{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_5312/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_5312","id":"gutenberg_5312","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5312","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Short Stories","Children's Literature","Children's Picture Books","Children's stories","Folklore","Nursery rhymes -- Adaptations","Tales"],"text":"E-text prepared by Bebra Knutson and revised by David Edwards and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net). The original\nillustrations were generously made available by Internet Archive\n(https://archive.org).\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 5312-h.htm or 5312-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/5312/pg5312-images.html)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/5312/5312-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\nMOTHER GOOSE IN PROSE\n\n\n[Illustration: \"There was a little man and he had a little gun\"]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nMOTHER GOOSE IN PROSE\n\nby\n\nL. FRANK BAUM\n\nIllustrated by Maxfield Parrish\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNew York\nMCMI\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n    Introduction                             9\n    Sing a Song o' Sixpence                 19\n    The Story of Little Boy Blue            31\n    The Cat and the Fiddle                  45\n    The Black Sheep                         55\n    Old King Cole                           65\n    Mistress Mary                           75\n    The Wond'rous Wise Man                  89\n    What Jack Horner Did                    99\n    The Man in the Moon                    109\n    The Jolly Miller                       119\n    The Little Man and His Little Gun      131\n    Hickory, Dickory, Dock                 141\n    Little Bo-Peep                         151\n    The Story of Tommy Tucker              163\n    Pussy-cat Mew                          175\n    How the Beggars Came to Town           183\n    Tom, the Piper's Son                   199\n    Humpty Dumpty                          207\n    The Woman Who Lived in a Shoe          221\n    Little Miss Muffet                     233\n    Three Wise Men of Gotham               245\n    Little Bun Rabbit                      257\n\n\n\n\nIllustrations\n\n\n    \"There was a little man and he had a little gun\"    _Frontispiece_\n    Little Boy Blue                                                36\n    The Black Sheep                                                58\n    Old King Cole                                                  68\n    The Wond'rous Wise Man                                         92\n    Jack Horner                                                   102\n    The Man in the Moon                                           112\n    Little Bo-Peep                                                156\n    Tommy Tucker                                                  166\n    Tom, the Piper's Son                                          200\n    Humpty Dumpty                                                 212\n    Three Wise Men of Gotham                                      248\n\n\n\n\nIntroduction.\n\n\nNONE of us, whether children or adults, needs an introduction to Mother\nGoose. Those things which are earliest impressed upon our minds cling\nto them the most tenaciously. The snatches sung in the nursery are\nnever forgotten, nor are they ever recalled without bringing back with\nthem myriads of slumbering feelings and half-forgotten images.\n\nWe hear the sweet, low voice of the mother, singing soft lullabies\nto her darling, and see the kindly, wrinkled face of the grandmother\nas she croons the old ditties to quiet our restless spirits. One\ngeneration is linked to another by the everlasting spirit of song; the\nballads of the nursery follow us from childhood to old age, and they\nare readily brought from memory's recesses at any time to amuse our\nchildren or our grandchildren.\n\nThe collection of jingles we know and love as the \"Melodies of Mother\nGoose\" are evidently drawn from a variety of sources. While they are,\ntaken altogether, a happy union of rhyme, wit, pathos, satire and\nsentiment, the research after the author of each individual verse\nwould indeed be hopeless. It would be folly to suppose them all the\ncomposition of uneducated old nurses, for many of them contain much\nreflection, wit and melody. It is said that Shelley wrote \"Pussy-Cat\nMew,\" and Dean Swift \"Little Bo-Peep,\" and these assertions are as\ndifficult to disprove as to prove. Some of the older verses, however,\nare doubtless offshoots from ancient Folk Lore songs, and have\ndescended to us through many centuries.\n\nThe connection of Mother Goose with the rhymes which bear her name is\ndifficult to determine, and, in fact, three countries claim her for\ntheir own: France, England and America.\n\nAbout the year 1650 there appeared in circulation in London a small\nbook, named \"Rhymes of the Nursery; or Lulla-Byes for Children,\" which\ncontained many of the identical pieces that have been handed down to\nus; but the name of Mother Goose was evidently not then known. In this\nedition were the rhymes of \"Little Jack Horner,\" \"Old King Cole,\"\n\"Mistress Mary,\" \"Sing a Song o' Sixpence,\" and \"Little Boy Blue.\"\n\nIn 1697 Charles Perrault published in France a book of children's tales\nentitled \"Contes de ma M\u00e9re Oye,\" and this is really the first time we\nfind authentic record of the use of the name of Mother Goose, although\nPerrault's tales differ materially from those we now know under this\ntitle. They comprised \"The Sleeping Beauty,\" \"The Fairy,\" \"Little Red\nRiding-Hood,\" \"Blue Beard,\" \"Puss in Boots,\" \"Riquet with the Tuft,\"\n\"Cinderella,\" and \"Little Thumb;\" eight stories in all. On the cover\nof the book was depicted an old lady holding in her hand a distaff and\nsurrounded by a group of children listening eagerly. Mr. Andrew Lang\nhas edited a beautiful English edition of this work (Oxford, 1888).\n\nAmerica bases her claim to Mother Goose upon the following statement,\nmade by the late John Fleet Eliot, a descendant of Thomas Fleet, the\nprinter:\n\nAt the beginning of the eighteenth century there lived in Boston a\nlady named Eliza Goose (written also Vergoose and Vertigoose) who\nbelonged to a wealthy family. Her eldest daughter, Elizabeth Goose\n(or Vertigoose), was married by Rev. Cotton Mather in 1715 to an\nenterprising and industrious printer named Thomas Fleet, and in\ndue time gave birth to a son. Like most mothers-in-law in our day,\nthe importance of Mrs. Goose increased with the appearance of her\ngrandchild, and poor Mr. Fleet, half distracted with her endless\nnursery ditties, finding all other means fail, tried what ridicule\ncould effect, and actually printed a book under the title \"Songs of the\nNursery; or, Mother Goose's Melodies for Children.\" On the title page\nwas the picture of a goose with a very long neck and a mouth wide open,\nand below this, \"Printed by T. Fleet, at his Printing House in Pudding\nLane, 1719. Price, two coppers.\"\n\nMr. Wm. A. Wheeler, the editor of Hurd & Houghton's elaborate edition\nof Mother Goose, (1870), reiterated this assertion, and a writer in\nthe Boston Transcript of June 17, 1864, says: \"Fleet's book was partly\na reprint of an English collection of songs, (Barclay's), and the new\ntitle was doubtless a compliment by the printer to his mother-in-law\nGoose for her contributions. She was the mother of sixteen children and\na typical 'Old Woman who lived in a Shoe.'\"\n\nWe may take it to be true that Fleet's wife was of the Vergoose family,\nand that the name was often contracted to Goose. But the rest of the\nstory is unsupported by any evidence whatever. In fact, all that Mr.\nEliot knew of it was the statement of the late Edward A. Crowninshield,\nof Boston, that he had seen Fleet's edition in the library of the\nAmerican Antiquarian Society. Repeated researches at Worcester having\nfailed to bring to light this supposed copy, and no record of it\nappearing on any catalogue there, we may dismiss the entire story with\nthe supposition that Mr. Eliot misunderstood the remarks made to him.\nIndeed, as Mr. William H. Whitmore points out in his clever monograph\nupon Mother Goose (Albany, 1889), it is very doubtful whether in 1719\na Boston printer would have been allowed to publish such \"trivial\"\nrhymes. \"Boston children at that date,\" says Mr. Whitmore, \"were fed\nupon Gospel food, and it seems extremely improbable that an edition\ncould have been sold.\"\n\nSingularly enough, England's claim to the venerable old lady is of\nabout the same date as Boston's. There lived in a town in Sussex, about\nthe year 1704, an old woman named Martha Gooch. She was a capital\nnurse, and in great demand to care for newly-born babies; therefore,\nthrough long years of service as nurse, she came to be called Mother\nGooch. This good woman had one peculiarity: she was accustomed to croon\nqueer rhymes and jingles over the cradles of her charges, and these\nrhymes \"seemed so senseless and silly to the people who overheard them\"\nthat they began to call her \"Mother Goose,\" in derision, the term being\nderived from Queen Goosefoot, the mother of Charlemagne. The old nurse\npaid no attention to her critics, but continued to sing her rhymes as\nbefore; for, however much grown people might laugh at her, the children\nseemed to enjoy them very much, and not one of them was too peevish\nto be quieted and soothed by her verses. At one time Mistress Gooch\nwas nursing a child of Mr. Ronald Barclay, a physician residing in the\ntown, and he noticed the rhymes she sang and became interested in them.\nIn time he wrote them all down and made a book of them, which it is\nsaid was printed by John Worthington & Son in the Strand, London, in\n1712, under the name of \"Ye Melodious Rhymes of Mother Goose.\" But even\nthis story of Martha Gooch is based upon very meager and unsatisfactory\nevidence.\n\nThe earliest English edition of Mother Goose's Melodies that is\nabsolutely authentic was issued by John Newbury of London about the\nyear 1760, and the first authentic American edition was a reprint of\nNewbury's made by Isaiah Thomas of Worcester, Mass., in 1785.\n\nNone of the earlier editions, however, contained all the rhymes so well\nknown at the present day, since every decade has added its quota to\nthe mass of jingles attributed to \"Mother Goose.\" Some of the earlier\nverses have become entirely obsolete, and it is well they have, for\nmany were crude and silly and others were coarse. It is simply a result\nof the greater refinement of modern civilization that they have been\nrelegated to oblivion, while the real gems of the collection will\ndoubtless live and grow in popular favor for many ages.\n\nWhile I have taken some pains to record the various claims to the\norigin of Mother Goose, it does not matter in the least whether she was\nin reality a myth, or a living Eliza Goose, Martha Gooch or the \"M\u00e9re\nOye\" of Perrault. The songs that cluster around her name are what we\nlove, and each individual verse appeals more to the childish mind than\ndoes Mother Goose herself.\n\nMany of these nursery rhymes are complete tales in themselves, telling\ntheir story tersely but completely; there are others which are but\nbare suggestions, leaving the imagination to weave in the details of\nthe story. Perhaps therein may lie part of their charm, but however\nthat may be I have thought the children might like the stories told\nat greater length, that they may dwell the longer upon their favorite\nheroes and heroines.\n\nFor that reason I have written this book.\n\nIn making the stories I have followed mainly the suggestions of the\nrhymes, and my hope is that the little ones will like them, and not\nfind that they interfere with the fanciful creations of their own\nimaginations.\n\n                                            L. FRANK BAUM.\n\nChicago, Illinois, July, 1899.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Sing a Song o' Sixpence]\n\n\n\n\nSing a Song o' Sixpence\n\n    Sing a song o' sixpence, a handful of rye,\n    Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie;\n    When the pie was opened the birds began to sing,\n    Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the King?\n\n\nIF you have never heard the legend of Gilligren and the King's pie you\nwill scarcely understand the above verse; so I will tell you the whole\nstory, and then you will be able to better appreciate the rhyme.\n\nGilligren was an orphan, and lived with an uncle and aunt who were\nvery unkind to him. They cuffed him and scolded him upon the slightest\nprovocation, and made his life very miserable indeed. Gilligren never\nrebelled against this treatment, but bore their cruelty silently and\nwith patience, although often he longed to leave them and seek a home\namongst kinder people.\n\nIt so happened that when Gilligren was twelve years old the King died,\nand his son was to be proclaimed King in his place, and crowned with\ngreat ceremony. People were flocking to London from all parts of the\ncountry, to witness the festivities, and the boy longed to go with\nthem.\n\nOne evening he said to his uncle,\n\n\"If I had sixpence I could make my fortune.\"\n\n\"Pooh! nonsense!\" exclaimed his uncle, \"a sixpence is a small thing.\nHow then could you make a fortune from it?\"\n\n\"That I cannot tell you,\" replied Gilligren, \"but if you will give me\nthe sixpence I will go to London, and not return until I am a rich man.\"\n\n\"The boy is a fool!\" said his uncle, with anger; but the aunt spoke up\nquickly.\n\n\"Give him the money and let him go,\" she said, \"and then we shall be\nwell rid of him and no longer be obliged to feed and clothe him at our\nexpense.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said her husband, after a moment's thought, \"here is the money;\nbut remember, this is all I shall ever give you, and when it is gone\nyou must not come to me for more.\"\n\n\"Never fear,\" replied Gilligren, joyfully, as he put the sixpence in\nhis pocket, \"I shall not trouble you again.\"\n\nThe next morning he cut a short stick to assist him in walking, and\nafter bidding good-bye to his uncle and aunt he started upon his\njourney to London.\n\n\"The money will not last him two days,\" said the man, as he watched\nGilligren go down the turnpike road, \"and when it is gone he will\nstarve to death.\"\n\n\"Or he may fall in with people who will treat him worse than we did,\"\nrejoined the woman, \"and then he'll wish he had never left us.\"\n\nBut Gilligren, nothing dismayed by thoughts of the future, trudged\nbravely along the London road. The world was before him, and the bright\nsunshine glorified the dusty road and lightened the tips of the dark\ngreen hedges that bordered his path. At the end of his pilgrimage was\nthe great city, and he never doubted he would find therein proper work\nand proper pay, and much better treatment than he was accustomed to\nreceive.\n\nSo, on he went, whistling merrily to while away the time, watching the\nsparrows skim over the fields, and enjoying to the full the unusual\nsights that met his eyes. At noon he overtook a carter, who divided\nwith the boy his luncheon of bread and cheese, and for supper a\nfarmer's wife gave him a bowl of milk. When it grew dark he crawled\nunder a hedge and slept soundly until dawn.\n\nThe next day he kept steadily upon his way, and toward evening met a\nfarmer with a wagon loaded with sacks of grain.\n\n\"Where are you going, my lad?\" asked the man.\n\n\"To London,\" replied Gilligren, \"to see the King crowned.\"\n\n\"Have you any money?\" enquired the farmer.\n\n\"Oh yes,\" answered Gilligren, \"I have a sixpence.\"\n\n\"If you will give me the sixpence,\" said the man, \"I will give you a\nsack of rye for it.\"\n\n\"What could I do with a sack of rye?\" asked Gilligren, wonderingly.\n\n\"Take it to the mill, and get it ground into flour. With the flour you\ncould have bread baked, and that you can sell.\"\n\n\"That is a good idea,\" replied Gilligren, \"so here is my sixpence, and\nnow give me the sack of rye.\"\n\nThe farmer put the sixpence carefully into his pocket, and then reached\nunder the seat of the wagon and drew out a sack, which he cast on the\nground at the boy's feet.\n\n\"There is your sack of rye,\" he said, with a laugh.\n\n\"But the sack is empty!\" remonstrated Gilligren.\n\n\"Oh, no; there is some rye in it.\"\n\n\"But only a handful!\" said Gilligren, when he had opened the mouth of\nthe sack and gazed within it.\n\n\"It is a sack of rye, nevertheless,\" replied the wicked farmer, \"and\nI did not say how much rye there would be in the sack I would give\nyou. Let this be a lesson to you never again to buy grain without\nlooking into the sack!\" and with that he whipped up his horses and left\nGilligren standing in the road with the sack at his feet and nearly\nready to cry at his loss.\n\n\"My sixpence is gone,\" he said to himself, \"and I have received nothing\nin exchange but a handful of rye! How can I make my fortune with that?\"\n\nHe did not despair, however, but picked up the sack and continued his\nway along the dusty road. Soon it became too dark to travel farther,\nand Gilligren stepped aside into a meadow, where, lying down upon the\nsweet grass, he rolled the sack into a pillow for his head and prepared\nto sleep.\n\nThe rye that was within the sack, however, hurt his head, and he sat up\nand opened the sack.\n\n\"Why should I keep a handful of rye?\" he thought, \"It will be of no\nvalue to me at all.\"\n\nSo he threw out the rye upon the ground, and rolling up the sack again\nfor a pillow, was soon sound asleep.\n\nWhen he awoke the sun was shining brightly over his head and the\ntwitter and chirping of many birds fell upon his ears. Gilligren opened\nhis eyes and saw a large flock of blackbirds feeding upon the rye he\nhad scattered upon the ground. So intent were they upon their feast\nthey never noticed Gilligren at all.\n\nHe carefully unfolded the sack, and spreading wide its opening threw it\nquickly over the flock of blackbirds. Some escaped and flew away, but a\ngreat many were caught, and Gilligren put his eye to the sack and found\nhe had captured four and twenty. He tied the mouth of the sack with a\npiece of twine that was in his pocket, and then threw the sack over his\nshoulder and began again his journey to London.\n\n\"I have made a good exchange, after all,\" he thought, \"for surely four\nand twenty blackbirds are worth more than a handful of rye, and perhaps\neven more than a sixpence, if I can find anyone who wishes to buy\nthem.\"\n\nHe now walked rapidly forward, and about noon entered the great city of\nLondon.\n\nGilligren wandered about the streets until he came to the King's\npalace, where there was a great concourse of people and many guards to\nkeep intruders from the gates.\n\nSeeing he could not enter from the front, the boy walked around to the\nrear of the palace and found himself near the royal kitchen, where the\ncooks and other servants were rushing around to hasten the preparation\nof the King's dinner.\n\nGilligren sat down upon a stone where he could watch them, and laying\nthe sack at his feet was soon deeply interested in the strange sight.\n\nPresently a servant in the King's livery saw him and came to his side.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" he asked, roughly.\n\n\"I am waiting to see the King,\" replied Gilligren.\n\n\"The King! The King never comes here,\" said the servant; \"and neither\ndo we allow idlers about the royal kitchen. So depart at once, or I\nshall be forced to call a guard to arrest you.\"\n\nGilligren arose obediently and slung his sack over his shoulder. As he\ndid so the birds that were within began to flutter.\n\n\"What have you in the sack?\" asked the servant.\n\n\"Blackbirds,\" replied Gilligren.\n\n\"Blackbirds!\" echoed the servant, in surprise, \"well, that is very\nfortunate indeed. Come with me at once!\" He seized the boy by the arm\nand drew him hastily along until they entered the great kitchen of the\npalace.\n\n\"Here, Mister Baker!\" the man called, excitedly, \"I have found your\nblackbirds!\"\n\nA big, fat man who was standing in the middle of the kitchen with\nfolded arms and a look of despair upon his round, greasy face, at once\ncame toward them and asked eagerly,\n\n\"The blackbirds? are you sure you can get them?\"\n\n\"They are here already; the boy has a bag full of them.\"\n\n\"Give them to me,\" said the cook, who wore a square cap, that was\nshaped like a box, upon his head.\n\n\"What do you want with them?\" asked Gilligren.\n\n\"I want them for a pie for the King's dinner,\" answered Mister Baker;\n\"His Majesty ordered the dish, and I have hunted all over London for\nthe blackbirds, but could not find them. Now that you have brought\nthem, however, you have saved me my position as cook, and perhaps my\nhead as well.\"\n\n\"But it would be cruel to put the beautiful birds in a pie,\"\nremonstrated Gilligren, \"and I shall not give them to you for such a\npurpose.\"\n\n\"Nonsense!\" replied the cook, \"the King has ordered it; he is very fond\nof the dish.\"\n\n\"Still, you cannot have them,\" declared the boy stoutly, \"the birds\nare mine, and I will not have them killed.\"\n\n\"But what can I do?\" asked the cook, in perplexity; \"the King has\nordered a blackbird pie, and your birds are the only blackbirds in\nLondon.\"\n\nGilligren thought deeply for a moment, and conceived what he thought to\nbe a very good idea. If the sixpence was to make his fortune, then this\nwas his great opportunity.\n\n\"You can have the blackbirds on two conditions,\" he said.\n\n\"What are they?\" asked the cook.\n\n\"One is that you will not kill the birds. The other condition is that\nyou secure me a position in the King's household.\"\n\n\"How can I put live birds in a pie?\" enquired the cook.\n\n\"Very easily, if you make the pie big enough to hold them. You can\nserve the pie after the King has satisfied his hunger with other\ndishes, and it will amuse the company to find live birds in the pie\nwhen they expected cooked ones.\"\n\n\"It is a risky experiment,\" exclaimed the cook, \"for I do not know the\nnew King's temper. But the idea may please His Majesty, and since you\nwill not allow me to kill the birds, it is the best thing I can do. As\nfor your other condition, you seem to be a very bright boy, and so I\nwill have the butler take you as his page, and you shall stand back of\nthe King's chair and keep the flies away while he eats.\"\n\nThe butler being called, and his consent secured, the cook fell to\nmaking the crusts for his novel pie, while Gilligren was taken to the\nservants' hall and dressed in a gorgeous suit of the King's livery.\n\nWhen the dinner was served, the King kept looking for the blackbird\npie, but he said nothing, and at last the pie was placed before him,\nits crusts looking light and brown, and sprigs of myrtle being stuck in\nthe four corners to make it look more inviting.\n\nAlthough the King had already eaten heartily, he smacked his lips when\nhe saw this tempting dish, and picking up the carving-fork he pushed it\nquickly into the pie.\n\nAt once the crust fell in, and all the four and twenty blackbirds\nput up their heads and began to look about them. And coming from the\nblackness of the pie into the brilliantly lighted room they thought\nthey were in the sunshine, and began to sing merrily, while some of the\nboldest hopped out upon the table or began flying around the room.\n\nAt first the good King was greatly surprised; but soon, appreciating\nthe jest, he lay back in his chair and laughed long and merrily. And\nhis courtiers and the fine ladies present heartily joined in the\nlaughter, for they also were greatly amused.\n\nThen the King called for the cook, and when Mister Baker appeared,\nuncertain of his reception, and filled with many misgivings, His\nMajesty cried,\n\n\"Sirrah! how came you to think of putting live birds in the pie?\"\n\nThe cook, fearing that the King was angry, answered,\n\n\"May it please your Majesty, it was not my thought, but the idea of the\nboy who stands behind your chair.\"\n\nThe King turned his head, and seeing Gilligren, who looked very well in\nhis new livery, he said,\n\n\"You are a clever youth, and deserve a better position than that of a\nbutler's lad. Hereafter you shall be one of my own pages, and if you\nserve me faithfully I will advance your fortunes with your deserts.\"\n\nAnd Gilligren did serve the King faithfully, and as he grew older\nacquired much honor and great wealth.\n\n\"After all,\" he used to say, \"that sixpence made my fortune. And it all\ncame about through such a small thing as a handful of rye!\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Story of Little Boy Blue]\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of Little Boy Blue\n\n    Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn,\n    The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn;\n    Where's the little boy that minds the sheep?\n    He's under the haystack, fast asleep!\n\n\nTHERE once lived a poor widow who supported herself and her only son\nby gleaning in the fields the stalks of grain that had been missed by\nthe reapers. Her little cottage was at the foot of a beautiful valley,\nupon the edge of the river that wound in and out among the green hills;\nand although poor, she was contented with her lot, for her home was\npleasant and her lovely boy was a constant delight to her.\n\nHe had big blue eyes, and fair golden curls, and he loved his good\nmother very dearly, and was never more pleased than when she allowed\nhim to help her with her work.\n\nAnd so the years passed happily away till the boy was eight years old,\nbut then the widow fell sick, and their little store of money melted\ngradually away.\n\n\"I don't know what we shall do for bread,\" she said, kissing her boy\nwith tears in her eyes, \"for I am not yet strong enough to work, and we\nhave no money left.\"\n\n\"But I can work,\" answered the boy; \"and I'm sure if I go to the Squire\nup at the Hall he will give me something to do.\"\n\nAt first the widow was reluctant to consent to this, since she loved to\nkeep her child at her side, but finally, as nothing else could be done,\nshe decided to let him go to see the Squire.\n\nBeing too proud to allow her son to go to the great house in his ragged\nclothes, she made him a new suit out of a pretty blue dress she had\nherself worn in happier times, and when it was finished and the boy\ndressed in it, he looked as pretty as a prince in a fairy tale. For the\nbright blue jacket set off his curls to good advantage, and the color\njust matched the blue of his eyes. His trousers were blue, also, and\nshe took the silver buckles from her own shoes and put them on his,\nthat he might appear the finer. And then she brushed his curls and\nplaced his big straw hat upon them and sent him away with a kiss to see\nthe Squire.\n\nIt so happened that the great man was walking in his garden with his\ndaughter Madge that morning, and was feeling in an especially happy\nmood, so that when he suddenly looked up and saw a little boy before\nhim, he said, kindly,\n\n\"Well, my child, what can I do for you?\"\n\n\"If you please, sir,\" said the boy, bravely, although he was frightened\nat meeting the Squire face to face, \"I want you to give me some work to\ndo, so that I can earn money.\"\n\n\"Earn money!\" repeated the Squire, \"why do you wish to earn money?\"\n\n\"To buy food for my mother, sir. We are very poor, and since she is no\nlonger able to work for me I wish to work for her.\"\n\n\"But what can you do?\" asked the Squire; \"you are too small to work in\nthe fields.\"\n\n\"I could earn something, sir, couldn't I?\"\n\nHis tone was so pleading that mistress Madge was unable to resist it,\nand even the Squire was touched. The young lady came forward and took\nthe boy's hand in her own, and pressing back his curls, she kissed his\nfair cheek.\n\n\"You shall be our shepherd,\" she said, pleasantly, \"and keep the sheep\nout of the meadows and the cows from getting into the corn. You know,\nfather,\" she continued, turning to the Squire, \"it was only yesterday\nyou said you must get a boy to tend the sheep, and this little boy can\ndo it nicely.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" replied the Squire, \"it shall be as you say, and if he is\nattentive and watchful he will be able to save me a good bit of trouble\nand so really earn his money.\"\n\nThen he turned to the child and said,\n\n\"Come to me in the morning, my little man, and I will give you a silver\nhorn to blow, that you may call the sheep and the cows whenever they go\nastray. What is your name?\"\n\n\"Oh, never mind his name, papa!\" broke in the Squire's daughter; \"I\nshall call him Little Boy Blue, since he is dressed in blue from head\nto foot, and his dress but matches his eyes. And you must give him\na good wage, also, for surely no Squire before ever had a prettier\nshepherd boy than this.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" said the Squire, cheerfully, as he pinched his daughter's\nrosy cheek; \"be watchful, Little Boy Blue, and you shall be well paid.\"\n\nThen Little Boy Blue thanked them both very sweetly and ran back\nover the hill and into the valley where his home lay nestled by the\nriver-side, to tell the good news to his mother.\n\nThe poor widow wept tears of joy when she heard his story, and smiled\nwhen he told her that his name was to be Little Boy Blue. She knew the\nSquire was a kind master and would be good to her darling son.\n\nEarly the next morning Little Boy Blue was at the Hall, and the\nSquire's steward gave him a new silver horn, that glistened brightly in\nthe sunshine, and a golden cord to fasten it around his neck. And then\nhe was given charge of the sheep and the cows, and told to keep them\nfrom straying into the meadowlands and the fields of grain.\n\nIt was not hard work, but just suited to Little Boy Blue's age, and he\nwas watchful and vigilant and made a very good shepherd boy indeed. His\nmother needed food no longer, for the Squire paid her son liberally and\nthe Squire's daughter made a favorite of the small shepherd and loved\nto hear the call of his silver horn echoing amongst the hills. Even\nthe sheep and the cows were fond of him, and always obeyed the sound\nof his horn; therefore the Squire's corn thrived finely, and was never\ntrampled.\n\nLittle Boy Blue was now very happy, and his mother was proud and\ncontented and began to improve in health. After a few weeks she became\nstrong enough to leave the cottage and walk a little in the fields\neach day; but she could not go far, because her limbs were too feeble\nto support her long, so the most she could attempt was to walk as far\nas the stile to meet Little Boy Blue as he came home from work in the\nevening. Then she would lean on his shoulder and return to the cottage\nwith him, and the boy was very glad he could thus support his darling\nmother and assist her faltering steps.\n\nBut one day a great misfortune came upon them, since it is true that no\nlife can be so happy but that sorrow will creep in to temper it.\n\nLittle Boy Blue came homeward one evening very light of heart and\nwhistled merrily as he walked, for he thought he should find his mother\nawaiting him at the stile and a good supper spread upon the table in\nthe little cottage. But when he came to the stile his mother was not in\nsight, and in answer to his call a low moan of pain reached his ears.\n\nLittle Boy Blue sprang over the stile and found lying upon the ground\nhis dear mother, her face white and drawn with suffering, and tears of\nanguish running down her cheeks. For she had slipped upon the stile\nand fallen, and her leg was broken!\n\n[Illustration: Little Boy Blue]\n\nLittle Boy Blue ran to the cottage for water and bathed the poor\nwoman's face, and raised her head that she might drink. There were no\nneighbors, for the cottage stood all alone by the river, so the child\nwas obliged to support his mother in his arms as best he could while\nshe crawled painfully back to the cottage. Fortunately, it was not far,\nand at last she was safely laid upon her bed. Then Little Boy Blue\nbegan to think what he should do next.\n\n\"Can I leave you alone while I go for the doctor, mamma?\" he asked,\nanxiously, as he held her clasped hands tightly in his two little ones.\nHis mother drew him towards her and kissed him.\n\n\"Take the boat, dear,\" she said, \"and fetch the doctor from the\nvillage. I shall be patient till you return.\"\n\nLittle Boy Blue rushed away to the river bank and unfastened the little\nboat; and then he pulled sturdily down the river until he passed the\nbend and came to the pretty village below. When he had found the doctor\nand told of his mother's misfortune, the good man promised to attend\nhim at once, and very soon they were seated in the boat and on their\nway to the cottage.\n\nIt was very dark by this time, but Little Boy Blue knew every turn and\nbend in the river, and the doctor helped him pull at the oars, so that\nat last they came to the place where a faint light twinkled through\nthe cottage window. They found the poor woman in much pain, but the\ndoctor quickly set and bandaged her leg, and gave her some medicine to\nease her suffering. It was nearly midnight when all was finished and\nthe doctor was ready to start back to the village.\n\n\"Take good care of your mother,\" he said to the boy, \"and don't worry\nabout her, for it is not a bad break and the leg will mend nicely in\ntime; but she will be in bed many days, and you must nurse her as well\nas you are able.\"\n\nAll through the night the boy sat by the bedside, bathing his mother's\nfevered brow and ministering to her wants. And when the day broke she\nwas resting easily and the pain had left her, and she told Little Boy\nBlue he must go to his work.\n\n\"For,\" said she, \"more than ever now we need the money you earn from\nthe Squire, as my misfortune will add to the expenses of living, and\nwe have the doctor to pay. Do not fear to leave me, for I shall rest\nquietly and sleep most of the time while you are away.\"\n\nLittle Boy Blue did not like to leave his mother all alone, but he knew\nof no one he could ask to stay with her; so he placed food and water\nby her bedside, and ate a little breakfast himself, and started off to\ntend his sheep.\n\nThe sun was shining brightly, and the birds sang sweetly in the trees,\nand the crickets chirped just as merrily as if this great trouble had\nnot come to Little Boy Blue to make him sad.\n\nBut he went bravely to his work, and for several hours he watched\ncarefully; and the men at work in the fields, and the Squire's\ndaughter, who sat embroidering upon the porch of the great house, heard\noften the sound of his horn as he called the straying sheep to his side.\n\nBut he had not slept the whole night, and he was tired with his long\nwatch at his mother's bedside, and so in spite of himself the lashes\nwould droop occasionally over his blue eyes, for he was only a child,\nand children feel the loss of sleep more than older people.\n\nStill, Little Boy Blue had no intention of sleeping while he was on\nduty, and bravely fought against the drowsiness that was creeping\nover him. The sun shone very hot that day, and he walked to the shady\nside of a big haystack and sat down upon the ground, leaning his back\nagainst the stack.\n\nThe cows and sheep were quietly browsing near him, and he watched them\nearnestly for a time, listening to the singing of the birds, and the\ngentle tinkling of the bells upon the wethers, and the far-away songs\nof the reapers that the breeze brought to his ears. And before he knew\nit the blue eyes had closed fast, and the golden head lay back upon the\nhay, and Little Boy Blue was fast asleep and dreaming that his mother\nwas well again and had come to the stile to meet him.\n\nThe sheep strayed near the edge of the meadow and paused, waiting for\nthe warning sound of the horn. And the breeze carried the fragrance\nof the growing corn to the nostrils of the browsing cows and tempted\nthem nearer and nearer to the forbidden feast. But the silver horn\nwas silent, and before long the cows were feeding upon the Squire's\npet cornfield and the sheep were enjoying themselves amidst the juicy\ngrasses of the meadows.\n\nThe Squire himself was returning from a long, weary ride over his\nfarms, and when he came to the cornfield and saw the cows trampling\ndown the grain and feeding upon the golden stalks he was very angry.\n\n\"Little Boy Blue!\" he cried; \"ho! Little Boy Blue, come blow your\nhorn!\" But there was no reply. He rode on a way and now discovered that\nthe sheep were deep within the meadows, and that made him more angry\nstill.\n\n\"Here, Isaac,\" he said to a farmer's lad who chanced to pass by, \"where\nis Little Boy Blue?\"\n\n\"He's under the hay-stack, your honor, fast asleep!\" replied Isaac with\na grin, for he had passed that way and seen that the boy was lying\nasleep.\n\n\"Will you go and wake him?\" asked the Squire; \"for he must drive out\nthe sheep and the cows before they do more damage.\"\n\n\"Not I,\" replied Isaac, \"if I wake him he'll surely cry, for he is\nbut a baby, and not fit to mind the sheep. But I myself will drive\nthem out for your honor,\" and away he ran to do so, thinking that now\nthe Squire would give him Little Boy Blue's place, and make him the\nshepherd boy, for Isaac had long coveted the position.\n\nThe Squire's daughter, hearing the angry tones of her father's voice,\nnow came out to see what was amiss, and when she heard that Little Boy\nBlue had failed in his trust she was deeply grieved, for she had loved\nthe child for his pretty ways.\n\nThe Squire dismounted from his horse and came to where the boy was\nlying.\n\n\"Awake!\" said he, shaking him by the shoulder, \"and depart from my\nlands, for you have betrayed my trust, and let the sheep and the cows\nstray into the fields and meadows!\"\n\nLittle Boy Blue started up at once and rubbed his eyes; and then he did\nas Isaac prophesied, and began to weep bitterly, for his heart was sore\nthat he had failed in his duty to the good Squire and so forfeited his\nconfidence.\n\nBut the Squire's daughter was moved by the child's tears, so she took\nhim upon her lap and comforted him, asking,\n\n\"Why did you sleep, Little Boy Blue, when you should have watched the\ncows and the sheep?\"\n\n\"My mother has broken her leg,\" answered the boy, between his sobs,\n\"and I did not sleep all last night, but sat by her bedside nursing\nher. And I tried hard not to fall asleep, but could not help myself;\nand oh, Squire! I hope you will forgive me this once, for my poor\nmother's sake!\"\n\n\"Where does your mother live?\" asked the Squire, in a kindly tone, for\nhe had already forgiven Little Boy Blue.\n\n\"In the cottage down by the river,\" answered the child; \"and she is all\nalone, for there is no one near to help us in our trouble.\"\n\n\"Come,\" said Mistress Madge, rising to her feet and taking his hand;\n\"lead us to your home, and we will see if we cannot assist your poor\nmother.\"\n\nSo the Squire and his daughter and Little Boy Blue all walked down to\nthe little cottage, and the Squire had a long talk with the poor widow.\nAnd that same day a big basket of dainties was sent to the cottage,\nand Mistress Madge bade her own maid go to the widow and nurse her\ncarefully until she recovered.\n\nSo that after all Little Boy Blue did more for his dear mother by\nfalling asleep than he could had he kept wide awake; for after his\nmother was well again the Squire gave them a pretty cottage to live in\nvery near to the great house itself, and the Squire's daughter was ever\nafterward their good friend, and saw that they wanted for no comforts\nof life.\n\nAnd Little Boy Blue did not fall asleep again at his post, but watched\nthe cows and the sheep faithfully for many years, until he grew up to\nmanhood and had a farm of his own.\n\nHe always said his mother's accident had brought him good luck, but I\nthink it was rather his own loving heart and his devotion to his mother\nthat made him friends. For no one is afraid to trust a boy who loves to\nserve and care for his mother.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Cat and the Fiddle]\n\n\n\n\nThe Cat and the Fiddle\n\n        Hey, diddle, diddle,\n        The cat and the fiddle,\n    The cow jumped over the moon!\n        The little dog laughed\n        To see such sport,\n    And the dish ran off with the spoon!\n\n\nPERHAPS you think this verse is all nonsense, and that the things it\nmentions could never have happened; but they did happen, as you will\nunderstand when I have explained them all to you clearly.\n\nLittle Bobby was the only son of a small farmer who lived out of town\nupon a country road. Bobby's mother looked after the house and Bobby's\nfather took care of the farm, and Bobby himself, who was not very big,\nhelped them both as much as he was able.\n\nIt was lonely upon the farm, especially when his father and mother were\nboth busy at work, but the boy had one way to amuse himself that served\nto pass many an hour when he would not otherwise have known what to do.\nHe was very fond of music, and his father one day brought him from the\ntown a small fiddle, or violin, which he soon learned to play upon. I\ndon't suppose he was a very fine musician, but the tunes he played\npleased himself, as well as his father and mother, and Bobby's fiddle\nsoon became his constant companion.\n\nOne day in the warm summer the farmer and his wife determined to drive\nto the town to sell their butter and eggs and bring back some groceries\nin exchange for them, and while they were gone Bobby was to be left\nalone.\n\n\"We shall not be back till late in the evening,\" said his mother, \"for\nthe weather is too warm to drive very fast. But I have left you a dish\nof bread and milk for your supper, and you must be a good boy and amuse\nyourself with your fiddle until we return.\"\n\nBobby promised to be good and look after the house, and then his father\nand mother climbed into the wagon and drove away to the town.\n\nThe boy was not entirely alone, for there was the big black tabby-cat\nlying upon the floor in the kitchen, and the little yellow dog barking\nat the wagon as it drove away, and the big moolie-cow lowing in the\npasture down by the brook. Animals are often very good company, and\nBobby did not feel nearly as lonely as he would had there been no\nliving thing about the house.\n\nBesides he had some work to do in the garden, pulling up the weeds that\ngrew thick in the carrot-bed, and when the last faint sounds of the\nwheels had died away he went into the garden and began his task.\n\nThe little dog went too, for dogs love to be with people and to watch\nwhat is going on; and he sat down near Bobby and cocked up his ears and\nwagged his tail and seemed to take a great interest in the weeding.\nOnce in a while he would rush away to chase a butterfly or bark at a\nbeetle that crawled through the garden, but he always came back to the\nboy and kept near his side.\n\nBy and by the cat, which found it lonely in the big, empty kitchen,\nnow that Bobby's mother was gone, came walking into the garden also,\nand lay down upon a path in the sunshine and lazily watched the boy at\nhis work. The dog and the cat were good friends, having lived together\nso long that they did not care to fight each other. To be sure Towser,\nas the little dog was called, sometimes tried to tease pussy, being\nhimself very mischievous; but when the cat put out her sharp claws and\nshowed her teeth, Towser, like a wise little dog, quickly ran away, and\nso they managed to get along in a friendly manner.\n\nBy the time the carrot-bed was all weeded, the sun was sinking behind\nthe edge of the forest and the new moon rising in the east, and now\nBobby began to feel hungry and went into the house for his dish of\nbread and milk.\n\n\"I think I'll take my supper down to the brook,\" he said to himself,\n\"and sit upon the grassy bank while I eat it. And I'll take my fiddle,\ntoo, and play upon it to pass the time until father and mother come\nhome.\"\n\nIt was a good idea, for down by the brook it was cool and pleasant;\nso Bobby took his fiddle under his arm and carried his dish of bread\nand milk down to the bank that sloped to the edge of the brook. It\nwas rather a steep bank, but Bobby sat upon the edge, and placing his\nfiddle beside him, leaned against a tree and began to eat his supper.\n\nThe little dog had followed at his heels, and the cat also came slowly\nwalking after him, and as Bobby ate, they sat one on either side of him\nand looked earnestly into his face as if they too were hungry. So he\nthrew some of the bread to Towser, who grabbed it eagerly and swallowed\nit in the twinkling of an eye. And Bobby left some of the milk in\nthe dish for the cat, also, and she came lazily up and drank it in a\ndainty, sober fashion, and licked both the dish and spoon until no drop\nof the milk was left.\n\nThen Bobby picked up his fiddle and tuned it and began to play some of\nthe pretty tunes he knew. And while he played he watched the moon rise\nhigher and higher until it was reflected in the smooth, still water\nof the brook. Indeed, Bobby could not tell which was the plainest to\nsee, the moon in the sky or the moon in the water. The little dog lay\nquietly on one side of him, and the cat softly purred upon the other,\nand even the moolie-cow was attracted by the music and wandered near\nuntil she was browsing the grass at the edge of the brook.\n\nAfter a time, when Bobby had played all the tunes he knew, he laid the\nfiddle down beside him, near to where the cat slept, and then he lay\ndown upon the bank and began to think.\n\nIt is very hard to think long upon a dreamy summer night without\nfalling asleep, and very soon Bobby's eyes closed and he forgot all\nabout the dog and the cat and the cow and the fiddle, and dreamed he\nwas Jack the Giant Killer and was just about to slay the biggest giant\nin the world.\n\nAnd while he dreamed, the cat sat up and yawned and stretched herself,\nand then began wagging her long tail from side to side and watching the\nmoon that was reflected in the water.\n\nBut the fiddle lay just behind her, and as she moved her tail, she drew\nit between the strings of the fiddle, where it caught fast. Then she\ngave her tail a jerk and pulled the fiddle against the tree, which made\na loud noise. This frightened the cat greatly, and not knowing what\nwas the matter with her tail, she started to run as fast as she could.\nBut still the fiddle clung to her tail, and at every step it bounded\nalong and made such a noise that she screamed with terror. And in her\nfright she ran straight towards the cow, which, seeing a black streak\ncoming at her, and hearing the racket made by the fiddle, became also\nfrightened and made such a jump to get out of the way that she jumped\nright across the brook, leaping over the very spot where the moon shone\nin the water!\n\nBobby had been awakened by the noise, and opened his eyes in time to\nsee the cow jump; and at first it seemed to him that she had actually\njumped over the moon in the sky, instead of the one in the brook.\n\nThe dog was delighted at the sudden excitement caused by the cat, and\nran barking and dancing along the bank, so that he presently knocked\nagainst the dish, and behold! it slid down the bank, carrying the spoon\nwith it, and fell with a splash into the water of the brook.\n\nAs soon as Bobby recovered from his surprise he ran after the cat,\nwhich had raced to the house, and soon came to where the fiddle lay\nupon the ground, it having at last dropped from the cat's tail. He\nexamined it carefully, and was glad to find it was not hurt, in spite\nof its rough usage. And then he had to go across the brook and drive\nthe cow back over the little bridge, and also to roll up his sleeve and\nreach into the water to recover the dish and the spoon.\n\nThen he went back to the house and lighted a lamp, and sat down to\ncompose a new tune before his father and mother returned.\n\nThe cat had recovered from her fright and lay quietly under the stove,\nand Towser sat upon the floor panting, with his mouth wide open, and\nlooking so comical that Bobby thought he was actually laughing at the\nwhole occurrence.\n\nAnd these were the words to the tune that Bobby composed that night:\n\n        Hey, diddle, diddle,\n        The cat and the fiddle,\n    The cow jumped over the moon!\n        The little dog laughed\n        To see such sport,\n    And the dish ran away with the spoon!\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Black Sheep]\n\n\n\n\nThe Black Sheep\n\n    Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?\n    Yes, my little master, three bags full;\n    One for my master and one for his dame,\n    And one for the little boy that lives in the lane.\n\n\nIT was a bright spring day, and the sun shone very warm and pleasant\nover the pastures, where the new grass was growing so juicy and tender\nthat all the sheep thought they had never tasted anything so delicious.\n\nThe sheep had had a strange experience that morning, for the farmer had\ntaken them down to the brook and washed them, and then he tied their\nlegs together and laid them on the grass and clipped all the heavy,\nsoft wool from their bodies with a great pair of shears.\n\nThe sheep did not like this very well, for every once in a while the\nshears would pull the wool and hurt them; and when they were sheared\nthey felt very strange, for it was almost as if someone took off all\nyour clothes and let you run around naked. None of them were in a very\ngood temper this morning, although the sun shone so warmly and the\ngrass was so sweet, and as they watched the farmer and his man carry\ntheir wool up to the house in great bags, the old ram said, crossly,\n\n\"I hope they are satisfied, now that they have stolen from us all our\nsoft, warm fleece.\"\n\n\"What are they going to do with it?\" asked one of the sheep.\n\n\"Oh, they will spin it into threads and make coats for the men and\ndresses for the women. For men are such strange creatures that no wool\ngrows on them at all, and that is why they selfishly rob us of our\nfleece that they may cover their own skinny bodies!\"\n\n\"It must be horrid to be a man,\" said the Black Sheep, \"and not to have\nany wool grow on you at all. I'm sorry for that little boy that lives\nin the lane, for he will never be able to keep warm unless we give him\nsome of our wool.\"\n\n\"But what a shame it is,\" continued the ram, \"for the farmer to steal\nall the wool from us when we have taken all the trouble to grow it!\"\n\n\"I don't mind,\" bleated a young lamb named Frisky, as it kicked up\nits heels and gambolled about upon the grass; \"it's nice to have all\nthat heavy wool cut off my back, for I sha'n't have to carry it around\nwherever I go.\"\n\n\"Oh, indeed!\" sneered the ram, \"you like it, do you? Have you any idea\nwhat you look like, all sheared down to your skin? How would you like\nto have someone come along and see you, now that you are all head and\nlegs?\"\n\n\"Oh, I wouldn't mind,\" said the lamb again; \"I shall grow more wool by\nwinter-time, and I'm sure I don't look any worse than you do.\"\n\nSome of the sheep looked at the ram and began to titter, for he was old\nand thin, and looked very comical indeed without any wool. And this\nmade him so angry that he went off by himself and began eating grass,\nand would not speak to the others at all.\n\n\"I don't know why sheep should feel badly about having their fleeces\ncut,\" remarked the Black Sheep, thoughtfully, \"for the farmer is very\nkind to us, and so is his dame, and I am glad my wool serves to keep\nthem warm in the winter. For before the snow comes our wool will grow\nout again, and we shall not be any the worse for our loss.\"\n\n\"What do those people who haven't any sheep do for clothes?\" asked the\nlamb.\n\n\"I'm sure I don't know. They must nearly freeze in the winter. Perhaps\nthe ram can tell us.\"\n\nBut the ram was still angry, and refused to say anything, so the sheep\nstopped talking and began to scatter over the pasture and eat the\ntender, new grass.\n\nBy and by the Black Sheep wandered near the lane, and looking up, saw\nthe little boy watching it through the bars.\n\n\"Good morning, Black Sheep,\" said the boy; \"why do you look so funny\nthis morning?\"\n\n\"They have cut off my wool,\" answered the sheep.\n\n[Illustration: The Black Sheep]\n\n\"What will they do with it, Black Sheep?\" enquired the little boy.\n\n\"They will make coats of it, to keep themselves warm.\"\n\n\"I wish I had some wool,\" said the boy, \"for I need a new coat very\nbadly, and mamma is so poor she cannot buy me one.\"\n\n\"That is too bad,\" replied the Black Sheep; \"but I shall have more wool\nby and by, and then I will give you a bagful to make a new coat from.\"\n\n\"Will you really?\" asked the boy, looking very much pleased.\n\n\"Indeed I will,\" answered the sheep, \"for you are always kind and have\na pleasant word for me. So you watch until my wool grows again, and\nthen you shall have your share of it.\"\n\n\"Oh, thank you!\" said the boy, and he ran away to tell his mother what\nthe Black Sheep had said.\n\nWhen the farmer came into the field again the Black Sheep said to him,\n\n\"Master, how many bags of wool did you cut from my back?\"\n\n\"Two bags full,\" replied the farmer; \"and it was very nice wool indeed.\"\n\n\"If I grow three bags full the next time, may I have one bag for\nmyself?\" asked the sheep.\n\n\"Why, what could you do with a bag of wool?\" questioned the farmer.\n\n\"I want to give it to the little boy that lives in the lane. He is very\npoor and needs a new coat.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" answered the master; \"if you can grow three bags full I\nwill give one to the little boy.\"\n\nSo the Black Sheep began to grow wool, and tried in every way to grow\nthe finest and heaviest fleece in all the flock. She always lay in the\nsunniest part of the pastures, and drank from the clearest part of\nthe brook, and ate only the young and juicy shoots of grass and the\ntenderest of the sheep-sorrel. And each day the little boy came to the\nbars and looked at the sheep and enquired how the wool was growing.\n\n\"I am getting along finely,\" the Black Sheep would answer, \"for not one\nsheep in the pasture has so much wool as I have grown already.\"\n\n\"Can I do anything to help you?\" asked the little boy.\n\n\"Not that I think of,\" replied the sheep, \"unless you could get me a\nlittle salt. I believe salt helps the wool to grow.\"\n\nSo the boy ran to the house and begged his mother for a handful of\nsalt, and then he came back to the bars, where the Black Sheep licked\nit out of his hand.\n\nDay by day the wool on the sheep grew longer and longer, and even the\nold ram noticed it and said,\n\n\"You are foolish to grow so much wool, for the farmer will cut it all\noff, and it will do you no good. Now I am growing just as little as\npossible, for since he steals what I have I am determined he shall get\nvery little wool from my back.\"\n\nBlack Sheep did not reply to this, for she thought the old ram very\nill-tempered and selfish, and believed he was doing wrong not to grow\nmore wool.\n\nFinally the time came to shear the sheep again, and the farmer and his\nman came into the pasture to look at them, and were surprised to see\nwhat a fine, big fleece the Black Sheep had grown.\n\n\"There will be three bagsful at the least,\" said the master, \"and I\nwill keep my promise and give one to the little boy in the lane. But,\nmy goodness! how scraggly and poor the old ram looks. There is scarcely\nany wool on him at all. I think I must sell him to the butcher!\"\n\nAnd, in truth, although the ram kicked and struggled and bleated with\nrage, they tied his legs and put him into the cart and carried him away\nto the butcher. And that was the last the sheep ever saw of him.\n\nBut the Black Sheep ran up to the bars by the lane and waited with a\nglad heart till the little boy came. When he saw the sheep waiting for\nhim he asked,\n\n    \"Black Sheep, Black Sheep, have you any wool?\"\n\nAnd the sheep replied,\n\n    \"Yes my little master, three bags full!\"\n\n\"That is fine!\" said the boy; \"but who are the three bags for?\"\n\n    \"One for my master, one for his dame,\n     And one for the little boy that lives in the lane.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Black Sheep,\" said the little boy; \"you are very kind, and\nI shall always think of you when I wear my new coat.\"\n\nThe next day the sheep were all sheared, and the Black Sheep's fleece\nmade three big bagsful. The farmer kept his promise and carried one bag\nto the little boy that lived in the lane, and the wool was so soft and\nso heavy that there was enough not only for the new coat, but to make\nhis mother a warm dress as well.\n\nThe Black Sheep was very proud and happy when the mother and her little\nboy came down to the bars and showed the new clothes that had been made\nfrom the wool.\n\n\"This pays me for all my trouble,\" said the Black Sheep, and the little\nboy reached his hand through the bars and patted her gently upon the\nhead.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Old King Cole]\n\n\n\n\nOld King Cole\n\n    Old King Cole was a merry old soul,\n      And a merry old soul was he;\n    He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl\n      And he called for his fiddlers three.\n\n\nOLD KING COLE was not always a king, nor was he born a member of any\nroyal family. It was only chance--\"hard luck\" he used to call it--that\nmade him a king at all.\n\nHe had always been a poor man, being the son of an apple peddler, who\ndied and left him nothing but a donkey and a fiddle. But that was\nenough for Cole, who never bothered his head about the world's goods,\nbut took things as they came and refused to worry about anything.\n\nSo, when the house he lived in, and the furniture, and even the\napple-cart were sold to pay his father's debts, and he found himself\nleft with the old fiddle that nobody wanted and the old donkey that no\none would have--it being both vicious and unruly--he uttered no word of\ncomplaint. He simply straddled the donkey and took the fiddle under his\narm and rode out into the world to seek his fortune.\n\nWhen he came to a village he played a merry tune upon the fiddle and\nsang a merry song with it, and the people gave him food most willingly.\nThere was no trouble about a place to sleep, for if he was denied a bed\nhe lay down with the donkey in a barn, or even on the village green,\nand making a pillow of the donkey's neck he slept as soundly as anyone\ncould in a bed of down.\n\nAnd so he continued riding along and playing upon his fiddle for many\nyears, until his head grew bald and his face was wrinkled and his bushy\neyebrows became as white as snow. But his eyes never lost their merry\ntwinkle, and he was just as fat and hearty as in his younger days,\nwhile, if you heard him singing his songs and scraping upon the old\nfiddle, you would know at once his heart was as young as ever.\n\nHe never guided the donkey, but let the beast go where it would, and so\nit happened that at last they came to Whatland, and entered one day the\ncity where resided the King of that great country.\n\nNow, even as Cole rode in upon his donkey the King of Whatland lay\ndying in his palace, surrounded by all the luxury of the court. And as\nhe left no heir, and was the last of the royal line, the councilors and\nwise men of Whatland were in a great quandary as to who should succeed\nhim. But finally they bethought themselves of the laws of the land,\nand upon looking up the records they found in an old book a law that\nprovided for just such a case as this.\n\n\"If the King dies,\" so read the law, \"and there be no one to succeed\nto the throne, the prime minister shall be blinded and led from the\npalace into the main street of the city. And he shall stretch out his\narms and walk about, and the first person he touches shall be crowned\nas King of the land.\"\n\nThe councilors were greatly pleased when they found this law, for it\nenabled them to solve the problem that confronted them. So when the\nKing had breathed his last they blindfolded the prime minister and led\nhim forth from the palace, and he began walking about with outstretched\narms seeking someone to touch.\n\nOf course the people knew nothing of this law, nor even that the old\nKing was dead, and seeing the prime minister groping about blindfolded\nthey kept out of his way, fearing they might be punished if he stumbled\nagainst them. But Cole was then riding along on the donkey, and did not\neven know it was the prime minister who was feeling about in such a\nfunny way. So he began to laugh, and the minister, who had by this time\ngrown tired of the game, heard the laugh and came toward the stranger\nand touched him, and immediately all the wise men and the councilors\nfell down before him and hailed him as King of Whatland!\n\nThus did the wandering fiddler become King Cole, and you may be sure\nhe laughed more merrily than ever when they explained to him his good\nfortune.\n\n[Illustration: Old King Cole]\n\nThey carried him within the palace and dressed him in purple and fine\nlinen, and placed a crown of gold upon his bald head and a jeweled\nscepter in his wrinkled hand, and all this amused old King Cole very\nmuch. When he had been led to the great throne-room and placed upon the\nthrone of gold (where the silken cushions felt very soft and pleasant\nafter his long ride upon the donkey's sharp back) the courtiers all\nknelt before him and asked what commands he wished to give, since\neveryone in the kingdom must now obey his slightest word.\n\n\"Oh well,\" said the new King, \"I think the first thing I would like is\nmy old pipe. You'll find it in the pocket of the ragged coat I took\noff.\"\n\nOne of the officers of the court at once ran for the pipe, and when it\nwas brought King Cole filled it with tobacco from his greasy pouch and\nlighted it, and you can imagine what a queer sight it was to see the\nfat King sitting upon the rich throne, dressed in silks and satins and\na golden crown, and smoking at the same time an old black pipe!\n\nThe councilors looked at each other in dismay, and the ladies of the\ncourt sneezed and coughed and seemed greatly shocked, and all this\npleased old King Cole so much that he lay back in his throne and roared\nwith laughter.\n\nThen the prime minister came forward very gravely, and bowing low he\nsaid,\n\n\"May it please your Majesty, it is not the custom of Kings to smoke\na pipe while seated upon the throne.\"\n\n\"But it is my custom,\" answered Cole.\n\n\"It is impolite, and--unkingly!\" ventured the minister.\n\n\"Now, see here, old fellow,\" replied his Majesty, \"I didn't ask to\nbe King of this country; it's all your own doing. All my life I have\nsmoked whenever I wished, and if I can't do as I please here, why, I\nwon't be king--so there!\"\n\n\"But you must be the King, your Majesty, whether you want to or not.\nThe law says so.\"\n\n\"If that's the case,\" returned the King, \"I can do as I please in other\nthings. So you just run and get me a bowl of punch, there's a good\nfellow.\"\n\nThe aged minister did not like to be addressed thus, but the King's\ncommands must be obeyed; so, although the court was greatly horrified,\nhe brought the bowl of punch, and the King pushed his crown onto the\nback of his head and drank heartily, and smacked his lips afterwards.\n\n\"That's fine!\" he said; \"but say--what do you people do to amuse\nyourselves?\"\n\n\"Whatever your Majesty commands,\" answered one of the councilors.\n\n\"What! must I amuse you as well as myself? Methinks it is no easy\ntask to be a King if so many things are required of me. But I suppose\nit is useless to fret, since the law obliges me to reign in this\ngreat country against my will. Therefore will I make the best of my\nmisfortune, and propose we have a dance, and forget our cares. Send at\nonce for some fiddlers, and clear the room for our merry-making, and\nfor once in our lives we shall have a jolly good time!\"\n\nSo one of the officers of the court went out and soon returned with\nthree fiddlers, and when at the King's command they struck up a tune,\nthe monarch was delighted, for every fiddler had a very fine fiddle and\nknew well how to use it.\n\nNow, Old King Cole was a merry old soul, so he soon set all the ladies\nand gentlemen of the court to dancing, and he himself took off his\ncrown and his ermine robe and laid them upon the throne, while he\ndanced with the prettiest lady present till he was all out of breath.\n\nThen he dismissed them, and they were all very well pleased with the\nnew King, for they saw that, in spite of his odd ways, he had a kind\nheart, and would try to make every one about him as merry as he was\nhimself.\n\nThe next morning the King was informed that several of his subjects\ncraved audience with him, as there were matters of dispute between\nthem that must be settled. King Cole at first refused to see them,\ndeclaring he knew nothing of the quarrels of his subjects and they must\nmanage their own affairs; but when the prime minister told him it was\none of his duties as king, and the law required it, he could not do\notherwise than submit. So he put on his crown and his ermine robe and\nsat upon the throne, although he grumbled a good deal at the necessity;\nfor never having had any business of his own to attend to he thought\nit doubly hard that in his old age he must attend to the business of\nothers.\n\nThe first case of dispute was between two men who each claimed to own a\nfine cow, and after hearing the evidence, the King ordered the cow to\nbe killed and roasted and given to the poor, since that was the easiest\nway to decide the matter. Then followed a quarrel between two subjects\nover ten pieces of gold, one claiming the other owed him that sum. The\nKing, thinking them both rascals, ordered the gold to be paid, and then\nhe took it and scattered it amongst the beggars outside the palace.\n\nBy this time King Cole decided he had transacted enough business for\none day, so he sent word to those outside that if anyone had a quarrel\nthat was not just he should be severely punished; and, indeed, when the\nsubjects learned the manner in which the King settled disputes, they\nwere afraid to come to him, as both sides were sure to be losers by the\ndecision. And that saved King Cole a lot of trouble thereafter, for the\npeople thought best to settle their own differences.\n\nThe King, now seeing he was free to do as he pleased, retired to his\nprivate chamber, where he called for the three fiddlers and made them\nplay for him while he smoked his pipe and drank a bowl of punch.\n\nEvery evening he had a dance in the palace, and every day there were\npicnics and merry-makings of all kinds, and before long King Cole had\nthe reputation of having the merriest court in all the world.\n\nHe loved to feast and to smoke and to drink his punch, and he was never\nso merry as when others were merry with him, so that the three fiddlers\nwere almost always by his side, and at any hour of the day you could\nhear sweet strains of music echoing through the palace.\n\nOld King Cole did not forget the donkey that had been his constant\ncompanion for so long. He had a golden saddle made for him, with a\nsaddle-cloth broidered in gold and silver, and the bridle was studded\nwith diamonds and precious stones, all taken from the King's treasury.\n\nAnd when he rode out, the old fat King always bestrode the donkey,\nwhile his courtiers rode on either side of him upon their prancing\nchargers.\n\nOld King Cole reigned for many years, and was generally beloved by his\nsubjects; for he always gave liberally to all who asked, and was always\nas merry and happy as the day was long.\n\nWhen he died the new King was found to be of a very different temper,\nand ruled the country with great severity; but this only served to make\nthe memory of Old King Cole more tenderly cherished by his people, and\nthey often sighed when they recalled his merry pranks, and the good\ntimes they enjoyed under his rule.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Mistress Mary]\n\n\n\n\nMistress Mary\n\n    Mistress Mary, quite contrary,\n      How does your garden grow?\n    With dingle bells and cockle shells\n      And cowslips, all in a row.\n\n\nHIGH upon a cliff that overlooked the sea was a little white cottage,\nin which dwelt a sailor and his wife, with their two strong sons and a\nlittle girl. The sons were also sailors, and had made several voyages\nwith their father in a pretty ship called the \"Skylark.\" Their names\nwere Hobart and Robart. The little girl's name was Mary, and she was\nvery happy indeed when her father and her brothers were at home, for\nthey petted her and played games with, her and loved her very dearly.\nBut when the \"Skylark\" went to sea, and her mother and herself were\nleft alone in the little white cottage, the hours were very dull and\ntedious, and Mary counted the days until the sailors came home again.\n\nOne spring, just as the grasses began to grow green upon the cliff\nand the trees were dressing their stiff, barren branches in robes of\ndelicate foliage, the father and brothers bade good-bye to Mary and her\nmother, for they were starting upon a voyage to the Black Sea.\n\n\"And how long will you be gone, papa?\" asked Mary, who was perched\nupon her father's knee, where she could nestle her soft cheek against\nhis bushy whiskers.\n\n\"How long?\" he repeated, stroking her curls tenderly as he spoke;\n\"well, well, my darling, it will be a long time indeed! Do you know the\ncowslips that grow in the pastures, Mary?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; I watch for them every spring,\" she answered.\n\n\"And do you know the dingle-bells that grow near the edge of the wood?\"\nhe asked again.\n\n\"I know them well, papa,\" replied Mary, \"for often I gather their blue\nblossoms and put them in a vase upon the table.\"\n\n\"And how about the cockle-shells?\"\n\n\"Them also I know,\" said Mary eagerly, for she was glad her father\nshould find her so well acquainted with the field flowers; \"there is\nnothing prettier than the big white flowers of the cockle-shells. But\ntell me, papa, what have the flowers to do with your coming home?\"\n\n\"Why, just this, sweetheart,\" returned the sailor gravely; \"all the\ntime that it takes the cowslips and dingle-bells and cockle-shells\nto sprout from the ground, and grow big and strong, and blossom into\nflower, and, yes--to wither and die away again--all that time shall\nyour brothers and I sail the seas. But when the cold winds begin to\nblow, and the flowers are gone, then, God willing, we shall come back\nto you; and by that time you may have grown wiser and bigger, and I am\nsure you will have grown older. So one more kiss, sweetheart, and then\nwe must go, for our time is up.\"\n\nThe next morning, when Mary and her mother had dried their eyes, which\nhad been wet with grief at the departure of their loved ones, the\nlittle girl asked earnestly,\n\n\"Mamma, may I make a flower-garden?\"\n\n\"A flower-garden!\" repeated her mother in surprise; \"why do you wish a\nflower-garden, Mary?\"\n\n\"I want to plant in it the cockle-shells and the cowslips and the\ndingle-bells,\" she answered.\n\nAnd her mother, who had heard what the sailor had said to his little\ngirl, knew at once what Mary meant; so she kissed her daughter and\nreplied,\n\n\"Yes, Mary, you may have the flower-garden, if you wish. We will dig a\nnice little bed just at the side of the house, and you shall plant your\nflowers and care for them yourself.\"\n\n\"I think I'd rather have the flowers at the front of the house,\" said\nMary.\n\n\"But why?\" enquired her mother; \"they will be better sheltered at the\nside.\"\n\n\"I want them in front,\" persisted Mary, \"for the sun shines stronger\nthere.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" answered her mother, \"make your garden at the front, if\nyou will, and I will help you to dig up the ground.\"\n\n\"But I don't want you to help,\" said Mary, \"for this is to be my own\nlittle flower-garden, and I want to do all the work myself.\"\n\nNow I must tell you that this little girl, although very sweet in many\nways, had one serious fault. She was inclined to be a bit contrary, and\nput her own opinions and ideas before those of her elders. Perhaps Mary\nmeant no wrong in this; she often thought she knew better how to do a\nthing than others did; and in such a case she was not only contrary,\nbut anxious to have her own way.\n\nAnd so her mother, who did not like her little daughter to be unhappy,\noften gave way to her in small things, and now she permitted Mary to\nmake her own garden, and plant it as she would.\n\nSo Mary made a long, narrow bed at the front of the house, and then she\nprepared to plant her flowers.\n\n\"If you scatter the seeds,\" said her mother, \"the flower-bed will look\nvery pretty.\"\n\nNow this was what Mary was about to do; but since her mother advised\nit, she tried to think of another way, for, as I said, she was contrary\nat times. And in the end she planted the dingle-bells all in one\nstraight row, and the cockle-shells in another straight row the length\nof the bed, and she finished by planting the cowslips in another long\nrow at the back.\n\nHer mother smiled, but said nothing; and now, as the days passed by,\nMary watered and tended her garden with great care; and when the\nflowers began to sprout she plucked all the weeds that grew among\nthem, and so in the mild spring weather the plants grew finely.\n\n\"When they have grown up big and strong,\" said Mary one morning, as\nshe weeded the bed, \"and when they have budded and blossomed and faded\naway again, then papa and my brothers will come home. And I shall call\nthe cockle-shells papa, for they are the biggest and strongest; and the\ndingle-bells shall be brother Hobart, and the cowslips brother Robart.\nAnd now I feel as if the flowers were really my dear ones, and I must\nbe very careful that they come to no harm!\"\n\nShe was filled with joy when one morning she ran out to her\nflower-garden after breakfast and found the dingle-bells and cowslips\nwere actually blossoming, while even the cockle-shells were showing\ntheir white buds. They looked rather comical, all standing in stiff,\nstraight rows, one after the other; but Mary did not mind that.\n\nWhile she was working she heard the tramp of a horse's hoofs, and\nlooking up saw the big bluff Squire riding toward her. The big Squire\nwas very fond of children, and whenever he rode near the little\nwhite cottage he stopped to have a word with Mary. He was old and\nbald-headed, and he had side-whiskers that were very red in color and\nvery short and stubby; but there was ever a merry twinkle in his blue\neyes, and Mary well knew him for her friend.\n\nNow, when she looked up and saw him coming toward her flower-garden,\nshe nodded and smiled at him, and the big bluff Squire rode up to her\nside, and looked down with a smile at her flowers.\n\nThen he said to her in rhyme (for it was a way of speaking the jolly\nSquire had),\n\n    \"Mistress Mary, so contrary,\n      How does your garden grow?\n    With dingle-bells and cockle-shells\n      And cowslips all in a row!\"\n\nAnd Mary, being a sharp little girl, and knowing the Squire's queer\nways, replied to him likewise in rhyme, saying,\n\n    \"I thank you, Squire, that you enquire\n      How well the flowers are growing;\n    The dingle-bells and cockle-shells\n      And cowslips all are blowing!\"\n\nThe Squire laughed at this reply, and patted her upon her head, and\nthen he continued,\n\n    \"'Tis aptly said. But prithee, maid,\n       Why thus your garden fill\n     When ev'ry field the same flowers yield\n       To pluck them as you will?\"\n\n\"That is a long story, Squire,\" said Mary; \"but this much I may tell\nyou,\n\n    \"The cockle-shell is father's flower,\n       The cowslip here is Robart,\n     The dingle-bell, I now must tell,\n       I've named for Brother Hobart.\n\n    \"And when the flowers have lived their lives\n       In sunshine and in rain,\n     And then do fade, why, papa said\n       He'd sure come home again.\"\n\n\"Oh, that's the idea, is it?\" asked the big bluff Squire, forgetting\nhis poetry. \"Well, it's a pretty thought, my child, and I think because\nthe flowers are strong and hearty that you may know your father and\nbrothers are the same; and I'm sure I hope they'll come back from their\nvoyage safe and sound. I shall come and see you again, little one, and\nwatch the garden grow.\" And then he said \"gee-up\" to his gray mare, and\nrode away.\n\nThe very next day, to Mary's great surprise and grief, she found the\nleaves of the dingle-bells curling and beginning to wither.\n\n\"Oh, mamma,\" she called, \"come quick! Something is surely the matter\nwith brother Hobart!\"\n\n\"The dingle-bells are dying,\" said her mother, after looking carefully\nat the flowers; \"but the reason is that the cold winds from the sea\nswept right over your garden last night, and dingle-bells are delicate\nflowers and grow best where they are sheltered by the woods. If you had\nplanted them at the side of the house, as I wished you to, the wind\nwould not have killed them.\"\n\nMary did not reply to this, but sat down and began to weep, feeling at\nthe same time that her mother was right and it was her own fault for\nbeing so contrary.\n\nWhile she sat thus the Squire rode up, and called to her\n\n    \"Fie, Mary, fie! Why do you cry,\n       And blind your eyes to knowing\n     How dingle-bells and cockle-shells\n       And cowslips all are growing?\"\n\n\"Oh, Squire!\" sobbed Mary, \"I am in great trouble.\n\n    \"Each dingle-bell I loved so well\n       Before my eyes is dying,\n     And much I fear my brother dear\n       In sickness now is lying!\"\n\n\"Nonsense!\" said the Squire; \"because you named the flowers after your\nbrother Hobart is no reason he should be affected by the fading of\nthe dingle-bells. I very much suspect the real reason they are dying\nis because the cold sea wind caught them last night. Dingle-bells are\ndelicate. If you had scattered the cockle-shells and cowslips all about\nthem, the stronger plants would have protected the weaker; but you see,\nmy girl, you planted the dingle-bells all in a row, and so the wind\ncaught them nicely.\"\n\nAgain Mary reproached herself for having been contrary and refusing to\nlisten to her mother's advice; but the Squire's words comforted her,\nnevertheless, and made her feel that brother Hobart and the flowers had\nreally nothing to do with each other.\n\nThe weather now began to change, and the cold sea winds blew each night\nover Mary's garden. She did not know this, for she was always lying\nsnugly tucked up in her bed, and the warm morning sun usually drove\naway the winds; but her mother knew it, and feared Mary's garden would\nsuffer.\n\nOne day Mary came into the house where her mother was at work and said,\ngleefully,\n\n\"Papa and my brothers will soon be home now.\"\n\n\"Why do you think so?\" asked her mother.\n\n\"Because the cockle-shells and cowslips are both fading away and\ndying, just as the dingle-bells did, and papa said when they faded and\nwithered he and the boys would come back to us.\"\n\nMary's mother knew that the harsh winds had killed the flowers before\ntheir time, but she did not like to disappoint her darling, so she only\nsaid, with a sigh,\n\n\"I hope you are right, Mary, for we both shall be glad to welcome our\ndear ones home again.\"\n\nBut soon afterward the big bluff Squire came riding up, as was his\nwont, to where Mary stood by her garden, and he at once asked,\n\n    \"Pray tell me, dear, though much I fear\n       The answer sad I know,\n     How grow the sturdy cockle-shells\n       And cowslips, all in a row?\"\n\nAnd Mary looked up at him with her bright smile and answered,\n\n    \"Dingle-bells and cockle-shells\n       And cowslips are all dead,\n     And now my papa's coming home,\n       For so he surely said.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said the Squire, looking at her curiously, \"I'm afraid you are\ngetting way ahead of time. See here, Mary, how would you like a little\nride with me on my nag?\"\n\n\"I would like it very much, sir,\" replied Mary.\n\n\"Then reach up your hand. Now!--there you are, little one!\" and Mary\nfound herself seated safely in front of the Squire, who clasped her\nwith one strong arm so that she could not slip off.\n\n\"Now, then,\" he said, \"we'll take a little ride down the hill and by\nthe path that runs beside the wood.\"\n\nSo he gave the rein to his mare and they rode along, chatting merrily\ntogether, till they came to the wood. Then said the Squire,\n\n    \"Take a look within that nook\n     And tell me what is there.\"\n\nAnd Mary exclaimed,\n\n    \"A dingle-bell, and truth to tell\n     In full bloom, I declare!\"\n\nThe Squire now clucked to his nag, and as they rode away he said,\n\n    \"Now come with me and you shall see\n       A field with cowslips bright,\n     And not a garden in the land\n       Can show so fair a sight.\"\n\nAnd so it was, for as they rode through the pastures the cowslips\nbloomed on every hand, and Mary's eyes grew bigger and bigger as she\nthought of her poor garden with its dead flowers.\n\nAnd then the Squire took her toward the little brook that wandered\nthrough the meadows, flowing over the pebbles with a soft, gurgling\nsound that was very nearly as sweet as music; and when they reached it\nthe big Squire said,\n\n    \"If you will look beside the brook\n       You'll see, I know quite well,\n     That hidden in each mossy nook\n       Is many a cockle-shell.\"\n\nThis was indeed true, and as Mary saw them she suddenly dropped her\nhead and began to weep.\n\n\"What's the matter, little one?\" asked the Squire in his kind, bluff\nvoice. And Mary answered,\n\n    \"Although the flowers I much admire,\n       You know papa did say\n     He won't be home again, Squire,\n       Till all have passed away.\"\n\n\"You must be patient, my child,\" replied her friend; \"and surely you\nwould not have been thus disappointed had you not tried to make the\nfield flowers grow where they do not belong. Gardens are all well\nenough for fancy flowers to grow in, but the posies that God gave to\nall the world, and made to grow wild in the great garden of Nature,\nwill never thrive in other places. Your father meant you to watch the\nflowers in the field; and if you will come and visit them each day,\nyou will find the time of waiting very short indeed.\"\n\nMary dried her eyes and thanked the kindly old Squire, and after that\nshe visited the fields each day and watched the flowers grow.\n\nAnd it was not so very long, as the Squire said, before the blossoms\nbegan to wither and fall away; and finally one day Mary looked out over\nthe sea and saw a little speck upon the waters that looked like a sail.\nAnd when it came nearer and had grown larger, both she and her mother\nsaw that it was the \"Skylark\" come home again, and you can imagine how\npleased and happy the sight of the pretty little ship made them.\n\nAnd soon after, when Mary had been hugged by her two sunburned brothers\nand was clasped in her father's strong arms, she whispered,\n\n\"I knew you were coming soon, papa.\"\n\n\"And how did you know, sweetheart?\" he asked, giving her an extra kiss.\n\n\"Because I watched the flowers; and the dingle-bells and cowslips and\ncockle-shells are all withered and faded away. And did you not say\nthat, God willing, when this happened you would come back to us?\"\n\n\"To be sure I did,\" answered her father, with a happy laugh; \"and\nI must have spoken truly, sweetheart, for God in His goodness was\nwilling, and here I am!\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Wond'rous Wise Man]\n\n\n\n\nThe Wond'rous Wise Man\n\n    There was a man in our town\n      And he was wond'rous wise;\n    He jumped into a bramble bush\n      And scratched out both his eyes.\n    And when he saw his eyes were out,\n      With all his might and main\n    He jumped into another bush\n      And scratched them in again!\n\n\nOUR town is a quiet little town, and lies nestling in a little valley\nsurrounded by pretty green hills. I do not think you would ever have\nheard our town mentioned had not the man lived there who was so wise\nthat everyone marvelled at his great knowledge.\n\nHe was not always a wise man; he was a wise boy before he grew to\nmanhood, and even when a child he was so remarkable for his wisdom that\npeople shook their heads gravely and said, \"when he grows up there will\nbe no need of books, for he will know everything!\"\n\nHis father thought he had a wond'rous wise look when he was born, and\nso he named him Solomon, thinking that if indeed he turned out to be\nwise the name would fit him nicely, whereas, should he be mistaken,\nand the boy grow up stupid, his name could be easily changed to Simon.\n\nBut the father was not mistaken, and the boy's name remained Solomon.\n\nWhen he was still a child Solomon confounded the schoolmaster by\nasking, one day,\n\n\"Can you tell me, sir, why a cow drinks water from a brook?\"\n\n\"Well really,\" replied the abashed schoolmaster, \"I have never given\nthe subject serious thought. But I will sleep upon the question, and\ntry to give you an answer to-morrow.\"\n\nBut the schoolmaster could not sleep; he remained awake all the night\ntrying to think why a cow drinks water from a brook, and in the morning\nhe was no nearer the answer than before. So he was obliged to appear\nbefore the wise child and acknowledge that he could not solve the\nproblem.\n\n\"I have looked at the subject from every side,\" said he, \"and given it\ncareful thought, and yet I cannot tell why a cow drinks water from a\nbrook.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the wise child, \"it is because the cow is thirsty.\"\n\nThe shock of this answer was so great that the schoolmaster fainted\naway, and when they had brought him to he made a prophecy that Solomon\nwould grow up to be a wond'rous wise man.\n\nIt was the same way with the village doctor. Solomon came to him one\nday and asked,\n\n\"Tell me, sir, why has a man two eyes?\"\n\n\"Bless me!\" exclaimed the doctor, \"I must think a bit before I answer,\nfor I have never yet had my attention called to this subject.\"\n\nSo he thought for a long time, and then he said,\n\n\"I must really give it up. I cannot tell, for the life of me, why a man\nhas two eyes. Do you know?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" answered the boy.\n\n\"Then,\" said the doctor, after taking a dose of quinine to brace up his\nnerves, for he remembered the fate of the schoolmaster, \"then please\ntell me why a man has two eyes.\"\n\n\"A man has two eyes, sir,\" returned Solomon, solemnly, \"because he was\nborn that way.\"\n\nAnd the doctor marvelled greatly at so much wisdom in a little child,\nand made a note of it in his note-book.\n\nSolomon was so full of wisdom that it flowed from his mouth in a\nperfect stream, and every day he gave new evidence to his friends that\nhe could scarcely hold all the wise thoughts that came to him. For\ninstance, one day he said to his father,\n\n\"I perceive our dog has six legs.\"\n\n\"Oh, no!\" replied his father, \"our dog has only four legs.\"\n\n\"You are surely mistaken, sir,\" said Solomon, with the gravity that\ncomes from great wisdom, \"these are our dog's fore legs, are they not?\"\npointing to the front legs of the dog.\n\n[Illustration: The Wond'rous Wise Man]\n\n\"Yes,\" answered his father.\n\n\"Well,\" continued Solomon, \"the dog has two other legs, besides, and\ntwo and four are six; therefore the dog has six legs.\"\n\n\"But that is very old,\" exclaimed his father.\n\n\"True,\" replied Solomon, \"but this is a young dog.\"\n\nThen his father bowed his head in shame that his own child should teach\nhim wisdom.\n\nOf course Solomon wore glasses upon his eyes--all wise people wear\nthem,--and his face was ever grave and solemn, while he walked slowly\nand stiffly so that people might know he was the celebrated wise man,\nand do him reverence.\n\nAnd when he had grown to manhood the fame of his wisdom spread all\nover the world, so that all the other wise men were jealous, and tried\nin many ways to confound him; but Solomon always came out ahead and\nmaintained his reputation for wisdom.\n\nFinally a very wise man came from Cumberland, to meet Solomon and see\nwhich of them was the wisest. He was a very big man, and Solomon was\na very little man, and so the people all shook their heads sadly and\nfeared Solomon had met his match, for if the Cumberland man was as full\nof wisdom as Solomon, he had much the advantage in size.\n\nThey formed a circle around the two wise men, and then began the trial\nto see which was the wisest.\n\n\"Tell me,\" said Solomon, looking straight up into the big man's face\nwith an air of confidence that reassured his friends, \"how many sisters\nhas a boy who has one father, one mother, and seven brothers?\"\n\nThe big wise man got very red in the face, and scowled and coughed and\nstammered, but he could not tell.\n\n\"I do not know,\" he acknowledged; \"nor do you know, either, for there\nis no rule to go by.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I know,\" replied Solomon; \"he has two sisters. I know this is\nthe true answer, because I know the boy and his father and his mother\nand his brothers and his sisters, so that I cannot be mistaken.\"\n\nNow all the people applauded at this, for they were sure Solomon had\ngot the best of the man from Cumberland.\n\nBut it was now the big man's turn to try Solomon, so he said,\n\n    \"Fingers five are on my hand;\n     All of them upright do stand.\n     One a dog is, chasing kittens;\n     One a cat is, wearing mittens;\n     One a rat is, eating cheese;\n     One a wolf is, full of fleas;\n     One a fly is, in a cup--\n     How many fingers do I hold up?\"\n\n\"Four,\" replied Solomon, promptly, \"for one of them is a thumb!\"\n\nThe wise man from Cumberland was so angry at being outwitted that he\nsprang at Solomon and would no doubt have injured him had not our\nwise man turned and run away as fast as he could go. The man from\nCumberland at once ran after him, and chased him through the streets\nand down the lanes and up the side of the hill where the bramble-bushes\ngrow.\n\nSolomon ran very fast, but the man from Cumberland was bigger, and he\nwas just about to grab our wise man by his coat-tails when Solomon gave\na great jump, and jumped right into the middle of a big bramble-bush!\n\nThe people were all coming up behind, and as the big man did not dare\nto follow Solomon into the bramble-bush, he turned away and ran home to\nCumberland.\n\nAll the men and women of our town were horrified when they came up and\nfound their wise man in the middle of the bramble-bush, and held fast\nby the brambles, which scratched and pricked him on every side.\n\n\"Solomon! are you hurt?\" they cried.\n\n\"I should say I am hurt!\" replied Solomon, with a groan; \"my eyes are\nscratched out!\"\n\n\"How do you know they are?\" asked the village doctor.\n\n\"I can see they are scratched out!\" replied Solomon; and the people all\nwept with grief at this, and Solomon howled louder than any of them.\n\nNow the fact was that when Solomon jumped into the bramble-bush he was\nwearing his spectacles, and the brambles pushed the glasses so close\nagainst his eyes that he could not open them; and so, as every other\npart of him was scratched and bleeding, and he could not open his\neyes, he made sure they were scratched out.\n\n\"How am I to get out of here?\" he asked at last.\n\n\"You must jump out,\" replied the doctor, \"since you have jumped in.\"\n\nSo Solomon made a great jump, and although the brambles tore him\ncruelly, he sprang entirely out of the bush and fell plump into another\none.\n\nThis last bush, however, by good luck, was not a bramble-bush, but one\nof elderberry, and when he jumped into it his spectacles fell off, and\nto his surprise he opened his eyes and found that he could see again.\n\n\"Where are you now?\" called out the doctor.\n\n\"I'm in the elderberry bush, and I've scratched my eyes in again!\"\nanswered Solomon.\n\nWhen the people heard this they marvelled greatly at the wisdom of a\nman who knew how to scratch his eyes in after they were scratched out;\nand they lifted Solomon from the bush and carried him home, where they\nbound up the scratches and nursed him carefully until he was well again.\n\nAnd after that no one ever questioned the wond'rous wisdom of our wise\nman, and when he finally died, at a good old age, they built a great\nmonument over his grave, and on one side of it were the words,\n\n    \"Solomon; the Man who was Wond'rous Wise.\"\n\nand on the other side was a picture of a bramble-bush.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: What Jack Horner Did]\n\n\n\n\nWhat Jack Horner Did\n\n    Little Jack Horner sat in a corner,\n      Eating a Christmas pie;\n    He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum\n      And said, \"What a good boy am I!\"\n\n\nLITTLE JACK HORNER lived in an old, tumble-down house at the edge of a\nbig wood; and there many generations of Horners had lived before him,\nand had earned their living by chopping wood. Jack's father and mother\nwere both dead, and he lived with his grandfather and grandmother, who\ntook great pains to teach him all that a boy should know.\n\nThey lived very comfortably and happily together until one day a great\ntree fell upon Grandpa Horner and crushed his legs; and from that time\non he could not work at all, but had to be nursed and tended very\ncarefully.\n\nThis calamity was a great affliction to the Horners. Grandma Horner had\na little money saved up in an old broken teapot that she kept in the\ncupboard, but that would not last them a great time, and when it was\ngone they would have nothing with which to buy food.\n\n\"I'm sure I don't know what is to become of us,\" she said to Jack,\n\"for I am too old to work, and you are too young.\" She always told her\ntroubles to Jack now; small though he was, he was the only one she\ncould talk freely with, since it would only bother the poor crippled\ngrandfather to tell him how low the money was getting in the teapot.\n\n\"It is true,\" replied Jack, \"that you are too old to work, for your\nrheumatism will barely allow you to care for the house and cook our\nmeals; and there is grandpa to be tended. But I am not too young to\nwork, grandma, and I shall take my little hatchet and go into the wood.\nI cannot cut the big trees, but I can the smaller ones, and I am sure\nI shall be able to pile up enough wood to secure the money we need for\nfood.\"\n\n\"You are a good boy, dear,\" said grandma Horner, patting his head\nlovingly, \"but you are too young for the task. We must think of some\nother way to keep the wolf from the door.\"\n\nBut Jack was not shaken in his resolve, although he saw it was useless\nto argue further with his grandmother. So the next morning he rose very\nearly and took his little axe and went into the wood to begin his work.\nThere were a good many branches scattered about, and these he was able\nto cut with ease; and then he piled them up nicely to be sold when the\nwood-carter next came around. When dinner-time came he stopped long\nenough to eat some of the bread and cheese he had brought with him,\nand then he resumed his work.\n\nBut scarcely had he chopped one branch when a faint cry from the wood\narrested his attention. It seemed as if some one was shouting for help.\nJack listened a moment, and again heard the cry.\n\nWithout hesitation he seized his axe and ran toward the place from\nwhence the cry had proceeded. The underbrush was very thick and the\nthorns caught in his clothing and held him back, but with the aid of\nhis sharp little axe he overcame all difficulties and presently reached\na place where the wood was more open.\n\nHe paused here, for often he had been told by Grandpa Horner that there\nwere treacherous bogs in this part of the wood, which were so covered\nwith mosses and ferns that the ground seemed solid enough to walk\nupon. But woe to the unlucky traveler who stepped unawares upon their\nsurface; for instantly he found himself caught by the clinging moist\nclay, to sink farther and farther into the bog until, swallowed up in\nthe mire, he would meet a horrible death beneath its slimy surface.\nHis grandfather had told him never to go near these terrible bogs, and\nJack, who was an obedient boy, had always kept away from this part of\nthe wood. But as he paused, again that despairing cry came to his ears,\nvery near to him now, it seemed:\n\n\"Help!\"\n\nForgetful of all save a desire to assist this unknown sufferer, Jack\nsprang forward with an answering cry, and only halted when he found\nhimself upon the edge of a vast bog.\n\n[Illustration: Jack Horner]\n\n\"Where are you?\" he then shouted.\n\n\"Here!\" answered a voice, and, looking down, Jack saw, a few feet\naway, the head and shoulders of a man. He had walked into the bog and\nsunk into its treacherous depths nearly to his waist, and, although he\nstruggled bravely, his efforts only seemed to draw him farther down\ntoward a frightful death.\n\nFor a moment, filled with horror and dismay, Jack stood looking at the\nman. Then he remembered a story he had once heard of how a man had been\nsaved from the bog.\n\n\"Be quiet, sir!\" he called to the unfortunate stranger; \"save all your\nstrength, and I may yet be able to rescue you.\"\n\nHe then ran to a tall sapling that stood near and began chopping away\nwith his axe. The keen blade speedily cut through the young but tough\nwood, and, then Jack dragged it to the edge of the bog, and, exerting\nall his strength, pushed it out until the sapling was within reach of\nthe sinking man.\n\n\"Grab it, sir!\" he called out, \"and hold on tightly. It will keep you\nfrom sinking farther into the mire, and when you have gained more\nstrength you may be able to pull yourself out.\"\n\n\"You are a brave boy,\" replied the stranger, \"and I shall do as you\ntell me.\"\n\nIt was a long and tedious struggle, and often Jack thought the stranger\nwould despair and be unable to drag his body from the firm clutch of\nthe bog; but little by little the man succeeded in drawing himself up\nby the sapling, and at last he was saved, and sank down exhausted upon\nthe firm ground by Jack's side.\n\nThe boy then ran for some water that stood in a slough near by, and\nwith this he bathed the stranger's face and cooled his parched lips.\nThen he gave him the remains of his bread and cheese, and soon the\ngentleman became strong enough to walk with Jack's help to the cottage\nat the edge of the wood.\n\nGrandma Horner was greatly surprised to see the strange man\napproaching, supported by her sturdy little grandson; but she ran to\nhelp him, and afterward gave him some old clothing of Grandpa Horner's\nto replace his own muddy garments. When the man had fully rested, she\nbrewed him her last bit of tea, and by that time the stranger declared\nhe felt as good as new.\n\n\"Is this your son, ma'am?\" he asked, pointing to Jack.\n\n\"He is my grandson, sir,\" answered the woman.\n\n\"He is a good boy,\" declared the stranger, \"and a brave boy as well,\nfor he has saved my life. I live far away in a big city, and have\nplenty of money. If you will give Jack to me I will take him home and\neducate him, and make a great man of him when he grows up.\"\n\nGrandma Horner hesitated, for the boy was very dear to her and the\npride of her old age; but Jack spoke up for himself.\n\n\"I'll not go,\" he said, stoutly; \"you are very kind, and mean well by\nme, but grandma and grandpa have only me to care for them now, and I\nmust stay with them and cut the wood, and so keep them supplied with\nfood.\"\n\nThe stranger said nothing more, but he patted Jack's head kindly, and\nsoon after left them and took the road to the city.\n\nThe next morning Jack went to the wood again, and began chopping as\nbravely as before. And by hard work he cut a great deal of wood, which\nthe wood-carter carried away and sold for him. The pay was not very\nmuch, to be sure, but Jack was glad that he was able to earn something\nto help his grandparents.\n\nAnd so the days passed rapidly away until it was nearly Christmas time,\nand now, in spite of Jack's earnings, the money was very low indeed in\nthe broken teapot.\n\nOne day, just before Christmas, a great wagon drove up to the door of\nthe little cottage, and in it was the stranger Jack had rescued from\nthe bog. The wagon was loaded with a store of good things which would\nadd to the comfort of the aged pair and their grandson, including\nmedicines for grandpa and rare teas for grandma, and a fine suit of\nclothes for Jack, who was just then away at work in the wood.\n\nWhen the stranger had brought all these things into the house, he asked\nto see the old teapot. Trembling with the excitement of their good\nfortune, Grandma Horner brought out the teapot, and the gentleman drew\na bag from beneath his coat and filled the pot to the brim with shining\ngold pieces.\n\n\"If ever you need more,\" he said, \"send to me, and you shall have all\nyou wish to make you comfortable.\"\n\nThen he told her his name, and where he lived, so that she might find\nhim if need be, and then he drove away in the empty wagon before\nGrandma Horner had half finished thanking him.\n\nYou can imagine how astonished and happy little Jack was when he\nreturned from his work and found all the good things his kind\nbenefactor had brought. Grandma Horner was herself so delighted that\nshe caught the boy in her arms, and hugged and kissed him, declaring\nthat his brave rescue of the gentleman had brought them all this\nhappiness in their hour of need.\n\n\"To-morrow is Christmas,\" she said, \"and we shall have an abundance\nwith which to celebrate the good day. So I shall make you a Christmas\npie, Jack dear, and stuff it full of plums, for you must have your\nshare of our unexpected prosperity.\"\n\nAnd Grandma Horner was as good as her word, and made a very delicious\npie indeed for her darling grandson.\n\nAnd this was how it came that\n\n    \"Little Jack Horner sat in a corner\n       Eating a Christmas pie;\n     He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum,\n       And said, 'What a good boy am I!'\"\n\nAnd he was--a very good boy. Don't you think so?\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Man in the Moon]\n\n\n\n\nThe Man in the Moon\n\n    The Man in the Moon came tumbling down,\n      And enquired the way to Norwich;\n    He went by the south and burned his mouth\n      With eating cold pease porridge!\n\n\nWHAT! have you never heard the story of the Man in the Moon? Then I\nmust surely tell it, for it is very amusing, and there is not a word of\ntruth in it.\n\nThe Man in the Moon was rather lonesome, and often he peeked over\nthe edge of the moon and looked down upon the earth and envied all\nthe people who lived together, for he thought it must be vastly more\npleasant to have companions to talk to than to be shut up in a big\nplanet all by himself, where he had to whistle to keep himself company.\n\nOne day he looked down and saw an alderman sailing up through the air\ntowards him. This alderman was being translated (instead of being\ntransported, owing to a misprint in the law) and as he came near the\nMan in the Moon called to him and said,\n\n\"How is everything down on the earth?\"\n\n\"Everything is lovely,\" replied the alderman, \"and I wouldn't leave it\nif I was not obliged to.\"\n\n\"What's a good place to visit down there? enquired the Man in the Moon.\n\n\"Oh, Norwich is a mighty fine place,\" returned the alderman, \"and it's\nfamous for its pease porridge;\" and then he sailed out of sight and\nleft the Man in the Moon to reflect upon what he had said.\n\nThe words of the alderman made him more anxious than ever to visit the\nearth, and so he walked thoughtfully home, and put a few lumps of ice\nin the stove to keep him warm, and sat down to think how he should\nmanage the trip.\n\nYou see, everything went by contraries in the Moon, and when the Man\nwished to keep warm he knocked off a few chunks of ice and put them in\nhis stove; and he cooled his drinking water by throwing red-hot coals\nof fire into the pitcher. Likewise, when he became chilly he took off\nhis hat and coat, and even his shoes, and so became warm; and in the\nhot days of summer he put on his overcoat to cool off.\n\nAll of which seems very queer to you, no doubt; but it wasn't at all\nqueer to the Man in the Moon, for he was accustomed to it.\n\nWell, he sat by his ice-cool fire and thought about his journey to the\nearth, and finally he decided the only way he could get there was to\nslide down a moonbeam.\n\nSo he left the house and locked the door and put the key in his pocket,\nfor he was uncertain how long he should be gone; and then he went to\nthe edge of the moon and began to search for a good strong moonbeam.\n\nAt last he found one that seemed rather substantial and reached right\ndown to a pleasant-looking spot on the earth; and so he swung himself\nover the edge of the moon, and put both arms tight around the moonbeam\nand started to slide down. But he found it rather slippery, and in\nspite of all his efforts to hold on he found himself going faster and\nfaster, so that just before he reached the earth he lost his hold and\ncame tumbling down head over heels and fell plump into a river.\n\nThe cool water nearly scalded him before he could swim out, but\nfortunately he was near the bank and he quickly scrambled upon the land\nand sat down to catch his breath.\n\nBy that time it was morning, and as the sun rose its hot rays cooled\nhim off somewhat, so that he began looking about curiously at all the\nstrange sights and wondering where on earth he was.\n\nBy and by a farmer came along the road by the river with a team of\nhorses drawing a load of hay, and the horses looked so odd to the Man\nin the Moon that at first he was greatly frightened, never before\nhaving seen horses except from his home in the moon, from whence they\nlooked a good deal smaller. But he plucked up courage and said to the\nfarmer,\n\n\"Can you tell me the way to Norwich, sir?\"\n\n\"Norwich?\" repeated the farmer musingly; \"I don't know exactly where\nit be, sir, but it's somewhere away to the south.\"\n\n[Illustration: The Man in the Moon]\n\n\"Thank you,\" said the Man in the Moon.--But stop! I must not call him\nthe Man in the Moon any longer, for of course he was now _out_ of the\nmoon; so I'll simply call him the Man, and you'll know by that which\nman I mean.\n\nWell, the Man in the--I mean the Man (but I nearly forgot what I have\njust said)--the Man turned to the south and began walking briskly along\nthe road, for he had made up his mind to do as the alderman had advised\nand travel to Norwich, that he might eat some of the famous pease\nporridge that was made there. And finally, after a long and tiresome\njourney, he reached the town and stopped at one of the first houses he\ncame to, for by this time he was very hungry indeed.\n\nA good-looking woman answered his knock at the door, and he asked\npolitely,\n\n\"Is this the town of Norwich, madam?\"\n\n\"Surely this is the town of Norwich,\" returned the woman.\n\n\"I came here to see if I could get some pease porridge,\" continued the\nMan, \"for I hear you make the nicest porridge in the world in this\ntown.\"\n\n\"That we do, sir,\" answered the woman, \"and if you'll step inside I'll\ngive you a bowl, for I have plenty in the house that is newly made.\"\n\nSo he thanked her and entered the house, and she asked,\n\n\"Will you have it hot or cold, sir?\"\n\n\"Oh, cold, by all means,\" replied the Man, \"for I detest anything hot\nto eat.\"\n\nShe soon brought him a bowl of cold pease porridge, and the Man was so\nhungry that he took a big spoonful at once.\n\nBut no sooner had he put it into his mouth than he uttered a great\nyell, and began dancing frantically about the room, for of course\nthe porridge that was cold to earth folk was hot to him, and the big\nspoonful of cold pease porridge had burned his mouth to a blister!\n\n\"What's the matter?\" asked the woman.\n\n\"Matter!\" screamed the Man; \"why, your porridge is so hot it has burned\nme.\"\n\n\"Fiddlesticks!\" she replied, \"the porridge is quite cold.\"\n\n\"Try it yourself!\" he cried. So she tried it and found it very cold and\npleasant. But the Man was so astonished to see her eat the porridge\nthat had blistered his own mouth that he became frightened and ran out\nof the house and down the street as fast as he could go.\n\nThe policeman on the first corner saw him running, and promptly\narrested him, and he was marched off to the magistrate for trial.\n\n\"What is your name?\" asked the magistrate.\n\n\"I haven't any,\" replied the Man; for of course as he was the only Man\nin the Moon it wasn't necessary he should have a name.\n\n\"Come, come, no nonsense!\" said the magistrate, \"you must have some\nname. Who are you?\"\n\n\"Why, I'm the Man in the Moon.\"\n\n\"That's rubbish!\" said the magistrate, eyeing the prisoner severely,\n\"you may be a man, but you're not in the moon--you're in Norwich.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" answered the Man, who was quite bewildered by this idea.\n\n\"And of course you must be called something,\" continued the magistrate.\n\n\"Well, then,\" said the prisoner, \"if I'm not the Man in the Moon I must\nbe the Man out of the Moon; so call me that.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" replied the judge; \"now, then, where did you come from?\"\n\n\"The moon.\"\n\n\"Oh, you did, eh? How did you get here?\"\n\n\"I slid down a moonbeam.\"\n\n\"Indeed! Well, what were you running for?\"\n\n\"A woman gave me some cold pease porridge, and it burned my mouth.\"\n\nThe magistrate looked at him a moment in surprise, and then he said,\n\n\"This person is evidently crazy; so take him to the lunatic asylum and\nkeep him there.\"\n\nThis would surely have been the fate of the Man had there not been\npresent an old astronomer who had often looked at the moon through\nhis telescope, and so had discovered that what was hot on earth was\ncold in the moon, and what was cold here was hot there; so he began to\nthink the Man had told the truth. Therefore he begged the magistrate\nto wait a few minutes while he looked through his telescope to see if\nthe Man in the Moon was there. So, as it was now night, he fetched his\ntelescope and looked at the Moon,--and found there was no man in it at\nall!\n\n\"It seems to be true,\" said the astronomer, \"that the Man has got out\nof the Moon somehow or other. Let me look at your mouth, sir, and see\nif it is really burned.\"\n\nThen the Man opened his mouth, and everyone saw plainly it was burned\nto a blister! Thereupon the magistrate begged his pardon for doubting\nhis word, and asked him what he would like to do next.\n\n\"I'd like to get back to the Moon,\" said the Man, \"for I don't like\nthis earth of yours at all. The nights are too hot.\"\n\n\"Why, it's quite cool this evening!\" said the magistrate.\n\n\"I'll tell you what we can do,\" remarked the astronomer; \"there's a big\nballoon in town which belongs to the circus that came here last summer,\nand was pawned for a board bill. We can inflate this balloon and send\nthe Man out of the Moon home in it.\"\n\n\"That's a good idea,\" replied the judge. So the balloon was brought\nand inflated, and the Man got into the basket and gave the word to let\ngo, and then the balloon mounted up into the sky in the direction of\nthe moon.\n\nThe good people of Norwich stood on the earth and tipped back their\nheads, and watched the balloon go higher and higher, until finally the\nMan reached out and caught hold of the edge of the moon, and behold!\nthe next minute he was the Man in the Moon again!\n\nAfter this adventure he was well contented to stay at home; and I've no\ndoubt if you look through a telescope you will see him there to this\nday.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Jolly Miller]\n\n\n\n\nThe Jolly Miller\n\n    There was a jolly miller\n      Lived on the river Dee;\n    He sang and worked from morn till night,\n      No lark so blithe as he.\n    And this the burden of his song\n      Forever seemed to be:\n    I care for nobody, no! not I,\n      Since nobody cares for me.\n\n\n\"CREE-E-EEKETY-CRUCK-CRICK! cree-e-eekety-cruck-crick!\" sang out the\nbig wheel of the mill upon the river Dee, for it was old and ricketty\nand had worked many years grinding corn for the miller; so from morning\ntill night it creaked and growled and complained as if rebelling\nagainst the work it must do. And the country people, at work in the\nfields far away, would raise their heads when the soft summer breezes\nwafted the sound of the wheel to their ears and say,\n\n\"The jolly miller is grinding his corn.\" And again, at the times when\nthe mill was shut down and no sound of the wheel reached them, they\nsaid to one another,\n\n\"The jolly miller has no corn to grind to-day,\" or, \"The miller is\noiling the great wheel.\" But they would miss the creaking, monotonous\nnoise, and feel more content when the mill started again and made music\nfor them as they worked.\n\nBut no one came to the mill unless they brought corn to grind, for the\nmiller was a queer man, and liked to be alone. When people passed by\nthe mill and saw the miller at his work, they only nodded their heads,\nfor they knew he would not reply if they spoke to him.\n\nHe was not an old man, nor a sour man, nor a bad man; on the contrary\nhe could be heard singing at his work most of the time. But the words\nof his song would alone have kept people away from him, for they were\nalways these:\n\n    \"I care for nobody, no! not I,\n     Since nobody cares for me.\"\n\nHe lived all alone in the mill-house, cooking his own meals and making\nhis own bed, and neither asking nor receiving help from anyone. It\nis very certain that if the jolly miller had cared to have friends\nmany would have visited him, since the country people were sociable\nenough in their way; but it was the miller himself who refused to make\nfriends, and old Farmer Dobson used to say,\n\n\"The reason nobody cares for the miller is because he won't let them.\nIt is the fault of the man himself, not the fault of the people!\"\n\nHowever this may have been, it is true the miller had no friends, and\nequally sure that he cared to have none, for it did not make him a bit\nunhappy.\n\nSometimes, indeed, as he sat at evening in the doorway of the mill and\nwatched the moon rise in the sky, he grew a bit lonely and thoughtful,\nand found himself longing for some one to love and cherish, for this is\nthe nature of all good men. But when he realized how his thoughts were\nstraying he began to sing again, and he drove away all such hopeless\nlongings.\n\nAt last a change came over the miller's life. He was standing one\nevening beside the river, watching the moonbeams play upon the water,\nwhen something came floating down the stream that attracted his\nattention. For a long time he could not tell what it was, but it looked\nto him like a big black box; so he got a long pole and reached it out\ntowards the box and managed to draw it within reach just above the big\nwheel. It was fortunate he saved it when he did, for in another moment\nit would have gone over the wheel and been dashed to pieces far below.\n\nWhen the miller had pulled the floating object upon the bank he found\nit really was a box, the lid being fastened tight with a strong cord.\nSo he lifted it carefully and carried it into the mill-house, and then\nhe placed it upon the floor while he lighted a candle. Then he cut\nthe cord and opened the box, and behold! a little babe lay within it,\nsweetly sleeping upon a pillow of down.\n\nThe miller was so surprised that he stopped singing and gazed with big\neyes at the beautiful face of the little stranger. And while he gazed\nits eyes opened--two beautiful, pleading blue eyes,--and the little one\nsmiled and stretched out her arms toward him.\n\n\"Well, well!\" said the miller, \"where on earth did you come from?\"\n\nThe baby did not reply, but she tried to, and made some soft little\nnoises that sounded like the cooing of a pigeon.\n\nThe tiny arms were still stretched upwards, and the miller bent down\nand tenderly lifted the child from the box and placed her upon his\nknee, and then he began to stroke the soft, silken ringlets that\nclustered around her head, and to look upon her wonderingly. The baby\nleaned against his breast and fell asleep again, and the miller became\ngreatly troubled, for he was unused to babies and did not know how to\nhandle them or care for them. But he sat very still until the little\none awoke, and then, thinking it must be hungry, he brought some sweet\nmilk and fed her with a spoon.\n\nThe baby smiled at him and ate the milk as if it liked it, and then one\nlittle dimpled hand caught hold of the miller's whiskers and pulled\nsturdily, while the baby jumped its little body up and down and cooed\nits delight.\n\nDo you think the miller was angry? Not a bit of it! He smiled back\ninto the laughing face and let her pull his whiskers as much as she\nliked. For his whole heart had gone out to this little waif that he\nhad rescued from the river, and at last the solitary man had found\nsomething to love.\n\nThe baby slept that night in the miller's own bed, snugly tucked in\nbeside the miller himself; and in the morning he fed her milk again,\nand then went out to his work singing more merrily than ever.\n\nEvery few minutes he would put his head into the room where he had left\nthe child, to see if it wanted anything, and if it cried even the least\nbit he would run in and take it in his arms and soothe the little girl\nuntil she smiled again.\n\nThat first day the miller was fearful some one would come and claim the\nchild, but when evening came without the arrival of any stranger he\ndecided the baby had been cast adrift and now belonged to nobody but\nhim.\n\n\"I shall keep her as long as I live,\" he thought, \"and never will we be\nseparated for even a day. For now that I have found some one to love I\ncould not bear to let her go again.\"\n\nHe cared for the waif very tenderly; and as the child was strong and\nhealthy she was not much trouble to him, and to his delight grew bigger\nday by day.\n\nThe country people were filled with surprise when they saw a child in\nthe mill-house, and wondered where it came from; but the miller would\nanswer no questions, and as year after year passed away they forgot to\nenquire how the child came there and looked upon her as the miller's\nown daughter.\n\nShe grew to be a sweet and pretty child, and was the miller's constant\ncompanion. She called him \"papa,\" and he called her Nathalie, because\nhe had found her upon the water, and the country people called her the\nMaid of the Mill.\n\nThe miller worked harder than ever before, for now he had to feed and\nclothe the little girl; and he sang from morn till night, so joyous was\nhe, and still his song was:\n\n    \"I care for nobody, no! not I,\n     Since nobody cares for me.\"\n\nOne day, while he was singing this, he heard a sob beside him, and\nlooked down to see Nathalie weeping.\n\n\"What is it, my pet?\" he asked, anxiously.\n\n\"Oh, papa,\" she answered, \"why do you sing that nobody cares for you,\nwhen you know I love you so dearly?\"\n\nThe miller was surprised, for he had sung the song so long he had\nforgotten what the words meant.\n\n\"Do you indeed love me, Nathalie?\" he asked.\n\n\"Indeed, indeed! You know I do!\" she replied.\n\n\"Then,\" said the miller, with a happy laugh, as he bent down and kissed\nthe tear-stained face, \"I shall change my song.\"\n\nAnd after that he sang:\n\n    \"I love sweet Nathalie, that I do,\n     For Nathalie she loves me.\"\n\nThe years passed by and the miller was very happy. Nathalie grew to\nbe a sweet and lovely maiden, and she learned to cook the meals and\ntend the house, and that made it easier for the miller, for now he was\ngrowing old.\n\nOne day the young Squire, who lived at the great house on the hill,\ncame past the mill and saw Nathalie sitting in the doorway, her pretty\nform framed in the flowers that climbed around and over the door.\n\nAnd the Squire loved her after that first glance, for he saw that she\nwas as good and innocent as she was beautiful. The miller, hearing the\nsound of voices, came out and saw them together, and at once he became\nvery angry, for he knew that trouble was in store for him, and he must\nguard his treasure very carefully if he wished to keep her with him.\nThe young Squire begged very hard to be allowed to pay court to the\nMaid of the Mill, but the miller ordered him away, and he was forced to\ngo. Then the miller saw there were tears in Nathalie's eyes, and that\nmade him still more anxious, for he feared the mischief was already\ndone.\n\nIndeed, in spite of the miller's watchfulness, the Squire and Nathalie\noften met and walked together in the shady lanes or upon the green\nbanks of the river. It was not long before they learned to love one\nanother very dearly, and one day they went hand in hand to the miller\nand asked his consent that they should wed.\n\n\"What will become of me?\" asked the miller, with a sad heart.\n\n\"You shall live in the great house with us,\" replied the Squire, \"and\nnever again need you labor for bread.\"\n\nBut the old man shook his head.\n\n\"A miller I have lived,\" quoth he, \"and a miller will I die. But tell\nme, Nathalie, are you willing to leave me?\"\n\nThe girl cast down her eyes and blushed sweetly.\n\n\"I love him,\" she whispered, \"and if you separate us I shall die.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the miller, kissing her with a heavy heart, \"go; and may\nGod bless you!\"\n\nSo Nathalie and the Squire were wed, and lived in the great house, and\nthe very day after the wedding she came walking down to the mill in her\npretty new gown to see the miller.\n\nBut as she drew near she heard him singing, as was his wont; and the\nsong he sung she had not heard since she was a little girl, for this\nwas it:\n\n    \"I care for nobody, no! not I,\n     Since nobody cares for me.\"\n\nShe came up softly behind him, and put her arms around his neck.\n\n\"Papa,\" said she, \"you must not sing that song. Nathalie loves you yet,\nand always will while she lives; for my new love is complete in itself,\nand has not robbed you of one bit of the love that has always been your\nvery own.\"\n\nThe miller turned and looked into her blue eyes, and knew that she\nspoke truly.\n\n\"Then I must learn a new song again,\" he said, \"for it is lonely at\nthe mill, and singing makes the heart lighter. But I will promise that\nnever again, till you forget me, will I sing that nobody cares for me.\"\n\nAnd the miller did learn a new song, and sang it right merrily for many\nyears; for each day Nathalie came down to the mill to show that she had\nnot forgotten him.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Little Man and His Little Gun]\n\n\n\n\nThe Little Man and His Little Gun\n\n    There was a little man and he had a little gun,\n      And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.\n    He went to the brook and shot a little duck,\n      And the bullet went right through its head, head, head.\n\n\nTHERE was once a little man named Jimson, who had stopped growing when\nhe was a boy, and never started again. So, although he was old enough\nto be a man he was hardly big enough, and had he not owned a bald head\nand gray whiskers you would certainly have taken him for a boy whenever\nyou saw him.\n\nThis little man was very sorry he was not bigger, and if you wanted to\nmake him angry you had but to call attention to his size. He dressed\njust as big men do, and wore a silk hat and a long-tailed coat when\nhe went to church, and a cap and top-boots when he rode horseback. He\nwalked with a little cane and had a little umbrella made to carry when\nit rained. In fact, whatever other men did this little man was anxious\nto do also, and so it happened that when the hunting season came\naround, and all the men began to get their guns ready to hunt for snipe\nand duck, Mr. Jimson also had a little gun made, and determined to use\nit as well as any of them.\n\nWhen he brought it home and showed it to his wife, who was a very big\nwoman, she said,\n\n\"Jimson, you'd better use bullets made of bread, and then you won't\nhurt anything.\"\n\n\"Nonsense, Joan,\" replied the little man, \"I shall have bullets made\nof lead, just as other men do, and every duck I see I shall shoot and\nbring home to you.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid you won't kill many,\" said Joan.\n\nBut the little man believed he could shoot with the best of them, so\nthe next morning he got up early and took his little gun and started\ndown to the brook to hunt for duck.\n\nIt was scarcely daybreak when he arrived at the brook, and the sun\nhad not yet peeped over the eastern hill-tops, but no duck appeared\nanywhere in sight, although Mr. Jimson knew this was the right time\nof day for shooting them. So he sat down beside the brook and begun\nwatching, and before he knew it he had fallen fast asleep.\n\nBy and by he was awakened by a peculiar noise.\n\n\"Quack, quack, quack!\" sounded in his ears; and looking up he saw a\npretty little duck swimming in the brook and popping its head under\nthe water in search of something to eat. The duck belonged to Johnny\nSprigg, who lived a little way down the brook, but the little man\ndid not know this. He thought it was a wild duck, so he stood up and\ncarefully took aim.\n\n\"I'm afraid I can't hit it from here,\" he thought, \"so I'll just step\nupon that big stone in the brook, and shoot from there.\"\n\nSo he stepped out upon the stone, and took aim at the duck again, and\nfired the gun.\n\nThe next minute the little man had tumbled head over heels into the\nwater, and he nearly drowned before he could scramble out again; for,\nnot being used to shooting, the gun had kicked, or recoiled, and had\nknocked him off the round stone where he had been standing.\n\nWhen he had succeeded in reaching the bank he was overjoyed to see that\nhe had shot the duck, which lay dead upon the water a short distance\naway. The little man got a long stick, and, reaching it out, drew the\ndead duck to the bank. Then he started joyfully homeward to show the\nprize to his wife.\n\n\"There, Joan,\" he said, as he entered the house, \"is a nice little duck\nfor our dinner. Do you now think your husband cannot shoot?\"\n\n\"But there's only one duck,\" remarked his wife, \"and it's very small.\nCan't you go and shoot another? Then we shall have enough for dinner.\"\n\n\"Yes, of course I can shoot another,\" said the little man, proudly;\n\"you make a fire and get the pot boiling, and I'll go for another duck.\"\n\n\"You'd better shoot a drake this time,\" said Joan, \"for drakes are\nbigger.\"\n\nShe started to make the fire, and the little man took his gun and went\nto the brook; but not a duck did he see, nor drake neither, and so he\nwas forced to come home without any game.\n\n\"There's no use cooking one duck,\" said his wife, \"so we'll have pork\nand beans for dinner and I'll hang the little duck in the shed. Perhaps\nyou'll be able to shoot a drake to-morrow, and then we'll cook them\nboth together.\"\n\nSo they had pork and beans, to the great disappointment of Mr. Jimson,\nwho had expected to eat duck instead; and after dinner the little man\nlay down to take a nap while his wife went out to tell the neighbors\nwhat a great hunter he was.\n\nThe news spread rapidly through the town, and when the evening paper\ncame out the little man was very angry to see this verse printed in it:\n\n    There was a little man and he had a little gun,\n      And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.\n    He went to the brook and shot a little duck,\n      And the bullet went right through its head, head, head.\n\n    He carried it home to his good wife Joan,\n      And bade her a fire to make, make, make,\n    While he went to the brook where he shot the little duck,\n      And tried for to shoot the drake, drake, drake.\n\n\"There's no use putting it into the paper,\" exclaimed the little man,\nmuch provoked, \"and Mr. Brayer, the editor, is probably jealous because\nhe himself cannot shoot a gun. Perhaps people think I cannot shoot a\ndrake, but I'll show them to-morrow that I can!\"\n\nSo the next morning he got up early again, and took his gun, and\nloaded it with bullets made of lead. Then he said to his wife,\n\n\"What does a drake look like, my love?\"\n\n\"Why,\" she replied, \"it's much like a duck, only it has a curl on its\ntail and red on its wing.\"\n\n\"All right,\" he answered, \"I'll bring you home a drake in a short time,\nand to-day we shall have something better for dinner than pork and\nbeans.\"\n\nWhen he got to the brook there was nothing in sight, so he sat down on\nthe bank to watch, and again fell fast asleep.\n\nNow Johnny Sprigg had missed his little duck, and knew some one had\nshot it; so he thought this morning he would go the brook and watch for\nthe man who had killed the duck, and make him pay a good price for it.\nJohnny was a big man, whose head was very bald; therefore he wore a red\ncurly wig to cover his baldness and make him look younger.\n\nWhen he got to the brook he saw no one about, and so he hid in a clump\nof bushes. After a time the little man woke up, and in looking around\nfor the drake he saw Johnny's red wig sticking out of the top of the\nbushes.\n\n\"That is surely the drake,\" he thought, \"for I can see a curl and\nsomething red;\" and the next minute \"bang!\" went the gun, and Johnny\nSprigg gave a great yell and jumped out of the bushes. As for his\nbeautiful wig, it was shot right off his head, and fell into the water\nof the brook a good ten yards away!\n\n\"What are you trying to do?\" he cried, shaking his fist at the little\nman.\n\n\"Why, I was only shooting at the drake,\" replied Jimson; \"and I hit it,\ntoo, for there it is in the water.\"\n\n\"That's my wig, sir!\" said Johnny Sprigg, \"and you shall pay for it,\nor I'll have the law on you. Are you the man who shot the duck here\nyesterday morning?\"\n\n\"I am, sir,\" answered the little man, proud that he had shot something\nbesides a wig.\n\n\"Well, you shall pay for that also,\" said Mr. Sprigg; \"for it belonged\nto me, and I'll have the money or I'll put you in jail!\"\n\nThe little man did not want to go to jail, so with a heavy heart he\npaid for the wig and the duck, and then took his way sorrowfully\nhomeward.\n\nHe did not tell Joan of his meeting with Mr. Sprigg; he only said he\ncould not find a drake. But she knew all about it when the paper came\nout, for this is what it said on the front page:\n\n    There was a little man and he had a little gun,\n      And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.\n    He shot Johnny Sprigg through the middle of his wig,\n      And knocked it right off from his head, head, head.\n\nThe little man was so angry at this, and at the laughter of all the men\nhe met, that he traded his gun off for a lawn-mower, and resolved never\nto go hunting again.\n\nHe had the little duck he had shot made into a pie, and he and Joan ate\nit; but he did not enjoy it very much.\n\n\"This duck cost me twelve dollars,\" he said to his loving wife, \"for\nthat is the sum Johnny Sprigg made me pay; and it's a very high price\nfor one little duck--don't you think so, Joan?\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Hickory, Dickory, Dock]\n\n\n\n\nHickory, Dickory, Dock\n\n    Hickory, Dickory, Dock!\n    The mouse ran up the clock.\n      The clock struck one,\n      The mouse ran down,\n    Hickory, Dickory, Dock!\n\n\nWITHIN the hollow wall of an old brick mansion, away up near the roof,\nthere lived a family of mice. It was a snug little home, pleasant\nand quiet, and as dark as any mouse could desire. Mamma Mouse liked it\nbecause, as she said, the draught that came through the rafters made it\ncool in summer, and they were near enough to the chimney to keep warm\nin winter-time.\n\nBesides the Mamma Mouse there were three children, named Hickory and\nDickory and Dock. There had once been a Papa Mouse as well; but while\nhe was hunting for food one night he saw a nice piece of cheese in a\nwire box, and attempted to get it. The minute he stuck his head into\nthe box, however, it closed with a snap that nearly cut his head off,\nand when Mamma Mouse came down to look for him he was quite dead.\n\nMamma Mouse had to bear her bitter sorrow all alone, for the children\nwere too young at that time to appreciate their loss. She felt that\npeople were very cruel to kill a poor mouse for wishing to get food for\nhimself and his family. There is nothing else for a mouse to do but\ntake what he can find, for mice cannot earn money, as people do, and\nthey must live in some way.\n\nBut Mamma Mouse was a brave mouse, and knew that it was now her duty to\nfind food for her little ones; so she dried her eyes and went bravely\nto work gnawing through the base-board that separated the pantry from\nthe wall. It took her some time to do this, for she could only work\nat night. Mice like to sleep during the day and work at night, when\nthere are no people around to interrupt them, and even the cat is fast\nasleep. Some mice run about in the day-time, but they are not very wise\nmice who do this.\n\nAt last Mamma Mouse gnawed a hole through the base-board large enough\nfor her to get through into the pantry, and then her disappointment was\ngreat to find the bread jar covered over with a tin pan.\n\n\"How thoughtless people are to put things where a hungry mouse cannot\nget at them,\" said Mamma Mouse to herself, with a sigh. But just then\nshe espied a barrel of flour standing upon the floor; and that gave her\nnew courage, for she knew she could easily gnaw through that, and the\nflour would do to eat just as well as the bread.\n\nIt was now nearly daylight, so she decided to leave the attack upon the\nflour barrel until the next night; and gathering up for the children\na few crumbs that were scattered about, she ran back into the wall and\nscrambled up to her nest.\n\nHickory and Dickory and Dock were very glad to get the crumbs, for they\nwere hungry; and when they had breakfasted they all curled up alongside\ntheir mother and slept soundly throughout the day.\n\n\"Be good children,\" said Mamma Mouse the next evening, as she prepared\nfor her journey to the pantry, \"and don't stir out of your nest till I\ncome back. I am in hopes that after to-night we shall not be hungry for\na long time, as I shall gnaw a hole at the back of the flour barrel,\nwhere it will not be discovered.\"\n\nShe kissed each one of them good-bye and ran down the wall on her\nerrand.\n\nWhen they were left alone Hickory wanted to go to sleep again, but\nlittle Dock was wide awake, and tumbled around so in the nest that his\nbrothers were unable to sleep.\n\n\"I wish I could go with mother some night,\" said Dock, \"it's no fun to\nstay here all the time.\"\n\n\"She will take us when we are big enough,\" replied Dickory.\n\n\"We are big enough now,\" declared Dock, \"and if I knew my way I would\ngo out into the world and see what it looks like.\"\n\n\"I know a way out,\" said Hickory, \"but mamma wouldn't like it if we\nshould go without her permission.\"\n\n\"She needn't know anything about it,\" declared the naughty Dock, \"for\nshe will be busy at the flour-barrel all the night. Take us out for a\nlittle walk, Hick, if you know the way.\"\n\n\"Yes do,\" urged Dickory.\n\n\"Well,\" said Hickory, \"I'd like a little stroll myself, so if you'll\npromise to be very careful, and not get into any mischief, I'll take\nyou through the hole that I have discovered.\"\n\nSo the three little mice started off, with Hickory showing the way, and\nsoon came to a crack in the wall. Hickory stuck his head through, and\nfinding everything quiet, for the family of people that lived in the\nhouse were fast asleep, he squeezed through the crack, followed by his\ntwo brothers. Their little hearts beat very fast, for they knew if they\nwere discovered they would have to run for their lives; but the house\nwas so still they gained courage, and crept along over a thick carpet\nuntil they came to a stairway.\n\n\"What shall we do now?\" whispered Hickory to his brothers.\n\n\"Let's go down,\" replied Dock.\n\nSo, very carefully, they descended the stairs and reached the hallway\nof the house, and here they were much surprised by all they saw.\n\nThere was a big rack for hats and coats, and an umbrella stand, and two\nquaintly carved chairs, and, most wonderful of all, a tall clock that\nstood upon the floor and ticked out the minutes in a grave and solemn\nvoice.\n\nWhen the little mice first heard the ticking of the clock they were\ninclined to be frightened, and huddled close together upon the bottom\nstair.\n\n\"What is it?\" asked Dickory, in an awed whisper.\n\n\"I don't know,\" replied Hickory, who was himself rather afraid.\n\n\"Is it alive?\" asked Dock.\n\n\"I don't know,\" again answered Hickory.\n\nThen, seeing that the clock paid no attention to them, but kept ticking\nsteadily away and seemed to mind its own business, they plucked up\ncourage and began running about.\n\nPresently Dickory uttered a delighted squeal that brought his brothers\nto his side. There in a corner lay nearly the half of a bun which\nlittle May had dropped when nurse carried her upstairs to bed. It was\na great discovery for the three mice, and they ate heartily until the\nlast crumb had disappeared.\n\n\"This is better than a cupboard or a pantry,\" said Dock, when they had\nfinished their supper, \"and I shouldn't be surprised if there were\nplenty more good things around if we only hunt for them.\"\n\nBut they could find nothing more, for all the doors leading into the\nhall were closed, and at last Dock came to the clock and looked at it\ncuriously.\n\n\"It doesn't seem to be alive,\" he thought, \"although it does make so\nmuch noise. I'm going behind it to see what I can find.\"\n\nHe found nothing except a hole that led to the inside of the clock, and\ninto this he stuck his head. He could hear the ticking plainer than\never now, but looking way up to the top of the clock he saw something\nshining brightly, and thought it must be good to eat if he could only\nget at it. Without saying anything to his brothers, Dock ran up the\nsides of the clock until he came to the works, and he was just about to\nnibble at a glistening wheel, to see what it tasted like, when suddenly\n\"Bang!\" went the clock.\n\nIt was one o'clock, and the clock had only struck the hour, but the\ngreat gong was just beside Dock's ear and the noise nearly deafened the\npoor little mouse. He gave a scream of terror and ran down the clock\nas fast as he could go. When he reached the hall he heard his brothers\nscampering up the stairs, and after them he ran with all his might.\n\nIt was only when they were safe in their nest again that they stopped\nto breathe, and their little hearts beat fast for an hour afterward, so\ngreat had been their terror.\n\nWhen Mamma Mouse came back in the morning, bringing a quantity of nice\nflour with her for breakfast, they told her of their adventure.\n\nShe thought they had been punished enough already for their\ndisobedience, so she did not scold them, but only said,\n\n\"You see, my dears, your mother knew best when she told you not to\nstir from the nest. Children sometimes think they know more than their\nparents, but this adventure should teach you always to obey your\nmother. The next time you run away you may fare worse than you did last\nnight; remember your poor father's fate.\"\n\nBut Hickory and Dickory and Dock did not run away again.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Little Bo-Peep]\n\n\n\n\nLittle Bo-Peep\n\n\nOn the beautiful, undulating hills of Sussex feed many flocks of sheep,\nwhich are tended by many shepherds and shepherdesses, and one of these\nflocks used to be cared for by a poor woman who supported herself and\nher little girl by this means.\n\nThey lived in a small cottage nestled at the foot of one of the hills,\nand each morning the mother took her crook and started out with her\nsheep, that they might feed upon the tender, juicy grasses with which\nthe hills abounded. The little girl usually accompanied her mother\nand sat by her side upon the grassy mounds and watched her care for\nthe ewes and lambs, so that in time she herself grew to be a very\nproficient shepherdess.\n\nSo when the mother became too old and feeble to leave her cottage,\nLittle Bo-Peep (as she was called) decided that she was fully able\nto manage the flocks herself. She was a little mite of a child, with\nflowing nut-brown locks and big gray eyes that charmed all who gazed\ninto their innocent depths. She wore a light gray frock, fastened about\nthe waist with a pretty pink sash, and there were white ruffles around\nher neck and pink ribbons in her hair.\n\nAll the shepherds and shepherdesses upon the hills, both young and old,\nsoon came to know Little Bo-Peep very well indeed, and there were many\nwilling hands to aid her if (which was not often) she needed their\nassistance.\n\nBo-Peep usually took her sheep to the side of a high hill above the\ncottage, and allowed them to eat the rich grass while she herself sat\nupon a mound and, laying aside her crook and her broad straw hat with\nits pink ribbons, devoted her time to sewing and mending stockings for\nher aged mother.\n\nOne day, while thus occupied, she heard a voice beside her say:\n\n\"Good morning, Little Bo-Peep!\" and looking up the girl saw a woman\nstanding near her and leaning upon a short stick. She was bent nearly\ndouble by weight of many years, her hair was white as snow and her\neyes as black as coals. Deep wrinkles seamed her face and hands, while\nher nose and chin were so pointed that they nearly met. She was not\npleasant to look upon, but Bo-Peep had learned to be polite to the\naged, so she answered, sweetly,\n\n\"Good morning, mother. Can I do anything for you?\"\n\n\"No, dearie,\" returned the woman, in a cracked voice, \"but I will sit\nby your side and rest for a time.\"\n\nThe girl made room on the mound beside her, and the stranger sat down\nand watched in silence the busy fingers sew up the seams of the new\nfrock she was making.\n\nBy and by the woman asked,\n\n\"Why do you come out here to sew?\"\n\n\"Because I am a shepherdess,\" replied the girl.\n\n\"But where is your crook?\"\n\n\"On the grass beside me.\"\n\n\"And where are your sheep?\"\n\nBo-Peep looked up and could not see them.\n\n\"They must have strayed over the top of the hill,\" she said, \"and I\nwill go and seek them.\"\n\n\"Do not be in a hurry,\" croaked the old woman; \"they will return\npresently without your troubling to find them.\"\n\n\"Do you think so?\" asked Bo-Peep.\n\n\"Of course; do not the sheep know you?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; they know me every one.\"\n\n\"And do not you know the sheep?\"\n\n\"I can call every one by name,\" said Bo-Peep, confidently; \"for though\nI am so young a shepherdess I am fond of my sheep and know all about\nthem.\"\n\nThe old woman chuckled softly, as if the answer amused her, and replied,\n\n\"No one knows all about anything, my dear.\"\n\n\"But I know all about my sheep,\" protested Little Bo-Peep.\n\n\"Do you, indeed? Then you are wiser that most people. And if you know\nall about them, you also know they will come home of their own accord,\nand I have no doubt they will all be wagging their tails behind them,\nas usual.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Little Bo-Peep, in surprise, \"do they wag their tails? I\nnever noticed that!\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" exclaimed the old woman, \"then you are not very observing for\none who knows all about sheep. Perhaps you have never noticed their\ntails at all.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Bo-Peep, thoughtfully, \"I don't know that I ever have.\"\n\nThe woman laughed so hard at this reply that she began to cough, and\nthis made the girl remember that her flock had strayed away.\n\n\"I really must go and find my sheep,\" she said, rising to her feet,\n\"and then I shall be sure to notice their tails, and see if they wag\nthem.\"\n\n\"Sit still, my child,\" said the old woman, \"I am going over the\nhill-top myself, and I will send the sheep back to you.\"\n\nSo she got upon her feet and began climbing the hill, and the girl\nheard her saying, as she walked away,\n\n    \"Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,\n       And doesn't know where to find 'em.\n     But leave 'em alone, and they'll come home,\n       All wagging their tails behind 'em.\"\n\nLittle Bo-Peep sat still and watched the old woman toil slowly up the\nhill-side and disappear over the top. By and by she thought, \"very soon\nI shall see the sheep coming back;\" but time passed away and still the\nerrant flock failed to make its appearance.\n\nSoon the head of the little shepherdess began to nod, and presently,\nstill thinking of her sheep,\n\n    Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep,\n      And dreamt she heard them bleating;\n    But when she awoke she found it a joke,\n      For still they were a-fleeting.\n\nThe girl now became quite anxious, and wondered why the old woman\nhad not driven her flock over the hill. But as it was now time for\nluncheon she opened her little basket and ate of the bread and cheese\nand cookies she had brought with her. After she had finished her meal\nand taken a drink of cool water from a spring near by, she decided she\nwould not wait any longer.\n\n    So up she took her little crook,\n    Determined for to find them,\n\nand began climbing the hill.\n\nWhen she got to the top there was never a sight of sheep about--only a\ngreen valley and another hill beyond.\n\nNow really alarmed for the safety of her charge, Bo-Peep hurried into\nthe valley and up the farther hill-side. Panting and tired she reached\nthe summit, and, pausing breathlessly, gazed below her.\n\nQuietly feeding upon the rich grass was her truant flock, looking as\npeaceful and innocent as if it had never strayed away from its gentle\nshepherdess.\n\n[Illustration: Little Bo-Peep]\n\nBo-Peep uttered a cry of joy and hurried toward them; but when she\ncame near she stopped in amazement and held up her little hands with a\npretty expression of dismay. She had\n\n    Found them, indeed, but it made her heart bleed,\n    For they'd left their tails behind them!\n\nNothing was left to each sheep but a wee little stump where a tail\nshould be, and Little Bo-Peep was so heart-broken that she sat down\nbeside them and sobbed bitterly.\n\nBut after awhile the tiny maid realized that all her tears would not\nbring back the tails to her lambkins; so she plucked up courage and\ndried her eyes and arose from the ground just as the old woman hobbled\nup to her.\n\n\"So you have found your sheep, dearie,\" she said, in her cracked voice.\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Little Bo-Peep, with difficulty repressing a sob; \"but\nlook, mother! They've all left their tails behind them!\"\n\n\"Why, so they have!\" exclaimed the old woman; and then she began to\nlaugh as if something pleased her.\n\n\"What do you suppose has become of their tails?\" asked the girl.\n\n\"Oh, some one has probably cut them off. They make nice tippets in\nwinter-time, you know;\" and then she patted the child upon her head and\nwalked away down the valley.\n\nBo-Peep was much grieved over the loss that had befallen her dear\nsheep, and so, driving them before her, she wandered around to see if\nby any chance she could find the lost tails.\n\nBut soon the sun began to sink over the hill-tops, and she knew she\nmust take her sheep home before night overtook them.\n\nShe did not tell her mother of her misfortune, for she feared the old\nshepherdess would scold her, and Bo-Peep had fully decided to seek for\nthe tails and find them before she related the story of their loss to\nany one.\n\nEach day for many days after that Little Bo-Peep wandered about the\nhills seeking the tails of her sheep, and those who met her wondered\nwhat had happened to make the sweet little maid so anxious. But there\nis an end to all troubles, no matter how severe they may seem to be, and\n\n    It happened one day, as Bo-Peep did stray\n      Unto a meadow hard by,\n    There she espied their tails side by side,\n      All hung on a tree to dry!\n\nThe little shepherdess was overjoyed at this discovery, and, reaching\nup her crook, she knocked the row of pretty white tails off the tree\nand gathered them up in her frock. But how to fasten them onto her\nsheep again was the question, and after pondering the matter for a time\nshe became discouraged, and, thinking she was no better off than before\nthe tails were found, she began to weep and to bewail her misfortune.\n\nBut amidst her tears she bethought herself of her needle and thread.\n\n\"Why,\" she exclaimed, smiling again, \"I can sew them on, of course!\"\nThen\n\n    She heaved a sigh and wiped her eye\n    And ran o'er hill and dale, oh,\n      And tried what she could\n      As a shepherdess should,\n    To tack to each sheep its tail, oh.\n\nBut the very first sheep she came to refused to allow her to sew on\nthe tail, and ran away from her, and the others did the same, so that\nfinally she was utterly discouraged.\n\nShe was beginning to cry again, when the same old woman she had before\nmet came hobbling to her side and asked,\n\n\"What are you doing with my cat tails?\"\n\n\"Your cat tails!\" replied Bo-Peep, in surprise; \"what do you mean?\"\n\n\"Why, these tails are all cut from white pussy-cats, and I put them on\nthe tree to dry. What are you doing with them?\"\n\n\"I thought they belonged to my sheep,\" answered Bo-Peep, sorrowfully;\n\"but if they are really your pussy-cat tails, I must hunt until I find\nthose that belong to my sheep.\"\n\n\"My dear,\" said the old woman, \"I have been deceiving you; you said\nyou knew all about your sheep, and I wanted to teach you a lesson.\nFor, however wise we may be, no one in this world knows _all_ about\nanything. Sheep do not have long tails--there is only a little stump to\nanswer for a tail. Neither do rabbits have tails, nor bears, nor many\nother animals. And if you had been observing you would have known all\nthis when I said the sheep would be wagging their tails behind them,\nand then you would not have passed all those days in searching for what\nis not to be found. So now, little one, run away home, and try to be\nmore thoughtful in the future. Your sheep will never miss the tails,\nfor they have never had them.\"\n\nAnd now\n\n    Little Bo-Peep no more did weep;\n    My tale of tails ends here.\n        Each cat has one,\n        But sheep have none;\n    Which, after all, is queer!\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Story of Tommy Tucker]\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of Tommy Tucker\n\n    Little Tommy Tucker sang for his supper.\n    What did he sing for? white bread and butter.\n    How could he cut it, without any knife?\n    How could he marry, without any wife?\n\n\nLITTLE TOMMY TUCKER was a waif of the streets. He never remembered\nhaving a father or mother or any one to care for him, and so he learned\nto care for himself. He ate whatever he could get, and slept wherever\nnight overtook him--in an old barrel, a cellar, or, when fortune\nfavored him, he paid a penny for a cot in some rude lodging-house.\n\nHis life about the streets taught him early how to earn a living by\ndoing odd jobs, and he learned to be sharp in his speech and wise\nbeyond his years.\n\nOne morning Tommy crawled out from a box in which he had slept over\nnight, and found that he was hungry. His last meal had consisted of a\ncrust of bread, and he was a growing boy with an appetite.\n\nHe had been unable to earn any money for several days, and this morning\nlife looked very gloomy to him. He started out to seek for work or to\nbeg a breakfast; but luck was against him, and he was unsuccessful.\nBy noon he had grown more hungry than before, and stood before a\nbake-shop for a long time, looking wistfully at the good things behind\nthe window-panes, and wishing with all his heart he had a ha'penny to\nbuy a bun.\n\nAnd yet it was no new thing for Little Tommy Tucker to be hungry, and\nhe never thought of despairing. He sat down upon a curb-stone, and\nthought what was best to be done. Then he remembered he had frequently\nbegged a meal at one of the cottages that stood upon the outskirts of\nthe city, and so he turned his steps in that direction.\n\n\"I have had neither breakfast nor dinner,\" he said to himself, \"and\nI must surely find a supper somewhere, or I shall not sleep much\nto-night. It is no fun to be hungry.\"\n\nSo he walked on until he came to a dwelling-house where a goodly\ncompany sat upon a lawn and beneath a veranda. It was a pretty place,\nand was the home of a fat alderman who had been married that very day.\n\nThe alderman was in a merry mood, and seeing Tommy standing without the\ngate he cried to him,\n\n\"Come here, my lad, and sing us a song.\"\n\nTommy at once entered the grounds, and came to where the fat alderman\nwas sitting beside his blushing bride.\n\n\"Can you sing?\" enquired the alderman.\n\n\"No,\" answered Tommy, earnestly, \"but I can eat.\"\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" laughed the alderman, \"that is a very ordinary\naccomplishment. Anyone can eat.\"\n\n\"If it please you, sir, you are wrong,\" replied Tommy, \"for I have been\nunable to eat all day.\"\n\n\"And why is that?\" asked the alderman.\n\n\"Because I have had nothing to put to my mouth. But now that I have met\nso kind a gentleman, I am sure that I shall have a good supper.\"\n\nThe alderman laughed again at this shrewd answer, and said,\n\n\"You shall have supper, no doubt; but you must sing a song for the\ncompany first, and so earn your food.\"\n\nTommy shook his head sadly.\n\n\"I do not know any song, sir,\" he said.\n\nThe alderman called a servant and whispered something in his ear. The\nservant hastened away, and soon returned bearing upon a tray a huge\nslice of white bread and butter. White bread was a rare treat in those\ndays, as nearly all the people ate black bread baked from rye or barley\nflour.\n\n\"Now,\" said the alderman, placing the tray beside him, \"you shall have\nthis slice of white bread and butter when you have sung us a song, and\ncomplied with one condition.\"\n\n\"And what is that condition?\" asked Tommy.\n\n\"I will tell you when we have heard the song,\" replied the fat\nalderman, who had decided to have some amusement at the boy's expense.\n\n[Illustration: Tommy Tucker]\n\nTommy hesitated, but when he glanced at the white bread and butter his\nmouth watered in spite of himself, and he resolved to compose a song,\nsince he did not know how to sing any other.\n\nSo he took off his cap, and standing before the company he sang as\nfollows:\n\n    \"A bumble-bee lit on a hollyhock flower\n     That was wet with the rain of a morning shower.\n           While the honey he sipped\n           His left foot slipped,\n     And he couldn't fly again for half an hour!\"\n\n\"Good!\" cried the alderman, after the company had kindly applauded\nTommy. \"I can't say much for the air, nor yet for the words; but it was\nnot so bad as it might have been. Give us another verse.\"\n\nSo Tommy pondered a moment, and then sang again:\n\n    \"A spider threw its web so high\n     It caught on a moon in a cloudy sky.\n           The moon whirled round,\n           And down to the ground\n     Fell the web, and captured a big blue fly!\"\n\n\"Why, that is fine!\" roared the fat alderman. \"You improve as you go\non, so give us another verse.\"\n\n\"I don't know any more,\" said Tommy, \"and I am very hungry.\"\n\n\"One more verse,\" persisted the man, \"and then you shall have the bread\nand butter upon the condition.\"\n\nSo Tommy sang the following verse:\n\n    \"A big frog lived in a slimy bog,\n     And caught a cold in an awful fog.\n           The cold got worse,\n           The frog got hoarse,\n     Till croaking he scared a polliwog!\"\n\n\"You are quite a poet,\" declared the alderman; \"and now you shall have\nthe white bread upon one condition.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" said Tommy, anxiously.\n\n\"That you cut the slice into four parts.\"\n\n\"But I have no knife!\" remonstrated the boy.\n\n\"But that is the condition,\" insisted the alderman. \"If you want the\nbread you must cut it.\"\n\n\"Surely you do not expect me to cut the bread without any knife!\" said\nTommy.\n\n\"Why not?\" asked the alderman, winking his eye at the company.\n\n\"Because it cannot be done. How, let me ask you, sir, could you have\nmarried without any wife?\"\n\n\"Ha, ha, ha!\" laughed the jolly alderman; and he was so pleased with\nTommy's apt reply that he gave him the bread at once, and a knife to\ncut it with.\n\n\"Thank you, sir,\" said Tommy; \"now that I have the knife it is easy\nenough to cut the bread, and I shall now be as happy as you are with\nyour beautiful wife.\"\n\nThe alderman's wife blushed at this, and whispered to her husband.\nThe alderman nodded in reply, and watched Tommy carefully as he ate\nhis supper. When the boy had finished his bread--which he did very\nquickly, you may be sure,--the man said,\n\n\"How would you like to live with me and be my servant?\"\n\nLittle Tommy Tucker had often longed for just such a place, where he\ncould have three meals each day to eat and a good bed to sleep in at\nnight, so he answered,\n\n\"I should like it very much, sir.\"\n\nSo the alderman took Tommy for his servant, and dressed him in a smart\nlivery; and soon the boy showed by his bright ways and obedience that\nhe was worthy any kindness bestowed upon him.\n\nHe often carried the alderman's wig when his master attended the town\nmeetings, and the mayor of the city, who was a good man, was much taken\nwith his intelligent face. So one day he said to the alderman,\n\n\"I have long wanted to adopt a son, for I have no children of my own;\nbut I have not yet been able to find a boy to suit me. That lad of\nyours looks bright and intelligent, and he seems a well-behaved boy\ninto the bargain.\"\n\n\"He is all that you say,\" returned the alderman, \"and would be a credit\nto you should you adopt him.\"\n\n\"But before I adopt a son,\" continued the mayor, \"I intend to satisfy\nmyself that he is both wise and shrewd enough to make good use of my\nmoney when I am gone. No fool will serve my purpose; therefore I shall\ntest the boy's wit before I decide.\"\n\n\"That is fair enough,\" answered the alderman; \"but in what way will you\ntest his wit?\"\n\n\"Bring him to my house to-morrow, and you shall see,\" said the mayor.\n\nSo the next day the alderman, followed by Tommy and a little terrier\ndog that was a great pet of his master, went to the grand dwelling of\nthe mayor. The mayor also had a little terrier dog, which was very fond\nof him and followed him wherever he went.\n\nWhen Tommy and the alderman reached the mayor's house the mayor met\nthem at the door and said:\n\n\"Tommy, I am going up the street, and the alderman is going in the\nopposite direction. I want you to keep our dogs from following us; but\nyou must not do it by holding them.\"\n\n\"Very well, sir,\" replied Tommy; and as the mayor started one way and\nthe alderman the other, he took out his handkerchief and tied the tails\nof the two dogs together. Of course each dog started to follow its\nmaster; but as they were about the same size and strength, and each\npulled in a different direction, the result was that they remained in\none place, and could not move either one way or the other.\n\n\"That was well done,\" said the mayor, coming back again; \"but tell me,\ncan you put my cart before my horse and take me to ride?\"\n\n\"Certainly, sir,\" replied Tommy; and going to the mayor's stable he put\nthe harness on the nag and then led him head-first into the shafts,\ninstead of backing him into them, as is the usual way. After fastening\nthe shafts to the horse, he mounted upon the animal's back, and away\nthey started, pushing the cart before the horse.\n\n\"That was easy,\" said Tommy. \"If your honor will get into the cart I'll\ntake you to ride.\" But the mayor did not ride, although he was pleased\nat Tommy's readiness in solving a difficulty.\n\nAfter a moment's thought he bade Tommy follow him into the house, where\nhe gave him a cupful of water, saying,\n\n\"Let me see you drink up this cup of water.\"\n\nTommy hesitated a moment, for he knew the mayor was trying to catch\nhim; then, going to a corner of the room, he set down the cup and stood\nupon his head in the corner. He now carefully raised the cup to his\nlips and slowly drank the water until the cup was empty. After this he\nregained his feet, and, bowing politely to the mayor, he said,\n\n\"The water is drunk up, your honor.\"\n\n\"But why did you stand on your head to do it?\" enquired the alderman,\nwho had watched the act in astonishment.\n\n\"Because otherwise I would have drunk the water down, and not up,\"\nreplied Tommy.\n\nThe mayor was now satisfied that Tommy was shrewd enough to do him\nhonor, so he immediately took him to live in the great house as his\nadopted son, and he was educated by the best masters the city afforded.\n\nAnd Tommy Tucker became in after years not only a great, but a good\nman, and before he died was himself mayor of the city, and was known by\nthe name of Sir Thomas Tucker.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Pussy-cat Mew]\n\n\n\n\nPussy-cat Mew\n\n    \"_Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where do you go?\"\n    \"To London, to visit the palace, you know.\"\n    \"Pussy-cat Mew, will you come back again?\"\n    \"Oh, yes! I'll scamper with might and with main!_\"\n\n\n    PUSSY-CAT MEW set off on her way,\n    Stepping quite softly and feeling quite gay.\n    Smooth was the road, so she traveled at ease,\n    Warmed by the sunshine and fanned by the breeze.\n\n    Over the hills to the valleys below,\n    Through the deep woods where the soft mosses grow,\n    Skirting the fields, with buttercups dotted,\n    Swiftly our venturesome Pussy-cat trotted.\n\n    Sharp watch she kept when a village she neared,\n    For boys and their mischief our Pussy-cat feared.\n    Often she crept through the grasses so deep\n    To pass by a dog that was lying asleep.\n\n    Once, as she walked through a sweet-clover field,\n    Something beside her affrightedly squealed,\n    And swift from her path there darted away\n    A tiny field-mouse, with a coat of soft gray.\n\n    \"Now here,\" thought our Pussy, \"is chance for a dinner;\n    The one that runs fastest must surely be winner!\"\n    So quickly she started the mouse to give chase,\n    And over the clover they ran a great race.\n\n    But just when it seemed that Pussy would win,\n    The mouse spied a hole and quickly popped in;\n    And so he escaped, for the hole was so small\n    That Pussy-cat couldn't squeeze in it at all.\n\n    So, softly she crouched, and with eyes big and round\n    Quite steadily watched that small hole in the ground.\n    \"This mouse really thinks he's escaped me,\" she said,\n    \"But I'll catch him sure if he sticks out his head!\"\n\n    But while she was watching the poor mouse's plight,\n    A deep growl behind made her jump with affright;\n    She gave a great cry, and then started to run\n    As swift as a bullet that's shot from a gun!\n\n    \"Meow! Oh, meow!\" our poor Puss did say;\n    \"Bow-wow!\" cried the dog, who was not far away.\n    O'er meadows and ditches they scampered apace,\n    O'er fences and hedges they kept up the race!\n\n    Then Pussy-cat Mew saw before her a tree,\n    And knew that a safe place of refuge 'twould be;\n    So far up the tree with a bound she did go,\n    And left the big dog to growl down below.\n\n    But now, by good fortune, a man came that way,\n    And called to the dog, who was forced to obey;\n    But Puss did not come down the tree till she knew\n    That the man and the dog were far out of view.\n\n    Pursuing her way, at nightfall she came\n    To London, a town you know well by name;\n    And wandering 'round in byway and street,\n    A strange Pussy-cat she happened to meet.\n\n    \"Good evening,\" said Pussy-cat Mew. \"Can you tell\n    In which of these houses the Queen may now dwell?\n    I'm a stranger in town, and I'm anxious to see\n    What sort of a person a real Queen may be.\"\n\n    \"My friend,\" said the other, \"you really must know\n    It isn't permitted that strangers should go\n    Inside of the palace, unless they're invited,\n    And stray Pussy-cats are apt to be slighted.\n\n    \"By good luck, however, I'm quite well aware\n    Of a way to the palace by means of a stair\n    That never is guarded; so just come with me,\n    And a glimpse of the Queen you shall certainly see.\"\n\n    Puss thanked her new friend, and together they stole\n    To the back of the palace, and crept through a hole\n    In the fence, and quietly came to the stair\n    Which the stranger Pussy-cat promised was there.\n\n    \"Now here I must leave you,\" the strange Pussy said,\n    \"So don't be 'fraid-cat, but go straight ahead,\n    And don't be alarmed if by chance you are seen,\n    For people will think you belong to the Queen.\"\n\n    So Pussy-cat Mew did as she had been told,\n    And walked through the palace with manner so bold\n    She soon reached the room where the Queen sat in state,\n    Surrounded by lords and by ladies so great.\n\n    And there in the corner our Pussy sat down,\n    And gazed at the scepter and blinked at the crown,\n    And eyed the Queen's dress, all purple and gold;\n    Which was surely a beautiful sight to behold.\n\n    But all of a sudden she started, for there\n    Was a little gray mouse, right under the chair\n    Where her Majesty sat, and Pussy well knew\n    She'd scream with alarm if the mouse met her view.\n\n    So up toward the chair our Pussy-cat stole,\n    But the mouse saw her coming and ran for its hole;\n    But Pussy ran after, and during the race\n    A wonderful, terrible panic took place!\n\n    The ladies all jumped on their chairs in alarm,\n    The lords drew their swords to protect them from harm,\n    And the Queen gave a scream and fainted away--\n    A very undignified act, I must say.\n\n    And some one cried \"Burglars!\" and some one cried \"Treason!\"\n    And some one cried \"Murder!\" but none knew the reason;\n    And some one cried \"Fire! they are burning the house!\"\n    And some one cried \"Silence! it's only a mouse!\"\n\n    But Pussy-cat Mew was so awfully scared\n    By the shouting and screaming, no longer she dared\n    To stay in the room; so without more delay\n    She rushed from the palace and scampered away!\n\n    So bristling her fur, and with heart beating fast,\n    She came to the road leading homeward at last.\n    \"What business,\" she thought, \"has a poor country cat\n    To visit a city of madmen like that?\n\n    \"Straight homeward I'll go, where I am well fed,\n    Where mistress is kind, and soft is my bed;\n    Let other cats travel, if they wish to roam,\n    But as for myself, I shall now stay at home.\"\n\n    And now over hills and valleys she ran,\n    And journeyed as fast as a Pussy-cat can;\n    Till just as the dawn of the day did begin\n    She, safely at home, stole quietly in.\n\n    And there was the fire, with the pot boiling on it,\n    And there was the maid, in the blue checkered bonnet,\n    And there was the corner where Pussy oft basked,\n    And there was the mistress, who eagerly asked:\n\n    _\"Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where have you been?\"\n     \"I've been to London, to visit the Queen.\"\n     \"Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, what did you there?\"\n     \"I frightened a little mouse under her chair!\"_\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: How the Beggars Came to Town]\n\n\n\n\nHow the Beggars Came to Town\n\n    Hark, hark, the dogs do bark,\n    The beggars are coming to town:\n    Some in rags, and some in tags,\n    And some in velvet gown.\n\n\nVERY fair and sweet was little Prince Lilimond, and few could resist\nhis soft, pleading voice and gentle blue eyes. And as he stood in the\npresence of the King, his father, and bent his knee gracefully before\nHis Majesty, the act was so courteous and dignified it would have\nhonored the oldest nobleman of the court.\n\nThe King was delighted, and for a time sat silently regarding his son\nand noting every detail of his appearance, from the dark velvet suit\nwith its dainty ruffles and collar to the diamond buckles on the little\nshoes, and back again to the flowing curls that clustered thick about\nthe bright, childish face.\n\nWell might any father be proud of so manly and beautiful a child, and\nthe King's heart swelled within him as he gazed upon his heir.\n\n\"Borland,\" he said to the tutor, who stood modestly behind the Prince,\n\"you may retire. I wish to speak privately with his royal highness.\"\n\nThe tutor bowed low and disappeared within the ante-room, and the King\ncontinued, kindly,\n\n\"Come here, Lilimond, and sit beside me. Methinks you seem over-grave\nthis morning.\"\n\n\"It is my birthday, Your Majesty,\" replied the Prince, as he slowly\nobeyed his father and sat beside him upon the rich broidered cushions\nof the throne. \"I am twelve years of age.\"\n\n\"So old!\" said the King, smiling into the little face that was raised\nto his. \"And is it the weight of years that makes you sad?\"\n\n\"No, Your Majesty; I long for the years to pass, that I may become a\nman, and take my part in the world's affairs. It is the sad condition\nof my country which troubles me.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" exclaimed the King, casting a keen glance at his son. \"Are\nyou becoming interested in politics, then; or is there some grievous\nbreach of court etiquette which has attracted your attention?\"\n\n\"I know little of politics and less of the court, sire,\" replied\nLilimond; \"it is the distress of the people that worries me.\"\n\n\"The people? Of a surety, Prince, you are better posted than am I,\nsince of the people and their affairs I know nothing at all. I have\nappointed officers to look after their interests, and therefore I have\nno cause to come into contact with them myself. But what is amiss?\"\n\n\"They are starving,\" said the Prince, looking at his father very\nseriously; \"the country is filled with beggars, who appeal for charity,\nsince they are unable otherwise to procure food.\"\n\n\"Starving!\" repeated the King; \"surely you are misinformed. My Lord\nChamberlain told me but this morning the people were loyal and\ncontented, and my Lord of the Treasury reports that all taxes and\ntithes have been paid, and my coffers are running over.\"\n\n\"Your Lord Chamberlain is wrong, sire,\" returned the Prince; \"my tutor,\nBorland, and I have talked with many of these beggars the past few\ndays, and we find the tithes and taxes which have enriched you have\ntaken the bread from their wives and children.\"\n\n\"So!\" exclaimed the King. \"We must examine into this matter.\" He\ntouched a bell beside him, and when a retainer appeared directed his\nChamberlain and his Treasurer to wait upon him at once.\n\nThe Prince rested his head upon his hand and waited patiently, but the\nKing was very impatient indeed till the high officers of the court\nstood before him. Then said the King, addressing his Chamberlain,\n\n\"Sir, I am informed my people are murmuring at my injustice. Is it\ntrue?\"\n\nThe officer cast an enquiring glance at the Prince, who met his eyes\ngravely, before he replied,\n\n\"The people always murmur, Your Majesty. They are many, and not all can\nbe content, even when ruled by so wise and just a King. In every land\nand in every age there are those who rebel against the laws, and the\nprotests of the few are ever heard above the contentment of the many.\"\n\n\"I am told,\" continued the King, severely, \"that my country is overrun\nwith beggars, who suffer for lack of the bread we have taken from them\nby our taxations. Is this true?\"\n\n\"There are always beggars, Your Majesty, in every country,\" replied\nthe Chamberlain, \"and it is their custom to blame others for their own\nmisfortunes.\"\n\nThe King thought deeply for a moment; then he turned to the Lord of the\nTreasury.\n\n\"Do we tax the poor?\" he demanded.\n\n\"All are taxed, sire,\" returned the Treasurer, who was pale from\nanxiety, for never before had the King so questioned him, \"but from the\nrich we take much, from the poor very little.\"\n\n\"But a little from the poor man may distress him, while the rich\nsubject would never feel the loss. Why do we tax the poor at all?\"\n\n\"Because, Your Majesty, should we declare the poor free from taxation\nall your subjects would at once claim to be poor, and the royal\ntreasury would remain empty. And as none are so rich but there are\nthose richer, how should we, in justice, determine which are the rich\nand which are the poor?\"\n\nAgain the King was silent while he pondered upon the words of the Royal\nTreasurer. Then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed them, and turned\nto the Prince, saying,\n\n\"You have heard the wise words of my councilors, Prince. What have you\nto say in reply?\"\n\n\"If you will pardon me, Your Majesty, I think you are wrong to leave\nthe affairs of the people to others to direct. If you knew them as well\nas I do, you would distrust the words of your councilors, who naturally\nfear your anger more than they do that of your subjects.\"\n\n\"If they fear my anger they will be careful to do no injustice to my\npeople. Surely you cannot expect me to attend to levying the taxes\nmyself,\" continued the King, with growing annoyance. \"What are my\nofficers for, but to serve me?\"\n\n\"They should serve you, it is true,\" replied the Prince, thoughtfully,\n\"but they should serve the people as well.\"\n\n\"Nonsense!\" answered the King; \"you are too young as yet to properly\nunderstand such matters. And it is a way youth has to imagine it is\nwiser than age and experience combined. Still, I will investigate the\nsubject further, and see that justice is done the poor.\"\n\n\"In the meantime,\" said the Prince, \"many will starve to death. Can you\nnot assist these poor beggars at once?\"\n\n\"In what way?\" demanded the King.\n\n\"By giving them money from your full coffers.\"\n\n\"Nonsense!\" again cried the King, this time with real anger; \"you have\nheard what the Chamberlain said: we always have beggars, and none, as\nyet, have starved to death. Besides, I must use the money for the grand\nball and tourney next month, as I have promised the ladies of the court\na carnival of unusual magnificence.\"\n\nThe Prince did not reply to this, but remained in silent thought,\nwondering what he might do to ease the suffering he feared existed on\nevery hand amongst the poor of the kingdom. He had hoped to persuade\nthe King to assist these beggars, but since the interview with the\nofficers of the court he had lost heart and despaired of influencing\nhis royal father in any way.\n\nSuddenly the King spoke.\n\n\"Let us dismiss this subject, Lilimond, for it only serves to distress\nus both, and no good can come of it. You have nearly made me forget it\nis your birthday. Now listen, my son: I am much pleased with you, and\nthank God that he has given me such a successor for my crown, for I\nperceive your mind is as beautiful as your person, and that you will\nin time be fitted to rule the land with wisdom and justice. Therefore\nI promise, in honor of your birthday, to grant any desire you may\nexpress, provided it lies within my power. Nor will I make any further\ncondition, since I rely upon your judgment to select some gift I may be\nglad to bestow.\"\n\nAs the King spoke, Lilimond suddenly became impressed with an idea\nthrough which he might succor the poor, and therefore he answered,\n\n\"Call in the ladies and gentlemen of the court, my father, and before\nthem all will I claim your promise.\"\n\n\"Good!\" exclaimed the King, who looked for some amusement in his son's\nrequest; and at once he ordered the court to assemble.\n\nThe ladies and gentlemen, as they filed into the audience chamber, were\nastonished to see the Prince seated upon the throne beside his sire,\nbut being too well bred to betray their surprise they only wondered\nwhat amusement His Majesty had in store for them.\n\nWhen all were assembled, the Prince rose to his feet and addressed them.\n\n\"His Majesty the King, whose kindness of heart and royal condescension\nis well known to you all, hath but now promised me, seeing that it is\nmy birthday, to grant any one request that I may prefer. Is it not\ntrue, Your Majesty?\"\n\n\"It is true,\" answered the King, smiling upon his son, and pleased\nto see him addressing the court so gravely and with so manly an air;\n\"whatsoever the Prince may ask, that will I freely grant.\"\n\n\"Then, oh sire,\" said the Prince, kneeling before the throne, \"I ask\nthat for the period of one day I may reign as King in your stead,\nhaving at my command all kingly power and the obedience of all who owe\nallegiance to the crown!\"\n\nFor a time there was perfect silence in the court, the King growing\nred with dismay and embarrassment and the courtiers waiting curiously\nhis reply. Lilimond still remained kneeling before the throne, and as\nthe King looked upon him he realized it would be impossible to break\nhis royal word. And the affair promised him amusement after all, so he\nquickly decided in what manner to reply.\n\n\"Rise, oh Prince,\" he said, cheerfully, \"your request is granted. Upon\nwhat day will it please you to reign?\"\n\nLilimond arose to his feet.\n\n\"Upon the seventh day from this,\" he answered.\n\n\"So be it,\" returned the King. Then, turning to the royal herald he\nadded, \"Make proclamation throughout the kingdom that on the seventh\nday from this Prince Lilimond will reign as King from sunrise till\nsunset. And whoever dares to disobey his commands will be guilty of\ntreason and shall be punished with death!\"\n\nThe court was then dismissed, all wondering at this marvellous decree,\nand the Prince returned to his own apartment where his tutor, Borland,\nanxiously awaited him.\n\nNow this Borland was a man of good heart and much intelligence, but\nwholly unused to the ways of the world. He had lately noted, with much\ngrief, the number of beggars who solicited alms as he walked out with\nthe Prince, and he had given freely until his purse was empty. Then\nhe talked long and earnestly with the Prince concerning this shocking\ncondition in the kingdom, never dreaming that his own generosity had\nattracted all the beggars of the city toward him and encouraged them to\nbecome more bold than usual.\n\nThus was the young and tender-hearted Prince brought to a knowledge of\nall these beggars, and therefore it was that their condition filled him\nwith sadness and induced him to speak so boldly to the King, his father.\n\nWhen he returned to Borland with the tidings that the King had granted\nhim permission to rule for a day the kingdom, the tutor was overjoyed,\nand at once they began to plan ways for relieving all the poor of the\ncountry in that one day.\n\nFor one thing, they dispatched private messengers to every part of the\nkingdom, bidding them tell each beggar they met to come to the Prince\non that one day he should be King and he would relieve their wants,\ngiving a broad gold piece to every poor man or woman who asked.\n\nFor the Prince had determined to devote to this purpose the gold that\nfilled the royal coffers; and as for the great ball and tourney the\nKing had planned, why, that could go begging much better than the\nstarving people.\n\nOn the night before the day the Prince was to reign there was a great\nconfusion of noise within the city, for beggars from all parts of the\nkingdom began to arrive, each one filled with joy at the prospect of\nreceiving a piece of gold.\n\nThere was a continual tramp, tramp of feet, and a great barking of\ndogs, as all dogs in those days were trained to bark at every beggar\nthey saw, and now it was difficult to restrain them.\n\nAnd the beggars came to town singly and by twos and threes, until\nhundreds were there to await the morrow. Some few were very pitiful to\nbehold, being feeble and infirm from age and disease, dressed in rags\nand tags, and presenting an appearance of great distress. But there\nwere many more who were seemingly hearty and vigorous; and these were\nthe lazy ones, who, not being willing to work, begged for a livelihood.\n\nAnd some there were dressed in silken hose and velvet gowns, who,\nforgetting all shame, and, eager for gold, had been led by the Prince's\noffer to represent themselves as beggars, that they might add to their\nwealth without trouble or cost to themselves.\n\nThe next morning, when the sun arose upon the eventful day, it found\nthe Prince sitting upon the throne of his father, dressed in a robe\nof ermine and purple, a crown upon his flowing locks and the King's\nscepter clasped tightly in his little hand. He was somewhat frightened\nat the clamor of the crowd without the palace, but Borland, who stood\nbehind him, whispered,\n\n\"The more you can succor the greater will be your glory, and you will\nlive in the hearts of your people as the kind Prince who relieved their\nsufferings. Be of good cheer, Your Majesty, for all is well.\"\n\nThen did the Prince command the Treasurer to bring before him the royal\ncoffers, and to stand ready to present to each beggar a piece of gold.\nThe Treasurer was very unwilling to do this, but he was under penalty\nof death if he refused, and so the coffers were brought forth.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" said the Treasurer, \"if each of those who clamor\nwithout is to receive a piece of gold, there will not be enough within\nthese coffers to go around. Some will receive and others be denied,\nsince no further store of gold is to be had.\"\n\nAt this news the Prince was both puzzled and alarmed.\n\n\"What are we to do?\" he asked of the tutor; but Borland was unable to\nsuggest a remedy.\n\nThen said the aged Chamberlain, coming forward, and bowing low before\nthe little King,\n\n\"Your Majesty, I think I can assist you in your difficulty. You did\nbut promise a piece of gold to those who are really suffering and in\nneed, but so great is the greed of mankind that many without are in\nno necessity whatever, but only seek to enrich themselves at your\nexpense. Therefore I propose you examine carefully each case that\npresents itself, and unless the beggar is in need of alms turn him away\nempty-handed, as being a fraud and a charlatan.\"\n\n\"Your counsel is wise, oh Chamberlain,\" replied the Prince, after a\nmoment's thought; \"and by turning away the impostors we shall have gold\nenough for the needy. Therefore bid the guards to admit the beggars one\nby one.\"\n\nWhen the first beggar came before him the Prince asked,\n\n\"Are you in need?\"\n\n\"I am starving, Your Majesty,\" replied the man, in a whining tone. He\nwas poorly dressed, but seemed strong and well, and the Prince examined\nhim carefully for a moment. Then he answered the fellow, saying,\n\n\"Since you are starving, go and sell the gold ring I see you are\nwearing upon your finger. I can assist only those who are unable to\nhelp themselves.\"\n\nAt this the man turned away muttering angrily, and the courtiers\nmurmured their approval of the Prince's wisdom.\n\nThe next beggar was dressed in velvet, and the Prince sent him away\nwith a sharp rebuke. But the third was a woman, old and feeble, and she\nblessed the Prince as she hobbled joyfully away with a broad gold-piece\nclasped tightly within her withered hand.\n\nThe next told so pitiful a story that he also received a gold-piece;\nbut as he turned away the Prince saw that beneath his robe his shoes\nwere fastened with silver buckles, and so he commanded the guards to\ntake away the gold and to punish the man for attempting to deceive his\nKing.\n\nAnd so many came to him that were found to be unworthy that he finally\nbade the guards proclaim to all who waited that any who should be found\nundeserving would be beaten with stripes.\n\nThat edict so frightened the imposters that they quickly fled, and only\nthose few who were actually in want dared to present themselves before\nthe King.\n\nAnd lo! the task that had seemed too great for one day was performed in\na few hours, and when all the needy had been provided for but one of\nthe royal coffers had been opened, and that was scarcely empty!\n\n\"What think you, Borland?\" asked the Prince, anxiously, \"have we done\naright?\"\n\n\"I have learned, Your Majesty,\" answered the tutor, \"that there is a\ngreat difference between those who beg and those who suffer for lack\nof bread. For, while all who needed aid were in truth beggars, not all\nthe beggars needed aid; and hereafter I shall only give alms to those I\nknow to be honestly in want.\"\n\n\"It is wisely said, my friend,\" returned the Prince, \"and I feel I was\nwrong to doubt the wisdom of my father's councilors. Go, Borland, and\nask the King if he will graciously attend me here.\"\n\nThe King arrived and bowed smilingly before the Prince whom he had set\nto reign in his own place, and at once the boy arose and presented his\nsire with the scepter and crown, saying,\n\n\"Forgive me, oh my King, that I presumed to doubt the wisdom of your\nrule. For, though the sun has not yet set, I feel that I am all\nunworthy to sit in your place, and so I willingly resign my power to\nyour more skillful hands. And the coffers which I, in my ignorance, had\ndetermined to empty for the benefit of those unworthy, are still nearly\nfull, and more than enough remains for the expenses of the carnival.\nTherefore forgive me, my father, and let me learn wisdom in the future\nfrom the justness of your rule.\"\n\nThus ended the reign of Prince Lilimond as King, and not till many\nyears later did he again ascend the throne upon the death of his father.\n\nAnd really there was not much suffering in the kingdom at any time, as\nit was a prosperous country and well governed; for, if you look for\nbeggars in any land you will find many, but if you look only for the\ndeserving poor there are less, and these all the more worthy of succor.\n\nI wish all those in power were as kind-hearted as little Prince\nLilimond, and as ready to help the needy, for then there would be\nmore light hearts in the world, since it is \"better to give than to\nreceive.\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Tom, the Piper's Son]\n\n\n\n\nTom, the Piper's Son\n\n    Tom, Tom, the piper's son,\n    Stole a pig and away he run;\n    The pig was eat and Tom was beat\n    And Tom ran crying down the street.\n\n\nTHERE was not a worse vagabond in Shrewsbury than old Barney the\npiper. He never did any work except to play the pipes, and he played\nso badly that few pennies ever found their way into his pouch. It was\nwhispered around that old Barney was not very honest, but he was so sly\nand cautious that no one had ever caught him in the act of stealing,\nalthough a good many things had been missed after they had fallen into\nthe old man's way.\n\nBarney had one son, named Tom; and they lived all alone in a little hut\naway at the end of the village street, for Tom's mother had died when\nhe was a baby. You may not suppose that Tom was a very good boy, since\nhe had such a queer father; but neither was he very bad, and the worst\nfault he had was in obeying his father's wishes when Barney wanted him\nto steal a chicken for their supper or a pot of potatoes for their\nbreakfast. Tom did not like to steal, but he had no one to teach him to\nbe honest, and so, under his father's guidance, he fell into bad ways.\n\n[Illustration: Tom, the Piper's Son]\n\nOne morning\n\n    Tom, Tom, the piper's son,\n    Was hungry when the day begun;\n    He wanted a bun and asked for one,\n    But soon found out that there were none.\n\n\"What shall we do?\" he asked his father.\n\n\"Go hungry,\" replied Barney, \"unless you want to take my pipes and play\nin the village. Perhaps they will give you a penny.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Tom, shaking his head; \"no one will give me a penny for\nplaying; but Farmer Bowser might give me a penny to stop playing, if I\nwent to his house. He did last week, you know.\"\n\n\"You'd better try it,\" said his father; \"it's mighty uncomfortable to\nbe hungry.\"\n\nSo Tom took his father's pipes and walked over the hill to Farmer\nBowser's house; for you must know that\n\n    Tom, Tom, the piper's son,\n    Learned to play when he was young;\n    But the only tune that he could play\n    Was \"Over the hills and far away.\"\n\nAnd he played this one tune as badly as his father himself played, so\nthat the people were annoyed when they heard him, and often begged him\nto stop.\n\nWhen he came to Farmer Bowser's house, Tom started up the pipes and\nbegan to play with all his might. The farmer was in his woodshed,\nsawing wood, so he did not hear the pipes; and the farmer's wife was\ndeaf, and could not hear them. But a little pig that had strayed around\nin front of the house heard the noise, and ran away in great fear to\nthe pigsty.\n\nThen, as Tom saw the playing did no good, he thought he would sing\nalso, and therefore he began bawling, at the top of his voice,\n\n    \"Over the hills, not a great ways off,\n     The woodchuck died with the whooping-cough!\"\n\nThe farmer had stopped sawing to rest, just then; and when he heard the\nsinging he rushed out of the shed, and chased Tom away with a big stick\nof wood.\n\nThe boy went back to his father, and said, sorrowfully, for he was more\nhungry than before,\n\n\"The farmer gave me nothing but a scolding; but there was a very nice\npig running around the yard.\"\n\n\"How big was it?\" asked Barney.\n\n\"Oh, just about big enough to make a nice dinner for you and me.\"\n\n    The piper slowly shook his head;\n    \"'Tis long since I on pig have fed,\n    And though I feel it's wrong to steal,\n    Roast pig is very nice,\" he said.\n\nTom knew very well what he meant by that, so he laid down the pipes,\nand went back to the farmer's house.\n\nWhen he came near he heard the farmer again sawing wood in the\nwoodshed, and so he went softly up to the pig-sty and reached over and\ngrabbed the little pig by the ears. The pig squealed, of course, but\nthe farmer was making so much noise himself that he did not hear it,\nand in a minute Tom had the pig tucked under his arm and was running\nback home with it.\n\nThe piper was very glad to see the pig, and said to Tom,\n\n\"You are a good son, and the pig is very nice and fat. We shall have a\ndinner fit for a king.\"\n\nIt was not long before the piper had the pig killed and cut into pieces\nand boiling in the pot. Only the tail was left out, for Tom wanted to\nmake a whistle of it, and as there was plenty to eat besides the tail\nhis father let him have it.\n\nThe piper and his son had a fine dinner that day, and so great was\ntheir hunger that the little pig was all eaten up at one meal!\n\nThen Barney lay down to sleep, and Tom sat on a bench outside the door\nand began to make a whistle out of the pig's tail with his pocket-knife.\n\nNow Farmer Bowser, when he had finished sawing the wood, found it\nwas time to feed the pig, so he took a pail of meal and went to the\npigsty. But when he came to the sty there was no pig to be seen, and he\nsearched all round the place for a good hour without finding it.\n\n\"Piggy, piggy, piggy!\" he called, but no piggy came, and then he knew\nhis pig had been stolen. He was very angry, indeed, for the pig was a\ngreat pet, and he had wanted to keep it till it grew very big.\n\nSo he put on his coat and buckled a strap around his waist, and went\ndown to the village to see if he could find out who had stolen his pig.\n\nUp and down the street he went, and in and out the lanes, but no traces\nof the pig could he find anywhere. And that was no great wonder, for\nthe pig was eaten by that time and its bones picked clean.\n\nFinally the farmer came to the end of the street where the piper lived\nin his little hut, and there he saw Tom sitting on a bench and blowing\non a whistle made from a pig's tail.\n\n\"Where did you get that tail?\" asked the farmer.\n\n\"I found it,\" said naughty Tom, beginning to be frightened.\n\n\"Let me see it,\" demanded the farmer; and when he had looked at it\ncarefully he cried out,\n\n\"This tail belonged to my little pig, for I know very well the curl at\nthe end of it! Tell me, you rascal, where is the pig?\"\n\nThen Tom fell in a tremble, for he knew his wickedness was discovered.\n\n\"The pig is eat, your honor,\" he answered.\n\nThe farmer said never a word, but his face grew black with anger, and,\nunbuckling the strap that was about his waist, he waved it around his\nhead, and whack! came the strap over Tom's back.\n\n\"Ow, ow!\" cried the boy, and started to run down the street.\n\nWhack! whack! fell the strap over his shoulders, for the farmer\nfollowed at his heels half-way down the street, nor did he spare the\nstrap until he had given Tom a good beating. And Tom was so scared that\nhe never stopped running until he came to the end of the village, and\nhe bawled lustily the whole way and cried out at every step as if the\nfarmer was still at his back.\n\nIt was dark before he came back to his home, and his father was still\nasleep; so Tom crept into the hut and went to bed. But he had received\na good lesson, and never after that could the old piper induce him to\nsteal.\n\nWhen Tom showed by his actions his intention of being honest he soon\ngot a job of work to do, and before long he was able to earn a living\nmore easily, and a great deal more honestly, than when he stole the pig\nto get a dinner and suffered a severe beating as a punishment.\n\n    Tom, Tom, the piper's son\n    Now with stealing pigs was done,\n    He'd work all day instead of play,\n    And dined on tart and currant bun.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Humpty, Dumpty]\n\n\n\n\nHumpty Dumpty\n\n    Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,\n    Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.\n        All the King's horses\n        And all the King's men\n    Cannot put Humpty together again.\n\n\nAT the very top of the hay-mow in the barn, the Speckled Hen had made\nher nest, and each day for twelve days she had laid in it a pretty\nwhite egg. The Speckled Hen had made her nest in this out-of-the-way\nplace so that no one would come to disturb her, as it was her intention\nto sit upon the eggs until they were hatched into chickens.\n\nEach day, as she laid her eggs, she would cackle to herself, saying,\n\"This will in time be a beautiful chick, with soft, fluffy down all\nover its body and bright little eyes that will look at the world in\namazement. It will be one of my children, and I shall love it dearly.\"\n\nShe named each egg, as she laid it, by the name she should call it\nwhen a chick, the first one being \"Cluckety-Cluck,\" and the next\n\"Cadaw-Cut,\" and so on; and when she came to the twelfth egg she called\nit \"Humpty Dumpty.\"\n\nThis twelfth egg was remarkably big and white and of a very pretty\nshape, and as the nest was now so full she laid it quite near the\nedge. And then the Speckled Hen, after looking proudly at her work,\nwent off to the barn-yard, clucking joyfully, in search of something to\neat.\n\nWhen she had gone, Cluckety-Cluck, who was in the middle of the nest\nand the oldest egg of all, called out, angrily,\n\n\"It's getting crowded in this nest; move up there, some of you\nfellows!\" And then he gave Cadaw-Cut, who was above him, a kick.\n\n\"I can't move unless the others do; they're crowding me down!\" said\nCadaw-Cut; and he kicked the egg next above him. And so they continued\nkicking one another and rolling around in the nest until one kicked\nHumpty Dumpty, and as he lay on the edge of the nest he was kicked\nout and rolled down the hay-mow until he came to a stop near the very\nbottom.\n\nHumpty did not like this very well, but he was a bright egg for one\nso young, and after he had recovered from his shaking up he began to\nlook about to see where he was. The barn door was open, and he caught\na glimpse of trees and hedges, and green grass with a silvery brook\nrunning through it. And he saw the waving grain and the tasselled maize\nand the sunshine flooding it all.\n\nThe scene was very enticing to the young egg, and Humpty at once\nresolved to see something of this great world before going back to the\nnest.\n\nHe began to make his way carefully through the hay, and was getting\nalong fairly well when he heard a voice say,\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\nHumpty looked around and found he was beside a pretty little nest in\nwhich was one brown egg.\n\n\"Did you speak?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the brown egg; \"I asked where you were going.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" enquired Humpty; \"do you belong in our nest?\"\n\n\"Oh, no!\" answered the brown egg; \"my name is Coutchie-Coulou, and the\nBlack Bantam laid me about an hour ago.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Humpty, proudly; \"I belong to the Speckled Hen, myself.\"\n\n\"Do you, indeed!\" returned Coutchie-Coulou. \"I saw her go by a little\nwhile ago, and she's much bigger than the Black Bantam.\"\n\n\"Yes, and I'm much bigger than you,\" replied Humpty. \"But I'm going out\nto see the world, and if you like to go with me I'll take good care of\nyou.\"\n\n\"Isn't it dangerous for eggs to go about all by themselves?\" asked\nCoutchie, timidly.\n\n\"Perhaps so,\" answered Humpty; \"but it's dangerous in the nest, too; my\nbrothers might have smashed me with their kicking. However, if we are\ncareful we can't come to much harm; so come along, little one, and I'll\nlook after you.\"\n\nCoutchie-Coulou gave him her hand while he helped her out of the nest,\nand together they crept over the hay until they came to the barn floor.\nThey made for the door at once, holding each other tightly by the hand,\nand soon came to the threshold, which appeared very high to them.\n\n\"We must jump,\" said Humpty.\n\n\"I'm afraid!\" cried Coutchie-Coulou. \"And I declare! there's my\nmother's voice clucking, and she's coming this way.\"\n\n\"Then hurry!\" said Humpty. \"And do not tremble so or you will get\nyourself all mixed up; it doesn't improve eggs to shake them. We will\njump, but take care not to bump against me or you may break my shell.\nNow,--one,--two,--three!\"\n\nThey held each other's hand and jumped, alighting safely in the\nroadway. Then, fearing their mothers would see them, Humpty ran as fast\nas he could go until he and Coutchie were concealed beneath a rose-bush\nin the garden.\n\n\"I'm afraid we're bad eggs,\" gasped Coutchie, who was somewhat out of\nbreath.\n\n\"Oh, not at all,\" replied Humpty; \"we were laid only this morning, so\nwe are quite fresh. But now, since we are in the world, we must start\nout in search of adventure. Here is a roadway beside us which will lead\nus somewhere or other; so come along, Coutchie-Coulou, and do not be\nafraid.\"\n\nThe brown egg meekly gave him her hand, and together they trotted\nalong the roadway until they came to a high stone wall, which had sharp\nspikes upon its top. It seemed to extend for a great distance, and the\neggs stopped and looked at it curiously.\n\n\"I'd like to see what is behind that wall,\" said Humpty, \"but I don't\nthink we shall be able to climb over it.\"\n\n\"No, indeed,\" answered the brown egg, \"but just before us I see a\nlittle hole in the wall, near the ground; perhaps we can crawl through\nthat.\"\n\nThey ran to the hole and found it was just large enough to admit\nthem. So they squeezed through very carefully, in order not to break\nthemselves, and soon came to the other side.\n\nThey were now in a most beautiful garden, with trees and bright-hued\nflowers in abundance and pretty fountains that shot their merry sprays\nfar into the air. In the center of the garden was a great palace, with\nbright golden turrets and domes, and many windows that glistened in the\nsunshine like the sparkle of diamonds.\n\nRichly dressed courtiers and charming ladies strolled through the\nwalks, and before the palace door were a dozen prancing horses, gaily\ncaparisoned, awaiting their riders.\n\nIt was a scene brilliant enough to fascinate anyone, and the two eggs\nstood spellbound while their eyes feasted upon the unusual sight.\n\n\"See!\" whispered Coutchie-Coulou, \"there are some birds swimming in\nthe water yonder. Let us go and look at them, for we also may be birds\nsome day.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"True,\" answered Humpty, \"but we are just as likely to be omelets or\nangel's-food. Still, we will have a look at the birds.\"\n\nSo they started to cross the drive on their way to the pond, never\nnoticing that the King and his courtiers had issued from the palace and\nwere now coming down the drive riding upon their prancing steeds. Just\nas the eggs were in the middle of the drive the horses dashed by, and\nHumpty, greatly alarmed, ran as fast as he could for the grass.\n\nThen he stopped and looked around, and behold! there was poor\nCoutchie-Coulou crushed into a shapeless mass by the hoof of one of the\nhorses, and her golden heart was spreading itself slowly over the white\ngravel of the driveway!\n\nHumpty sat down upon the grass and wept grievously, for the death of\nhis companion was a great blow to him. And while he sobbed, a voice\nsaid to him,\n\n\"What is the matter, little egg?\"\n\nHumpty looked up, and saw a beautiful girl bending over him.\n\n\"One of the horses has stepped upon Coutchie-Coulou,\" he said; \"and now\nshe is dead, and I have no friend in all the world.\"\n\nThe girl laughed.\n\n\"Do not grieve,\" she said, \"for eggs are but short-lived creatures at\nbest, and Coutchie-Coulou has at least died an honorable death and\nsaved herself from being fried in a pan or boiled in her own shell. So\ncheer up, little egg, and I will be your friend--at least so long as\nyou remain fresh. A stale egg I never could abide.\"\n\n\"I was laid only this morning,\" said Humpty, drying his tears, \"so you\nneed have no fear. But do not call me 'little egg,' for I am quite\nlarge, as eggs go, and I have a name of my own.\"\n\n\"What is your name?\" asked the Princess.\n\n\"It is Humpty Dumpty,\" he answered, proudly. \"And now, if you will\nreally be my friend, pray show me about the grounds, and through the\npalace; and take care I am not crushed.\"\n\nSo the Princess took Humpty in her arms and walked with him all through\nthe grounds, letting him see the fountains and the golden fish that\nswam in their waters, the beds of lilies and roses, and the pools where\nthe swans floated. Then she took him into the palace, and showed him\nall the gorgeous rooms, including the King's own bedchamber and the\nroom where stood the great ivory throne.\n\nHumpty sighed with pleasure.\n\n\"After this,\" he said, \"I am content to accept any fate that may befall\nme, for surely no egg before me ever saw so many beautiful sights.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" answered the Princess; \"but now I have one more sight\nto show you which will be grander than all the others; for the King\nwill be riding home shortly with all his horses and men at his back,\nand I will take you to the gates and let you see them pass by.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Humpty.\n\nSo she carried him to the gates, and while they awaited the coming of\nthe King the egg said,\n\n\"Put me upon the wall, Princess, for then I shall be able to see much\nbetter than in your arms.\"\n\n\"That is a good idea,\" she answered; \"but you must be careful not to\nfall.\"\n\nThen she sat the egg gently upon the top of the stone wall, where there\nwas a little hollow; and Humpty was delighted, for from his elevated\nperch he could see much better than the Princess herself.\n\n\"Here they come!\" he cried; and, sure enough, the King came riding\nalong the road with many courtiers and soldiers and vassals following\nin his wake, all mounted upon the finest horses the kingdom could\nafford.\n\nAs they came to the gate and entered at a brisk trot, Humpty,\nforgetting his dangerous position, leaned eagerly over to look at them.\nThe next instant the Princess heard a sharp crash at her side, and,\nlooking downward, perceived poor Humpty Dumpty, who lay crushed and\nmangled among the sharp stones where he had fallen!\n\nThe Princess sighed, for she had taken quite a fancy to the egg; but\nshe knew it was impossible to gather it up again or mend the matter in\nany way, and therefore she returned thoughtfully to the palace.\n\nNow it happened that upon this evening several young men of the\nkingdom, who were all of high rank, had determined to ask the King for\nthe hand of the Princess; so they assembled in the throne room and\ndemanded that the King choose which of them was most worthy to marry\nhis daughter.\n\nThe King was in a quandary, for all the suitors were wealthy and\npowerful, and he feared that all but the one chosen would become his\nenemies. Therefore he thought long upon the matter, and at last said,\n\n\"Where all are worthy it is difficult to decide which most deserves the\nhand of the Princess. Therefore I propose to test your wit. The one who\nshall ask me a riddle I cannot guess, can marry my daughter.\"\n\nAt this the young men looked thoughtful, and began to devise riddles\nthat his Majesty should be unable to guess. But the King was a shrewd\nmonarch, and each one of the riddles presented to him he guessed with\nease.\n\nNow there was one amongst the suitors whom the Princess herself\nfavored, as was but natural. He was a slender, fair-haired youth, with\ndreamy blue eyes and a rosy complexion, and although he loved the\nPrincess dearly he despaired of finding a riddle that the King could\nnot guess.\n\nBut while he stood leaning against the wall the Princess approached him\nand whispered in his ear a riddle she had just thought of. Instantly\nhis face brightened, and when the King called, \"Now, Master Gracington,\nit is your turn,\" he advanced boldly to the throne.\n\n\"Speak your riddle, sir,\" said the King, gaily; for he thought this\nyouth would also fail, and that he might therefore keep the Princess by\nhis side for a time longer.\n\nBut Master Gracington, with downcast eyes, knelt before the throne and\nspoke in this wise:\n\n\"This is my riddle, oh, King:\n\n    \"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,\n     Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.\n         All the King's horses\n         And all the King's men\n     Cannot put Humpty together again!\"\n\n\"Read me that, sire, an' you will!\"\n\nThe King thought earnestly for a long time, and he slapped his head and\nrubbed his ears and walked the floor in great strides; but guess the\nriddle he could not.\n\n\"You are a humbug, sir!\" he cried out at last; \"there is no answer to\nsuch a riddle.\"\n\n\"You are wrong, sire,\" answered the young man; \"Humpty Dumpty was an\negg.\"\n\n\"Why did I not think of that before!\" exclaimed the King; but he gave\nthe Princess to the young man to be his bride, and they lived happily\ntogether.\n\nAnd thus did Humpty Dumpty, even in his death, repay the kindness of\nthe fair girl who had shown him such sights as an egg seldom sees.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Woman Who Lived in a Shoe]\n\n\n\n\nThe Woman Who Lived in a Shoe\n\n    There was an old woman\n      Who lived in a shoe,\n    She had so many children\n      She didn't know what to do;\n    She gave them some broth\n      Without any bread,\n    And whipped them all soundly\n      And sent them to bed.\n\n\nA LONG time ago there lived a woman who had four daughters, and these\nin time grew up and married and went to live in different parts of\nthe country. And the woman, after that, lived all alone, and said to\nherself, \"I have done my duty to the world, and now shall rest quietly\nfor the balance of my life. When one has raised a family of four\nchildren and has married them all happily, she is surely entitled to\npass her remaining days in peace and comfort.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nShe lived in a peculiar little house, that looked something like this\npicture. It was not like most of the houses you see, but the old woman\nhad it built herself, and liked it, and so it did not matter to her how\nodd it was. It stood upon the top of a little hill, and there was a\ngarden at the back and a pretty green lawn in front, with white gravel\npaths and many beds of bright colored flowers.\n\nThe old woman was very happy and contented there until one day she\nreceived a letter saying that her daughter Hannah was dead and had sent\nher family of five children to their grandmother to be taken care of.\n\nThis misfortune ruined all the old woman's dreams of quiet; but the\nnext day the children arrived--three boys and two girls,--and she\nmade the best of it and gave them the beds her own daughters had once\noccupied, and her own cot as well; and she made a bed for herself on\nthe parlor sofa.\n\nThe youngsters were like all other children, and got into mischief once\nin awhile; but the old woman had much experience with children and\nmanaged to keep them in order very well, while they quickly learned to\nobey her, and generally did as they were bid.\n\nBut scarcely had she succeeded in getting them settled in their new\nhome when Margaret, another of her daughters, died, and sent four more\nchildren to her mother to be taken care of.\n\nThe old woman scarcely knew where to keep this new flock that had come\nto her fold, for the house was already full; but she thought the matter\nover and finally decided she must build an addition to her house.\n\nSo she hired a carpenter and built what is called a \"lean-to\" at the\nright of her cottage, making it just big enough to accommodate the four\nnew members of her family. When it was completed her house looked very\nmuch as it does in this picture.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nShe put four little cots in her new part of the house, and then she\nsighed contentedly, and said, \"Now all the babies are taken care of and\nwill be comfortable until they grow up.\" Of course it was much more\ndifficult to manage nine small children than five; and they often led\neach other into mischief, so that the flower beds began to be trampled\nupon and the green grass to be worn under the constant tread of little\nfeet, and the furniture to show a good many scratches and bruises.\n\nBut the old woman continued to look after them, as well as she was\nable, until Sarah, her third daughter, also died, and three more\nchildren were sent to their grandmother to be brought up.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe old woman was nearly distracted when she heard of this new addition\nto her family, but she did not give way to despair. She sent for the\ncarpenter again, and had him build another addition to her house, as\nthe picture shows. Then she put three new cots in the new part for the\nbabies to sleep in, and when they arrived they were just as cozy and\ncomfortable as peas in a pod.\n\nThe grandmother was a lively old woman for one of her years, but she\nfound her time now fully occupied in cooking the meals for her twelve\nsmall grandchildren, and mending their clothes, and washing their\nfaces, and undressing them at night and dressing them in the morning.\nThere was just a dozen of the babies now, and when you consider they\nwere about the same age you will realize what a large family the old\nwoman had, and how fully her time was occupied in caring for them all.\n\nAnd now, to make the matter worse, her fourth daughter, who had been\nnamed Abigail, suddenly took sick and died, and she also had four small\nchildren that must be cared for in some way.\n\nThe old woman, having taken the other twelve, could not well refuse to\nadopt these little orphans also.\n\n\"I may as well have sixteen as a dozen,\" she said, with a sigh; \"they\nwill drive me crazy some day, anyhow, so a few more will not matter at\nall!\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOnce more she sent for the carpenter, and bade him build a third\naddition to the house; and when it was completed she added four more\ncots to the dozen that were already in use. The house presented a very\nqueer appearance now, but she did not mind that so long as the babies\nwere comfortable. \"I shall not have to build again,\" she said; \"and\nthat is one satisfaction. I have now no more daughters to die and leave\nme their children, and therefore I must make up my mind to do the best\nI can with the sixteen that have already been inflicted upon me in my\nold age.\"\n\nIt was not long before all the grass about the house was trodden down,\nand the white gravel of the walks all thrown at the birds, and the\nflower beds trampled into shapeless masses by thirty-two little feet\nthat ran about from morn till night. But the old woman did not complain\nat this; her time was too much taken up with the babies for her to miss\nthe grass and the flowers.\n\nIt cost so much money to clothe them that she decided to dress them\nall alike, so that they looked like the children of a regular orphan\nasylum. And it cost so much to feed them that she was obliged to give\nthem the plainest food; so there was bread-and-milk for breakfast and\nmilk-and-bread for dinner and bread-and-broth for supper. But it was a\ngood and wholesome diet, and the children thrived and grew fat upon it.\n\nOne day a stranger came along the road, and when he saw the old woman's\nhouse he began to laugh.\n\n\"What are you laughing at, sir?\" asked the grandmother, who was sitting\nupon her door-steps engaged in mending sixteen pairs of stockings.\n\n\"At your house,\" the stranger replied; \"it looks for all the world like\na big shoe!\"\n\n\"A shoe!\" she said, in surprise.\n\n\"Why, yes. The chimneys are shoe-straps, and the steps are the heel,\nand all those additions make the foot of the shoe.\"\n\n\"Never mind,\" said the woman; \"it may be a shoe, but it is full of\nbabies, and that makes it different from most other shoes.\"\n\nBut the stranger went on to the village and told all he met that he had\nseen an old woman who lived in a shoe; and soon people came from all\nparts of the country to look at the queer house, and they usually went\naway laughing.\n\nThe old woman did not mind this at all; she was too busy to be angry.\nSome of the children were always getting bumped heads or bruised shins,\nor falling down and hurting themselves, and these had to be comforted.\nAnd some were naughty and had to be whipped; and some were dirty and\nhad to be washed; and some were good and had to be kissed. It was\n\"Gran'ma, do this!\" and \"Gran'ma, do that!\" from morning to night, so\nthat the poor grandmother was nearly distracted. The only peace she\never got was when they were all safely tucked in their little cots and\nwere sound asleep; for then, at least, she was free from worry and had\na chance to gather her scattered wits.\n\n\"There are so many children,\" she said one day to the baker-man, \"that\nI often really don't know what to do!\"\n\n\"If they were mine, ma'am,\" he replied, \"I'd send them to the\npoor-house, or else they'd send me to the mad-house.\"\n\nSome of the children heard him say this, and they resolved to play him\na trick in return for his ill-natured speech.\n\nThe baker-man came every day to the shoe-house, and brought two great\nbaskets of bread in his arms for the children to eat with their milk\nand their broth.\n\nSo one day, when the old woman had gone to the town to buy shoes, the\nchildren all painted their faces, to look as Indians do when they are\non the war-path; and they caught the roosters and the turkey-cock and\npulled feathers from their tails to stick in their hair. And then the\nboys made wooden tomahawks for the girls and bows-and-arrows for their\nown use, and then all sixteen went out and hid in the bushes near the\ntop of the hill.\n\nBy and by the baker-man came slowly up the path with a basket of bread\non either arm; and just as he reached the bushes there sounded in his\nears a most unearthly war-whoop. Then a flight of arrows came from the\nbushes, and although they were blunt and could do him no harm, they\nrattled all over his body; and one hit his nose, and another his chin,\nwhile several stuck fast in the loaves of bread.\n\nAltogether, the baker-man was terribly frightened; and when all the\nsixteen small Indians rushed from the bushes and flourished their\ntomahawks, he took to his heels and rand down the hill as fast as he\ncould go!\n\nWhen the grandmother returned she asked, \"Where is the bread for your\nsupper?\"\n\nThe children looked at one another in surprise, for they had forgotten\nall about the bread. And then one of them confessed, and told her the\nwhole story of how they had frightened the baker-man for saying he\nwould send them to the poor-house.\n\n\"You are sixteen very naughty children!\" exclaimed the old woman;\n\"and for punishment you must eat your broth without any bread, and\nafterwards each one shall have a sound whipping and be sent to bed.\"\n\nThen all the children began to cry at once, and there was such an\nuproar that their grandmother had to put cotton in her ears that she\nmight not lose her hearing.\n\nBut she kept her promise, and made them eat their broth without any\nbread; for, indeed, there was no bread to give them.\n\nThen she stood them in a row and undressed them, and as she put the\nnight-dress on each one she gave it a sound whipping and sent it to bed.\n\nThey cried some, of course, but they knew very well they deserved the\npunishment, and it was not long before all of them were sound asleep.\n\nThey took care not to play any more tricks on the baker-man, and as\nthey grew older they were naturally much better behaved.\n\nBefore many years the boys were old enough to work for the neighboring\nfarmers, and that made the woman's family a good deal smaller. And then\nthe girls grew up and married, and found homes of their own, so that\nall the children were in time well provided for.\n\nBut not one of them forgot the kind grandmother who had taken such good\ncare of them, and often they tell their children of the days when they\nlived with the old woman in a shoe and frightened the baker-man almost\ninto fits with their wooden tomahawks.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Little Miss Muffet]\n\n\n\n\nLittle Miss Muffet\n\n        Little Miss Muffet\n        Sat on a tuffet,\n    Eating of curds and whey.\n        There came a great spider\n        And sat down beside her\n    And frightened Miss Muffet away.\n\n\nLITTLE MISS MUFFET'S father was a big banker in a big city, and he\nhad so much money that the house he lived in was almost as beautiful\nas a king's palace. It was built of granite and marble, and richly\nfurnished with every luxury that money can buy. There was an army of\nservants about the house, and many of them had no other duties than\nto wait upon Miss Muffet, for the little girl was an only child and\ntherefore a personage of great importance. She had a maid to dress her\nhair and a maid to bathe her, a maid to serve her at table and a maid\nto tie her shoestrings, and several maids beside. And then there was\nNurse Holloweg to look after all the maids and see they did their tasks\nproperly.\n\nThe child's father spent his days at his office and his evenings at his\nclub; her mother was a leader in society, and therefore fully engaged\nfrom morning till night and from night till morn; so that Little Miss\nMuffet seldom saw her parents and scarce knew them when she did see\nthem.\n\nI have never known by what name she was christened. Perhaps she did\nnot know herself, for everyone had called her \"Miss Muffet\" since she\ncould remember. The servants spoke of her respectfully as Miss Muffet.\nMrs. Muffet would say, at times, \"By the way, Nurse, how is Miss\nMuffet getting along?\" And Mr. Muffet, when he met his little daughter\nby chance on the walk or in the hallway, would stop and look at her\ngravely and say, \"So this is Miss Muffet. Well, how are you feeling,\nlittle one?\" And then, without heeding her answer, he would walk away.\n\nPerhaps you think that Miss Muffet, surrounded by every luxury and with\na dozen servants to wait upon her, was happy and contented; but such\nwas not the case. She wanted to run and romp, but they told her it was\nunladylike; she wished to play with other children, but none were rich\nenough to be proper associates for her; she longed to dig in the dirt\nin the garden, but Nurse Holloweg was shocked at the very thought. So\nMiss Muffet became sullen and irritable, and scolded everyone about\nher, and lived a very unhappy life. And her food was too rich and gave\nher dyspepsia, so that she grew thin and pale and did not sleep well at\nnight.\n\nOne afternoon her mother, who happened to be at home for an hour,\nsuddenly thought of her little daughter; so she rang the bell and asked\nfor Nurse Holloweg.\n\n\"How is Miss Muffet, Nurse?\" enquired the lady.\n\n\"Very badly, ma'am,\" was the reply.\n\n\"Badly! What do you mean? Is she ill?\"\n\n\"She's far from well, ma'am,\" answered the Nurse, \"and seems to be\ngetting worse every day.\"\n\n\"Well,\" replied the lady; \"you must have the doctor to see her; and\ndon't forget to let me know what he says. That is all, Nurse.\"\n\nShe turned to her novel again, and the Nurse walked away and sent a\nservant for the doctor. That great man, when he came, shook his head\nsolemnly and said,\n\n\"She must have a change. Take her away into the country as soon as\npossible.\"\n\n\"And very good advice it was, too,\" remarked the Nurse to one of the\nmaids; \"for I feel as if I needed a change myself.\"\n\nWhen she reported the matter to Mrs. Muffet the mother answered,\n\n\"Very well; I will see Mr. Muffet and have him write out a cheque.\"\n\nAnd so it was that a week later Little Miss Muffet went to the country,\nor rather to a small town where there was a summer hotel that had been\nhighly recommended to Nurse Holloweg; and with her went the string of\nmaids and a wagon-load of boxes and trunks.\n\nThe morning after their arrival the little girl asked to go out upon\nthe lawn.\n\n\"Well,\" replied Nurse Holloweg, \"Sarah can take you out for half an\nhour. But remember you are not to run and get heated, for that will\nruin your complexion; and you must not speak to any of the common\nchildren you meet, for your mother would object; and you must not get\nyour shoes dusty nor your dress soiled, nor disobey Sarah in any way.\"\n\nLittle Miss Muffet went out in a very angry and sulky mood.\n\n\"What's the use of being in the country,\" she thought, \"if I must act\njust as I did in the city? I hate Nurse Holloweg, and Sarah, and all\nthe rest of them! and if I dared I'd just--just run away.\"\n\nIndeed, a few minutes later, when Sarah had fallen asleep upon a bench\nunder a big shade tree, Miss Muffet decided she would really run away\nfor once in her life, and see how it seemed.\n\nThere was a pretty lane near by, running between shady trees far out\ninto the country, and, stealing softly away from Sarah's side, the\nlittle girl ran as fast as she could go, and never stopped until she\nwas all out of breath.\n\nWhile she rested and wondered what she could do next, a farmer came\nalong, driving an empty cart.\n\n\"I'll catch on behind,\" said Miss Muffet, gleefully, \"just as I've seen\nthe boys do in the city. Won't it be fun!\"\n\nSo she ran and caught on the end of the cart, and actually climbed into\nit, falling all in a heap upon the straw that lay upon the bottom. But\nit didn't hurt her at all, and the next minute the farmer whipped up\nhis horses, and they went trotting along the lane, carrying Miss Muffet\nfarther and farther away from hated Nurse Holloweg and the dreadful\nmaids.\n\nShe looked around upon the green fields and the waving grain, and drew\nin deep breaths of the fresh country air, and was happy for almost the\nfirst time in her little life. By and by she lay back upon the straw\nand fell asleep; and the farmer, who did not know she was in his cart,\ndrove on for many miles, until at last he stopped at a small wooden\nfarm-house, and jumped to the ground.\n\nA woman came to the door to greet him, and he said to her,\n\n\"Well, mother, we're home again, you see.\"\n\n\"So I see,\" she answered; \"but did you bring my groceries?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he replied, as he began to unharness the horses; \"they are in\nthe cart.\"\n\nSo she came to the cart and looked within, and saw Miss Muffet, who was\nstill asleep.\n\n\"Where did you get the little girl?\" asked the farmer's wife, in\nsurprise.\n\n\"What little girl?\" asked he.\n\n\"The one in the cart.\"\n\nHe came to the cart and looked in, and was as surprised as his wife.\n\n\"She must have climbed into the cart when I left the town,\" he said;\n\"but waken her, wife, and we will hear what she has to say.\"\n\nSo the farmer's wife shook the girl by the arm, and Miss Muffet sat up\nin the cart and rubbed her eyes and wondered where she was.\n\n\"How came you in my cart?\" asked the farmer.\n\n\"I caught on behind, and climbed in,\" answered the girl.\n\n\"What is your name, and where do you live?\" enquired the farmer's wife.\n\n\"My name is Miss Muffet, and I live in a big city,--but where, I do not\nknow.\"\n\nAnd that was all she could tell them, so the woman said at last,\n\n\"We must keep her till some one comes to claim her, and she can earn\nher living by helping me make the cheeses.\"\n\n\"That will be nice,\" said Miss Muffet, with a laugh, \"for Nurse\nHolloweg never lets me do anything, and I should like to help somebody\ndo something.\"\n\nSo they led her into the house, where the farmer's wife wondered at the\nfine texture of her dress and admired the golden chain that hung around\nher neck.\n\n\"Some one will surely come for her,\" the woman said to her husband,\n\"for she is richly dressed and must belong to a family of some\nimportance.\"\n\nNevertheless, when they had eaten dinner, for which Little Miss Muffet\nhad a wonderful appetite, the woman took her into the dairy and told\nher how she could assist her in curdling the milk and preparing it for\nthe cheese-press.\n\n\"Why, it's really fun to work,\" said the girl, at first, \"and I should\nlike to live here always. I do hope Nurse Holloweg will not find me.\"\n\nAfter a time, however, she grew weary, and wanted to rest; but the\nwoman had not yet finished her cheese-making, so she bade the girl keep\nat her tasks.\n\n\"It's time enough to rest when the work is done,\" she said, \"and if you\nstay with me you must earn your board. No one is allowed to idle in\nthis house.\"\n\nSo Little Miss Muffet, though she felt like crying and was very tired,\nkept at her work until at length all was finished and the last cheese\nwas in the press.\n\n\"Now,\" said the farmer's wife, \"since you have worked so well I shall\ngive you a dish of curds and whey for your supper, and you may go out\ninto the orchard and eat it under the shade of the trees.\"\n\nLittle Miss Muffet had never eaten curds and whey before, and did not\nknow how they tasted; but she was very hungry, so she took the dish and\nwent into the orchard.\n\nShe first looked around for a place to sit down, and finally\ndiscovered a little grassy mound, which is called a tuffet in the\ncountry, and seated herself upon it. Then she tasted the curds and whey\nand found them very good.\n\nBut while she was eating she chanced to look down at her feet, and\nthere was a great black spider coming straight towards her. The girl\nhad never seen such an enormous and hideous-looking spider before, and\nshe was so frightened that she gave a scream and tipped backward off\nthe tuffet, spilling the curds and whey all over her dress as she did\nso. This frightened her more than ever, and as soon as she could get\nupon her feet she scampered away to the farm-house as fast as she could\ngo, crying bitterly as she ran.\n\nThe farmer's wife tried to comfort her, and Miss Muffet, between her\nsobs, said she had seen \"the awfulest, biggest, blackest spider in all\nthe world!\"\n\nThis made the woman laugh, for she was not afraid of spiders.\n\nSoon after they heard a sound of wheels upon the road and a handsome\ncarriage came dashing up to the gate.\n\n\"Has anyone seen a little girl who has run away?\" asked Nurse Holloweg,\nleaning out of the carriage.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" answered Little Miss Muffet; \"here I am, Nurse.\" And she ran\nout and jumped into the carriage, for she was very glad to get back\nagain to those who would care for her and not ask her to work making\ncheeses.\n\nWhen they were driving back to the town the Nurse said,\n\n\"You must promise me, Miss Muffet, never to run away again. You have\nfrightened me nearly into hysterics, and had you been lost your mother\nwould have been quite disappointed.\"\n\nThe little girl was silent for a time; then she answered,\n\n\"I will promise not to run away if you will let me play as other\nchildren do. But if you do not allow me to run and romp and dig in the\nground, I shall keep running away, no matter how many horrid spiders\ncome to frighten me!\"\n\nAnd Nurse Holloweg, who had really been much alarmed at so nearly\nlosing her precious charge, thought it wise to agree to Miss Muffet's\nterms.\n\nShe kept her word, too, and when Little Miss Muffet went back to her\nhome in the city her cheeks were as red as roses and her eyes sparkled\nwith health. And she grew, in time, to be a beautiful young lady, and\nas healthy and robust as she was beautiful. Seeing which, the doctor\nput an extra large fee in his bill for advising that the little girl be\ntaken to the country; and Mr. Muffet paid it without a word of protest.\n\nEven after Miss Muffet grew up and was married she never forgot the day\nthat she ran away, nor the curds and whey she ate for her supper, nor\nthe great spider that frightened her away from the tuffet.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Three Wise Men of Gotham]\n\n\n\n\nThree Wise Men of Gotham\n\n    Three Wise Men of Gotham\n    Went to sea in a bowl.\n    If the bowl had been stronger\n    My tale had been longer.\n\n\nTHERE lived in the great city of Gotham, over against the north gate, a\nman who possessed a very wise aspect, but very little else. He was tall\nand lean, and had a fine large head, bald and smooth upon the top, with\na circle of white hair behind the ears. His beard was pure white, and\nreached to his waist; his eyes were small, dark, and so piercing that\nthey seemed to read your every thought. His eyebrows were very heavy,\nand as white as his beard. He dressed in a long black mantle with a\ngirdle corded about the middle, and he walked slowly and majestically,\nand talked no more than he was obliged to.\n\nWhen this man passed down the street with his stately tread the people\nall removed their hats and bowed to him with great reverence, saying\nwithin themselves,\n\n\"He is very wise, this great man; he is a second Socrates.\"\n\nAnd soon this was the only name he was called by, and every one in\nGotham knew him as \"Socrates.\"\n\nTo be sure this man was not really wise. Had they realized the\ntruth, not one he met but knew more than Socrates; but his venerable\nappearance certainly betokened great wisdom, and no one appeared to\nremember that things are seldom what they seem.\n\nSocrates would strut about with bowed head and arms clasped behind him,\nand think:\n\n\"My! how wise these people take me to be. Every one admires my\nbeautiful beard. When I look into their faces they drop their eyes. I\nam, in truth, a wonderful man, and if I say nothing they will believe\nI am full of wisdom. Ah, here comes the schoolmaster; I shall frown\nheavily and refuse to notice him, for then he also will be deceived and\nthink I am pondering upon matters of great import.\"\n\nReally, the one wise thing about this Socrates was his ability to keep\nquiet. For, saying no word, it was impossible he should betray his\nignorance.\n\nSingularly enough, over by the south gate of Gotham there dwelt another\nwise man, of much the same appearance as Socrates. His white beard was\na trifle longer and he had lost his left eye, which was covered by a\nblack patch; but in all other ways his person betokened as much wisdom\nas that of the other.\n\nHe did not walk about, being lazy and preferring his ease; but he\nlived in a little cottage with one room, where the people came to\nconsult him in regard to all their troubles.\n\nThey had named him Sophocles, and when anything went wrong they would\nsay,\n\n\"Let us go and consult Sophocles, for he is very wise and will tell us\nwhat to do.\"\n\nThus one man, who had sued his neighbor in the courts, became worried\nover the outcome of the matter and came to consult the wise man.\n\n\"Tell me, O Sophocles!\" he said, as he dropped a piece of money upon a\nplate, \"shall I win my lawsuit or not?\"\n\nSophocles appeared to ponder for a moment, and then he looked at his\nquestioner with his one eye and replied,\n\n\"If it is not decided against you, you will certainly win your suit.\"\n\nAnd the man was content, and went away feeling that his money had been\nwell invested.\n\nAt another time the mother of a pair of baby twins came to him in great\ntrouble.\n\n\"O most wise Sophocles!\" she said, \"I am in despair! For my little twin\ngirls are just alike, and I have lost the ribbon that I placed on one\nthat I might be able to tell them apart. Therefore I cannot determine\nwhich is Amelia and which is Ophelia, and as the priest has christened\nthem by their proper names it would be a sin to call them wrongly.\"\n\n[Illustration: Three Wise Men of Gotham]\n\n\"Cannot the priest tell?\" asked the wise man.\n\n\"No one can tell,\" answered the woman; \"neither the priest nor their\nfather nor myself, for they are just alike. And they are yet too young\nto remember their own names. Therefore your great wisdom is our only\nresource.\"\n\n\"Bring them to me,\" commanded Sophocles.\n\nAnd when they were brought he looked at them attentively and said,\n\n\"This is Ophelia and this Amelia. Now tie a red ribbon about Ophelia's\nwrist and put a blue ribbon on Amelia, and so long as they wear them\nyou will not be troubled to tell them apart.\"\n\nEveryone marvelled greatly that Sophocles should know the children\nbetter than their own mother, but he said to himself,\n\n\"Since no one can prove that I am wrong I am sure to be right;\" and\nthus he maintained his reputation for wisdom.\n\nIn a little side street near the center of Gotham lived an old woman\nnamed Deborah Smith. Her home was a wretched little hut, for she was\npoor, and supported herself and her husband by begging in the streets.\nHer husband was a lazy, short, fat old man, who lay upon a ragged\nblanket in the hut all day and refused to work.\n\n\"One beggar in the family is enough,\" he used to grumble, when his wife\nupbraided him, \"and I am really too tired to work. So let me alone,\nmy Deborah, as I am about to take another nap.\"\n\nNothing she could say would arouse him to action, and she finally\nallowed him to do as he pleased.\n\nBut one day she met Socrates walking in the street, and after watching\nhim for a time made up her mind he was nothing more than a fool. Other\npeople certainly thought him wise, but she was a shrewd old woman, and\ncould see well enough that he merely looked wise. The next day she went\nto the south of the city to beg, and there she heard of Sophocles. When\nthe people repeated his wise sayings she thought,\n\n\"Here is another fool, for any one could tell as much as this man does.\"\n\nStill, she went to see Sophocles, and, dropping a penny upon his plate,\nshe asked,\n\n\"Tell me, O wise man, how shall I drive my husband to work?\"\n\n\"By starving him,\" answered Sophocles; \"if you refuse to feed him he\nmust find a way to feed himself.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" she thought, as she went away; \"but any fool could have\ntold me that. This wise man is a fraud; even my husband is as wise as\nhe.\"\n\nThen she stopped short and slapped her hand against her forehead.\n\n\"Why,\" she cried, \"I will make a Wise Man of Perry, my husband, and\nthen he can earn money without working!\"\n\nSo she went to her husband and said,\n\n\"Get up, Perry Smith, and wash yourself; for I am going to make a Wise\nMan of you.\"\n\n\"I won't,\" he replied.\n\n\"You will,\" she declared, \"for it is the easiest way to earn money I\nhave ever discovered.\"\n\nThen she took a stick and beat him so fiercely that at last he got up,\nand agreed to do as she said.\n\nShe washed his long beard until it was as white as snow, and she\nshaved his head to make him look bald and venerable. Then she brought\nhim a flowing black robe with a girdle at the middle; and when he was\ndressed, lo! he looked fully as wise as either Socrates or Sophocles.\n\n\"You must have a new name,\" she said, \"for no one will ever believe\nthat Perry Smith is a Wise Man. So I shall hereafter call you Pericles,\nthe Wisest Man of Gotham!\"\n\nShe then led him into the streets, and to all they met she declared,\n\n\"This is Pericles, the wisest man in the world.\"\n\n\"What does he know?\" they asked.\n\n\"Everything, and much else,\" she replied.\n\nThen came a carter, and putting a piece of money in the hand of\nPericles, he enquired,\n\n\"Pray tell me of your wisdom what is wrong with my mare?\"\n\n\"How should I know?\" asked Pericles.\n\n\"I thought you knew everything,\" returned the carter, in surprise.\n\n\"I do,\" declared Pericles; \"but you have not told me what her symptoms\nare.\"\n\n\"She refuses to eat anything,\" said the carter.\n\n\"Then she is not hungry,\" returned Pericles; \"for neither man nor beast\nwill refuse to eat when hungry.\"\n\nAnd the people who heard him whispered together and said,\n\n\"Surely this is a wise man, for he has told the carter what is wrong\nwith his mare.\"\n\nAfter a few days the fame of Pericles' sayings came to the ears of both\nSocrates and Sophocles, and they resolved to see him, for each feared\nhe would prove more wise than they were, knowing themselves to be\narrant humbugs. So one morning the three wise men met together outside\nthe hut of Pericles, and they sat themselves down upon stools, facing\neach other, while a great crowd of people gathered around to hear the\nwords of wisdom that dropped from their lips.\n\nBut for a time all three were silent, and regarded one another\nanxiously, for each feared he might betray himself.\n\nFinally Sophocles winked his one eye at the others and said, in a grave\nvoice,\n\n\"The earth is flat; for, were it round, as some fools say, all the\npeople would slide off the surface.\"\n\nThen the people, who had listened eagerly, clapped their hands together\nand murmured,\n\n\"Sophocles is wisest of all. What he says is truth.\"\n\nThis provoked Socrates greatly, for he felt his reputation was in\ndanger; so he said with a frown,\n\n\"The world is shallow, like a dish; were it flat the water would all\nrun over the edges, and we should have no oceans.\"\n\nThen the people applauded more loudly than before, and cried,\n\n\"Socrates is right! he is wisest of all.\"\n\nPericles, at this, shifted uneasily upon his stool, for he knew he must\ndispute the matter boldly or his fame would depart from him. Therefore\nhe said, with grave deliberation,\n\n\"You are wrong, my friends. The world is hollow, like the shell of a\ncocoanut, and we are all inside the shell. The sky above us is the\nroof, and if you go out upon the ocean you will come to a place, no\nmatter in which direction you go, where the sky and the water meet. I\nknow this is true, for I have been to sea.\"\n\nThe people cheered loudly at this, and said,\n\n\"Long live Pericles, the wisest of the wise men!\"\n\n\"I shall hold I am right,\" protested Sophocles, \"until Pericles and\nSocrates prove that I am wrong.\"\n\n\"That is fair enough,\" said the people.\n\n\"And I also shall hold myself to be right until they prove me wrong,\"\ndeclared Socrates, firmly.\n\n\"I know I am right,\" said Pericles, \"for you cannot prove me wrong.\"\n\n\"We can take a boat and sail over the sea,\" remarked Socrates, \"and\nwhen we come to the edge we will know the truth. Will you go?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Sophocles; and Pericles, because he did not dare\nrefuse, said \"Yes\" also.\n\nThen they went to the shore of the sea, and the people followed them.\nThere was no boat to be found anywhere, for the fishers were all away\nupon the water; but there was a big wooden bowl lying upon the shore,\nwhich the fishermen used to carry their fish to market in.\n\n\"This will do,\" said Pericles, who, because he weighed the most, was\nthe greatest fool of the three.\n\nSo the wise men all sat within the bowl, with their feet together, and\nthe people pushed them out into the water.\n\nThe tide caught the bowl and floated it out to sea, and before long the\nwise men were beyond sight of land.\n\nThey were all greatly frightened, for the bowl was old and cracked, and\nthe water leaked slowly through until their feet were covered. They\nclung to the edge with their hands and looked at one another with white\nfaces. Said Pericles,\n\n\"I was a fool to come to sea in this bowl.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" remarked Socrates, \"if you are a fool, as you confess, then you\ncannot be a wise man.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Pericles, \"but I'll soon be a dead man.\"\n\n\"I also was a fool,\" said Sophocles, who was weeping from his one eye\nand trembling all over, \"for if I had stayed upon land I would not\nhave been drowned.\"\n\n\"Since you both acknowledge it,\" sighed Socrates, \"I will confess that\nI also am a fool, and have always been one; but I looked so wise the\npeople insisted I must know everything!\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" Sophocles groaned, \"the people have murdered us!\"\n\n\"My only regret,\" said Pericles, \"is that my wife is not with me. If\nonly she were here\"--\n\nHe did not finish what he was saying, for just then the bowl broke in\ntwo. And the people are still waiting for the three wise men to come\nback to them.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Little Bun Rabbit]\n\n\n\n\nLittle Bun Rabbit\n\n    \"Oh, Little Bun Rabbit, so soft and so shy,\n    Say, what do you see with your big, round eye?\"\n    \"On Christmas we rabbits,\" says Bunny so shy,\n    \"Keep watch to see Santa go galloping by.\"\n\n\nLITTLE DOROTHY had passed all the few years of her life in the country,\nand being the only child upon the farm she was allowed to roam about\nthe meadows and woods as she pleased. On the bright summer mornings\nDorothy's mother would tie a sun-bonnet under the girl's chin, and then\nshe romped away to the fields to amuse herself in her own way.\n\nShe came to know every flower that grew, and to call them by name,\nand she always stepped very carefully to avoid treading on them, for\nDorothy was a kind-hearted child and did not like to crush the pretty\nflowers that bloomed in her path. And she was also very fond of all the\nanimals, and learned to know them well, and even to understand their\nlanguage, which very few people can do. And the animals loved Dorothy\nin turn, for the word passed around amongst them that she could be\ntrusted to do them no harm. For the horse, whose soft nose Dorothy\noften gently stroked, told the cow of her kindness, and the cow told\nthe dog, and the dog told the cat, and the cat told her black kitten,\nand the black kitten told the rabbit when one day they met in the\nturnip patch.\n\nTherefore when the rabbit, which is the most timid of all animals and\nthe most difficult to get acquainted with, looked out of a small bush\nat the edge of the wood one day and saw Dorothy standing a little way\noff, he did not scamper away, as is his custom, but sat very still and\nmet the gaze of her sweet eyes boldly, although perhaps his heart beat\na little faster than usual.\n\nDorothy herself was afraid she might frighten him away, so she kept\nvery quiet for a time, leaning silently against a tree and smiling\nencouragement at her timorous companion until the rabbit became\nreassured and blinked his big eyes at her thoughtfully. For he was as\nmuch interested in the little girl as she in him, since it was the\nfirst time he had dared to meet a person face to face.\n\nFinally Dorothy ventured to speak, so she asked, very softly and slowly,\n\n    \"Oh, Little Bun Rabbit, so soft and so shy,\n     Say, what do you see with your big, round eye?\"\n\n\"Many things,\" answered the rabbit, who was pleased to hear the girl\nspeak in his own language; \"in summer-time I see the clover-leaves\nthat I love to feed upon and the cabbages at the end of the farmer's\ngarden. I see the cool bushes where I can hide from my enemies, and I\nsee the dogs and the men long before they can see me, or know that I am\nnear, and therefore I am able to keep out of their way.\"\n\n\"Is that the reason your eyes are so big?\" asked Dorothy.\n\n\"I suppose so,\" returned the rabbit; \"you see we have only our eyes and\nour ears and our legs to defend ourselves with. We cannot fight, but we\ncan always run away, and that is a much better way to save our lives\nthan by fighting.\"\n\n\"Where is your home, bunny?\" enquired the girl.\n\n\"I live in the ground, far down in a cool, pleasant hole I have dug in\nthe midst of the forest. At the bottom of the hole is the nicest little\nroom you can imagine, and there I have made a soft bed to rest in at\nnight. When I meet an enemy I run to my hole and jump in, and there I\nstay until all danger is over.\"\n\n\"You have told me what you see in summer,\" continued Dorothy, who was\ngreatly interested in the rabbit's account of himself, \"but what do you\nsee in the winter?\"\n\n    \"In winter we rabbits,\" said Bunny so shy,\n    \"Keep watch to see Santa go galloping by.\"\n\n\"And do you ever see him?\" asked the girl, eagerly.\n\n\"Oh, yes; every winter. I am not afraid of him, nor of his reindeer.\nAnd it is such fun to see him come dashing along, cracking his whip and\ncalling out cheerily to his reindeer, who are able to run even swifter\nthan we rabbits. And Santa Claus, when he sees me, always gives me a\nnod and a smile, and then I look after him and his big load of toys\nwhich he is carrying to the children, until he has galloped away out of\nsight. I like to see the toys, for they are so bright and pretty, and\nevery year there is something new amongst them. Once I visited Santa,\nand saw him make the toys.\"\n\n\"Oh, tell me about it!\" pleaded Dorothy.\n\n\"It was one morning after Christmas,\" said the rabbit, who seemed to\nenjoy talking, now that he had overcome his fear of Dorothy, \"and I was\nsitting by the road-side when Santa Claus came riding back in his empty\nsleigh. He does not come home quite so fast as he goes, and when he saw\nme he stopped for a word.\n\n\"'You look very pretty this morning, Bun Rabbit,' he said, in his jolly\nway; 'I think the babies would love to have you to play with.'\n\n\"'I don't doubt it, your honor,' I answered; 'but they'd soon kill me\nwith handling, even if they did not scare me to death; for babies are\nvery rough with their playthings.'\n\n\"'That is true,' replied Santa Claus; 'and yet you are so soft and\npretty it is a pity the babies can't have you. Still, as they would\nabuse a live rabbit I think I shall make them some toy rabbits, which\nthey cannot hurt; so if you will jump into my sleigh with me and ride\nhome to my castle for a few days, I'll see if I can't make some toy\nrabbits just like you.'\n\n\"Of course I consented, for we all like to please old Santa, and a\nminute later I had jumped into the sleigh beside him and we were\ndashing away at full speed toward his castle. I enjoyed the ride\nvery much, but I enjoyed the castle far more; for it was one of the\nloveliest places you could imagine. It stood on the top of a high\nmountain and is built of gold and silver bricks, and the windows are\npure diamond crystals. The rooms are big and high, and there is a soft\ncarpet upon every floor and many strange things scattered around to\namuse one. Santa Claus lives there all alone, except for old Mother\nHubbard, who cooks the meals for him; and her cupboard is never bare\nnow, I can promise you! At the top of the castle there is one big room,\nand that is Santa's work-shop, where he makes the toys. On one side is\nhis work-bench, with plenty of saws and hammers and jack-knives; and on\nanother side is the paint-bench, with paints of every color and brushes\nof every size and shape. And in other places are great shelves, where\nthe toys are put to dry and keep new and bright until Christmas comes\nand it is time to load them all into his sleigh.\n\n\"After Mother Hubbard had given me a good dinner, and I had eaten some\nof the most delicious clover I have ever tasted, Santa took me up into\nhis work-room and sat me upon the table.\n\n\"'If I can only make rabbits half as nice as you are,' he said, 'the\nlittle ones will be delighted.' Then he lit a big pipe and began to\nsmoke, and soon he took a roll of soft fur from a shelf in a corner\nand commenced to cut it out in the shape of a rabbit. He smoked and\nwhistled all the time he was working, and he talked to me in such a\njolly way that I sat perfectly still and allowed him to measure my ears\nand my legs so that he could cut the fur into the proper form.\n\n\"'Why, I've got your nose too long, Bunny,' he said once; and so he\nsnipped a little off the fur he was cutting, so that the toy rabbit's\nnose should be like mine. And again he said, 'Good gracious! the ears\nare too short entirely!' So he had to get a needle and thread and sew\non more fur to the ears, so that they might be the right size. But\nafter a time it was all finished, and then he stuffed the fur full\nof sawdust and sewed it up neatly; after which he put in some glass\neyes that made the toy rabbit look wonderfully life-like. When it was\nall done he put it on the table beside me, and at first I didn't know\nwhether I was the live rabbit or the toy rabbit, we were so much alike.\n\n\"'It's a very good job,' said Santa, nodding his head at us pleasantly;\n'and I shall have to make a lot of these rabbits, for the little\nchildren are sure to be greatly pleased with them.'\n\n\"So he immediately began to make another, and this time he cut the fur\njust the right size, so that it was even better than the first rabbit.\n\n\"'I must put a squeak in it,' said Santa.\n\n\"So he took a box of squeaks from a shelf and put one into the rabbit\nbefore he sewed it up. When it was all finished he pressed the toy\nrabbit with his thumb, and it squeaked so naturally that I jumped off\nthe table, fearing at first the new rabbit was alive. Old Santa laughed\nmerrily at this, and I soon recovered from my fright and was pleased to\nthink the babies were to have such pretty playthings.\n\n\"'After this,' said Santa Claus, 'I can make rabbits without having you\nfor a pattern; but if you like you may stay a few days longer in my\ncastle and amuse yourself.'\n\n\"I thanked him and decided to stay. So for several days I watched him\nmaking all kinds of toys, and I wondered to see how quickly he made\nthem, and how many new things he invented.\n\n\"'I almost wish I was a child,' I said to him one day, 'for then I too\ncould have playthings.'\n\n\"'Ah, you can run about all day, in summer and in winter, and enjoy\nyourself in your own way,' said Santa; 'but the poor little children\nare obliged to stay in the house in the winter and on rainy days in\nthe summer, and then they must have toys to amuse them and keep them\ncontented.'\n\n\"I knew this was true, so I only said, admiringly,\n\n\"'You must be the quickest and the best workman in all the world,\nSanta.'\n\n\"'I suppose I am,' he answered; 'but then, you see, I have been making\ntoys for hundreds of years, and I make so many it is no wonder I am\nskillful. And now, if you are ready to go home, I'll hitch up the\nreindeer and take you back again.'\n\n\"'Oh, no,' said I, 'I prefer to run by myself, for I can easily find\nthe way and I want to see the country.'\n\n\"'If that is the case,' replied Santa, 'I must give you a magic collar\nto wear, so that you will come to no harm.'\n\n\"So, after Mother Hubbard had given me a good meal of turnips and\nsliced cabbage, Santa Claus put the magic collar around my neck and I\nstarted for home. I took my time on the journey, for I knew nothing\ncould harm me, and I saw a good many strange sights before I got back\nto this place again.\"\n\n\"But what became of the magic collar?\" asked Dorothy, who had listened\nwith breathless interest to the rabbit's story.\n\n\"After I got home,\" replied the rabbit, \"the collar disappeared from\naround my neck, and I knew Santa had called it back to himself again.\nHe did not give it to me, you see; he merely let me take it on my\njourney to protect me. The next Christmas, when I watched by the\nroad-side to see Santa, I was pleased to notice a great many of the toy\nrabbits sticking out of the loaded sleigh. The babies must have liked\nthem, too, for every year since I have seen them amongst the toys.\n\n\"Santa never forgets me, and every time he passes he calls out, in his\njolly voice,\n\n\"'A merry Christmas to you, Bun Rabbit! The babies still love you\ndearly.'\"\n\nThe Rabbit paused, and Dorothy was just about to ask another question\nwhen Bunny raised his head and seemed to hear something coming.\n\n\"What is it?\" enquired the girl.\n\n\"It's the farmer's big shepherd dog,\" answered the Rabbit, \"and I must\nbe going before he sees me, or I shall have to run for my life. So good\nbye, Dorothy; I hope we shall meet again, and then I will gladly tell\nyou more of my adventures.\"\n\nThe next instant he had sprung into the wood, and all that Dorothy\ncould see of him was a gray streak darting in and out amongst the trees.","title":"Mother Goose in Prose","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":46105}