhom one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE PROUD OAK TREE\n\nOLD FABLE [11]\n\n\n[Footnote 11: From Deutsches Drittes Lesebuch, by W. H. Weick and C.\nGrebner. Copyright, 1886, by Van Antwerp, Bragg & Co. American Book\nCompany, publishers.]\n\n\n(TRANSLATED)\n\nThe oak said to the reed that grew by the river: \u201cIt is no wonder that\nyou make such a sorrowful moaning, for you are so weak that the little\nwren is a burden for you, and the lightest breeze must seem like a\nstorm-wind. Now look at me! No storm has ever been able to bow my\nhead. You will be much safer if you grow close to my side so that I may\nshelter you from the wind that is now playing with my leaves.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not worry about me,\u201d said the reed; \u201cI have less reason to fear the\nwind than you have. I bow myself, but I never break. He who laughs last,\nlaughs best!\u201d\n\nThat night there came a fearful hurricane. The oak stood erect. The\nreed bowed itself before the blast. The wind grew more furious, and,\nuprooting the proud oak, flung it on the ground.\n\nWhen the morning came there stood the slender reed, glittering with\ndewdrops, and softly swaying in the breeze.\n\n\n\n\nBAUCIS AND PHILEMON\n\nADAPTED FROM H. P. MASKEL'S RENDERING OF THE GREEK MYTH\n\nOn the slopes of the Phrygian hills, there once dwelt a pious old couple\nnamed Baucis and Philemon. They had lived all their lives in a tiny\ncottage of wattles, thatched with straw, cheerful and content in spite\nof their poverty.\n\nAs this worthy couple sat dozing by the fireside one evening in the late\nautumn, two strangers came and begged a shelter for the night. They had\nto stoop to enter the humble doorway, where the old man welcomed them\nheartily and bade them rest their weary limbs on the settle before the\nfire.\n\nMeanwhile Baucis stirred the embers, blowing them into a flame with dry\nleaves, and heaped on the fagots to boil the stew-pot. Hanging from the\nblackened beams was a rusty side of bacon. Philemon cut off a rasher\nto roast, and, while his guests refreshed themselves with a wash at the\nrustic trough, he gathered pot-herbs from his patch of garden. Then the\nold woman, her hands trembling with age, laid the cloth and spread the\ntable.\n\nIt was a frugal meal, but one that hungry wayfarers could well relish.\nThe first course was an omelette of curdled milk and eggs, garnished\nwith radishes and served on rude oaken platters. The cups of turned\nbeechwood were filled with homemade wine from an earthen jug. The second\ncourse consisted of dried figs and dates, plums, sweet-smelling apples,\nand grapes, with a piece of clear, white honeycomb. What made the\nmeal more grateful to the guests was the hearty spirit in which it was\noffered. Their hosts gave all they had without stint or grudging.\n\nBut all at once something happened which startled and amazed Baucis and\nPhilemon. They poured out wine for their guests, and, lo! each time the\npitcher filled itself again to the brim.\n\nThe old couple then knew that their guests were not mere mortals;\nindeed, they were no other than Jupiter and Mercury come down to\nearth in the disguise of poor travelers. Being ashamed of their humble\nentertainment, Philemon hurried out and gave chase to his only goose,\nintending to kill and roast it. But his guests forbade him, saying:--\n\n\u201cIn mortal shape we have come down, and at a hundred houses asked\nfor lodging and rest. For answer a hundred doors were shut and locked\nagainst us. You alone, the poorest of all, have received us gladly and\ngiven us of your best. Now it is for us to punish these impious people\nwho treat strangers so churlishly, but you two shall be spared. Only\nleave your cottage and follow us to yonder mountain-top.\u201d\n\nSo saying, Jupiter and Mercury led the way, and the two old folks\nhobbled after them. Presently they reached the top of the mountain, and\nBaucis and Philemon saw all the country round, with villages and people,\nsinking into a marsh; while their own cottage alone was left standing.\n\nAnd while they gazed, their cottage was changed into a white temple. The\ndoorway became a porch with marble columns. The thatch grew into a roof\nof golden tiles. The little garden about their home became a park.\n\nThen Jupiter, regarding Baucis and Philemon with kindly eyes, said:\n\u201cTell me, O good old man and you good wife, what may we do in return for\nyour hospitality?\u201d\n\nPhilemon whispered for a moment with Baucis, and she nodded her\napproval. \u201cWe desire,\u201d he replied, \u201cto be your servants, and to have the\ncare of this temple. One other favor we would ask. From boyhood I have\nloved only Baucis, and she has lived only for me. Let the selfsame hour\ntake us both away together. Let me never see the tomb of my wife, nor\nlet her suffer the misery of mourning my death.\u201d\n\nJupiter and Mercury, pleased with these requests, willingly granted\nboth, and endowed Baucis and Philemon with youth and strength as well.\nThe gods then vanished from their sight, but as long as their lives\nlasted Baucis and Philemon were the guardians of the white temple that\nonce had been their home.\n\nAnd when again old age overtook them, they were standing one day\nin front of the sacred porch, and Baucis, turning her gaze upon her\nhusband, saw him slowly changing into a gnarled oak tree. And Philemon,\nas he felt himself rooted to the ground, saw Baucis at the same time\nturning into a leafy linden.\n\nAnd as their faces disappeared behind the green foliage, each cried\nunto the other, \u201cFarewell, dearest love!\u201d and again, \u201cDearest love,\nfarewell!\u201d And their human forms were changed to trees and branches.\n\nAnd still, if you visit the spot, you may see an oak and a linden tree\nwith branches intertwined.\n\n\n\n\nTHE UNFRUITFUL TREE\n\nBY FRIEDRICH ADOLPH KRUMMACHER\n\nA farmer had a brother in town who was a gardener, and who possessed a\nmagnificent orchard full of the finest fruit trees, so that his skill\nand his beautiful trees were famous everywhere.\n\nOne day the farmer went into town to visit his brother, and was\nastonished at the rows of trees that grew slender and smooth as wax\ntapers.\n\n\u201cLook, my brother,\u201d said the gardener; \u201cI will give you an apple tree,\nthe best from my garden, and you, and your children, and your children's\nchildren shall enjoy it.\u201d\n\nThen the gardener called his workmen and ordered them to take up the\ntree and carry it to his brother's farm. They did so, and the next\nmorning the farmer began to wonder where he should plant it.\n\n\u201cIf I plant it on the hill,\u201d said he to himself, \u201cthe wind might catch\nit and shake down the delicious fruit before it is ripe; if I plant it\nclose to the road, passers-by will see it and rob me of its luscious\napples; but if I plant it too near the door of my house, my servants or\nthe children may pick the fruit.\u201d\n\nSo, after he had thought the matter over, he planted the tree behind his\nbarn, saying to himself: \u201cPrying thieves will not think to look for it\nhere.\u201d\n\nBut behold, the tree bore neither fruit nor blossoms the first year\nnor the second; then the farmer sent for his brother the gardener, and\nreproached him angrily, saying:--\n\n\u201cYou have deceived me, and given me a barren tree instead of a fruitful\none. For, behold, this is the third year and still it brings forth\nnothing but leaves!\u201d\n\nThe gardener, when he saw where the tree was planted, laughed and\nsaid:--\n\n\u201cYou have planted the tree where it is exposed to cold winds, and has\nneither sun nor warmth. How, then, could you expect flowers and fruit?\nYou have planted the tree with a greedy and suspicious heart; how, then,\ncould you expect to reap a rich and generous harvest?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE DRYAD OF THE OLD OAK\n\nBY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL (ADAPTED)\n\nIn olden times there was a youth named Rhoecus. One day as he wandered\nthrough the wood he saw an ancient oak tree, trembling and about to\nfall. Full of pity for so fair a tree, Rhoecus carefully propped up its\ntrunk, and as he did so he heard a soft voice murmur:--\n\n\u201cRhoecus!\u201d\n\nIt sounded like the gentle sighing of the wind through the leaves; and\nwhile Rhoecus paused bewildered to listen, again he heard the murmur\nlike a soft breeze:--\n\n\u201cRhoecus!\u201d\n\nAnd there stood before him, in the green glooms of the shadowy oak, a\nwonderful maiden.\n\n\u201cRhoecus,\u201d said she, in low-toned words, serene and full, and as clear\nas drops of dew, \u201cI am the Dryad of this tree, and with it I am doomed\nto live and die. Thou hadst compassion on my oak, and in saving it thou\nhast saved my life. Now, ask me what thou wilt that I can give, and it\nshall be thine.\u201d\n\n\u201cBeauteous nymph,\u201d answered Rhoecus, with a flutter at the heart,\n\u201csurely nothing will satisfy the craving of my soul save to be with thee\nforever. Give to me thy love!\u201d\n\n\u201cI give it, Rhoecus,\u201d answered she with sadness in her voice, \u201cthough it\nbe a perilous gift. An hour before sunset meet me here.\u201d\n\nAnd straightway she vanished, and Rhoecus could see nothing but the\ngreen glooms beneath the shadowy oak. Not a sound came to his straining\nears but the low, trickling rustle of the leaves, and, from far away on\nthe emerald slope, the sweet sound of an idle shepherd's pipe.\n\nFilled with wonder and joy Rhoecus turned his steps homeward. The earth\nseemed to spring beneath him as he walked. The clear, broad sky looked\nbluer than its wont, and so full of joy was he that he could scarce\nbelieve that he had not wings.\n\nImpatient for the trysting-time, he sought some companions, and to while\naway the tedious hours, he played at dice, and soon forgot all else.\n\nThe dice were rattling their merriest, and Rhoecus had just laughed in\ntriumph at a happy throw, when through the open window of the room\nthere hummed a yellow bee. It buzzed about his ears, and seemed ready\nto alight upon his head. At this Rhoecus laughed, and with a rough,\nimpatient hand he brushed it off and cried:--\n\n\u201cThe silly insect! does it take me for a rose?\u201d\n\nBut still the bee came back. Three times it buzzed about his head, and\nthree times he rudely beat it back. Then straight through the window\nflew the wounded bee, while Rhoecus watched its fight with angry eyes.\n\nAnd as he looked--O sorrow!--the red disk of the setting sun descended\nbehind the sharp mountain peak of Thessaly.\n\nThen instantly the blood sank from his heart, as if its very walls had\ncaved in, for he remembered the trysting-hour-now gone by! Without a\nword he turned and rushed forth madly through the city and the gate,\nover the fields into the wood.\n\nSpent of breath he reached the tree, and, listening fearfully, he heard\nonce more the low voice murmur:--\n\n\u201cRhoecus!\u201d\n\nBut as he looked he could see nothing but the deepening glooms beneath\nthe oak.\n\nThen the voice sighed: \u201cO Rhoecus, nevermore shalt thou behold me by day\nor night! Why didst thou fail to come ere sunset? Why didst thou scorn\nmy humble messenger, and send it back to me with bruised wings? We\nspirits only show ourselves to gentle eyes! And he who scorns the\nsmallest thing alive is forever shut away from all that is beautiful in\nwoods and fields. Farewell! for thou canst see me no more!\u201d\n\nThen Rhoecus beat his breast and groaned aloud. \u201cBe pitiful,\u201d he cried.\n\u201cForgive me yet this once!\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas,\u201d the voice replied, \u201cI am not unmerciful! I can forgive! But I\nhave no skill to heal thy spirit's eyes, nor can I change the temper of\nthy heart.\u201d And then again she murmured, \u201cNevermore!\u201d\n\nAnd after that Rhoecus heard no other sound, save the rustling of the\noak's crisp leaves, like surf upon a distant shore.\n\n\n\n\nDAPHNE\n\nBY OVID (ADAPTED)\n\nIn ancient times, when Apollo, the god of the shining sun, roamed the\nearth, he met Cupid, who with bended bow and drawn string was seeking\nhuman beings to wound with the arrows of love.\n\n\u201cSilly boy,\u201d said Apollo, \u201cwhat dost thou with the warlike bow? Such\nburden best befits my shoulders, for did I not slay the fierce serpent,\nthe Python, whose baleful breath destroyed all that came nigh him?\nWarlike arms are for the mighty, not for boys like thee! Do thou carry a\ntorch with which to kindle love in human hearts, but no longer lay claim\nto my weapon, the bow!\u201d\n\nBut Cupid replied in anger: \u201cLet thy bow shoot what it will, Apollo, but\nmy bow shall shoot THEE!\u201d And the god of love rose up, and beating the\nair with his wings, he drew two magic arrows from his quiver. One was\nof shining gold and with its barbed point could Cupid inflict wounds of\nlove; the other arrow was of dull silver and its wound had the power to\nengender hate.\n\nThe silver arrow Cupid fixed in the breast of Daphne, the daughter of\nthe river-god Peneus; and forthwith she fled away from the homes of men,\nand hunted beasts in the forest.\n\nWith the golden arrow Cupid grievously wounded Apollo, who fleeing to\nthe woods saw there the Nymph Daphne pursuing the deer; and straightway\nthe sun-god fell in love with her beauty. Her golden locks hung down\nupon her neck, her eyes were like stars, her form was slender and\ngraceful and clothed in clinging white. Swifter than the light wind she\nflew, and Apollo followed after.\n\n\u201cO Nymph! daughter of Peneus,\u201d he cried, \u201cstay, I entreat thee! Why dost\nthou fly as a lamb from the wolf, as a deer from the lion, or as a dove\nwith trembling wings Bees from the eagle! I am no common man! I am no\nshepherd! Thou knowest not, rash maid, from whom thou art flying! The\npriests of Delphi and Tenedos pay their service to me. Jupiter is my\nsire. Mine own arrow is unerring, but Cupid's aim is truer, for he has\nmade this wound in my heart! Alas! wretched me! though I am that great\none who discovered the art of healing, yet this love may not be healed\nby my herbs nor my skill!\u201d\n\nBut Daphne stopped not at these words, she flew from him with timid\nstep. The winds fluttered her garments, the light breezes spread her\nflowing locks behind her. Swiftly Apollo drew near even as the keen\ngreyhound draws near to the frightened hare he is pursuing. With\ntrembling limbs Daphne sought the river, the home of her father, Peneus.\nClose behind her was Apollo, the sun-god. She felt his breath on her\nhair and his hand on her shoulder. Her strength was spent, she grew\npale, and in faint accents she implored the river:--\n\n\u201cO save me, my father, save me from Apollo, the sun-god!\u201d\n\nScarcely had she thus spoken before a heaviness seized her limbs. Her\nbreast was covered with bark, her hair grew into green leaves, and her\narms into branches. Her feet, a moment before so swift, became rooted to\nthe ground. And Daphne was no longer a Nymph, but a green laurel tree.\n\nWhen Apollo beheld this change he cried out and embraced the tree, and\nkissed its leaves.\n\n\u201cBeautiful Daphne,\u201d he said, \u201csince thou cannot be my bride, yet shalt\nthou be my tree. Henceforth my hair, my lyre, and my quiver shall be\nadorned with laurel. Thy wreaths shall be given to conquering chiefs,\nto winners of fame and joy; and as my head has never been shorn of its\nlocks, so shalt thou wear thy green leaves, winter and summer--forever!\u201d\n\nApollo ceased speaking and the laurel bent its new-made boughs in\nassent, and its stem seemed to shake and its leaves gently to murmur.\n\n\n\n\n\nBIRD DAY\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD WOMAN WHO BECAME A WOODPECKER\n\nBY PHOEBE CARY (ADAPTED)\n\nAfar in the Northland, where the winter days are so short and the nights\nso long, and where they harness the reindeer to sledges, and where the\nchildren look like bear's cubs in their funny, furry clothes, there,\nlong ago, wandered a good Saint on the snowy roads.\n\nHe came one day to the door of a cottage, and looking in saw a little\nold woman making cakes, and baking them on the hearth.\n\nNow, the good Saint was faint with fasting, and he asked if she would\ngive him one small cake wherewith to stay his hunger.\n\nSo the little old woman made a VERY SMALL cake and placed it on the\nhearth; but as it lay baking she looked at it and thought: \u201cThat is a\nbig cake, indeed, quite too big for me to give away.\u201d\n\nThen she kneaded another cake, much smaller, and laid that on the hearth\nto cook, but when she turned it over it looked larger than the first.\n\nSo she took a tiny scrap of dough, and rolled it out, and rolled it out,\nand baked it as thin as a wafer; but when it was done it looked so large\nthat she could not bear to part with it; and she said: \u201cMy cakes are\nmuch too big to give away,\u201d--and she put them on the shelf.\n\nThen the good Saint grew angry, for he was hungry and faint. \u201cYou are\ntoo selfish to have a human form,\u201d said he. \u201cYou are too greedy to\ndeserve food, shelter, and a warm fire. Instead, henceforth, you shall\nbuild as the birds do, and get your scanty living by picking up nuts and\nberries and by boring, boring all the day long, in the bark of trees.\u201d\n\nHardly had the good Saint said this when the little old woman went\nstraight up the chimney, and came out at the top changed into a\nred-headed woodpecker with coal-black feathers.\n\nAnd now every country boy may see her in the woods, where she lives in\ntrees boring, boring, boring for her food.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOY WHO BECAME A ROBIN\n\nAN OJIBBEWAY LEGEND\n\nBY HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT (ADAPTED)\n\nOnce upon a time there was an old Indian who had an only son, whose name\nwas Opeechee. The boy had come to the age when every Indian lad makes a\nlong fast, in order to secure a Spirit to be his guardian for life.\n\nNow, the old man was very proud, and he wished his son to fast longer\nthan other boys, and to become a greater warrior than all others. So he\ndirected him to prepare with solemn ceremonies for the fast.\n\nAfter the boy had been in the sweating lodge and bath several times,\nhis father commanded him to lie down upon a clean mat, in a little lodge\napart from the rest.\n\n\u201cMy son,\u201d said he, \u201cendure your hunger like a man, and at the end of\nTWELVE DAYS, you shall receive food and a blessing from my hands.\u201d\n\nThe boy carefully did all that his father commanded, and lay quietly\nwith his face covered, awaiting the arrival of his guardian Spirit who\nwas to bring him good or bad dreams.\n\nHis father visited him every day, encouraging him to endure with\npatience the pangs of hunger and thirst. He told him of the honor and\nrenown that would be his if he continued his fast to the end of the\ntwelve days.\n\nTo all this the boy replied not, but lay on his mat without a murmur of\ndiscontent, until the ninth day; when he said:--\n\n\u201cMy father, the dreams tell me of evil. May I break my fast now, and at\na better time make a new one?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son,\u201d replied the old man, \u201cyou know not what you ask. If you get\nup now, all your glory will depart. Wait patiently a little longer. You\nhave but three days more to fast, then glory and honor will be yours.\u201d\n\nThe boy said nothing more, but, covering himself closer, he lay until\nthe eleventh day, when he spoke again:--\n\n\u201cMy father,\u201d said he, \u201cthe dreams forebode evil. May I break my fast\nnow, and at a better time make a new one?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son,\u201d replied the old man again, \u201cyou know not what you ask. Wait\npatiently a little longer. You have but one more day to fast. To-morrow\nI will myself prepare a meal and bring it to you.\u201d\n\nThe boy remained silent, beneath his covering, and motionless except for\nthe gentle heaving of his breast.\n\nEarly the next morning his father, overjoyed at having gained his end,\nprepared some food. He took it and hastened to the lodge intending to\nset it before his son.\n\nOn coming to the door of the lodge what was his surprise to hear the boy\ntalking to some one. He lifted the curtain hanging before the doorway,\nand looking in saw his son painting his breast with vermilion. And as\nthe lad laid on the bright color as far back on his shoulders as he\ncould reach, he was saying to himself:--\n\n\u201cMy father has destroyed my fortune as a man. He would not listen to my\nrequests. I shall be happy forever, because I was obedient to my parent;\nbut he shall suffer. My guardian Spirit has given me a new form, and now\nI must go!\u201d\n\nAt this his father rushed into the lodge, crying:\n\n\u201cMy son! my son! I pray you leave me not!\u201d\n\nBut the boy, with the quickness of a bird, flew to the top of the lodge,\nand perching upon the highest pole, was instantly changed into a most\nbeautiful robin redbreast.\n\nHe looked down on his father with pity in his eyes, and said:--\n\n\u201cDo not sorrow, O my father, I am no longer your boy, but Opeechee the\nrobin. I shall always be a friend to men, and live near their dwellings.\nI shall ever be happy and content. Every day will I sing you songs of\njoy. The mountains and fields yield me food. My pathway is in the bright\nair.\u201d\n\nThen Opeechee the robin stretched himself as if delighting in his new\nwings, and caroling his sweetest song, he flew away to the near-by\ntrees.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW\n\nBY A. B. MITFORD (ADAPTED)\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a little old man and a little old woman.\nThe little old man had a kind heart, and he kept a young sparrow, which\nhe cared for tenderly. Every morning it used to sing at the door of his\nhouse.\n\nNow, the little old woman was a cross old thing, and one day when she\nwas going to starch her linen, the sparrow pecked at her paste. Then she\nflew into a great rage and cut the sparrow's tongue and let the bird fly\naway.\n\nWhen the little old man came home from the hills, where he had been\nchopping wood, he found the sparrow gone.\n\n\u201cWhere is my little sparrow?\u201d asked he.\n\n\u201cIt pecked at my starching-paste,\u201d answered the little old woman, \u201cso I\ncut its evil tongue and let it fly away.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! Alas!\u201d cried the little old man. \u201cPoor thing! Poor thing! Poor\nlittle tongue-cut sparrow! Where is your home now?\u201d\n\nAnd then he wandered far and wide seeking his pet and crying:--\n\n\u201cMr. Sparrow, Mr. Sparrow, where are you living?\u201d\n\nAnd he wandered on and on, over mountain and valley, and dale and river,\nuntil one day at the foot of a certain mountain he met the lost bird.\nThe little old man was filled with joy and the sparrow welcomed him with\nits sweetest song.\n\nIt led the little old man to its nest-house, introduced him to its wife\nand small sparrows, and set before him all sorts of good things to eat\nand drink.\n\n\u201cPlease partake of our humble fare,\u201d sang the sparrow; \u201cpoor as it is,\nyou are welcome.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a polite sparrow,\u201d answered the little old man, and he stayed for\na long time as the bird's guest. At last one day the little old man said\nthat he must take his leave and return home.\n\n\u201cWait a bit,\u201d said the sparrow.\n\nAnd it went into the house and brought out two wicker baskets. One was\nvery heavy and the other light.\n\n\u201cTake the one you wish,\u201d said the sparrow, \u201cand good fortune go with\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am very feeble,\u201d answered the little old man, \u201cso I will take the\nlight one.\u201d\n\nHe thanked the sparrow, and, shouldering the basket, said good-bye. Then\nhe trudged off leaving the sparrow family sad and lonely.\n\nWhen he reached home the little old woman was very angry, and began to\nscold him, saying:--\n\n\u201cWell, and pray where have you been all these days? A pretty thing,\nindeed, for you to be gadding about like this!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d he replied, \u201cI have been on a visit to the tongue-cut sparrow, and\nwhen I came away it gave me this wicker basket as a parting gift.\u201d\n\nThen they opened the basket to see what was inside, and lo and behold!\nit was full of gold, silver, and other precious things!\n\nThe little old woman was as greedy as she was cross, and when she saw\nall the riches spread before her, she could not contain herself for joy.\n\n\u201cHo! Ho!\u201d cried she. \u201cNow I'll go and call on the sparrow, and get a\npretty present, too!\u201d\n\nShe asked the old man the way to the sparrow's house and set forth on\nher journey. And she wandered on and on over mountain and valley, and\ndale and river, until at last she saw the tongue-cut sparrow.\n\n\u201cWell met, well met, Mr. Sparrow,\u201d cried she. \u201cI have been looking\nforward with much pleasure to seeing you.\u201d And then she tried to flatter\nit with soft, sweet words.\n\nSo the bird had to invite her to its nest-house, but it did not feast\nher nor say anything about a parting gift. At last the little old woman\nhad to go, and she asked for something to carry with her to remember the\nvisit by. The sparrow, as before, brought out two wicker baskets. One\nwas very heavy and the other light.\n\nThe greedy little old woman, choosing the heavy one, carried it off with\nher.\n\nShe hurried home as fast as she was able, and closing her doors and\nwindows so that no one might see, opened the basket. And, lo and behold!\nout jumped all sorts of wicked hobgoblins and imps, and they scratched\nand pinched her to death.\n\nAs for the little old man he adopted a son, and his family grew rich and\nprosperous.\n\n\n\n\nTHE QUAILS--A LEGEND OF THE JATAKA\n\nFROM THE RIVERSIDE FOURTH READER\n\nAges ago a flock of more than a thousand quails lived together in a\nforest in India. They would have been happy, but that they were in great\ndread of their enemy, the quail-catcher. He used to imitate the call\nof the quail; and when they gathered together in answer to it, he would\nthrow a great net over them, stuff them into his basket, and carry them\naway to be sold.\n\nNow, one of the quails was very wise, and he said:--\n\n\u201cBrothers! I've thought of a good plan. In future, as soon as the fowler\nthrows his net over us, let each one put his head through a mesh in the\nnet and then all lift it up together and fly away with it. When we have\nflown far enough, we can let the net drop on a thorn bush and escape\nfrom under it.\u201d\n\nAll agreed to the plan; and next day when the fowler threw his net, the\nbirds all lifted it together in the very way that the wise quail had\ntold them, threw it on a thorn bush and escaped. While the fowler tried\nto free his net from the thorns, it grew dark, and he had to go home.\n\nThis happened many days, till at last the fowler's wife grew angry and\nasked her husband:--\n\n\u201cWhy is it that you never catch any more quail?\u201d\n\nThen the fowler said: \u201cThe trouble is that all the birds work together\nand help one another. If they would only quarrel, I could catch them\nfast enough.\u201d\n\nA few days later, one of the quails accidentally trod on the head of one\nof his brothers, as they alighted on the feeding-ground.\n\n\u201cWho trod on my head?\u201d angrily inquired the quail who was hurt.\n\n\u201cDon't be angry, I didn't mean to tread on you,\u201d said the first quail.\n\nBut the brother quail went on quarreling.\n\n\u201cI lifted all the weight of the net; you didn't help at all,\u201d he cried.\n\nThat made the first quail angry, and before long all were drawn into\nthe dispute. Then the fowler saw his chance. He imitated the cry of the\nquail and cast his net over those who came together. They were still\nboasting and quarreling, and they did not help one another lift the net.\nSo the hunter lifted the net himself and crammed them into his basket.\nBut the wise quail gathered his friends together and flew far away, for\nhe knew that quarrels are the root of misfortune.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MAGPIE'S NEST\n\nBY JOSEPH JACOBS\n\nAll the birds of the air came to the magpie and asked her to teach\nthem how to build nests. For the magpie is the cleverest bird of all\nat building nests. So she put all the birds round her and began to show\nthem how to do it. First of all she took some mud and made a sort of\nround cake with it.\n\n\u201cOh, that's how it's done!\u201d said the thrush, and away it flew; and so\nthat's how thrushes build their nests.\n\nThen the magpie took some twigs and arranged them round in the mud.\n\n\u201cNow I know all about it!\u201d said the blackbird, and off it flew; and\nthat's how the blackbirds make their nests to this very day.\n\nThen the magpie put another layer of mud over the twigs.\n\n\u201cOh, that 's quite obvious!\u201d said the wise owl, and away it flew; and\nowls have never made better nests since.\n\nAfter this the magpie took some twigs and twined them round the outside.\n\n\u201cThe very thing!\u201d said the sparrow, and off he went; so sparrows make\nrather slovenly nests to this day.\n\nWell, then Madge magpie took some feathers and stuff, and lined the nest\nvery comfortably with it.\n\n\u201cThat suits me!\u201d cried the starling, and off it flew; and very\ncomfortable nests have starlings.\n\nSo it went on, every bird taking away some knowledge of how to build\nnests, but none of them waiting to the end.\n\nMeanwhile Madge magpie went on working and working without looking up,\ntill the only bird that remained was the turtle-dove, and that hadn't\npaid any attention all along, but only kept on saying its silly cry:\n\u201cTake two, Taffy, take two-o-o-o!\u201d\n\nAt last the magpie heard this just as she was putting a twig across, so\nshe said: \u201cOne's enough.\u201d\n\nBut the turtle-dove kept on saying: \u201cTake two, Taffy, take two-o-o-o!\u201d\n\nThen the magpie got angry and said: \u201cOne's enough, I tell you!\u201d\n\nStill the turtle-dove cried: \u201cTake two, Taffy, take two-o-o-o!\u201d\n\nAt last, and at last, the magpie looked up and saw nobody near her but\nthe silly turtle-dove, and then she got rarely angry and flew away and\nrefused to tell the birds how to build nests again.\n\nAnd that is why different birds build their nests differently.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GREEDY GEESE\n\nFROM IL LIBRO D'ORO (ADAPTED)\n\nMany years ago there was near the sea a convent famed for the rich crops\nof grain that grew on its farm. On a certain year a large flock of wild\ngeese descended on its fields and devoured first the corn, and then the\ngreen blades.\n\nThe superintendent of the farm hastened to the convent and called the\nlady abbess.\n\n\u201cHoly mother,\u201d said he, \u201cthis year the nuns will have to fast\ncontinually, for there will be no food.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy is that?\u201d asked the abbess.\n\n\u201cBecause,\u201d answered the superintendent, \u201ca flood of wild geese has\nrained upon the land, and they have eaten up the corn, nor have they\nleft a single green blade.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it possible,\u201d said the abbess, \u201cthat these wicked birds have no\nrespect for the property of the convent! They shall do penance for their\nmisdeeds. Return at once to the fields, and order the geese from me to\ncome without delay to the convent door, so that they may receive just\npunishment for their greediness.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, mother,\u201d said the superintendent, \u201cthis is not a time for jesting!\nThese are not sheep to be guided into the fold, but birds with long,\nstrong wings, to fly away with.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you understand me!\u201d answered the abbess. \u201cGo at once, and bid them\ncome to me without delay, and render an account of their misdeeds.\u201d\n\nThe superintendent ran back to the farm, and found the flock of\nevildoers still there. He raised his voice and clapping his hands,\ncried:--\n\n\u201cCome, come, ye greedy geese! The lady abbess commands you to hasten to\nthe convent door!\u201d\n\nWonderful sight! Hardly had he uttered these words than the geese raised\ntheir necks as if to listen, then, without spreading their wings, they\nplaced themselves in single file, and in regular order began to march\ntoward the convent. As they proceeded they bowed their heads as if\nconfessing their fault and as though about to receive punishment.\n\nArriving at the convent, they entered the courtyard in exact order, one\nbehind the other, and there awaited the coming of the abbess. All night\nthey stood thus without making a sound, as if struck dumb by their\nguilty consciences. But when morning came, they uttered the most pitiful\ncries as though asking pardon and permission to depart.\n\nThen the lady abbess, taking compassion on the repentant birds, appeared\nwith some nuns upon a balcony. Long she talked to the geese, asking them\nwhy they had stolen the convent grain. She threatened them with a long\nfast, and then, softening, began to offer them pardon if they would\nnever again attack her lands, nor eat her corn. To which the geese bowed\ntheir heads low in assent. Then the abbess gave them her blessing and\npermission to depart.\n\nHardly had she done so when the geese, spreading their wings, made a\njoyous circle above the convent towers, and flew away. Alighting at some\ndistance they counted their number and found one missing. For, alas! in\nthe night, when they had been shut in the courtyard, the convent cook,\nseeing how fat they were, had stolen one bird and had killed, roasted,\nand eaten it.\n\nWhen the birds discovered that one of their number was missing, they\nagain took wing and, hovering over the convent, they uttered mournful\ncries, complaining of the loss of their comrade, and imploring the\nabbess to return him to the flock.\n\nNow, when the lady abbess heard these melancholy pleas, she assembled\nher household, and inquired of each member where the bird might be.\nThe cook, fearing that it might be already known to her, confessed the\ntheft, and begged for pardon.\n\n\u201cYou have been very audacious,\u201d said the abbess, \u201cbut at least collect\nthe bones and bring them to me.\u201d\n\nThe cook did as directed, and the abbess at a word caused the bones to\ncome together and to assume flesh, and afterwards feathers, and, lo! the\noriginal bird rose up.\n\nThe geese, having received their lost companion, rejoiced loudly,\nand, beating their wings gratefully, made many circles over the sacred\ncloister, before they flew away. Neither did they in future ever dare\nto place a foot on the lands of the convent, nor to touch one blade of\ngrass.\n\n\n\n\nTHE KING OF THE BIRDS\n\nBY THE BROTHERS GRIMM (TRANSLATED)\n\nOne day the birds took it into their heads that they would like a\nmaster, and that one of their number must be chosen king. A meeting of\nall the birds was called, and on a beautiful May morning they assembled\nfrom woods and fields and meadows. The eagle, the robin, the bluebird,\nthe owl, the lark, the sparrow were all there. The cuckoo came, and the\nlapwing, and so did all the other birds, too numerous to mention. There\nalso came a very little bird that had no name at all.\n\nThere was great confusion and noise. There was piping, hissing,\nchattering and clacking, and finally it was decided that the bird that\ncould fly the highest should be king.\n\nThe signal was given and all the birds flew in a great flock into the\nair. There was a loud rustling and whirring and beating of wings. The\nair was full of dust, and it seemed as if a black cloud were floating\nover the field.\n\nThe little birds soon grew tired and fell back quickly to earth. The\nlarger ones held out longer, and flew higher and higher, but the eagle\nflew highest of any. He rose, and rose, until he seemed to be flying\nstraight into the sun.\n\nThe other birds gave out and one by one they fell back to earth; and\nwhen the eagle saw this he thought, \u201cWhat is the use of flying any\nhigher? It is settled: I am king!\u201d\n\nThen the birds below called in one voice: \u201cCome back, come back! You\nmust be our king! No one can fly as high as you.\u201d\n\n\u201cExcept me!\u201d cried a shrill, shrill voice, and the little bird without\na name rose from the eagle's back, where he had lain hidden in the\nfeathers, and he flew into the air. Higher and higher he mounted till\nhe was lost to sight, then, folding his wings together, he sank to earth\ncrying shrilly: \u201cI am king! I am king!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou, our king!\u201d the birds cried in anger; \u201cyou have done this by\ntrickery and cunning. We will not have you to reign over us.\u201d\n\nThen the birds gathered together again and made another condition, that\nhe should be king who could go the deepest into the earth.\n\nHow the goose wallowed in the sand, and the duck strove to dig a hole!\nAll the other birds, too, tried to hide themselves in the ground.\nThe little bird without a name found a mouse's hole, and creeping in\ncried:--\n\n\u201cI am king! I am king!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou, our king!\u201d all the birds cried again, more angrily than before.\n\u201cDo you think that we would reward your cunning in this way? No, no! You\nshall stay in the earth till you die of hunger!\u201d\n\nSo they shut up the little bird in the mouse's hole, and bade the owl\nwatch him carefully night and day. Then all the birds went home to bed,\nfor they were very tired; but the owl found it lonely and wearisome\nsitting alone staring at the mouse's hole.\n\n\u201cI can close one eye and watch with the other,\u201d he thought. So he closed\none eye and stared steadfastly with the other; but before he knew it he\nforgot to keep that one open, and both eyes were fast asleep.\n\nThen the little bird without a name peeped out, and when he saw Master\nOwl's two eyes tight shut, he slipped from the hole and flew away.\n\nFrom this time on the owl has not dared to show himself by day lest\nthe birds should pull him to pieces. He flies about only at night-time,\nhating and pursuing the mouse for having made the hole into which the\nlittle bird crept.\n\nAnd the little bird also keeps out of sight, for he fears lest the other\nbirds should punish him for his cunning. He hides in the hedges, and\nwhen he thinks himself quite safe, he sings out: \u201cI am king! I am king!\u201d\n\nAnd the other birds in mockery call out: \u201cYes, yes, the hedge-king! the\nhedge-king!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH\n\nBY ABBIE FARWELL BROWN\n\nThe dove and the wrinkled little bat once went on a journey together.\nWhen it came toward night a storm arose, and the two companions sought\neverywhere for a shelter. But all the birds were sound asleep in their\nnests and the animals in their holes and dens. They could find no\nwelcome anywhere until they came to the hollow tree where old Master Owl\nlived, wide awake in the dark.\n\n\u201cLet us knock here,\u201d said the shrewd bat; \u201cI know the old fellow is not\nasleep. This is his prowling hour, and but that it is a stormy night he\nwould be abroad hunting.--What ho, Master Owl!\u201d he squeaked, \u201cwill you\nlet in two storm-tossed travelers for a night's lodging?\u201d\n\nGruffly the selfish old owl bade them enter, and grudgingly invited them\nto share his supper. The poor dove was so tired that she could scarcely\neat, but the greedy bat's spirits rose as soon as he saw the viands\nspread before him. He was a sly fellow, and immediately began to flatter\nhis host into good humor. He praised the owl's wisdom and his courage,\nhis gallantry and his generosity; though every one knew that however\nwise old Master Owl might be, he was neither brave nor gallant. As\nfor his generosity--both the dove and the bat well remembered his\nselfishness toward the poor wren, when the owl alone of all the birds\nrefused to give the little fire-bringer a feather to help cover his\nscorched and shivering body.\n\nAll this flattery pleased the owl. He puffed and ruffled himself, trying\nto look as wise, gallant, and brave as possible. He pressed the bat to\nhelp himself more generously to the viands, which invitation the sly\nfellow was not slow to accept.\n\nDuring this time the dove had not uttered a word. She sat quite still\nstaring at the bat, and wondering to hear such insincere speeches of\nflattery. Suddenly the owl turned to her.\n\n\u201cAs for you, Miss Pink-Eyes,\u201d he said gruffly, \u201cyou keep careful\nsilence. You are a dull table-companion. Pray, have you nothing to say\nfor yourself?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d exclaimed the mischievous bat; \u201chave you no words of praise for\nour kind host? Methinks he deserves some return for this wonderfully\ngenerous, agreeable, tasteful, well-appointed, luxurious, elegant, and\naltogether acceptable banquet. What have you to say, O little dove?\u201d\n\nBut the dove hung her head, ashamed of her companion, and said very\nsimply: \u201cO Master Owl, I can only thank you with all my heart for the\nhospitality and shelter which you have given me this night. I was beaten\nby the storm, and you took me in. I was hungry, and you gave me your\nbest to eat. I cannot flatter nor make pretty speeches like the bat. I\nnever learned such manners. But I thank you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d cried the bat, pretending to be shocked, \u201cis that all you have\nto say to our obliging host? Is he not the wisest, bravest, most gallant\nand generous of gentlemen? Have you no praise for his noble character as\nwell as for his goodness to us? I am ashamed of you! You do not deserve\nsuch hospitality. You do not deserve this shelter.\u201d\n\nThe dove remained silent. Like Cordelia in the play she could not speak\nuntruths even for her own happiness.\n\n\u201cTruly, you are an unamiable guest,\u201d snarled the owl, his yellow eyes\ngrowing keen and fierce with anger and mortified pride. \u201cYou are an\nungrateful bird, Miss, and the bat is right. You do not deserve this\ngenerous hospitality which I have offered, this goodly shelter which you\nasked. Away with you! Leave my dwelling! Pack off into the storm and see\nwhether or not your silence will soothe the rain and the wind. Be off, I\nsay!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, away with her!\u201d echoed the bat, flapping his leathery wings.\n\nAnd the two heartless creatures fell upon the poor little dove and drove\nher out into the dark and stormy night.\n\nPoor little dove! All night she was tossed and beaten about shelterless\nin the storm, because she had been too truthful to flatter the vain old\nowl. But when the bright morning dawned, draggled and weary as she was,\nshe flew to the court of King Eagle and told him all her trouble. Great\nwas the indignation of that noble bird.\n\n\u201cFor his flattery and his cruelty let the bat never presume to fly\nabroad until the sun goes down,\u201d he cried. \u201cAs for the owl, I have\nalready doomed him to this punishment for his treatment of the wren. But\nhenceforth let no bird have anything to do with either of them, the\nbat or the owl. Let them be outcasts and night-prowlers, enemies to be\nattacked and punished if they appear among us, to be avoided by all in\ntheir loneliness. Flattery and inhospitality, deceit and cruelty,--what\nare more hideous than these? Let them cover themselves in darkness and\nshun the happy light of day.\n\n\u201cAs for you, little dove, let this be a lesson to you to shun the\ncompany of flatterers, who are sure to get you into trouble. But you\nshall always be loved for your simplicity and truth. And as a token\nof our affection your name shall be used by poets as long as the world\nshall last to rhyme with LOVE.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE BUSY BLUE JAY\n\nBY OLIVE THORNE MILLER (ADAPTED)\n\nOne of the most interesting birds who ever lived in my Bird Room was a\nblue jay named Jakie. He was full of business from morning till night,\nscarcely ever a moment still.\n\nPoor little fellow! He had been stolen from the nest before he could\nfly, and reared in a house, long before he was given to me. Of course he\ncould not be set free, for he did not know how to take care of himself.\n\nJays are very active birds, and being shut up in a room, my blue jay had\nto find things to do, to keep himself busy. If he had been allowed to\ngrow up out of doors, he would have found plenty to do, planting acorns\nand nuts, nesting, and bringing up families.\n\nSometimes the things he did in the house were what we call mischief\nbecause they annoy us, such as hammering the woodwork to pieces, tearing\nbits out of the leaves of books, working holes in chair seats, or\npounding a cardboard box to pieces. But how is a poor little bird to\nknow what is mischief?\n\nMany things which Jakie did were very funny. For instance, he made it\nhis business to clear up the room. When he had more food than he\ncould eat at the moment, he did not leave it around, but put it away\ncarefully,--not in the garbage pail, for that was not in the room, but\nin some safe nook where it did not offend the eye. Sometimes it was\nbehind the tray in his cage, or among the books on the shelf. The places\nhe liked best were about me,--in the fold of a ruffle or the loop of\na bow on my dress, and sometimes in the side of my slipper. The very\nchoicest place of all was in my loosely bound hair. That, of course, I\ncould not allow, and I had to keep very close watch of him, for fear I\nmight have a bit of bread or meat thrust among my locks.\n\nIn his clearing up he always went carefully over the floor, picking\nup pins, or any little thing he could find, and I often dropped burnt\nmatches, buttons, and other small things to give him something to do.\nThese he would pick up and put nicely away.\n\nPins Jakie took lengthwise in his beak, and at first I thought he had\nswallowed them, till I saw him hunt up a proper place to hide them. The\nplace he chose was between the leaves of a book. He would push a pin far\nin out of sight, and then go after another. A match he always tried to\nput in a crack, under the baseboard, between the breadths of matting, or\nunder my rockers. He first placed it, and then tried to hammer it in\nout of sight. He could seldom get it in far enough to suit him, and this\nworried him. Then he would take it out and try another place.\n\nOnce the blue jay found a good match, of the parlor match variety. He\nput it between the breadths of matting, and then began to pound on it\nas usual. Pretty soon he hit the unburnt end and it went off with a loud\ncrack, as parlor matches do. Poor Jakie jumped two feet into the air,\nnearly frightened out of his wits; and I was frightened, too, for I\nfeared he might set the house on fire.\n\nOften when I got up from my chair a shower of the bird's playthings\nwould fall from his various hiding-places about my dress,--nails,\nmatches, shoe-buttons, bread-crumbs, and other things. Then he had to\nbegin his work all over again.\n\nJakie liked a small ball or a marble. His game was to give it a hard\npeck and see it roll. If it rolled away from him, he ran after it and\npecked again; but sometimes it rolled toward him, and then he bounded\ninto the air as if he thought it would bite. And what was funny, he was\nalways offended at this conduct of the ball, and went off sulky for a\nwhile.\n\n\nHe was a timid little fellow. Wind or storm outside the windows made him\nwild. He would fly around the room, squawking at the top of his voice;\nand the horrible tin horns the boys liked to blow at Thanksgiving and\nChristmas drove him frantic.\n\nOnce I brought a Christmas tree into the room to please the birds, and\nall were delighted with it except my poor little blue jay, who was much\nafraid of it. Think of the sadness of a bird being afraid of a tree!\n\n\nII\n\n\nJakie had decided opinions about people who came into the room to see\nme, or to see the birds. At some persons he would squawk every moment.\nOthers he saluted with a queer cry like \u201cOb-ble! ob-ble! ob-ble!\u201d Once\nwhen a lady came in with a baby, he fixed his eyes on that infant with a\nsavage look as if he would like to peck it, and jumped back and forth in\nhis cage, panting but perfectly silent.\n\nJakie was very devoted to me. He always greeted me with a low, sweet\nchatter, with wings quivering, and, if he were out of the cage, he would\ncome on the back of my chair and touch my cheek or lips very gently with\nhis beak, or offer me a bit of food if he had any; and to me alone when\nno one else was near, he sang a low, exquisite song. I afterwards\nheard a similar song sung by a wild blue jay to his mate while she was\nsitting, and so I knew that my dear little captive had given me his\nsweetest--his love-song.\n\nOne of Jakie's amusements was dancing across the back of a tall chair,\ntaking funny little steps, coming down hard, \u201cjouncing\u201d his body, and\nwhistling as loud as he could. He would keep up this funny performance\nas long as anybody would stand before him and pretend to dance too.\n\nMy jay was fond of a sensation. One of his dearest bits of fun was to\ndrive the birds into a panic. This he did by flying furiously around the\nroom, feathers rustling, and squawking as loud as he could. He usually\nmanaged to fly just over the head of each bird, and as he came like a\ncatapult, every one flew before him, so that in a minute the room was\nfull of birds flying madly about, trying to get out of his way. This\ngave him great pleasure.\n\nOnce a grasshopper got into the Bird Room, probably brought in clinging\nto some one's dress in the way grasshoppers do. Jakie was in his cage,\nbut he noticed the stranger instantly, and I opened the door for him.\nHe went at once to look at the grasshopper, and when it hopped he was\nso startled that he hopped too. Then he picked the insect up, but he\ndid not know what to do with it, so he dropped it again. Again the\ngrasshopper jumped directly up, and again the jay did the same. This\nthey did over and over, till every one was tired laughing at them. It\nlooked as if they were trying to see who could jump the highest.\n\nThere was another bird in the room, however, who knew what grasshoppers\nwere good for. He was an orchard oriole, and after looking on awhile,\nhe came down and carried off the hopper to eat. The jay did not like\nto lose his plaything; he ran after the thief, and stood on the floor\ngiving low cries and looking on while the oriole on a chair was eating\nthe dead grasshopper. When the oriole happened to drop it, Jakie,--who\nhad got a new idea what to do with grasshoppers,--snatched it up and\ncarried it under a chair and finished it.\n\nI could tell many more stories about my bird, but I have told them\nbefore in one of my \u201cgrown-up\u201d books, so I will not repeat them here.\n\n\n\n\nBABES IN THE WOODS\n\nBY JOHN BURROUGHS\n\nOne day in early May, Ted and I made an expedition to the Shattega, a\nstill, dark, deep stream that loiters silently through the woods not far\nfrom my cabin. As we paddled along, we were on the alert for any bit of\nwild life of bird or beast that might turn up.\n\nThere were so many abandoned woodpecker chambers in the small dead\ntrees as we went along that I determined to secure the section of a tree\ncontaining a good one to take home and put up for the bluebirds. \u201cWhy\ndon't the bluebirds occupy them here?\u201d inquired Ted. \u201cOh,\u201d I replied,\n\u201cblue birds do not come so far into the woods as this. They prefer\nnesting-places in the open, and near human habitations.\u201d After carefully\nscrutinizing several of the trees, we at last saw one that seemed to\nfill the bill. It was a small dead tree-trunk seven or eight inches in\ndiameter, that leaned out over the water, and from which the top had\nbeen broken. The hole, round and firm, was ten or twelve feet above us.\nAfter considerable effort I succeeded in breaking the stub off near the\nground, and brought it down into the boat.\n\n\u201cJust the thing,\u201d I said; \u201csurely the bluebirds will prefer this to an\nartificial box.\u201d But, lo and behold, it already had bluebirds in it! We\nhad not heard a sound or seen a feather till the trunk was in our hands,\nwhen, on peering into the cavity, we discovered two young bluebirds\nabout half grown. This was a predicament indeed!\n\nWell, the only thing we could do was to stand the tree-trunk up again as\nwell as we could, and as near as we could to where it had stood before.\nThis was no easy thing. But after a time we had it fairly well replaced,\none end standing in the mud of the shallow water and the other resting\nagainst a tree. This left the hole to the nest about ten feet below and\nto one side of its former position. Just then we heard the voice of one\nof the parent birds, and we quickly paddled to the other side of the\nstream, fifty feet away, to watch her proceedings, saying to each other,\n\u201cToo bad! too bad!\u201d The mother bird had a large beetle in her beak.\nShe alighted upon a limb a few feet above the former site of her nest,\nlooked down upon us, uttered a note or two, and then dropped down\nconfidently to the point in the vacant air where the entrance to her\nnest had been but a few moments before. Here she hovered on the wing\na second or two, looking for something that was not there, and then\nreturned to the perch she had just left, apparently not a little\ndisturbed. She hammered the beetle rather excitedly upon the limb a few\ntimes, as if it were in some way at fault, then dropped down to try for\nher nest again. Only vacant air there! She hovers and hovers, her blue\nwings flickering in the checkered light; surely that precious hole MUST\nbe there; but no, again she is baffled, and again she returns to her\nperch, and mauls the poor beetle till it must be reduced to a pulp. Then\nshe makes a third attempt, then a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth, till\nshe becomes very much excited. \u201cWhat could have happened? Am I dreaming?\nHas that beetle hoodooed me?\u201d she seems to say, and in her dismay she\nlets the bug drop, and looks bewilderedly about her. Then she flies away\nthrough the woods, calling. \u201cGoing for her mate,\u201d I said to Ted. \u201cShe is\nin deep trouble, and she wants sympathy and help.\u201d\n\nIn a few minutes we heard her mate answer, and presently the two birds\ncame hurrying to the spot, both with loaded beaks. They perched upon the\nfamiliar limb above the site of the nest, and the mate seemed to say,\n\u201cMy dear, what has happened to you? I can find that nest.\u201d And he dived\ndown, and brought up in the empty air just as the mother had done. How\nhe winnowed it with his eager wings! How he seemed to bear on to that\nblank space! His mate sat regarding him intently, confident, I think,\nthat he would find the clue. But he did not. Baffled and excited, he\nreturned to the perch beside her. Then she tried again, then he rushed\ndown once more, then they both assaulted the place, but it would not\ngive up its secret. They talked, they encouraged each other, and they\nkept up the search, now one, now the other, now both together. Sometimes\nthey dropped down to within a few feet of the entrance to the nest,\nand we thought they would surely find it. No, their minds and eyes were\nintent only upon that square foot of space where the nest had been. Soon\nthey withdrew to a large limb many feet higher up, and seemed to say to\nthemselves,\n\n\u201cWell, it is not there, but it must be here somewhere; let us look\nabout.\u201d A few minutes elapsed, when we saw the mother bird spring from\nher perch and go straight as an arrow to the nest. Her maternal eye had\nproved the quicker. She had found her young. Something like reason and\ncommon sense had come to her rescue; she had taken time to look about,\nand behold! there was that precious doorway. She thrust her head into\nit, then sent back a call to her mate, then went farther in, then\nwithdrew. \u201cYes, it is true, they are here, they are here!\u201d Then she went\nin again, gave them the food in her beak, and then gave place to her\nmate, who, after similar demonstrations of joy, also gave them his\nmorsel.\n\nTed and I breathed freer. A burden had been taken from our minds and\nhearts, and we went cheerfully on our way. We had learned something,\ntoo; we had learned that when in the deep woods you think of bluebirds,\nbluebirds may be nearer you than you think.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRIDE OF THE REGIMENT\n\nBY HARRY M. KIEFFER (ADAPTED)\n\n\u201cOld Abe\u201d was the war-eagle of the Eighth Wisconsin Volunteers. Whoever\nit may have been that first conceived the idea, it was certainly a happy\nthought to make a pet of an eagle. For the eagle is our national bird,\nand to carry an eagle along with the colors of a regiment on the\nmarch, and in battle, and all through the whole war, was surely very\nappropriate, indeed.\n\n\u201cOld Abe's\u201d perch was on a shield, which was carried by a soldier, to\nwhom, and to whom alone, he looked as to a master. He would not allow\nany one to carry or even to handle him, except this soldier, nor would\nhe ever receive his food from any other person's hands. He seemed to\nhave sense enough to know that he was sometimes a burden to his master\non the march, however, and, as if to relieve him, would occasionally\nspread his wings and soar aloft to a great height, the men of all\nregiments along the line of march cheering him as he went up.\n\nHe regularly received his rations from the commissary, like any enlisted\nman. Whenever fresh meat was scarce, and none could be found for him by\nforaging parties, he would take things into his own claws, as it were,\nand go out on a foraging expedition himself. On some such occasions he\nwould be gone two or three days at a time, during which nothing whatever\nwas seen of him; but he would invariably return, and seldom would come\nback without a young lamb or a chicken in his talons. His long absences\noccasioned his regiment not the slightest concern, for the men knew\nthat, though he might fly many miles away in quest of food, he would be\nquite sure to find them again.\n\nIn what way he distinguished the two hostile armies so accurately that\nhe was never once known to mistake the gray for the blue, no one can\ntell. But so it was, that he was never known to alight save in his own\ncamp, and amongst his own men.\n\nAt Jackson, Mississippi, during the hottest part of the battle before\nthat city, \u201cOld Abe\u201d soared up into the air, and remained there from\nearly morning until the fight closed at night, no doubt greatly enjoying\nhis bird's-eye view of the battle. He did the same at Mission Ridge. He\nwas, I believe, struck by Confederate bullets two or three times, but\nhis feathers were so thick that his body was not much hurt. The shield\non which he was carried, however, showed so many marks of Confederate\nballs that it looked on top as if a groove plane had been run over it.\n\nAt the Centennial celebration held in Philadelphia, in 1876, \u201cOld Abe\u201d\n occupied a prominent place on his perch on the west side of the nave\nin the Agricultural Building. He was evidently growing old, and was the\nobserved of all observers. Thousands of visitors, from all sections of\nthe country, paid their respects to the grand old bird, who, apparently\nconscious of the honors conferred upon him, overlooked the sale of\nhis biography and photographs going on beneath his perch with entire\nsatisfaction.\n\nAs was but just and right, the soldier who had carried him during the\nwar continued to have charge of him after the war was over, until the\nday of his death, which occurred at the capital of Wisconsin, in 1881.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MOTHER MURRE\n\nBY DALLAS LORE SHARP\n\nOne of the most striking cases of mother-love which has ever come under\nmy observation, I saw in the summer of 1912 on the bird rookeries of the\nThree-Arch Rocks Reservation off the coast of Oregon.\n\nWe were making our slow way toward the top of the outer rock. Through\nrookery after rookery of birds, we climbed until we reached the edge of\nthe summit. Scrambling over this edge, we found ourselves in the midst\nof a great colony of nesting murres--hundreds of them--covering this\nsteep rocky part of the top.\n\nAs our heads appeared above the rim, many of the colony took wing and\nwhirred over us out to sea, but most of them sat close, each bird upon\nits egg or over its chick, loath to leave, and so expose to us the\nhidden treasure.\n\nThe top of the rock was somewhat cone-shaped, and in order to reach the\npeak and the colonies on the west side we had to make our way through\nthis rookery of the murres. The first step among them, and the whole\ncolony was gone, with a rush of wings and feet that sent several of the\ntop-shaped eggs rolling, and several of the young birds toppling over\nthe cliff to the pounding waves and ledges far below.\n\nWe stopped, but the colony, almost to a bird, had bolted, leaving scores\nof eggs, and scores of downy young squealing and running together for\nshelter, like so many beetles under a lifted board.\n\nBut the birds had not every one bolted, for here sat two of the colony\namong the broken rocks. These two had not been frightened off. That both\nof them were greatly alarmed, any one could see from their open beaks,\ntheir rolling eyes, their tense bodies on tiptoe for flight. Yet here\nthey sat, their wings out like props, or more like gripping hands, as if\nthey were trying to hold themselves down to the rocks against their wild\ndesire to fly.\n\nAnd so they were, in truth, for under their extended wings I saw little\nblack feet moving. Those two mother murres were not going to forsake\ntheir babies! No, not even for these approaching monsters, such as they\nhad never before seen, clambering over their rocks.\n\nWhat was different about these two? They had their young ones to\nprotect. Yes, but so had every bird in the great colony its young one,\nor its egg, to protect, yet all the others had gone. Did these two\nhave more mother-love than the others? And hence, more courage, more\nintelligence?\n\nWe took another step toward them, and one of the two birds sprang into\nthe air, knocking her baby over and over with the stroke of her wing,\nand coming within an inch of hurling it across the rim to be battered\non the ledges below. The other bird raised her wings to follow, then\nclapped them back over her baby. Fear is the most contagious thing in\nthe world; and that flap of fear by the other bird thrilled her, too,\nbut as she had withstood the stampede of the colony, so she caught\nherself again and held on.\n\nShe was now alone on the bare top of the rock, with ten thousand\ncircling birds screaming to her in the air above, and with two men\ncreeping up to her with a big black camera that clicked ominously. She\nlet the multitude scream, and with threatening beak watched the two men\ncome on. A motherless baby, spying her, ran down the rock squealing\nfor his life. She spread a wing, put her bill behind him and shoved him\nquickly in out of sight with her own baby. The man with the camera saw\nthe act, for I heard his machine click, and I heard him say something\nunder his breath that you would hardly expect a mere man and a\ngame-warden to say. But most men have a good deal of the mother in them;\nand the old bird had acted with such decision, such courage, such swift,\ncompelling instinct, that any man, short of the wildest savage, would\nhave felt his heart quicken at the sight.\n\n\u201cJust how compelling might that mother-instinct be?\u201d I wondered. \u201cJust\nhow much would that mother-love stand?\u201d I had dropped to my knees, and\non all fours had crept up within about three feet of the bird. She still\nhad chance for flight. Would she allow me to crawl any nearer? Slowly,\nvery slowly, I stretched forward on my hands, like a measuring-worm,\nuntil my body lay flat on the rocks, and my fingers were within three\nINCHES of her. But her wings were twitching, a wild light danced in her\neyes, and her head turned toward the sea.\n\nFor a whole minute I did not stir. I was watching--and the wings again\nbegan to tighten about the babies, the wild light in the eyes died down,\nthe long, sharp beak turned once more toward me.\n\nThen slowly, very slowly, I raised my hand, touched her feathers with\nthe tip of one finger--with two fingers--with my whole hand, while the\nloud camera click-clacked, click-clacked hardly four feet away!\n\nIt was a thrilling moment. I was not killing anything. I had no\nlong-range rifle in my hands, coming up against the wind toward an\nunsuspecting creature hundreds of yards away. This was no wounded\nleopard charging me; no mother-bear defending with her giant might a\ncaptured cub. It was only a mother-bird, the size of a wild duck,\nwith swift wings at her command, hiding under those wings her own and\nanother's young, and her own boundless fear!\n\nFor the second time in my life I had taken captive with my bare hands a\nfree wild bird. No, I had not taken her captive. She had made herself a\ncaptive; she had taken herself in the strong net of her mother-love.\n\nAnd now her terror seemed quite gone. At the first touch of my hand I\nthink she felt the love restraining it, and without fear or fret she let\nme reach under her and pull out the babies. But she reached after them\nwith her bill to tuck them back out of sight, and when I did not let\nthem go, she sidled toward me, quacking softly, a language that I\nperfectly understood, and was quick to respond to. I gave them back,\nfuzzy and black and white. She got them under her, stood up over them,\npushed her wings down hard around them, her stout tail down hard behind\nthem, and together with them pushed in an abandoned egg that was\nclose at hand. Her own baby, some one else's baby, and some one else's\nforsaken egg! She could cover no more; she had not feathers enough. But\nshe had heart enough; and into her mother's heart she had already tucked\nevery motherless egg and nestling of the thousands of frightened birds,\nscreaming and wheeling in the air high over her head.\n\n\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\n\nREFERENCE LISTS FOR STORY-TELLING AND COLLATERAL READING\n\n\n\n\nREFERENCE LISTS FOR STORY-TELLING AND COLLATERAL READING\n\n\n(The grades assigned are merely suggestive, as some of the stories may\nbe used in higher or lower grades than here indicated.)\n\n\n\n\nNEW YEAR'S DAY\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nAn All-the-Year-Round Story, in Poulsson, In the Child's World; Peter\nthe Stone-Cutter, in Macdonell, Italian Fairy Book; The Forest Full of\nFriends, in Alden, Why the Chimes Rang.\n\n\nFor grades 5-8.\n\nA Chinese New Year's in California, in Our Holidays Retold from St.\nNicholas; A New Year's Talk, in Stevenson, Days and Deeds (prose); Story\nof the Year, in Andersen, Stories and Tales; The Animals' New Year's\nEve, in Lagerlof, Further Adventures of Nils.\n\n\n\n\n\nLINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nA Westfield Incident, in Moores, Abraham Lincoln, page 87; Lincoln and\nthe Little Horse, in Werner's Readings, no. 46; Lincoln and the Pig,\nin Gross, Lincoln's Own Stories; Lincoln and the Small Dog, in Moores,\nAbraham Lincoln, page 25.\n\nFor grades 5-6.\n\nA Backwoods Boyhood, in Moores, Abraham Lincoln; Choosing Abe Lincoln\nCaptain, in Schauffler, Lincoln's Birthday; Following the Surveyor's\nChain, in Baldwin, Abraham Lincoln; His Good Memory of Names, in\nGallaher, Best Lincoln Stories; Lincoln and the Doorkeeper, in Gross,\n\nLincoln's Own Stories, page 78, Lincoln and the Unjust Client, in\nMoores, Abraham Lincoln, page 46; Lincoln's Kindness to a Disabled\nSoldier, in Gallaher, Best Lincoln Stories; The Clary's Grove Boys, in\nNoah Brooks, Abraham Lincoln page 51; The Snow Boys, in Noah Brooks,\nAbraham Lincoln page 122.\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nCounsel Assigned, Andrews; He Knew lincoln, Tarbell; Lincoln and the\nSleeping Sentinel, Chittenden; Lincoln Remembered Him, in Gallaher, Best\nLincoln Stories; Lincoln's Springfield Farewell, in Moores, Abraham\nlincoln, page 82; Perfect Tribute, Andrews.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT VALENTINE'S DAY\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nA Sunday Valentine, in White, When Molly was Six; Beauty and the Beast,\nin Lang, Blue Fairy Book, East of the Sun and West of the Moon, in Lang,\nBlue Fairy Book; The Fair One With Golden Locks, in Scudder, Children's\nBook; The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood, in Scudder, Children's Book; The\nValentine (poem), in Brown, Fresh Posies.\n\nFor grades 5-6.\n\nGracieuse and Percinet, in D'Aulnoy, Fairy Tales; Jorinda and Joringel,\nin Grimm, German Household Tales; The Day-Dream, Tennyson (poem),\nin Story-Telling Poems; The Singing, Soaring Lark, in Grimm, German\nHousehold Tales William and the Werewolf, in Darton, Wonder Book of Old\nRomance.\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nAs You Like It, Shakespeare; Brunhild, in Baldwin, Story of Siegfried;\nFloris and Blanchefleur, in Darton, Wonder Book of Old Romance; Palamon\nand Arcita, in Darton, Tales of the Canterbury Pilgrims; The Fair Maid\nof Perth, Scott, chapters 2-6; The Singing Leaves, Lowell (poem); The\nTempest, Shakespeare.\n\n\n\n\nWASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nLittle George Washington, and Great George Washington, in Wiggin and\nSmith, Story Hour; The Virginia Boy, in Wilson, Nature Study, Second\nReader.\n\nFor grades 54.\n\nA Christmas Surprise, in Tappan, American Hero Stories Dolly Madison,\nin Tappan, American Hero Stories; Going to Sea, in Scudder, George\nWashington, page 33; How George Washington was Made Commander-in-Chief,\nin Tomlinson, War for Independence; The Home of Washington, and The\nAppearance of the Enemy, in Madison, Peggy Owen at Yorktown; Young\nWashington in the Woods, in Eggleston, Strange Stories from History.\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nAnecdotes and Stories, in Schauffler, Washington's Birthday; He Resigns\nhis Commission, in Lodge, George Washington, vol. I, page 338; The\nBritish at Mount Vernon, in Lodge, George Washington, vol. I, page 295;\nThe Young Surveyor, in Scudder, George Washington; Washington Offered\nthe Supreme Power, in Lodge, George Washington, vol. I, page 328;\nWashington's Farewell to His Officers, in Lodge, George Washington, vol.\nI, page 387.\n\n\n\n\nRESURRECTION DAY (EASTER)\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nEaster Eggs, von Schmid; The Boy Who Discovered the Spring, in Alden,\nWhy the Chimes Rang; Herr Oster Hase, in Bailey and Lewis, For\nthe Children's Hour; The Legend of Easter Eggs, O'Brien (poem), in\nStory-Telling Poems; The Rabbit's Ransom, Vawter; The White Hare, in\nStevenson, Days and Deeds (prose).\n\nFor grades 5-8.\n\nEaster, Gilder (poem); The General's Easter Box, in Our Holidays\nRetold from St. Nicholas; The Trinity Flower, Ewing; What Easter is, in\nStevenson, Days and Deeds (prose).\n\n\n\n\n\nMAY DAY\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nA Story of the Springtime, in Kupfer, Legends of Greeee and Rome; How\nthe Water Lily Came, in Judd, Wigwam Stories; The Brook in the King's\nGarden, in Alden, Why the Chimes Rang; The Legend of the Dandelion, in\nBailey and Lewis, For the Children's Hour; The Lilac Bush, in Riverside\nFourth Reader; The Maple Leaf and the Violet, in Wiggin and Smith, Story\nFlour; The Story of the Anemone in Coe, First Book of Stories for the\nStory-Teller; The Story of the First Butterflies, in Holbrook, Book of\nNature Myths; The Story of the First Snowdrops, in Holbrook, Book of\nNature Myths; The Story of the Rainbow, in Coe, First Book of Stories\nfor the Story-Teller; Two Little Seeds, in MacDonald, David Elginbrod,\nchapter, \u201cThe Cave in the Straw;\u201d Why the Morning-Glory Climbs, in\nBryant, How to Tell Stories to Children.\n\nFor grades 5-6.\n\nLadders to Heaven, Ewing; The Daisy, in Andersen, Wonder Stories; Five\nout of One Shell, in Andersen, Stories and Tales; The Pomegranate Seeds,\nin Hawthorne, Tanglewood Tales.\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nThe May-Pole at Merry Mount, in Hawthorne, Twice-Told Tales; The Opening\nof the Eyes of Jasper, in Dyer The Richer Life; The Prisoner and the\nFlower, in Stevenson, Days and Deeds (prose).\n\n\n\n\nMOTHERS' DAY\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nHans and the Wonderful Flower, in Bailey and Lewis For the Children's\nHour; The Closing Door, in Lindsay Mother Stories; The Laughter of a\nSamurai, in Nixon-Roulet, Japanese Folk-Stories; The Fairy Who Came to\nour House, in Bailey and Lewis, For the Children's Hour; The Little\nTraveler, in Lindsay, Mother Stories; Thorwald and the Star-Children, in\nBoyesen, Modern Vikings.\n\nFor grades 5-6.\n\nLincoln's Letter to a Mother, in Moores, Abraham Lincoln, page 105;\nMy Angel Mother, in Baldwin, Abraham Lincoln; Napoleon and the English\nSailor Boy, Campbell (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; The Song of the Old\nMother, Yeats (poem), in Riverside Eighth Reader; Valentine and Ursine\n(poem), in Lanier, Boy's Perey.\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nA Patriot Mother, in Tomlinson, War for Independence; Lincoln's Letter,\nin Gross, Lincoln's Own Stories; President for One Hour, in St. Nicholas\nChristmas Book; The Conqueror's Grave, Bryant (poem); The Gracci, in\nMorris, Historical Tales (Roman); The Knight's Toast attributed to Scott\n(poem), in Story-Telling Poems; Young Manhood, in Noah Brooks, Abraham\nLincoln.\n\n\n\n\nMEMORIAL AND FLAG DAYS\n\nFor grades 3-6.\n\nA Boy Who Won the Cross, in Hart and Stevens, Romance of the Civil War;\nA Story of the Flag, in Our Holidays Retold from St. Nicholas; Betsy's\nBattle Flag, Irving (poem), in Stevenson, Poems of American History;\nNoteworthy Flag Incidents, in Smith, Our Nation's Flag; The Legs of\nDuncan Ketcham, in Price, Lads and Lassies of Other Days; The Origin of\nMemorial Day, in Stevenson, Days and Deeds (prose); The Planting of the\nColors, in Thomas, Captain Phil, page 227.\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nKearny at Seven Pines, Stedman (poem); Quivira, Guiterman (poem), in\nStory-Telling Poems; Reading the List, in Sehauffler, Memorial Day;\nRemember the Alamo, in Lodge and Roosevelt, Hero Tales, Reuben James,\nRoche, (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; The Defense of the Alamo, Miller\n(poem), in Stevenson, Poems of American History; The Fire Rekindled, in\nSchauffler, Memorial Day; The Flag-Bearer, in Lodge and Roosevelt, Hero\nTales; The March of the First Brigade, in Riverside Eighth Reader.\n\n\n\n\n\nINDEPENDENCE DAY\n\nFor grades S-6.\n\nA Winter at Valley Forge, in Tappan, American Hero Stories; Cornwallis's\nBuckles, in Revolutionary Stories Retold from St. Nicholas; Ethan Allen,\nin Johonnot, Stories of Heroic Deeds; Fourth of July Among the Indians,\nin Indian Stories Retold from St. Nicholas; How \u201cMad Anthony\u201d Took Stony\nPoint, in Tappan, American Hero Stories; How the \u201cSwamp Fox\u201d Made the\nBritish Miserable, in Tappan, American Hero Stories; John Paul Jones,\nin Tappan, American Hero Stories; Laetitia and the Redcoats, in\nRevolutionary Stories Retold from St. Nicholas; Molly Pitcher, in\nRevolutionary Stories Retold from St. Nicholas; Paul Revere's Ride\nLongfellow (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; Prescott and the Yankee Boy,\nin Johonnot, Stories of Heroic Deeds; Rodney's Ride, Brooks (poem), in\nStory-Telling Poems; The Boston Massacre, in Hawthorne, Grandfather's\nChair; The Bulb of the Crimson Tulip, in Revolutionary Stories Retold\nfrom St Nicholas; The First Day of the Revolution, in Tappan; American\nHero Stories.\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nA Woman's Heroism, in Tomlinson, War for Independence; Grandmother's\nStory of Bunker-Hill Battle, Holmes (poem); How the Major Joined\nMarion's Men, in Tomlinson, War for Independence; Molly Pitcher,\nSherwood (poem), in Stevenson, Poems of American History; Patrick Henry,\nin Morris Historical Tales, American, Second Series; Song of Marion's\nMen, Bryant (poem); That Bunker Hill Powder, in Revolutionary Stories\nRetold from St. Nicholas; The Mantle of St. John de Matha, Whittier\n(poem); The Tory's Farewell, in Hawthorne, Grandfather's Chair.\n\n\n\n\n\nLABOR DAY\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nDust Under the Rug, in Lindsay, Mother Stories, Giant Energy and\nFairy Skill, in Lindsay, Mother Stories; How Flax was Given to Men, in\nHolbrook, Book of Nature Myths; My Friend the Housekeeper, in Riverside\nFourth Reader,\n\nPeasant Truth, in Riverside Third Reader; Prometheus, the Giver of Fire\nin Coe, First Book of Stories for the Story-Teller; Six Soldiers of\nFortune, in Grimm, German Household Tales; The Country Maid and her\nMilk-Pail, in Scudder, Book of Fables and Folk-Stories; The Flax, in\nAndersen, Wonder Stories; The Hammer and the Anvil, in Ramaswami Raju,\nIndian Fables; The Honest Woodman, in Poulsson, In the Child's World;\nThe Little Gray Pony, in Lindsay, Mother Stories; The Little House in\nthe Wood, in Grimm, German Household Tales; The Old Man Who Lived in\na Wood (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; The Pixy Flower, in Rhys,\nFairy-Gold; The Spandies, in Gilchrist, Helen and the Uninvited Guests,\npage 15; The Three Trades, in Grimm, German Household Tales; The Toy\nof the Giant's Child, von Chamisso (poem), in Story-Telling Poems;\nVegetable Lambs, in Curtis, Story of Cotton; Vulcan the Mighty Smith, in\nPoulsson, In the Child's World.\n\nFor grades 5-6. A Handful of Clay, in Riverside Sixth Reader; How they\nBuilt the Ship Argo in Iolcos, in Kingsley, Greek Heroes; Icarus and\nDEedalus, in Peabody, Old Greek Folk-Stones; Master of All Masters, in\nJacobs, English Fairy Tales; The Dwarf's Gifts, in Brown, In the Days\nof Giants; The Forging of Balmung, in Baldwin, Hero Tales; The\nGiant Builder, in Brown, In the Days of Giants; The God of Fire, in\nFrancillon, Gods and Heroes; The Wicked Hornet, in Baldwin, The Sampo;\nThe Wish-Ring, in Fairy Stories Retold from St. Nicholas; The Wounds of\nLabor, in d'Amicis, Heart (Cuore); Weland's Sword, in Kipling, Puck of\nPook's Hill.\n\nFor grades 74. Careers of Danger and Daring, Moffett; David Maydole,\nHammer-Maker, in Riverside Seventh Reader; Jack Farley's Flying Switch,\nin Warman, Short Rails; Histories of Two Boys, in Riverside Seventh\nReader; History of Labor Day, in Stevenson, Days and Deeds (prose); The\nArms of Aeneas, in Church, Stories from Virgil; The Blacksmith Boy and\nthe Battle, in Marden, Winning Out; The Duke's Armorer, in Stories of\nChivalry Retold from St. Nicholas; The Scullion Boy's Opportunity, in\nMarden, Winning Out; The Vision of Anton the Clockmaker, in Dyer, The\nRicher Life, Tubal Cain, Mackay (poem), in Story-Telling Poems.\n\n\n\n\nCOLUMBUS DAY\n\nFor grades 4-8.\n\nColumbus, Miller (poem), in Riverside Seventh Reader; Columbus at the\nConvent, Trowbridge (poem), in Stevenson, Poems of American History;\nGuanahani, in Maores, Christopher Columbus; How Diego Mendez Got Food\nfor Columbus in Higginson, American Explorers; How Diego Mendez Saved\nColumbus, in Higginson, American Explorers; In Search of the Grand\nKhan, in Moores, Christopher Columbus; The Garden of Eden, in Moores,\nChristopher Columbus.\n\n\n\n\nHALLOWEEN\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nThe Smith and the Fairies, in Grierson, Children's Book of Celtic\nStories; The Witch, in Lang, Yellow Fairy Book; The Witch That was a\nHare, in Rhys, English Fairy Book; Tom-Tit Tot (Rumpelstiltskin), in\nJacobs, English Fairy Tales.\n\nFor grades 5-6.\n\nMr. Fox, in Jacobs, English Fairy Tales; The Godfather, in Grimm, German\nHousehold Tales; The Golden Arm, in Jacobs, Enylish Fairy Tales; The\nRobber Bridegroom, in Grimm, German Household Tales; The Story of a Cat,\nBedoliere; The Youth Who Could not Shiver or Shake, in Grimm, German\nHousehold Tales.\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nAlice Brand, in Scott, Lady of the Lake (poem); All-Hallow-Eve Myths,\nin Our Holidays Retold from St. Nicholas; Black Andie's Tale of\nTod Lapraik, in Stevenson, David Balfour; History of Hallowe'en, in\nStevenson, Days and Deeds (prose); Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and Rip\nVan Winkle Irving; Macbeth, Shakespeare; The Bottle Imp, in Stevenson,\nIsland Nights' Entertainments; The Devil and Tom Walker, Irving; The\nFire-King, Scott (poem); The Speaking Rat, in Dickens, Uncommercial\nTraveller, chapter 15.\n\n\n\n\nTHANKSGIVING DAY\n\nFor grades 1-4\n\nA Thanksgiving Dinner, in White, When Molly was Six; The Chestnut Boys,\nin Poulsson, In the Child's World; The First Thanksgiving Day, in\nWiggin and Smith, Story Hour; The Marriage of Mondahmin, in Judd, Wigwam\nStories; The Turkey's Nest, in Lindsay, More Mother Stories; The Visit,\nin Lindsay, More Mother Stories; Turkeys Turning the Tables, in Howells,\nChristmas Every Day.\n\nFor grades 5-6.\n\nA Dinner That Ran Away, in Miller, Kristy's Surprise Party; A Mystery\nin the Kitchen, in Miller, Kristy's Surprise Party; Ann Mary, Her Two\nThanksgivings, in Wilkins, Young Lueretia; An Old-Time Thanksgiving, in\nIndian Stories Retold from St. Nicholas; The Coming of Thanksgiving, and\nThe Season of Pumpkin Pies, in Warner, Being a Boy; The Magic Apples,\nin Brown, In the Days of Giants; St. Francis's Sermon to the Birds,\nLongfellow (poem), in Story-Telling Poems.\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nAn Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving, Alcott; The First Thanksgiving Day,\nPreston (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; The Night Before Thanksgiving,\nin Jewett, The Queen's Twin; The Peace Message (poem), in Stevenson,\nPoems of American History; The Turkey Drive, in Sharp, Winter.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTMAS DAY\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nA Christmas Tree Reversed, in Brown, Little Miss Phoebe Gay; Babouseka,\nThomas (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; Christmas Every Day, Howells;\nFulfilled, in Bryant, How to Tell Stories to Children; His Christmas\nTurkey, in Vawter, The Rabbi's Ransom; In the Great Walled Country, in\nAlden, Why the Chimes Rang; Little Girl's Christmas, in Dickinson and\nSkinner, Children's Book of Christmas Stories; Santa Claus and the\nMouse, Poulsson (poem), in St. Nicholas Christmas Book; The Christmas\nCake, in Lindsay, More Mother Stories; The Christmas Tree, in Austin,\nBasket Woman; The First New England Christmas, in Stone and Fickett,\nEvery-Day Life in the Colonies; The Golden Cobwebs, in Bryant, How\nto Tell Stories to Children; The Moon of Yule, in Davis, The Moons of\nBalbanea; The Rileys' Christmas, in White, When Molly was Six; The Story\nof Gretchen in Lindsay, Mother Stories; The Three Kings of Cologne,\nField (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; The Turkey Doll, Gates; The\nVoyage of the Wee Red Cap, in Dickinson and Skinner, Children's Book\nof Christmas Stories; Toinette and the Elves, in Dickinson and Skinner,\nChildren's Book of Christmas Stones; 'Twas the Night Before Christmas,\nMoore (poem); Why the Chimes Rang, Alden.\n\nFor grades 5-6.\n\nChristmas Before Last, in Stockton, Bee-Man of Orn; Christmas in the\nAlley, in Miller, Kristy's Queer Christmas; Dog of Flanders, Ramee;\nFelix, in Stein, Troubadour Tales; Good King Wenceslas (poem), in\nStory-Telling Poems; Hope's Christmas Tree, in Miller, Kristy's\nSurprise Party, How a Bear Brought Christmas, in Miller, Kristy's Queer\nChristmas; How Santa Claus Came to Simpson's Bar, in Harte, Luck of\nRoaring Camp; How Uncle Sam Observes Christmas, in Our Holidays Retold\nfrom St. Nicholas; Lottie's Christmas Tree, in Miller, Kristy's Rainy\nDay Picnic; St. Nicholas and the Innkeeper, in Walsh, Story of Santa\nKlaus; St. Nicholas and the Robbers, in Walsh, Story of Santa Klaus; St.\nNicholas and the Slave Boy, in Walsh, Story of Santa Klaus; Santa Claus\non a Lark, Gladden; Solomon Crow's Christmas Pockets, Stuart; The Birds'\nChristmas Carol, Wiggin; The Coming of the Prince, in Field, Christmas\nTales and Christmas Verse; The Festival of St. Nicholas, in Dodge,\nHans Brinker; The Peace Egg, Ewing; The Symbol and the Saint, in Field,\nChristmas Tales and Christmas Verse.\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nA Christmas Carol, Dickens; A Still Christmas, Repplier, in Morris, In\nthe Yule-Log Glow; The First Christmas Tree, Van Dyke; The Lost Word,\nVan Dyke; The Mansion, Van Dyke; The Other Wise Man, Van Dyke; Cosette,\nin Hugo, Les Miserables, book 3; Where Love is, There God is Also,\nTolstoy.\n\n\n\n\n\nARBOR DAY\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nFlower of the Almond and Fruit of the Fig, in Foote, Little Fig-Tree\nStories; Earl and the Dryad, in Brown, Star Jewels; The Girl Who Became\na Pine Tree, in Judd, Wigwam Stories; The Kind Old Oak, in Poulsson,\nIn the Child's World; The Oak Tree, in Vawter, The Rabbit's Ransom; The\nWorkman and the Trees, in Ramaswami Raju, Indian Fables.\n\nFor grades 5-6.\n\nApple-Seed John, Child (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; How the Children\nSaved Hamburg, in Marden, Winning Out; How the Indians Learned to Make\nMaple Sugar, in University of the State of New York, Legends and Poetry\nof the Forests; Old Pipes and the Dryad, in Stockton, Bee-Man of Orn;\nTale of Old Man and the Birch Tree, in University of the State of New\nYork, Legends and Poetry of the Forests; The Elm and the Vine, Rosas\n(poem), in Story-Telling Poems; The Gourd and the Palm (poem), in\nStory-Telling Poems; The Planting of the Apple Tree, Bryant (poem), in\nRiverside Fifth Reader.\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nBrier-Rose, Boyesen (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; How the Charter was\nSaved, in Morris, Historical Tales, American; O-So-Ah, the Tall Pine\nSpeaks, in University of the State of New York, Legends and Poetry of\nthe Forests; The Eliot Oak, in Drake, New England Legends; The First of\nthe Trees, in University of the State of New York, Legends and Poetry of\nthe Forests; The Liberty Tree, in Hawthorne, Grandfather's Chair, part\n3. chapter 2; The Plucky Prince, May Bryant (poem), in Story-Telling\nPoems; The Story of a Thousand-Year Pine, Mills; The Washington Elm, in\nDrake, New England Legends.\n\n\n\n\nBIRD DAY\n\nFor grades 1-4.\n\nOut of the Nest, in Lindsay, More Mother Stories; The Fox and the Crow,\nin Jacobs, Aesop's Fables; The Jackdaw and the Doves, in Scudder, Book\nof Fables and Folk-Stories; The Jay and the Peacock, in Jacobs, Aesop's\nFables; The King, the Falcon, and the Drinking Cup, in Dutton, The\nTortoise and the Geese; The Lark and her Young Ones, in Scudder, Book\nof Fables and Folk-Stories; The Monk and the Bird, in Scudder, Book of\nlegends; The Owl and his School, in Ramaswami Raju, Indian Fables;\nThe Owl and the Pussy-Cat, Lear (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; The\nPartridge and the Crow, in Dutton, The Tortoise and the Geese; The Pious\nRobin, in Brown, Curious Book of Birds; The Rustic and the Nightingale,\nin Dutton, The Tortoise and the Geese; The Sparrows, Thaxter (poem), in\nStory-Telling Poems; The Sparrows and the Snake, in Dutton, The Tortoise\nand the Geese; The Spendthrift and the Swallow, in Scudder, Book\nof Fables and Folk-Stories; The Story of the First Mocking-Bird, in\nHolbrook, Book of Nature Myths; The Story of the Oriole, in Holbrook,\nBook of Nature Myths; The Wren Who Brought Fire, in Brown, Curious Book\nof Birds; Why the Peacock's Tail has a Hundred Eyes, in Holbrook, Book\nof Nature Myths; Why the Peetweet Cries for Rain, in Holbrook, Book of\nNature Myths.\n\nFor grades 5-6.\n\nA Madcap Thrush, in Miller, True Bird Stories; Antics in the Bird Room,\nin Miller, True Bird Stories; Fate of the Children of Lir, in Grierson,\nChildren's Book of Celtie Stories; Halcyone, in Brown, Curious Book\nof Birds; St. Francis's Sermon to the Birds, Longfellow (poem), in\nStory-Telling Poems; Saint Kentigern and the Robin, in Brown, Book\nof Saints and Friendly Beasts; The Donkey and the Mocking-Bird, Rosas\n(poem), in Story-Telling Poems; The Early Girl, in Brown, Curious Book\nof Birds; The Nightingale, in Andersen, Wonder Stories; The Parrot,\nCampbell (poem), in Story-Telling Poems, The Phoenix, in Brown, Curious\nBook of Birds; The Robin, Whittier (poem); The Sauey Oriole, in Miller,\nTrue Bird Stories; The Wild Swans, in Andersen, Wonder Stories; Walter\nson der Vogelweid, Longfellow (poem).\n\nFor grades 7-8.\n\nArnaux, the Chronicle of a Homing Pigeon, in Thompson-Seton, Animal\nHeroes; King Edwin's Feast, Chadwiek (poem), in Story-Telling Poems;\nOur New Neighbors at Ponkapog, in Riverside Seventh Reader; The Abbot\nof Inisfalen, Allingham (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; The Birds of\nKillingworth, Longfellow (poem); The Downy Woodpecker, in Bird Stories\nfrom Burroughs; The Eagle, Tennyson (poem); The Emperor's Bird's-Nest,\nLongfellow (poem), in Story-Telling Poems; The Falcon of Ser Federigo,\nLongfellow (poem); The Gulls, in Breck, Wilderness Pets, pages 103, 161;\nThe House Wren, in Bird Stories from Burroughs; The Keeper of the Nest,\nin Roberts, The Feet of the Furtive; The Screech Owl, in Bird Stories\nfrom Burroughs; The Song Sparrow, in Bird Stories from Burroughs.","title":"Good Stories for Great Holidays: Arranged for Story-Telling and Reading Aloud and for the Children's Own Reading","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":90443}