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Title: Boys and Girls Bookshelf; a Practical Plan of Character Building, Volume I (of
17)

Author: Various

Editor: W. J. Baltzell
William Byron Forbush
Rossiter Johnson
Herbert T. Wade
Daniel Edwin Wheeler

Release date: May 6, 2008 [eBook #25359]
Most recently updated: September 6, 2015

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25359

Credits: E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Anne Storer, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOYS AND GIRLS
BOOKSHELF; A PRACTICAL PLAN OF CHARACTER BUILDING, VOLUME I
(OF 17) ***

E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Anne Storer,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)

Transcriber’s Note:
Inconsistencies in spelling and
hyphenation have been
retained.

BOYS AND GIRLS
BOOKSHELF
A Practical Plan of Character Building

COMPLETE IN SEVENTEEN VOLUMES

I Fun and Thought for Little Folk
II Folk-Lore, Fables, and Fairy Tales
III Famous Tales and Nature Stories
IV Things to Make and Things to Do
V True Stories from Every Land
VI Famous Songs and Picture Stories
VII Nature and Outdoor Life, Part I

VIII Nature and Outdoor Life, Part II
IX Earth, Sea, and Sky
X Games and Handicraft
XI Wonders of Invention
XII Marvels of Industry
XIII Every Land and its Story
XIV Famous Men and Women
XV Bookland—Story and Verse, Part I
XVI Bookland—Story and Verse, Part II
XVII Graded and Classified Index

THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY
INCORPORATED
New York

MAROONED
from a drawing by mabel lucie attwell

BOYS AND GIRLS
BOOKSHELF
A Practical Plan of Character Building

Little Folks’ Section

Prepared Under the Supervision of
THE EDITORIAL BOARD of the UNIVERSITY
SOCIETY

Volume I

FUN AND THOUGHT FOR LITTLE FOLK

THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY
INCORPORATED
New York

Copyright, 1920, By
THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY INC.

Copyright, 1912, 1915, By
THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY INC.

Manufactured in the U. S. A.

THE EDITORIAL BOARD
of
THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY INC.
General Editor: William Byron Forbush, Ph.D., Litt.D.
Author of “The Boy Problem”

Technical Editor: Music Editor:

Herbert Treadwell Wade Winton James Baltzell, A.B., Mus. Bac.
Technical Editor of The New International Secretary of The National Academy of

Encyclopedia Music

Literature Editor: Associate Editor:
Rossiter Johnson, Ph.D., LL.D. Daniel Edwin Wheeler
Editor of “Little Classics” Editorial Director of the Edison Industries

Office Editor: Jennie Ellis Burdick
Editor of “The Children’s Own Library”

PARTIAL LIST OF SPECIAL CONTRIBUTORS

HUGO FROELICH AND BONNIE E.
JOSEPH H. ADAMS,
SNOW,
Editor of Authors of
“Harper’s Practical Books for
“Industrial Art” textbooks
Boys”

T. GEORGE ALLEN, JULIA A. GLEASON,

Curator of the Oriental Museum, Teacher of Sewing,
University of Chicago Cornell University

WILLIAM ELLIOT GRIFFIS, D.D.,
MARY W. ARTOIS,
L.H.D.,
Traveler and Writer Lecturer and Author

ROGER W. BABSON, ISABEL F. HAPGOOD,

Author of “Central America” Author of “Russian Rambles”

GRACE GERTRUDE BARDEN, HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE,

Teacher of Domestic Science Author and Critic

HARRY K. BEASLEY, ROSE HENDERSON,
Electrical Engineer and Author Biographer and Travel Writer

C. S. BRAININ, Ph.D., HENRY WALTON JONES,
Professor of Astronomy, Fact Articles

Columbia University

M. ALSTON BUCKLEY, GRACE LEE KNELL,
Retold Tales and Fact Articles Teacher of Manual Training,
Ridgewood, N.J., Schools

FRANK H. CHELEY, O. IVAN LEE,
Editor of the “Father and Son
Analytical Chemist
Library”

LAURA CLARKE, CHARLES HENRY LERRIGO, M.D.,

Author of Fact Articles Former President of the
Kansas State Board of Health

CARL HARRY CLAUDY, HARRIS W. MOORE,
Author of “First Book of
Author of “Manual Training Toys”
Photography”

JOHN H. CLIFFORD, JOHN T. NICHOLS,
Associate-Editor of “The Young
Curator of Fish at the
Folks’
Treasury,” “The Mother’s Book,”
American Museum of Natural History
etc.

CLAYTON S. COOPER T. GILBERT PEARSON,
Author of Executive Secretary of the National

“Understanding South America” Association of Audubon Societies

LEE S. CRANDALL, E. L. D. SEYMOUR,
Curator, New York Zoological
Farm Editor of Country Life
Park

MORGAN SHEPARD (JOHN
WALTER ALDEN DYER,
MARTIN),

Author and former Managing
Writer of
Editor of
Country Life in America Illustrated Letters to Children

ROBERT W. SHUFELDT, M.D.,
WILLIAM H. EASTON, Ph.D.,
U.S.M.C.,
Publicity Department of the Head of the Science Bureau,
Westinghouse Electric Washington, D. C.

and Manufacturing Co.

ARTHUR ELSON, ELVA S. SMITH,
Musical Critic and Author of Children’s Librarian of the
“The Book of Musical
Carnegie Library, Pittsburgh
Knowledge”

PHILIP D. FAGANS, MABELL SHIPPIE CLARKE SMITH,
Executive Secretary of the Author and Lecturer
Woodcraft League

JOHN CLARKE FARBER, A.M., MARY V. WORSTELL,
Lieutenant, United States National
Author, Editor, and Lecturer
Army

LOUISE MAUNSELL FIELD, KATHARINE S. WORTHINGTON,
Fiction Reviewer of The New York
Teacher of English in the
Times
Finch School

EHRMA G. FILER,
Fact Articles

PARTIAL LIST OF AUTHORS REPRESENTED

in the boys and girls bookshelf by selections from their writings

FREDERICK UPHAM ADAMS, WASHINGTON IRVING,
Mechanical Engineer and Author Historian, Essayist, and Novelist

ROALD AMUNDSEN, TUDOR JENKS,
Author of “Boys’ Book of
Leader of the Norwegian Polar
Explorations,”
“Electricity for Young People,”
Expedition which reached the South Pole
etc.

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN, CHARLES KINGSLEY,

Danish Poet and Fabulist Clergyman and Author

CAROLYN SHERWIN BAILEY, GUSTAVE KOBBE,

Writer of Stories and Books for Author of
“Wagner’s Music Dramas
Children and Young Folks
Analyzed”

RALPH HENRY BARBOUR, CHARLES LAMB,

Author of “The Crimson Sweater” Critic, Humorist, and Author
and other books for boys

L. FRANK BAUM, SIDNEY LANIER,
Author of “The Wizard of Oz,” “Queen
Poet and Critic
Zixie
of Ix” and other children’s books

ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL, Ph.D.,
EDMUND LEAMY,
M.D., Sc.D.,
Scientist and Inventor Author of “The Golden Spears”

JOHN STUART BLACKIE, MAUD McKNIGHT LINDSAY,

Scottish Scholar and Man-of-letters Author of “Mother Stories”

RICHARD DODDRIDGE
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW,
BLACKMORE,
English Novelist Poet

JOHN HENRY BONER, SILAS ALPHA LOTTRIDGE,
Editor and Poet Author of
“Animal Snapshots and How
Made”

ELBRIDGE STREETER BROOKS, FREDERIC A. LUCAS,
Author of “Historic Boys” Director of the American

and “Historic Girls” Museum of Natural History

WINIFRED BUCK, INEZ N. McFEE,

Author of “Tales of Common
Author of “The American Girl”
Things”

GELETT BURGESS, PETER MacQUEEN,

Draughtsman and Author Lecturer and Author of
“Around the World With the
Flag”

THORNTON WALDO BURGESS, JOHN MILTON,

Author of “Old Mother West Wind” Poet

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING, ALFRED NOYES,
Poet Poet

ROBERT BROWNING, ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE,
Poet Author of “The Van Dwellers,”

“Mark Twain” and other works

ROBERT BURNS, GIFFORD PINCHOT,
Poet Systematic Forester

CHARLES H. CAFFIN, EMILIE POULSSON,
Author of “A Guide to Pictures” Author of “Finger Plays”

LAURA ELIZABETH
CHARLES DICKENS,
RICHARDS,

Author of the “Hildegarde”
Novelist
Books
and “The Golden Windows”

MARY MAPES DODGE, JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY,

Author and Editor Poet

NATHAN HASKELL DOLE, JOHN RUSKIN,
Author of Art Critic and Writer
“Young Folks’ History of Russia,” etc.

ALEXANDRE DUMAS, SIR WALTER SCOTT,
Novelist Novelist and Poet

M. S. EMERY, ANNA SEWELL

Author of “How to Enjoy Pictures” Novelist

EUGENE FIELD, ROBERT W. SERVICE,
Author of “The Spell of the
Poet
Yukon”

WILLIAM LOVELL FINLEY, ERNEST THOMPSON SETON,
State Biologist of Oregon Artist, Author, and Lecturer

EDWARD HOWE FORBUSH, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,

State Ornithologist of Massachusetts Poet and Dramatist

MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN, PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY,
Novelist Poet

MATTHEW PAGE GAFFNEY, VILHJALMUR STEFANSSON,
Headmaster of the Roger Ascham School Arctic Explorer

REV. WASHINGTON GLADDEN, ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON,
Author of “Santa Claus on a Lark,” Poet, Essayist, and Novelist

“Social Salvation,” etc.

JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS, ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON,
Author of “Uncle Remus Stories” Poet

MRS. GUDRUN THORNE-
ELIZABETH HARRISON,
THOMSEN,
Author of “East o’ the Sun and
President of the National
West o’ the
Moon,” and other Norwegian
Kindergarten College
Folk Tales

EVERETT TITSWORTH
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE,
TOMLINSON
Novelist Ph.D., L.H.D.,
Author of “Three Young
Continentals”

CHARLES FREDERICK HOLDER, CAROLYN WELLS,
Author of “A Nonsense
Author of
Anthology”
“Big Game Fish of the United States” and the “Marjorie” Books

JOHN GREENLEAF
VICTOR HUGO,
WHITTIER,
Poet and Novelist Poet and Author

FREDERICK WINTHROP
LEONARD WOOD,
HUTCHINSON,
Author of “The Men Who Found Major-General, United States
America” Army

JEAN INGELOW, ORVILLE WRIGHT,

Poet and Novelist Aviator and Inventor

PARTIAL LIST OF ILLUSTRATORS

Examples of whose work appear in the Boys and Girls Bookshelf

John W. Alexander F. S. Church Lucy Fitch Perkins

Annie Anderson Clyde O. Deland Howard Pyle
Florence Anderson Edmund Dulac Arthur Rackham
Culmer Barnes Ruth Hallock Frederick Remington
Frank L. Baum Florence Harrison F. Reuterdahl
J. Carter Beard R. Bruce Horsfall Harry Rountree

W. T. Benda George W. Joy Carl Rungius

John Bennett E. W. Kemble Edmund J. Sawyer
Emilie Benson
Anna Whelan Betts Ernest Thompson Seton
Knipe
R. B. Birch Charles F. Lester R. Shrador
E. H. Blashfield J. C. Leyendecker Harold Sichel
R. I. Brasher H. Moore Hugh Spencer
Pamela Vinton
H. A. Ogden Alice Barber Stephens
Brown
Harrison Cady Monro S. Orr Frank Stick
Bess Bruce
Maxfield Parrish Sara S. Stillwell
Cleveland
Malcolm
F. Y. Cory C. R. Swan
Patterson
Albertine Randall
Lilian A. Covey E. C. Peixotto
Wheelan

GENERAL INTRODUCTION
Books are as essentially a part of the home where boys and girls are growing
into manhood and womanhood as any other part of the furnishings. Parents have
no more right to starve a child’s mind than they have his body. If a child is to
take his place among the men and women of his time he needs to know the past
out of which the present grew, and he needs to know what is going on in the
world in which he lives. He needs tools for his brain as much as for his hands.
All these things are found, and found only, in books.
The child is helpless to provide himself with these necessaries for life. The
majority of parents are eager that their children shall start early and right on that
road which leads to honorable success. But it is impossible for any parent, by no
matter how liberal an expenditure, to collect books that shall adequately cover
all a child’s needs and interests. This is the task of experts.

INSTRUCTIVE PLAY

Recent studies of childhood have emphasized the conviction that a child
develops his talents even more in his playtime than in his school; his
spontaneous activities build up his fourfold—physical, mental, social, and moral
—nature. Probably no collection of books has been more strongly affected by
this modern discovery than the Boys and Girls Bookshelf. The whole effort has
been to utilize the child’s play-interests so that they shall express themselves in
joyous ways that lead into the world of invention and industry, of imagination
and achievement, of science and art and music, of character and worth-while
deeds.
Children’s collections have had various literary styles. The encyclopedia is
comprehensive, but stately and often dull; it will answer the question of the
child, but it does not lead the child toward more knowledge. The scrapbook is
interesting, but it has no plan or order. The “inspirational” book is full of fine
sentiments, but without facts or much information.

THE PURPOSE OF THE BOOKSHELF

The Bookshelf is so built that it creates a desire for knowledge, and then
satisfies that desire. At the same time the Bookshelf does not pretend to tell all
that is known on any one subject. The Editors have selected the subjects

concerning which no one should be ignorant, and have seen to it that the
information is given in an attractive form with plenty of illustrative material, and
that when the reader is finished he will have a working knowledge of the subject.
To awaken minds and to make them alert and receptive has been the aim in
making the Bookshelf.

THE PLAN AND SCOPE

The Bookshelf begins with the dawn of intelligence in the child, and goes with
him through the morning of childhood, and into the noonday of youth. It
contains a complete stock of finger-plays, action-plays, lullabies, and other
entertaining and educational material enjoyable to babies and little children; it
reaches into and through the high-school age. In fact, the Bookshelf, with its
valuable scientific and natural-history material, its information about inventions
and industries, and its literary treasures, is an asset to the library even of an
adult.
The Bookshelf is classified. In some libraries material upon an unrelated variety
of subjects may be found within the covers of a single volume. This feature has
been tried and found wanting. It means that when the reader is on the trail of a
given subject he never knows where to look for it, and he is likely to have to
hunt through several volumes before he learns what he wants to know. The
argument for an unclassified library is that the child who is reading a story may
happen at the end of that story upon an article containing valuable information,
and thus be lured on to read it. Children are not so easily beguiled. The mental
distinction of being, as it were, forced to spring from one theme to another
certainly counterbalances any supposed advantage in the scrapbook
arrangement. “A place for everything, and everything in its place,” is as true an
adage and as necessary to remember and to practise to-day as it ever was.
In addition to classifying the contents of the Bookshelf, the Editors have graded
the material. Any collection that is purchased for a home and leaves out the
needs of the children of any given age is disappointing to that home. There is
also a Graded Index, which is an enlargement upon the general plan.
On the very day of its birth a baby enters the child’s garden of life. In this
beautiful place there are weeds as well as flowers, and father and mother must
guide the little adventurer so that only the good flowers are developed, while the
weeds are held in check and the poisonous plants torn up and destroyed. Earnest
parents feel this responsibility very keenly. In “Fun and Thought for Little Folk”
there is a well-selected collection of jingles, stories, and play exercises for babies
up to about three or four years of age. It covers the earliest informal education of
a child, from finger-play days to the alphabet period. It helps parents who wish

to enjoy their little children and who do not wish such enjoyment to be a mere
matter of chance. Trained kindergartners with the modern viewpoint had much to
do with this collection. Not only does it delight the little folk, but it is also the
first material for child-training.
Educators are making much nowadays of fairy stories and wonder-tales. The
imaginative man, they say, is the effective man, because he has the mental vision
which sees farther than the physical eye; and they urge that all children should
be the possessors of these nursery tales that have made children happy for so
many centuries. “Folk-lore, Fables, and Fairy Tales” is the result of careful
comparative study of all the leading anthologies, with added research into
sources that have not otherwise been thoroughly explored.
The folk-lore of many races and times has been sifted, and wherever necessary it
has been retold so as to be suitable to modern tastes and needs of modern
children. Whatever was gruesome or morally undesirable has been omitted, but
the flavor and the language of the past have been retained. Here are
“Cinderella,” “Tom Thumb,” and all the other favorites of our childhood days,
together with the stories that are told to the children in the four corners of the
world. While these will be read to our boys and girls before they are able to read
for themselves, they will turn back again and again to this department as they
grow older. There is perpetual youth in the tales evolved by a race in its infancy.
From the fairy-tale and the folk-lore period, when beasts and trees and all that is
about them speak to them in words they can understand, children develop into a
stage where they want stories, or, as we say when we are older, fiction. Both they
and we mean tales that while untrue yet would be possible of happening. At this
age, also, children desire to learn the habits of the animals they see on the farm,
in the zoo, and in the circus. The importance of giving children an early
acquaintance with good literature is unquestioned, but even the most earnest
parent has difficulty in making the selection, finding the source in available
form, and keeping out what is unworthy.
“Famous Tales and Nature Stories” has been made with care. Many of the
world’s famous stories are collected here, and wherever possible they are in the
original language. The nature stories, about flowers and trees, birds and insects,
are not formal, but are planned to give the child direct contact with nature and to
assist the good habit of direct and interested observation.
This division also includes a Primer and a First Reader, made according to
modern principles. Enough reading material is furnished in graded form to
enable the home teacher to help her little pupil master the elements of reading, or
the child will use it himself to supplement the work of the teacher in school, if

the mother is too busy with her other tasks to permit her the enjoyment of
teaching her child to read.
All modern kindergarten teaching to-day centers about the development of the
child’s own impulses and interests. Of these the two most noticeable are the
tendency to play and the tendency to construct. Even if a mother had no higher
motive than to keep her little child out of mischief she would welcome a treasury
of devices that will always be at hand to answer the question, “Mother, what
shall I do now?” But most mothers appreciate the value and importance of well
directed play and work. In “Things to Make and Things to Do” are given the
directions for elementary cooking, sewing, woodworking and other handicraft.
Successful teachers who are close to young children, and who kept home
conditions in mind in all their writing, prepared these sections. Educationally
they are sound, but, better than that, they are simple and explicit, and within the
reach of the resources of each home. Here, too, are the suggestions for the
directed and undirected play of the wee tots. The material in this department,
while complete in itself, will prepare the way for and supplement all teaching in
schools of these important subjects. It is of the first importance that boys and
girls recognize the true nature of work and play. This department will help them
in the right direction.
As a child grows older he craves true stories. “Mother, did it really happen?”
“Father, was that make-believe or real?” These questions are but the sign of
mental and spiritual growing pains. If the child is wisely aided, that poise which
is so envied by the self-conscious person will be his. The chief factor in poise is
knowledge.
To be at home in many lands and times is the mark of a really educated man or
woman. Not all of us can actually travel, not all of us can have the privilege of
the acquaintance of the world’s great men and women, but it is within the reach
of every one to-day to discover, through picture and description, the world’s
most far-away lands, and in the pages of books to have an intimate and inspiring
acquaintance with the heroes of the nations. If we wish our children to be fine
types of men and women, we must form their tastes in these large directions
before they are overwhelmed by what is so ephemeral and worthless in literature
and drama of the day.
“True Stories from Every Land” is prepared to catch the attention and to hold the
interest of young children. Foreign lands are studied not by their boundaries and
political affairs, but through the home life, the customs, the sports, and the work
of their children, their men, and their women. The approach to history is made
by biographies of some of the most interesting heroes, and especially by
accounts of the adventurous pioneer days of America. The illustrations in this

department are multitudinous, graphic, up-to-date, and many of them unusual.
These stories will assist in home and school studies, because they illustrate the
history, customs, manners, and peoples of different countries. They will help
little children to learn how to read, and incidentally teach them much that will
help them to appreciate the privilege and responsibility of being good
Americans.
A good book of songs, familiar, tuneful, suitable to all occasions, and graded to
suit the differing tastes of separate members of the family, is always welcome.
The collection of “Famous Songs,” edited by Winton James Baltzell, is skillfully
assembled from the best song-books available, and it also contains many pieces
of unusual charm not so generally known. The songs for little children, for
instance, are based upon a list approved by our leading kindergartners. A novel
feature is that not only are the songs within range of children’s voices, but many
of them have been arranged for instrumental use, and some for folk-dancing.
In “Picture Stories” we have a delightful series of reproductions of masterpieces
of painting and sculpture of the world’s great art eras. Old masters and modern
are well represented. The descriptions were written for children, remembering
their interest in the story-element in pictures, and including inspiring details of
the artists’ lives. In the other volumes are many more reproductions of
masterpieces.
There are two volumes entitled “Nature and Outdoor Life”; the first one, “Trees,
Flowers, Amphibians, and Reptiles,” begins with talks about earth, air, and sky,
the clouds and weather, the seasons, the ways of bees and bugs and birds,
illustrated with portraits of real children busy in observing the things of nature.
Then follow sections on Familiar Flowers, Plant Life, Common Trees, and
Reptiles and Amphibians, each written by an expert on the subject, and all
profusely illustrated with photographs and drawings, many of the illustrations
being in color. All this material is written in an easy and familiar style and in a
manner to stimulate the right kind of curiosity. Children are encouraged to ask
questions, and are unconsciously led to observe and read for themselves. Both
this volume and its companion, “Birds, Animals, and Insects,” help boys and
girls to find out many secrets of nature. In the second nature series we begin with
pets and domestic animals, and then study the wild animals and birds of
America. Next we learn of the ways of the birds and animals in other lands,
which we meet in the zoölogical gardens of our own country. The volume closes
with descriptions of the invertebrates.
The natural sciences are cared for in “Earth, Sea, and Sky.” Each division is
more fascinating than the last, as it unfolds the world to us. We all want to know,
and ought to know, more about the sphere upon which we live, its place in the

universe, how it came to be peopled, and what are some of the laws that govern
its magnificent forces and changes. This department is as interesting to old as to
young, though it will find a warm place in the hearts of the youths who are just
getting interested in physics, physiography, chemistry, and electricity.
An earlier volume covered the play and hand-work of little children. Our young
people are now ready for games more skillful and coöperative, and handicraft
more elaborate and involving a finer finish. “Games and Handicraft” supplies
this need. If we are going to have a more interesting home life, if we are going to
keep our boys and girls off the streets and away (sometimes) from the movies, if
we are going to supplement the textbook work of the schools by the education of
the hands, we need adequate handbooks to guide us. Sometimes such books are
too vague to be practical. Here are working-drawings that are detailed and exact.
That these projects can be executed is evidenced by the photographs of the
finished work.
“Where can I get up-to-date, interesting and trustworthy descriptions of modern
inventions for my young folks?” How many times this question is asked of
book-store clerks by fathers! How often is a satisfactory answer given? Often
such books are not up to date; usually they are too technical to be interesting; if
they are interesting they are often untrustworthy; and none of them covers more
than a portion of the ground. “Wonders of Invention” represents an earnest
endeavor to meet this wide need within the covers of a single volume. The
Editors were fortunate in obtaining for this department the coöperation of
steamship companies, great electrical concerns, concrete firms, inventors and
others “who know.” The illustrations were selected individually, and add to the
value and interest of the text.

VOCATIONAL GUIDANCE

As a child develops toward maturity his talents begin to focus and his interests to
direct themselves toward some special life occupation. The matter of Vocational
Guidance is the most vital thing in education to-day, but wisdom in this field is
far to seek. Changes in the industrial world are so rapid that books giving mere
statistics of salaries and requirements are soon out of date, and they have no
appeal to the young. Motive, rather than immediate gain, is what affects young
people; and the Editors of The Bookshelf have felt that the one wise way to
approach this great question is to describe the important activities of the world
and some of the men who have been occupied in them, that young readers may
be able to make an intelligent choice, and at the same time discover their own
special talents. This section of The Bookshelf is known as “Marvels of
Industry.” Aside from its value as a vocational guide, this volume will add much

to the enjoyment of the family circle because of the facts that are gleaned from a
perusal of its pages.
In “True Stories from Every Land” the little folks made the acquaintance of the
world’s children. It is now time for the older young folk to travel. In “Every
Land and Its Story” we take a journey around the world, beginning in North
America, covering the rest of the New World, and then going to Europe, Asia,
Africa, Australia, and the islands of the sea. The greatest emphasis is laid upon
the lands that we love the most. In the United States the eight great natural
divisions are described, then the Indians, the National Parks, Alaska, and Porto
Rico. The greatest cities are visited in turn, the characteristics of each being
picturesquely described. Canada is visited in the same way. In each case the
country is described by a competent, interesting traveler, in many instances by
one who has lived there a long time, and in some cases by a famous writer.
Carefully chosen photographs illustrate this department.
Carlyle was right, at least as far as young people are concerned, when he insisted
that history is only biography. The character-making influence of great lives has
never been denied, and ought never to be neglected. “Famous Men and Women”
begins with the men who made the United States and Canada. It tells about some
of the living Men Who Count to-day. A simple graphic history of the greatest
event in history, the World War of 1914-1918, is given. Then comes a glorious
pageant of Scientists and Inventors, Writers and Rulers, National Heroes, and
Servants of the Common Good. This material will not only form an excellent
supplemental reading book, but a valued treasury for everyday inspiration.
Crowning the collection, and of surpassing importance, is “Bookland—Story
and Verse.” This is an introduction to the best literature in poetry and prose for
young people from twelve to twenty; in fact, for young people from twelve to
eighty. The prose stories are presented in the language of the masters themselves.
There is no diluting of their fine literary style. Careful abridgments have been
made by well-known literary critics, but the essence of these masterpieces has
been retained. This is important: our young people should know the great, not
only about them. The poems are usually given entire.
In making the General Index and the Graded Index the Editors have remembered
that these are for use, not to fill space. The General Index is practical and will
help the user to find just what he is looking for, and to find it quickly. The
Graded Index is intended primarily for the use of the parent. It sorts out and
selects the best material for each age. First is given a brief, clear account of the
tastes and needs of Infancy, Early Childhood, Middle Childhood, Late
Childhood, and Adolescence. Then all the material in The Bookshelf is assorted
under its score of important subjects, and put in the grade where it belongs. By

this plan the child may be directed to what he wants and needs now, and each
year he will grow more and more into the riches of his Bookshelf.

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

Many questions are listed in the Indexes. This is a very instructive feature, for it
often sets the mind alert in some new direction and starts fresh lines of interest
and research. These questions may be made the means of making many a family
evening one of pleasure and profit, as one member asks the questions and the
others take turns in answering them.

AMERICAN

The Bookshelf is American in viewpoint, but worldwide in outlook. While it has
been produced within the United States, it is larger than the United States or
even than North America. Unusual space is given to Canadian affairs and
interests, and the rest of the world has not been neglected. Throughout the entire
set, and in the Child Welfare Manual, available to parents in connection with
The Bookshelf, there is an emphasis on character, uprightness, honor, service,
which is distinctly aimed to build up that type of manhood and womanhood for
which the good American is famed at home and abroad.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The Publishers and the Editors wish to thank each and every one of the
individuals who have coöperated with them to make The Bookshelf what it is.
The courtesy, the heartiness with which assistance has been given, the belief of
these friends in the success of the ideals of The Bookshelf, have made the task
of compiling, editing, and manufacturing a pleasure.
Special acknowledgment must be given at this time to the photographers, Brown
Brothers, Underwood & Underwood, and the Publishers Photo Service, for the
use of many copyrighted pictures from their files. In a number of instances,
when they did not have a particular picture desired, it was made by one of them
specially for The Bookshelf.
The Editors, in preparing the manuscript for these volumes, have endeavored in
all cases where material has been used which has previously appeared in print to
give credit to author, publisher, and book, and to any other to whom such
acknowledgment was due. If they have failed to do so in any particular case, it
has been an oversight, for which the Publishers are not responsible, as their
instructions on this point were definite, and for which the Editors express their

regrets. Future editions will offer an opportunity for the correction, which will be
gladly made.

INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME I
Most mothers and fathers realize that long before children are old enough to read
there is a rich treasury of rhythm and song and story that may be given them. To
make this treasury available is the purpose of this volume.
Finger-plays and action-plays, in which Froebel found so rich a meaning, do
much to help the baby to know and control his fingers and hands, to enable him
to discover the other parts of his body, to awaken his intelligence and to bring
him into affectionate companionship with his father and mother. Here we have
gathered not only the traditional ones, which the mother and father may
remember from their own early childhood; but also many that will be fresh and
new.
Mother Goose long ago established her throne as Queen of the Nursery. There is
something about her short ditties, always full of rhythm, sometimes of sense, and
frequently of the most elemental humor, that appeals to the baby mind as nothing
else does. A proof of the worth of her songs and stories would be found if any of
us should try to write better. We have brought together many familiar ones and
some unfamiliar (for Mother Goose lived in many times and many lands), and
have illustrated them with some new and charming drawings and color-plates.
Children as young as three are ready for the simplest sort of stories, but it is so
hard for us grown-ups to become children again that many of us have found
difficulty in suiting our language and thought to their eager but unfurnished
minds. These bedtime stories and little tales of babies and animals and girls and
boys are therefore a real godsend.
Soon comes the time when the little folk are ready to learn about the letters and
the numbers and the days of the week. Rhymes to help this first memorizing will
be welcome.
Most of the stories in this book are illustrated by pictures, some are told entirely
by them. The choice of these illustrations was made from our best modern
knowledge about little children. It is now recognized that they like simple
incidents, about themselves or the familiar things around them, drawn in clear
outline or with strong color. There are certain artists, too, who seem to have
retained their own childlikeness better than others, and such were called upon to
illustrate this volume.

CONTENTS
page
general introduction vii
introduction to volume one xv

FATHER AND MOTHER PLAYS
Baby’s Ten Little Live Playthings 2
By J. K. Barry
Monday 4
By Edith Goodyear
Finger Play 5
By Edith Goodyear
Counting the Fingers 6
An Old Norse Finger Play 6
Baby’s Toes 6
Baby’s Toes 7
By Edith A. Bentley
This Is the Way My Fingers Stand 8
Thumbkin, Pointer 8
Naming the Fingers 8
By Laura E. Richards
Robert Barns 8
"“Shall I, Oh! Shall I?” 8
Jack, Be Nimble 9
Two Little Hands 9
Pat a Cake 9
Clap Your Hands 9
The Bird’s Nest 10
A Froebel Finger Play
Two Little Blackbirds 10
Master Smith 10
Little Robin Redbreast 10
Greeting 10
A Play for the Arms 10
The Little Window 10

A Froebel Finger Play
Sing a Song of Sixpence 11
The Pigeon House 11
A Froebel Finger Play
Said This Little Fairy 12
A Burrowing Game 12
Pat a Cake 12
A Froebel Finger Play
A Knee Game 12
A Foot Play 12
Putting the Fingers to Sleep 13
Ten Little Squirrels 14
My Little Garden 15
The Family 16
By Emilie Poulsson
Johnny Shall Have a New Bonnet 18

RIDING SONGS FOR FATHER’S KNEE
To Market Ride the Gentlemen 19
Here Goes My Lord 19
A Farmer Went Trotting 20
Up to the Ceiling 20
The Messenger 20
Catch Him, Crow 20
Ride a Cock-Horse 21
This Is the Way 21
Ride Away, Ride Away 21
To Market, to Market 21
Trot, Trot, the Baby Goes 21
By Mary F. Butts
Ride a Cock-Horse 22
Here We Go 22

MOTHER GOOSE SONGS AND STORIES
Who Are These? 24
I Saw a Ship a-Sailing 25
Goosey, Goosey, Gander 25
The Wind 25

Once I Saw a Little Bird 25
Ring-a-Ring-a-Roses 25
Cross Patch 26
Happy Let Us Be 26
The Old Woman in the Basket 26
The Fox and the Old Gray Goose 28
Jack and Jill 29
Willy Boy 29
Bonny Lass 29
Oh, Where Are You Going? 30
Bobby Shaftoe 30
Ding-Dong-Bell 30
London Bridge 31
Green Gravel 32
Old Mother Hubbard 32
Little Bo-Peep 34
Come Out to Play 35
Little Robin Redbreast 35
Little Boy Blue 36
My Maid Mary 36
Hark! Hark! 37
Bow-Wow-Wow 37
Blow, Wind, Blow 37
Bye, Baby Bunting 37
Three Little Kittens 38
Tom Was a Piper’s Son 39
Daffy-Down-Dilly 40
Billy Boy 40
Three Wise Men of Gotham 41
Little Tommy Tucker 41
Pussy and the Mice 41
When I Was a Little Boy 41
Chinese Mother-Goose Rhymes 42
By Prof. Isaac Taylor Headland

MOTHER GOOSE CONTINUED
By Anna Marion Smith
Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat 45

Little Boy Blue 45
Pat-a-Cake 46
Dickory Dock 46
How Many Miles to Babylon? 47
Hark! Hark! 47
There Was an Old Woman 48
Humpty Dumpty 51
The Queen of Hearts 54
One Misty, Moisty Morning 54
Old King Cole 55
Pussy Sits Beside the Fire 56
The North Wind Doth Blow 56
I Had a Little Husband 57
There Was a Man in Our Town 57
See Saw, Sacaradown 57
Sing a Song o’ Sixpence 58
I Love Little Pussy 58
The Horner Brothers 59
By Elizabeth Raymond Woodward
A Little Old Man 60
Jingles 60
Sailing 61
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
An Up-to-Date Pussy-Cat 62
By Adeline Knapp
Misery in Company 63
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
Court News 64
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
A Message to Mother Goose 65
By Ellen Manly

SLEEPY-TIME SONGS AND STORIES
Sweet and Low 72
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson
The Sleepy-Time Story 73
By Gertrude Smith
The Go Sleep Story 75

By Eudora S. Bumstead
The Gentle Dark 78
By W. Grahame Robertson
The Ferry for Shadowtown 78
Hush-a-Bye, Baby 78
The Kitten and the Falling Leaves 78
By William Wordsworth
Late 79
By Josephine Preston Peabody
A Blessing for the Blessed 80
By Laurence Alma-Tadema
My Dolly 80
The Child and the World 80
Evening Song 80
By C. Frances Alexander
Rock-a-Bye, Baby 80
The Sandman 81
By Margaret Vandergrift
The Fairy Folk 81
By Robert Bird
Queen Mab 82
By Thomas Hood
Lullaby 82
By Gertrude Thompson Miller
Kentucky Babe 82
My Possessions 83
The Wake-Up Story 83
By Eudora S. Bumstead

FIRST STORIES FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
About Six Little Chickens 86
By S. L. Elliott
“Trade-Last” 88
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
Philip’s Horse 89
The Kitten That Forgot How to Mew 90
By Stella George Stern
What Could the Farmer Do? 93

By George William Ogden
Fledglings 97
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
“Time to Get Up!” 98
By Ellen Foster
Maggie’s Very Own Secret 100
By Sara Josephine Albright
The Good Little Piggie and His Friends 102
By L. Waldo Lockling
Baby’s Paradise 105
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
Disobedience 106
For a Little Girl of Three 108
By Uncle Ned
A Funny Family
Little by Little

LITTLE STORIES THAT GROW BIG
The House that Jack Built 111
Giant Thunder Bones 112
By Stella Doughty
The House that Jill Built 116
By Carolyn Wells
The Old Woman and Her Pig 119
The Lambikin 121
The Cat and the Mouse 123
Henny-Penny 124
Three Goats in the Ryefield 127
Adapted by Cecilia Farwell
Teeny Tiny 129
Song of the Pear Tree 130
Cock-Alu and Hen-Alie 131
By Mary Howitt
There Is the Key of the Kingdom 136

FUN FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
No Dogs Allowed at Large 137
By Culmer Barnes

Tommy and His Sister and Their New Pony-Cart 138
By Dewitt Clinton Falls
The Adventures of Three Little Kittens 139
By Culmer Barnes
The Little Kittens’ Surprise 140
By Culmer Barnes
Ted’s Foolish Wish 141
By Charles Fitch Lester
Nonsense Rhyme 142
Timothy Trundle 143
By Frederick Moxon
A Dream of Glory 148
By Charles Fitch Lester
Pictures 149
By Culmer Barnes
The Reunion of the Bruin Family at the Sea Shore 150
By Culmer Barnes
The Baby Mice Are Instructed by Their Fond Papa 151
By Culmer Barnes
Roly Poly on Vacation 152
By Culmer Barnes
Mother Goose’s Last Trolley Ride 153
By Culmer Barnes
Ivan and the Wolf 154
By Culmer Barnes
Homeward Bound 154
By Culmer Barnes
Their Little Jar 156
By Bell
Little Eski and the Polar Bear 158
By Culmer Barnes

FUNNY VERSES AND PICTURES
The Frog’s Fiasco 160
By D. K. Stevens
The Musical Trust 164
By D. K. Stevens
The Cautious Cat 168

By D. K. Stevens
Three Little Bears 171
By M. C. McNeill
The Snowman 172
By W. W. Ellsworth

ANIMAL STORIES
Tiny Hare and the Wind Ball 173
By A. L. Sykes
How Tiny Hare Met Cat 176
By A. L. Sykes
The Wee Hare and the Red Fire 179
By A. L. Sykes
The Good King 182
By Margaret and Clarence Weed
Early and Late 184
By W. S. Reed
The Little Pink Pig and the Big Road 185
By Jasmine Stone Van Dresser
Juggerjook 188
By L. Frank Baum
What You Burying, a Bone 194
The Little Gray Kitten 194
By Mary Lawrence Turnbull
Pussy’s Wheels 197
By Annie W. McCullough
The Small Gray Mouse 198
By Nathan Haskell Dole
The Rabbit, the Turtle, and the Owl 200
Homes 201
By Annie W. McCullough
Meal-Time in the Bear-Pits at the Zoo 202
By I. W. Taben
The Fine Good Show 204
By Jessie Wright Whitcomb
Gay and Spy 208
The Ballad of a Runaway Donkey 212
By Emilie Poulsson

The Three Bears 220
The Little Bear’s Story 221
By C. F. Holder
The Hare and the Hedgehog 224
By The Brothers Grimm
The Wee Robin’s Christmas Song 226
A Scotch Story, attributed to Robert Burns
Adapted by Jennie Ellis Burdick
The Fox 228
Three Companions 229
By Dinah Maria Mulock-Craik
“’Fraid Cat!” 230
By Frank Munro
The Spider and the Fly 231
By Mary Howitt

EVERY-DAY VERSES
A Little Gentleman 233
By Alden Arthur Knipe
Time for Everything 233
By Alden Arthur Knipe
Umbrellas and Rubbers 234
By Alden Arthur Knipe
Whispering in School 234
By Alden Arthur Knipe
Recess 235
By Alden Arthur Knipe
After School 235
By Alden Arthur Knipe
Monday’s Lessons 235
By Alden Arthur Knipe
At Dinner 236
By Alden Arthur Knipe
Valor 237
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
A Domestic Tragedy 238
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
The Capitalist 239

By Lucy Fitch Perkins
In Merry England 240
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
The Goose Girl 241
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
The Philosopher 242
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
Thirsty Flowers 243
By Alden Arthur Knipe
Sharing with Others 243
By Alden Arthur Knipe
Pockets 244
By Alden Arthur Knipe
Waiting for Dinner 244
By Alden Arthur Knipe
The Critic 245
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
Diplomacy 246
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
If I Were Queen 247
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
Thoughts in Church 248
By Lucy Fitch Perkins

THE DAYS OF THE WEEK
This is the Way 249
Days of Birth 250
The Washing 250
Solomon Grundy 250
Baby’s Play Days 250
Which Do You Choose? 251
Seven Little Mice 251
By Stella George Stern
Visiting 252
Little Tommy’s Monday Morning 252
By Tudor Jenks
St. Saturday 254
By Henry Johnstone

NUMBER RHYMES
1, 2, 3, 4, 5 255
Over in the Meadow 255
By Olive A. Wadsworth
Counting Apple-Seeds 256
Twins 257
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
The Rhyme of Ten Little Rabbits 258
By Kate N. Mytinger
In July 260
By A. S. Webber
The Wish of Priscilla Penelope Powers 262
By Mrs. John T. Van Sant
Winkelman Von Winkel 262
By Clara Odell Lyon
Ten Little Cookies 263
Our Baby 263
Long Time Ago 264
By Elizabeth Prentiss
Buckle My Shoe 264

STORIES FOR LITTLE GIRLS
A Pair of Gloves 265
By H. G. Duryée
A Very Little Story of a Very Little Girl 268
By Alice E. Allen
Edith’s Tea Party 269
By Lois Walters
Rebecca 271
By Eleanor Piatt
Dorothea’s School Gifts 272
By Eunice Ward
The Lost Money 276
By Bolton Hall
A Dutch Treat 277
By Amy B. Johnson
The Jingle of the Little Jap 283

By Isabel Eccleston Mackay
The Seventh Birthday of the Little Cousin
from Constantinople 284
By Emma C. Dowd
Little Red Riding-Hood 286
Retold from Grimm
Dolly’s Doctor 288
Thumbelina 288
By Hans Christian Andersen
The Fox and the Little Red Hen 294
The Shoemaker and the Little Elves 294
By The Brothers Grimm
The Gingerbread Boy 296

STORIES FOR LITTLE BOYS
Mischief 297
By Rosamond Upham
Willie and His Dog Diver 299
By H. N. Powers
Gordon’s Toy Castle on the Hill 300
By Everett Wilson
Hans the Innocent 302
Written and Illustrated by M. I. Wood
A Real Little Boy Blue 304
By Caroline S. Allen
Travels of a Fox 306
Adapted by Cecilia Farwell
Oeyvind and Marit 308

HAPPY DAYS
What the Cat and Hen Did 313
By Alice Ralston
Dot’s Birthday Cake 316
Ned and Rover and Jack 317
I Had a Little Kitten 318
How Polly Had Her Picture Taken 319
By Everett Wilson
Idle Ben 321

The Hole in the Canna-Bed 321
By Isabel Gordon Curtis
The Conceited Mouse 323
By Ella Foster Case

RHYMES CONCERNING MOTHER
A Boy’s Mother 325
By James Whitcomb Riley
Mother 325
By Rose Fyleman
The Goodest Mother 325
Mother’s Way 326
By Carrie Williams
Who Is It? 326
By Ethel M. Kelley
My Dearest Is a Lady 327
By Miriam S. Clark
How Many Lumps? 327
When Mother Goes Away 328
By Clara Odell Lyon
An Old Song—“There’s No Place Like Home!” 328
By Blanche Elizabeth Wade

UNCLES AND AUNTS AND OTHER RELATIVES
Grandmother’s Memories 329
By Helen A. Byrom
Great-Aunt Lucy Lee 330
By Cora Walker Hayes
Our Visitors 334
By Isabel Lyndall
Beautiful Grandmamma 338
Thanksgiving Day 340
By Lydia Maria Child
Grandma’s Minuet 340
Aunt Jan 341
By Norman Gale
After Tea 342

AMUSING ALPHABETS
Tingle, Tangle Titmouse 343
An English Alphabet 344
Nonsense Alphabet 346
Past History 348
By Edward Lear
The Apple Pie 351
Who’s Who in the Zoo 352
By Carolyn Wells
A Was an Archer 357
A Little Folks’ Alphabet 358
By Carolyn Wells
Child Health Alphabet 360
By Mrs. Frederick Peterson
Here’s A, B, C, D 363
Our Stories 364

These ten little live
playthings can be held
in every baby’s hand,
five in one and five in
the other and be the
baby ever so poor yet
he always has these ten
playthings because,
you know, he brings
them with him.
But all babies do not
know how to play with
them. They find out for
themselves a good
many ways of playing
with them but here are
some of the ways that a
baby I used to know
got amusement out of
his.
The very first was the
play called “Ta-ra-
chese” (Ta-rar-cheese).
It is a Dutch word and
there was a little song
about it all in Dutch.
This is the way the
baby I knew would
play it when he was a
tiny little fellow.
His Mamma would
hold her hand up and
move it gently around
this way (Fig. 1)
singing “Ta-ra-chese,
ta-ra-chese!” Baby
would look and watch
awhile, and presently
his little hand would

begin to move and five
little playthings would
begin the play—dear,
sweet little chubby
pink fingers—for I
think you have guessed
these are every baby’s
playthings.
How glad Mamma is to
find that her baby has
learned his first lesson!
Then he must learn,
“Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake
Baker’s man,” (Fig. 2)
and “How big is
baby?” “So Big!”

And here are some other ways by which a little sister’s fingers may amuse the
baby.
“This the church and this is the steeple, Open the gates—there are all the good
people.” (Fig. 3)
“Chimney sweep—Oho! oho! Chimney sweep!” (Fig. 4)
“Put your finger in the bird’s nest. The bird isn’t home.” (Fig. 5)
And then when the little finger is poked in, a sly pinch is given by a hidden
thumb and baby is told, “The birdie has just come home!” But you mustn’t pinch
hard, of course, just enough to make baby laugh at being caught.

And then there is the play
of “Two men sawing
wood—one little boy
picking up chips.” (Fig.
6) The two finger men are
moved up and down and
the little boy finger works

busily.
Everybody knows the
rhyming finger-play:
“Here’s my Father’s
knives and forks, (Fig.
7)
“Here’s my Mother’s
table, (Fig. 8)
“Here’s my Sister’s
looking-glass, (Fig. 9)
“And here’s the baby’s
cradle.” (Fig. 10)
Another play is a little act
in which three persons are
supposed to take part, and
it has come down from
the old times of long ago.
The middle finger is the
Friar. Those on each side
of him touch each other
and make the door, the
little finger is the Lady
and the thumb is the
Page. (Fig. 11)
The Friar knocks at the
door.
Friar. “Knock, Knock,
Knock!”
Page. “Somebody knocks
at the door! Somebody
knocks at the door!”
Lady. “Who is it? Who is
it?”
Page. (Going to door)
“Who is it? Who is it?”
Friar. “A Friar, a Friar.”

Page. “A Friar, Ma’am, a
Friar, Ma’am.”
Lady. “What does he
want? What does he
want?”
Page. “What do you
want, Sir? What do you
want, Sir?”
Friar. “I want to come in.
I want to come in.”
Page. “He wants to come
in, Ma’am. He wants to
come in.”
Lady. “Let him walk in.
Let him walk in.”

Page. “Will you walk in, Sir? Will you walk in?”
So in he pops and takes a seat.
When each player is supposed to speak he or she must move gently, bending
forward and back and when the Friar is invited to enter, the door must open only
just far enough to let him “pop in.”
These are only some of the plays with which the baby I knew used to be amused;
but they will suggest others to parents and older brothers and sisters. The baby
cannot make all of these things himself but he will be quite as much interested
when they are made by older hands.

COUNTING THE FINGERS
This is the thumb, you see;
This finger shakes the tree;
And then this finger comes up;
And this one eats the plums up;
This little one, says he,
“I’ll tell of you, you’ll see!”
That one is the thumb;
And this one wants a plum;
This one says, “Where do they grow?”
This one says, “Come with me—I know.”
But this little one, he says,
“I will not go near the place!
I don’t like such naughty ways.”
Now, I think that through and through
Little Finger’s right—don’t you?
This one fell in the water,
And this one helped him ashore,
And this one put him into bed,
And this one covered him o’er;
And then, in walks this noisy little chap,
And wakes him up once more.
This one walked out into the wood,
And caught a little hare;
And this one took and carried it home,
For he thought it dainty fare;
And this one came and cooked it up
With sauces rich and rare;
And this one laid the table out,
And did the plates prepare;
And this little fellow the keeper told
What the others were doing there.

AN OLD NORSE FINGER PLAY
Thicken man, build the barn,
Thinner man, spool the yarn,
Longen man, stir the brew,
Gowden man, make a shoe,
Littlen man, all for you!

BABY’S TOES
Dear little bare feet,
Dimpled and white,
In your long nightgown
Wrapped for the night.
Come, let me count all
Your queer little toes,
Pink as the heart
Of a shell or a rose.
One is a lady
That sits in the sun;
Two is a baby,
And three is a nun.
Four is a lily
With innocent breast;
And five is a birdie
Asleep on her nest.

“BABY’S TOES”
BY EDITH A. BENTLEY

Five little piggie wiggies
Standing in a row,
We always have to toddle
Where the baby wants to go;
Up-stairs and down-stairs,
Indoors and out,
We’re always close together
And we never fall out.
Chorus:
Father-Pig and Mother-Pig,
And Big-Brother Pig,
And Sister-Pig, and darling little
Baby Piggie-Wig!

Oh, sometimes we are
all tied up
In a bag so tight.
This is when the baby
goes
“To sleepy-bye” at
night.
Then there’s nothing
else to do
But cuddle down
and rest—
Just as little birdies
cuddle
In their little nest.
Chorus:
Father-Pig and Mother-
Pig
And Big-Brother
Pig,
And Sister-Pig, and
darling little
Baby Piggie-Wig!

THIS IS THE WAY MY FINGERS STAND
To the tune of “Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush.”

This is the way my fingers stand,
Fingers stand, fingers stand,
This is the way my fingers stand,
So early in the morning.
This is the way I fold my hand,
Fold my hand, fold my hand,
This is the way I fold my hand,
So early in the morning.
This is the way they dance about,
Dance about, dance about,
This is the way they dance about,
So early in the morning.
This is the way they go to rest,
Go to rest, go to rest,
This is the way they go to rest,
So early in the morning.

THUMBKIN, POINTER
Thumbkin, Pointer, Middleman big,
Sillyman, Weeman, rig-a-jig-jig.

NAMING THE FINGERS[A]
BY LAURA E. RICHARDS
This is little Tommy Thumb,
Round and smooth as any plum.
This is busy Peter Pointer:
Surely he’s a double-jointer.
This is mighty Toby Tall,
He’s the biggest one of all.
This is dainty Reuben Ring:
He’s too fine for anything.
And this little wee one, maybe,
Is the pretty Finger-baby.
All the five we’ve counted now,
Busy fingers in a row.
Every finger knows the way
How to work and how to play;
Yet together work they best,
Each one helping all the rest.
[A] From “Songs and Music of Froebel’s Mother Play”; used by
permission of the publishers, D. Appleton & Company.

ROBERT BARNS
Robert Barns, fellow fine,
Can you shoe this horse of mine,
So that I may cut a shine?
Yes, good sir, and that I can,
As well as any other man;
There a nail, and here a prod,
And now, good sir, your horse is shod.

“SHALL I, OH! SHALL I?”
A little boy and a little girl
Lived in an alley;
Said the little boy to the little girl,
“Shall I, oh! shall I?”
Said the little girl to the little boy,
“What will you do?”
Said the little boy to the little girl,
“I will kiss you.”
(As the last words are sung, the mother kisses
the little one in the folds of the neck.)

OFF WITH MOTHER GOOSE
from a drawing by mabel lucie attwell

JACK, BE NIMBLE
Jack, be nimble,
Jack, be quick;
(Jack is one hand walking along on its
fore- and middle-fingers.)

Jack, jump over
The candlestick.
(Fist closed; uplifted thumb for candle.
Jack jumps over it.)

TWO LITTLE HANDS
Two little hands so soft and white,
This is the left—this is the right.
Five little fingers stand on each,
So I can hold a plum or a peach.
But if I should grow as old as you
Lots of little things these hands can do.
————

PAT A CAKE
Pat a cake, pat a cake, baker’s man.
So I do, master, as fast as I can.
Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T,
And then it will serve for Tommy and me.

THE BIRD’S NEST
A Froebel Finger Play

Here upon the leaves at rest
A little bird has built her nest.
Two tiny eggs within she’s laid,
And many days beside them
stayed.
Now she’s happy; listen well!
Two baby birds break through
the shell.
Don’t you hear them? “Peep!
peep! peep!
We love you, mother. Cheep! cheep! cheep!”

TWO LITTLE BLACKBIRDS
There were two blackbirds sitting on a hill,
(Little pieces of paper perched on forefingers.)
One named Jack, the other named Jill.
Fly away, Jack; fly away, Jill.
(Fingers soar gently in the air.)
Come again, Jack; come again, Jill.
(Fingers fly back.)

MASTER SMITH
Is Master Smith within? Yes, that he is.
Can he set a shoe? Ay, marry, two.
Here a nail, and there a nail,
Tick—tack—too.

LITTLE ROBIN REDBREAST
Little Robin Redbreast
Sat upon a rail,
(Right hand extended in shape of a bird is poised
on extended forefinger of left hand.)
Niddle noddle went his head,
And waggle went his tail.
(Little finger of right hand waggles from side to side.)

GREETING
Good little Mother,
How do you do?
Dear strong “Daddy,”
Glad to see you!
Big tall Brother,
Pleased you are here.
Kind little Sister,
You need not fear,
Glad welcome we’ll give you,
And Babykins, too.
Yes, Babykins,
How do you do?

A PLAY FOR THE ARMS
Pump, pump, pump,
Water, water, come;
Here a rush, there a gush,
Done, done, done.

THE LITTLE WINDOW
A Froebel Finger Play

Look, my dear, at this
window clear.
See how the light shines
through in here.
If you would always see
the light,
Keep your heart’s window
clean and bright.

SING A SONG OF SIXPENCE
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye;
Four-and-twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie;
When the pie was opened
The birds began to sing;
Was not that a dainty dish
To set before the King?
The King was in his counting-house,
Counting out his money;
The Queen was in the parlor,
Eating bread and honey;
The maid was in the garden
Hanging out the clothes;
When up came a blackbird
And nipped off her nose.
(At this line somebody’s nose gets nipped.)

THE PIGEON HOUSE
A Froebel Finger Play

Now I’m going to open my pigeon-house door.
The pigeons fly out to the light,
Straight to the meadows so pleasant they soar,
And flutter about with delight.
But at evening they’ll all come home at last,
And the door of the house I’ll then shut fast.

SAID THIS LITTLE FAIRY
Said this little fairy, “I’m as thirsty as can be.”
Said this little fairy, “I’m hungry, too, dear me!”
Said this little fairy, “Who’ll tell us where to go?”
Said this little fairy, “I’m sure that I don’t know.”
Said this little fairy, “Let’s brew some dewdrop tea.”
So they sipped it and ate honey beneath the maple
tree.

A BURROWING GAME
See the little mousie, creeping up the stair,
Looking for a warm nest—there, oh, there!
(Mother’s fingers creep up the body, and finally fumble in baby’s neck.)

PAT A CAKE
A Froebel Finger Play

Baby, would you like to make
For yourself a little cake?
Pat it gently, smooth it down.
Baker says: “Now, in to brown;
Bring it here, baby dear,
While the oven fire burns clear.”
“Baker, see, here is my cake;
Bake it well for baby’s sake.”
“In the oven, right deep down,
Here the cake will soon get brown.”

A KNEE GAME
What do I see? Baby’s knee.
Tickily, tickily, tic, tac, tee.
One for a penny, two for a pound;
Tickily, tickily, round and round.

A FOOT PLAY
Up, down—up, down.
One foot up and one foot down,
All the way to London town.
Tra la la la la la.

Putting The Fingers To Sleep

My fingers are so sleepy
It’s time they went to
bed,
So first, you Baby
Finger
Tuck in your Little
Head.
Ringman, come now its
your turn,
And then come,
Tallman Great;
Now, Pointer Finger, hurry
Because its getting late.
Let’s see if all are snuggled.
No, here’s one more to come,
So come, lie close, little brothers,
Make room for Master Thumb.

TEN LITTLE SQUIRRELS

Ten little squirrels up in a
tree—
(Ten fingers outspread.)

The first two said: “What
do I see?”
(Thumbs only.)

The next two said: “A
man with a gun.”
(Forefingers only.)

The next two said: “Let’s
run, let’s run.”
(Middle fingers only.)

The next two said: “Let’s
hide in the shade.”
(Ring fingers only.)

The last two said: “We’re
not afraid.”
(Little fingers only.)

Bang! went a gun.
(Clap hands.)

Away they all run.
(All fingers scamper off.)

MY LITTLE GARDEN

See my little garden,

How I rake it over,

Then I sow the little
brown seeds,

And with soft earth cover.

Now the raindrops patter
On the earth so gayly;

See the big round sun smile
On my garden daily.

The little plant is waking;
Down the roots grow
creeping;

Up now come the leaflets
Through the brown earth
peeping.

Soon the buds will laugh
up
Toward the springtime
showers;
Soon my buds will open
Into happy flowers.

THE FAMILY[B]
BY EMILIE POULSSON

This is the mother, so busy at home,
Who loves her dear children, whatever
may come.

This is the father, so brave and
so strong,
Who works for his family all
the day long.

This is the brother, who’ll soon be a
man,
He helps his good mother as much as he
can.

This is the sister, so gentle and
mild,
Who plays that the dolly is her
little child.

This is the baby, all dimpled and sweet,
How soft his wee hands and his chubby
pink feet!

Father, and mother, Together
and children so dear, you see
them,
one
family
here.

[B] From “Songs and Music of Froebel’s Mother Play”;
used by permission of the publishers, D. Appleton & Co.

IN DREAMLAND

JOHNNY SHALL HAVE A NEW BONNET
Johnny shall have a new bonnet,
And Johnny shall go to the fair,
And Johnny shall have a new ribbon
To tie up his bonny brown hair.
And why may not I love Johnny?
And why may not Johnny love me?
And why may not I love Johnny?
As well as another body?
And here’s a leg for a stocking,
And here is a foot for a shoe,
And he has a kiss for his daddy,
And two for his mammy, I trow.
And why may not I love Johnny?
And why may not Johnny love me?
And why may not I love Johnny
As well as another body?

TO MARKET RIDE THE GENTLEMEN
To market ride the gentlemen,
So do we, so do we;
Then comes the country clown,
Hobbledy gee, Hobbledy gee;
First go the ladies, nim, nim, nim,
Next come the gentlemen, trim, trim, trim;
Then come the country clowns, gallop-a-trot.

HERE GOES MY LORD
Here goes my lord—
A trot! a trot! a trot! a trot!
Here goes my lady—
A canter! a canter! a canter! a canter!
Here goes my young master—
Jockey-hitch! jockey-hitch! jockey-hitch! jockey-
hitch!
Here goes my young miss—
An amble! an amble! an amble! an amble!
The footman lags behind,
And goes gallop, a gallop, a gallop, to make up his
time.

A FARMER WENT TROTTING
A farmer went trotting upon his gray mare;
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
With his daughter behind him, so rosy and fair;
Lumpety, lumpety, lump!
A raven cried croak! and they all tumbled down;
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
The mare broke her knees, and the farmer his crown;
Lumpety, lumpety, lump!
The mischievous raven flew laughing away;
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
And vowed he would serve them the same the next
day;
Lumpety, lumpety, lump!

UP TO THE CEILING
Up to the ceiling, down to the ground,
Backward and forward, round and round;
Dance, little baby, and mother will sing,
With the merry chorus, ding, ding, ding!

THE MESSENGER
Here in the morning we’re starting so soon,
Give us a message, we’ll ride to the moon,
Straight through the meadows and hop o’er the
stile,
And we will but charge you a farthing a mile.
A farthing a mile! a farthing a mile!
We will but charge you a farthing a mile.

CATCH HIM, CROW
Catch him, crow! Carry him, kite!
Take him away till the apples are ripe;
When they are ripe and ready to fall,
Home comes [Johnny], apples and all.

THIS IS THE WAY
This is the way the ladies ride,
Nin! Nin! Nin!
This is the way the gentlemen ride,
Trot! Trot! Trot!
This is the way the farmers ride,
Jogglety! Jogglety! Jogglety! Jog!

RIDE AWAY, RIDE AWAY
Ride away, ride away,
Johnny shall ride,
And he shall have pussy-cat
Tied to one side;
And he shall have little dog
Tied to the other,
And Johnny shall ride
To see his grandmother.

TO MARKET, TO MARKET
To market, to market,
To buy a plum bun;
Home again, home again,
My journey is done.

TROT, TROT, THE BABY GOES
BY MARY F. BUTTS
Every evening Baby goes
Trot, trot, to town—
Across the river, through the fields,
Up hill and down.
Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
Up hill and down,
To buy a feather for her hat,
To buy a woolen gown.
Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
The birds fly down, alack!
“You cannot have our feathers, dear,”
They say; “so please trot back.”
Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
The lambs come bleating near.
“You cannot have our wool,” they say;
“But we are sorry, dear.”
Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
Trot, trot, to town.
She buys a red rose for her hat,
She buys a cotton gown.

RIDE A COCK-HORSE
Ride a cock-horse to Banbury-cross,
To see what Tommy can buy;
A penny white loaf, a penny white cake,
And a two-penny apple pie.

Ride a cock-horse to Shrewsbury-cross,
To buy little Johnny a galloping horse;
It trots behind and it ambles before,
And Johnny shall ride till he can ride no more.

WHO ARE THESE?
here are one, two, three, four, five, six story-book pictures. all little girls
and boys know the six stories that these six pictures belong
to. tell your mama and papa what the stories are.

THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN
from a drawing by anne anderson

I SAW A SHIP A-SAILING
I saw a ship a-sailing,
A-sailing on the sea;
And, oh! it was all laden
With pretty things for thee!
There were candies in the cabin,
And apples in the hold;
The sails were made of silk,
And the masts were made of gold.
The four-and-twenty sailors
That stood between the decks,
Were four-and-twenty white mice,
With chains about their necks.
The captain was a duck,
With a packet on his back;
And when the ship began to move,
The captain cried, “Quack, quack!”

GOOSEY, GOOSEY, GANDER

Goosey, goosey, gander, where dost thou
wander?
Up stairs and down stairs, and in my lady’s
chamber;
There I met an old man that would not say
his prayers,
I took him by his hind legs and threw him
down stairs.

THE WIND
Arthur O’Bower has broken his band,
He comes roaring up the land—
A King of Scots, with all his power,
Cannot turn Arthur of the Bower.

ONCE I SAW A LITTLE BIRD
Once I saw a little bird
Come hop, hop, hop,
So I said, “Little bird,
Will you stop, stop, stop?”
I was going to the window
To say, “How do you do?”
But he shook his little tail
And far away he flew.

RING-A-RING-A-ROSES
Ring-a-ring-a-roses,
A pocket full of posies;
Hush! hush! hush! hush!
We’re all tumbled down.

CROSS PATCH
Cross patch,
Draw the latch,
Sit by the fire and spin;
Take a cup,
And drink it up,
And call your neighbors in.

HAPPY LET US BE
Merry are the bells, and merry would they ring;
Merry was myself, and merry could I sing;
With a merry ding-dong, happy, gay, and free,
And a merry sing-song, happy let us be!
Merry have we met, and merry have we been;
Merry let us part, and merry meet again;
With our merry sing-song, happy, gay, and free,
And a merry ding-dong, happy let us be!

THE OLD WOMAN IN THE BASKET
There was an old woman tossed up in a basket,
Nineteen times as high as the moon;
Where she was going I couldn’t but ask it
For in her hand she carried a broom.
“Old woman, old woman, old woman, quoth I,
O whither, O whither, O whither so high?”
“To brush the cobwebs off the sky!”
“Shall I go with thee?” “Aye, by-and-by.”

From a Drawing by Arthur Rackham
“Where she was going I couldn’t but ask it,
For in her hand she carried a broom.”

THE FOX AND THE OLD GRAY GOOSE
The fox and his wife they had a great
strife,
They never ate mustard in all their
whole life;
They ate their meat without fork or
knife,
And loved to be picking a bone, e-ho!
The fox jumped up on a moonlight night,
The stars they were shining, and all things bright.
Oh, ho! said the fox, it’s a very fine night
For me to go through the town, e-ho!
The fox when he came to yonder stile,
He lifted his lugs and he listened
awhile;
Oh, ho, said the fox, it’s but a short
mile
From this unto yonder wee town, e-
ho!
The fox when he came to the farmer’s gate,
Who should he see but the farmer’s drake;
I love you well for your master’s sake,
And long to be picking your bone, e-ho!
The gray goose she ran round the hay-
stack.
Oh, ho! said the fox, you are very fat;
You’ll grease my beard and ride on
my back
From this unto yonder wee town e-ho!
Old Gammer Hipple-hopple hopped out of bed,
She opened the casement, and popped out her head.
Oh! husband, oh! husband, the gray goose is dead,
And the fox is gone through the town, oh!
Then the old man got up in his red
cap,
And swore he would catch the fox in a

trap;
But the fox was too cunning, and gave
him the slip,
And ran through the town, the town,
e-oh!
When he got to the top of the hill,
He blew his trumpet both loud and shrill,
For joy that he was safe
Through the town, e-oh!
When the fox came back to his den,
He had young ones, both nine and ten.
“You’re welcome home, daddy; you
may go again,
If you bring us such nice meat from
the town, e-oh!”

JACK AND JILL
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
To draw a pail of water;
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.
Up Jack got, and home did trot
As fast as he could caper;
Went to bed to mend his head,
With vinegar and brown paper.
Jill came in, and she did grin
To see his paper plaster;
Mother, vexed, did whip her next
For causing Jack’s disaster.

WILLY BOY
Willy boy, Willy boy, where are you going?
I will go with you if I may
“I’m going to the meadow to see them a-mowing,
I’m going to help them make the hay.”

BONNY LASS
Bonny lass, bonny lass, wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet serve the swine:
Thou shalt sit on a cushion, and sew a fine seam,
And thou shalt eat strawberries, sugar, and cream!

OH, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?
Oh, where are you going,
My pretty maiden fair,
With your red rosy cheeks,
And your coal-black hair?
I’m going a-milking,
Kind sir, says she,
And it’s dabbling in the dew
Where you’ll find me.

BOBBY SHAFTOE
Bobby Shaftoe’s gone to sea,
Silver buckles on his knee;
He’ll come back and marry me,
Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.
Bobby Shaftoe’s fat and fair,
Combing down his yellow hair,
He’s my love for evermair,
Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.

DING-DONG-BELL
Ding—
Dong—
Bell!
Pussy’s in the well.
Who put her in? Little Johnny Green.
Who pulled her out? Big Johnny Stout.
What a naughty boy was that,
To drown poor pussy cat,
Who never did him any harm,
And killed the mice in his father’s barn.

LONDON BRIDGE
London bridge is broken down,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
London bridge is broken down,
With a gay ladye.
How shall we build it up again?
Dance over my Lady Lee,
How shall we build it up again?
With a gay ladye.
We’ll build it up with gravel and stone,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll build it up with gravel and stone,
With a gay ladye.
Gravel and stone will be washed away,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
Gravel and stone will be washed away,
With a gay ladye.
We’ll build it up with iron and steel,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll build it up with iron and steel,
With a gay ladye.
Iron and steel will bend and break,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
Iron and steel will bend and break,
With a gay ladye.
We’ll build it up with silver and gold,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll build it up with silver and gold,
With a gay ladye.
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
With a gay ladye.
We’ll set a man to watch it then,
Dance over my Lady Lee,

We’ll set a man to watch it then,
With a gay ladye.
We’ll put a pipe within his mouth,
Dance over my Lady Lee,
We’ll put a pipe within his mouth,
With a gay ladye.

“Bobby Shaftoe’s gone to sea.”

GREEN GRAVEL
All round the green gravel the grass grows so green,
And all the pretty maids are fit to be seen,
Wash them in milk, dress them in silk,
And the first to go down shall be married in green.

OLD MOTHER HUBBARD
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get her poor dog a bone;
But when she came there
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.
She went to the baker’s
To buy him some bread,
But when she came back
The poor dog was dead.
She went to the joiner’s
To buy him a coffin,
But when she came back
The poor dog was laughing.
She went to the butcher’s
To get him some tripe,
But when she came back
He was smoking his pipe.
She went to the hatter’s
To buy him a hat,
But when she came back
He was feeding the cat.
She went to the barber’s
To buy him a wig,
But when she came back
He was dancing a jig.
She went to the tailor’s
To buy him a coat,
But when she came back
He was riding a goat.
She went to the cobbler’s
To buy him some shoes,
But when she came back
He was reading the news.

She went to the seamstress
To buy him some linen,
But when she came back
The dog was a-spinning.
She went to the hosier’s
To buy him some hose,
But when she came back
He was dressed in his clothes.
The dame made a curtsey,
The dog made a bow;
The dame said, “Your servant.”
The dog said, “Bow, wow.”

THE STORY OF MOTHER HUBBARD, TOLD IN JAPANESE PICTURES.

LITTLE BO-PEEP
Little Bo-Peep, she lost her sheep,
And can’t tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they’ll come home,
And bring their tails behind them.
Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,
And dreamed she heard them bleating;
When she awoke she found it a joke,
For they still were all fleeting.
Then up she took her little crook,
Determined for to find them,
She found them indeed, but it made her heart
bleed,
For they’d left their tails behind them!
It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray
Unto a meadow hard by—
There she espied their tails side by side,
All hung on a tree to dry.
She heaved a sigh and wiped her eye,
Then went over hill and dale,
And tried what she could, as a shepherdess
should,
To tack to each sheep its tail.

COME OUT TO PLAY
Boys and girls, come out to play,
The moon does shine as bright as day;
Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,
And meet your playfellows in the street,
Come with a whoop and come with a call,
Come with a good will or not at all.
Up the ladder and down the wall,
A halfpenny roll will serve us all.
You find milk and I’ll find flour,
And we’ll have pudding in half an hour.

LITTLE ROBIN REDBREAST
Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree,
Up went the Pussy-Cat, and down went he!
Down came Pussy-Cat, away Robin ran,
Says little Robin Redbreast—catch me if you can.
Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a spade,
Pussy-Cat jumped after him, and then he was afraid.
Little Robin chirped and sung, and what did Pussy say?
Pussy-Cat said Mew, mew, mew—and Robin flew
away.

LITTLE BOY BLUE
Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn,
The sheep’s in the meadow, the cow’s in the corn.
What! Is this the way you mind your sheep,
Under the haycock, fast asleep?

MY MAID MARY
My maid Mary
She minds her dairy,
While I go a-hoeing and mowing each morn.
Merrily runs the reel
And the little spinning-wheel
While I am singing and mowing my corn.

BEGGARS ARE COME TO TOWN
Hark! Hark!
The dogs do bark!
The beggars are come to town;
Some in rags,
Some in jags,
And some in velvet gowns.

BLOW, WIND, BLOW!
Blow, wind, blow! and go, mill, go!
That the miller may grind his corn;
That the baker may take it,
And into rolls make it,
And send us some hot in the morn.

BYE, BABY BUNTING
Bye, Baby bunting,
Father’s gone a-hunting,
Mother’s gone a-milking,
Sister’s gone a-silking,
And Brother’s gone to buy a skin,
To wrap the Baby bunting in.

THREE LITTLE KITTENS

Three little kittens, they lost their mittens,
And they began to cry:
“O mother dear,
We very much fear,
That we have lost our mittens.”
Lost your mittens!
You naughty kittens!
Then you shall have no pie.
“Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow,”
No, you shall have no pie.
“Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.”
The three little kittens, they found their mittens,
And they began to cry:
“O mother dear,
See here, see here!
See! we have found our mittens.”
Put on your mittens
You silly kittens,
And you may have some pie.
“Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r,
O let us have the pie.
Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r.”

The three little kittens put on their mittens,
And soon ate up the pie;
“O mother dear,
We greatly fear,
That we have soiled our mittens.”
Soiled your mittens!
You naughty kittens!
Then they began to sigh,
“Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.”
Then they began to sigh,
“Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.”

The three little kittens, they washed their
mittens.
And hung them out to dry;
“O mother dear,
Do you not hear,
That we have washed our mittens?”
Washed your mittens!
Oh, you’re good kittens.
But I smell a rat close by;
Hush! Hush! “Mee-ow, mee-ow.
We smell a rat close by,
Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.”

TOM WAS A PIPER’S SON
Tom, Tom was a piper’s son,
He learned to play when he was young,
And all the tune that he could play
Was “Over the hills and far away.”
Over the hills, and a great way off,
The wind will blow my top-knot off.
Now, Tom with his pipe made such a noise
That he well pleased both the girls and boys,
And they always stopped to hear him play
“Over the hills and far away.”

DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY
Daffy-down-dilly is new come to town,
With a petticoat green, and a bright yellow gown,
And her white blossoms are peeping around.

BILLY BOY
Oh, where have you been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?
“I have been to seek a wife,
She’s the joy of my life,
She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.”
What work can she do, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
What work can she do, charming Billy?
“She can brew and she can bake,
She can make a wedding cake—
She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.”
Can she make a cherry pie, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
Can she make a cherry pie, charming Billy?
“She can make a cherry pie
Quick’s cat can wink her eye—
She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.”
How old is she, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
How old is she, charming Billy?
“She is three times six, four times seven,
Twenty-eight and eleven—
She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.”

THREE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM
Three wise men of Gotham
Went to sea in a bowl,
And if the bowl had been stronger
My song had been longer.

LITTLE TOMMY TUCKER
“Little Tommy Tucker,
Sing for your supper.”
“What shall I sing?”
“White bread and butter.”
“How shall I cut it
Without any knife?
How shall I marry
Without any wife?”

PUSSY AND THE MICE
Nine little mice sat down to spin;
Pussy passed by, and she peeped in.
“What are you at, my little men?”
“Making coats for gentlemen.”
“Shall I come in and bite off your threads?”
“No, no, Miss Pussy, you’ll snip off our heads.”

WHEN I WAS A LITTLE BOY
When I was a little boy, I lived by myself,
And all the bread and cheese I got I put upon a shelf;
The rats and the mice, they made such a strife,
I was forced to go to London to buy me a wife.
The streets were so broad, and the lanes were so
narrow,
I was forced to bring my wife home in a wheelbarrow;
The wheelbarrow broke, and my wife had a fall,
And down came the wheelbarrow, wife, and all.

CHINESE MOTHER-GOOSE
RHYMES

BY PROF ISAAC TAYLOR HEADLAND

LITTLE FAT BOY
What a bonny little fellow is this fat boy of mine!
He makes people die of joy!
What a fine little fellow is this fat boy of mine!
Now whose is this loving little boy?

the little fat boy.

Do you want to buy a beauty?
Do you want to buy a beauty?
If you buy him he will watch your house,
And do it as his duty.
And no matter as to servants,
You may have them or may not,
But you’ll never need to lock your door,
Or give your house a thought.

“A Finger Test,” in chinese characters.

A FINGER TEST
You strike three times on the top, you see,
And strike three times on the bottom for me,
Then top and bottom you strike very fast,
And open a door in the middle at last.

OUR BABY
Mrs. Chang, Mrs. Lee,
Mama has a small babee;
Stands up firm,
Sits up straight,
Won’t eat milk,
But lives on cake.

our baby.

the little golden sister.

THE LITTLE GOLDEN SISTER
My little golden sister
Rides a golden horse slow,
And we’ll use a golden whip
If the horse doesn’t go.
A little gold fish
In a gold bowl we see,
And a gold-colored bird
On a gold-blossomed tree.
A gold-plated god
In a gold temple stands,
With a gold-plated baby
In his gold-plated hands.

TEN FINGERS
(A Chinese finger-play)

Three horses are drinking,
Three horses are feeding,
The two men are fighting,
The old woman pleading,
The baby is crying,
But no one is heeding.

“ten fingers,”
in chinese characters.

ten fingers.

A RIDDLE
A plum blossom foot,
And a pudding face sweet;
He’s taller when he’s sitting
Than when standing on his feet.

a riddle.

THE FIVE FINGERS
(Another finger-play)

A great big brother,
And a little brother so,
A big bell-tower,
And a temple and a show,
And little baby wee, wee,
Always wants to go.

the five fingers.

LADYBUG
Ladybug, ladybug,
Fly away, do;
Fly to the mountain,
And feed upon
dew.
Feed upon dew,
And sleep on a
rug,
And then run away
ladybug.
Like a good little
bug.

“ladybug,” in
chinese
characters.

THE SPIDER
Oh, my dear brother spider,
With your body big and red,
From the eaves you are hanging
On a single little thread.

the spider.

“the great wall,”
in chinese characters.

THE GREAT WALL
The wily Emperor Tsin Chi-hwang
He built a wall both great and strong.
The steps were narrow, but the wall was stout,
So it kept the troublesome Tartars out.

BY ANNA MARION SMITH

“What did you say when you’d
made your best bow?”
“I opened my mouth and
remarked ‘miaow.’”
“What did the Queen say in
answer to that?”
“She screamed a little, and
then she said, ‘SCAT!’”

Little boy Blue, awake, awake,
And see how merry your
charges make!
Through field and garden their
course they steer,
And the mischief they’re
doing,—oh dear, oh dear!

Hurry it, hurry it, baker’s man;
Bring it to us as quick as you can.
I hope it has raisins by way of surprise,
And little black currants that look just like eyes.
Here it comes, here it comes, baby mine.
Never was cake that was half so fine;
Brown as a berry, and hot from the pan,—
Thank you, oh thank you, you good baker’s man!

Hickory, dickory, dock,
Again he tried the clock,
This time,—don’t frown,—
The clock ran down!
Hickory, dickory, dock.

How shall I go to Babylon? For trains go off the track, you
Who will tell me true? see,
Oh, there are trains, and there are boats, And boats go down below;
And automobiles too. And automobiles go to smash
In ways that none may know.

And one may ride a bicycle,
Or go in a balloon; And tires of bicycles go pop,
Or one may travel on his feet Balloons will go and balk,
And get there ’most as soon. So taking all in all, I think
If I were you, I’d walk.

Hear, hear, they’re drawing near! Run, run, the
Just hark to the tramp of feet! turkey’s done!
So haste about, set tables out, I hope it is
And get them food to eat. nicely dressed,
For those who
shirk and will not
work
Are sure to
want the best.

There Was an Old Woman

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children she didn’t know what to
do;
She gave them some broth without any bread;
She whipped them all soundly, and put them to bed.
from a drawing by p. vinton brown

Now it happened that
Santa Claus,
Passing that way,
Peeped into the shoe
top
And saw how they
lay—
With their round, rosy
faces
All shining with
tears,

And resolved to do something
To comfort the dears.

So while they were sleeping
In woful array,
He bundled those children
Right into his sleigh;
And cracking his whip
As his reindeers sped forth,
Away they all flew
To his home in the North.

What wonders he showed them, And when they had seen
Such beautiful toys! All the wonderful things
Such dolls for the girls, Which each winter, at Christmas,
And such drums for the boys! Dear Santa Claus brings,

Such farms and such stables, He gave them, to make
Such monkeys and bears, Their enchantment complete,
Such dishes and tables Just all of the candy
And tiny dolls’ chairs! And cake they could eat.

When they told of their travels,
Their mother, it seems,
Only laughed, and declared
They were nothing but dreams.
I am sure, though, things must
Have occurred as they say,
Else why were they, all of them,
Ill the next day?

Humpty Dumpty

I
There he lay, stretched out on
the ground,
While all the company
gathered around;
When, valiantly stifling his
tears and his groans,
He sadly addressed them in

y
quavering tones.

II
“Friends,” said Humpty, wiping his eyes,
“This sudden descent was an awful surprise.
It inclines me to think,—you may laugh at my views,—
That a seat that is humble is safest to choose.

III
“All are not fitted to sit on a wall,
Some have no balance, and some are too small; IV
Many have tried it and found, as I guess,
“Hark, you horses, and all you
They’ve ended, like me, in a terrible mess.
king’s men!
Hear it, and never forget it

ea t, a d eve o get t
again!
’Tis those who are patient in
seats that are low,
Who some day get up in high
places and crow.”
V
Then they took him and put
him to bed.
I hope you’ll remember the
things that he said;
For all the king’s horses and
all the king’s men
Never once thought of his
sermon again.

This noble queen, with mind serene,
Then made a mammoth cake.
The naughty knave for cake did crave,
And off with it did make.
The haughty king, for punishing,
Would have him eat it all,
Which made the knave—unhappy slave—
Too sick to speak or crawl. Since then, at ease,
their majesties
Eat pastries every
day.
The knave affirms
his stomach squirms,
And looks the
other way.
Alas, alas, to such a
pass
Doth gluttony
invite!
’Tis very sad to be
so bad,
And lose one’s
appetite.

Next day the queen, with lofty mien,
Prepared some lovely pies.
The feeble knave side-glances gave
At them with longing eyes.
The cruel king, with mocking fling,
Said: “Do, now, have some pie!”
The qualmish knave, no longer brave,
Could only groan, “Not I.”

This morning as I wandered
To enjoy the charming weather,
I met a man in goggles and a modern suit of
leather.
He began to toot a horn and I began to run,
He knocked me flat nor cared for that;
And down the road he spun.

I
OOD Queen Kate was his
royal mate,
And a right royal mate
was she:
She would frequently state
that carousing till late
Was something that
never should be.
But every fiddler had such
a fine fiddle,—
Oh, such a fine fiddle
had he,—
That old King Cole, in his
inmost soul,
Was as restive as he
could be.
II
HEN thus spoke she to his majesty,
He planted his crown on tight.

“We will wait,” whispered he to the fiddlers three,
“Till the Queen has retired for the night.”
Every fiddler then tuned up his fiddle,
And tuned it as true as could
III be:
While oldOKing Colegrew
gay they got his pipenight
as the and bowl
hours flew,
And replenished
He forgotthem
howsecretly.
the time sped away;
Till swift overhead he heard the Queen’s tread
As she sprang out of bed, when he hurriedly said
They might finish the tune the next day.
Every fiddler he had a fine fiddle,
And a very fine fiddle had he:
Oh, ’t was not fair such a concert rare
Should be ended so suddenly!

“Fy, pussy, what a lazy cat, “Now, sir, you
On such a pleasant day needn’t criticize
To sit and drowse beside the fire Because I sit and
And sleep the hours away! blink,
A self-respecting dog would think For while my eyes
Himself a sorry cur, are shut, like this,
If he did nothing all day long I think, and think,
But fold his arms and purr!” and think.
And when I purr,
please understand
I work with all my
might,

A-humming over
songs I sing
When I go out at
night.

“Excuse me. Now I’ll
close my eyes,
And think a little
more.
On busy days like
this, I show
My visitors the
door.
’T is only little dogs
who judge
That one must idle be,
Unless one’s chasing round and round
Or barking up a tree.”

But never a word of plaint will be heard For well will
From robin, no matter how tired and cold; he know that
the winter
will
go,
And the
blossoms and
greenness of
spring
unfold.
And when the
warm sun says
winter
is
done,
He’ll gladden

us all with his
cheery
song;
And never will fret if
the season is
wet,
Or wail that the
winter was
hard and long.

I bought a
little
carriage
And
took him
out to ride,
And yet
with all
my efforts
He
wasn’t
satisfied.
I never
would
have
married,
Now
this I do
declare,—
If I’d
supposed a
husband
Was
such an
awful care.

This clever man then
hastened on
And bought a pair of
shears,
But when he tried to cut
with them,
He snipped off both his
ears.
And when he heard his
ears were off,
(’T was told him o’er
and o’er),
He seized the shears and
snipped them back
As they had been
before.
“Because,” said he, “wise
men like me,
Who travel round about,
And keep their eyes, and
use them well,
May find some people
out.
And if they also use their ears,
And hark what hearsay brings,
They’re likewise pretty sure to hear
Some very funny things.”

See saw, steady and slow!
Other places there are, I know,
But they are not worth the trouble to go,
For Boston people have told me so.

Sing a song o’ sixpence
A pocket full of rye;
I know another blackbird
Baked in a pie.
The maid it was who baked it
With all her might and main,
Resolved there’d be one blackbird
That shouldn’t nip again.

I never will dress her again, that is sure.
Her scratches, you see, are not easy to cure.
And I find that it takes much more time than you’d
guess,
To sew up the rents in my dolly’s best dress.
I’d give a good deal, if it wasn’t for that,
To see how she’d look in my dolly’s new hat.
But no, I’ll not try it, you never can tell;
And politeness is best till one’s scratches get well.

Jack Horner had three brothers,
Their names were Horner, too—
One was James, and one was George,
And the little one was Hugh.
And they always did exactly
What they saw Jackie do—
James and George and the littlest one,
The one whose name was Hugh.
So when Jack’s Christmas pie was made,
They made three others, too—
One for James, and one for George,
And a little one for Hugh.
And they sat up in corners,
As they’d seen Jackie do—
James and George and the littlest one,
The one whose name was Hugh.
I’m sure ’t was very lucky
(Does it not seem so to you?)
That the room had just four corners

For

For if Jackie had a corner,
There must be corners, too,
For James and George and the littlest one,
The one whose name was Hugh.

JINGLES

THERE WAS A MAN IN OUR TOWN
There was a man in our town,
And all he did each day
Was to skip and hop along the streets
And on a trumpet play.
————
A MOST WONDERFUL SIGHT
The most wonderful sight I ever did see
Was an owl on the branch of our old
oak-tree;
His eyes were so large and his head was so small
That he seemed all eyes and no head at all.

SAILING
Afloat, afloat, in a golden boat!
Hoist the sail to the breeze!
Steer by a star to lands afar
That sleep in the southern seas,
And then come home to our teas!

MISERY IN COMPANY

The rain is falling,
The fire is out!
Jane has the toothache,
John has the gout!

COURT NEWS
By Lucy Fitch Perkins

The king and queen went out to-day,
A-riding on a load of hay.
The king fell off and lost his crown,
The queen fell, too, and tore her gown.

THE SLEEPY-TIME STORY[C]
BY GERTRUDE SMITH
One night Arabella and Araminta’s mamma was sewing, and their papa was
reading his newspaper. And there was a fire in the grate—a warm, bright fire in
the grate.
And Arabella sat on the rug before the fire, and Araminta sat on the rug before
the fire.
And Arabella was playing with her little white kitty, and Araminta was playing
with her little black kitty.
And Arabella’s little white kitty’s name was Annabel, and Araminta’s little black
kitty’s name was Lillabel.
Arabella had a little red ball fastened to a long string, and Araminta had a little
blue ball fastened to a long string. Arabella would roll her ball, and her little
white kitty would run and jump for it. And Araminta would roll her ball, and her
little black kitty would run and jump for it.
The kittens were so cunning and funny, and they were having such a splendid
time.
Sometimes when Arabella’s kitty would run very fast, or jump very high,
Arabella would laugh until she tumbled right over on the floor.
And sometimes when Araminta’s kitty would run very fast, or jump very high,
Araminta would laugh until she would tumble right over on the floor.
Oh, they were having a splendid time.
But all at once their mamma looked up from her sewing, and said, “Good-night,
Arabella. Good-night, Araminta. The clock is on the stroke of eight.”
And their papa looked up from his paper, and said, “Yes, good-night, Arabella.
Good-night, Araminta. The clock is on the stroke of eight.”
And Arabella said, “Oh, must we go to bed right now?”
And Araminta said, “Oh, must we go to bed right now?”
And their papa said, “Yes, indeed; yes, indeed. Good-night, Arabella. Good-
night, Araminta. The clock is on the stroke of eight.”

Always, when it was bedtime, their papa and mamma would say, “Good-night,
Arabella. Good-night, Araminta.”
And sometimes they were good, and sometimes they were bad; but they always
ran away to bed.
And their dear mamma always went with them and tucked them in and kissed
them, and then came away downstairs and left them. And sometimes they were
good, and sometimes they were bad; but they always went to sleep.
But to-night their mamma said,
“Run and get your nighties, dears,
And get each a flannel gown,
And we’ll sit and rock you here,
Till you go to sleepy-town.”
And Arabella ran upstairs and got her nighty and her little flannel gown. And
Araminta ran upstairs and got her nighty and her little flannel gown. And their
mamma undressed Arabella, and their papa undressed Araminta.
Arabella’s little flannel gown was red, and Araminta’s little flannel gown was
pink. When they had put them on over their nighties they were just as warm as
toast.
Arabella’s kitty was playing with Araminta’s kitty on the rug before the fire.
They were rolling and tumbling and chasing each other, and they looked so
cunning and sweet.
And Arabella’s mamma took Arabella on her lap, and Araminta’s papa took
Araminta on his lap.
Arabella said, “Oh, I want my kitty in my lap, mamma!”
And Araminta said, “Oh, I want my kitty in my lap, papa!”
So they jumped down and caught the kitties.
Their mamma rocked Arabella, and their papa rocked Araminta; and they sang to
them,
“Now a nice little rock,
And never mind the clock,
Now a nice little rock,
And never mind the clock!”
And they sang it over, and over, and over.

“Now a nice little rock,
And never mind the clock,
Now a nice little rock,
And never mind the clock!”
And Arabella cuddled in her mamma’s arms, and hugged her little kitty close;
and Araminta cuddled in her papa’s arms, and hugged her little kitty close.
And their mamma sang, and their papa sang;
“Now she goes to sleepy-town, sleepy-town, sleepy-town;
Cuddled in her little gown, here she goes to sleepy-town.”
And they sang it over, and over, and over.
“Now she goes to sleepy-town, sleepy-town, sleepy-town;
Cuddled in her little gown, here she goes to sleepy-town.”
And very soon Arabella could only just hear her mamma singing, and very soon
Araminta could only just hear her papa singing, “Sleepy-town, sleepy-town.”
And soon they couldn’t hear them at all. They were sound asleep!
And their mamma looked at their papa, and said, “Our precious little dears are
both sound asleep.”
And their papa said, “Yes, our little pets have both reached sleepy-town.”
And Arabella’s mamma carried her upstairs and put her in her little bed, and
Araminta’s papa carried her upstairs and put her in her little bed. And Arabella
was hugging her white kitty up close in her arms and Araminta was hugging her
black kitty up close in her arms. And the kitties were both sound asleep, too.
But Arabella’s kitty and Araminta’s kitty did not sleep with them all night—oh,
no indeed! They had a nice little, warm little, soft little bed down in the
basement, close to the furnace.
And their papa took the kitties out of their arms, and carried them down to their
bed.
And Arabella slept, and slept, and slept, and slept, and slept. And Araminta slept,
and slept, and slept, and slept, and slept.
And the little kitties in their soft little bed slept, and slept, too. All through the
long, dark, beautiful night they slept.
And the sun came, and the morning came, and it was another day!
[C] From “Arabella and Araminta Stories.” Used by permission
of publishers, Small, Maynard & Co., Boston.

THE GO-SLEEP STORY[D]
BY EUDORA S. BUMSTEAD
“How can I go to bed,” said Penny, the flossy dog, “till I say good-night to Baby
Ray? He gives me part of his bread and milk, and pats me with his little, soft
hand. It is bedtime now for dogs and babies. I wonder if he is asleep?”
So he trotted along in his silky, white nightgown till he found Baby Ray on the
porch in mamma’s arms.
And she was telling him the same little story that I am telling you:
The doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.
“How can we go to bed,” said Snowdrop and Thistledown, the youngest children
of Tabby, the cat, “till we have once more looked at Baby Ray? He lets us play
with his blocks and ball, and laughs when we climb on the table. It is bedtime
now for kitties and dogs and babies. Perhaps we shall find him asleep.” And this
is what the kitties heard:
One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.
“How can we go to bed,” said the three little Bunnies, “till we have seen Baby
Ray?” Then away they went in their white, velvet nightgowns as softly as three
flakes of snow. And they, too, when they got as far as the porch, heard Ray’s
mamma telling the same little story:
One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap,
Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.
“How can we go to bed,” said the four white Geese, “till we know that Baby Ray
is all right? He loves to watch us sail on the duck-pond, and he brings us corn in
his little blue apron. It is bedtime now for geese and rabbits and kitties and dogs
and babies, and he really ought to be asleep.”
So they waddled away in their white, feather nightgowns, around by the porch,
where they saw Baby Ray, and heard mamma tell the “Go-Sleep” story:

One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap,
Four geese from the duck-pond, deep, deep, deep,
Went to see if Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.
“How can we go to bed,” said the five white Chicks, “till we have seen Baby
Ray once more? He scatters crumbs for us and calls us. Now it is bedtime for
chicks and geese and rabbits and kittens and dogs and babies, so little Ray must
be asleep.”
Then they ran and fluttered in their downy, white nightgowns till they came to
the porch, where little Ray was just closing his eyes, while mamma told the “Go-
Sleep” story:
One doggie that was given him to keep, keep, keep,
Two cunning little kitty-cats, creep, creep, creep,
Three pretty little bunnies, with a leap, leap, leap,
Four geese from the duck-pond, deep, deep, deep,
Five downy little chicks, crying peep, peep, peep,
All saw that Baby Ray was asleep, sleep, sleep.
[D] Used by permission of The Youth’s Companion.

the land of nod

THE GENTLE DARK[E]
BY W. GRAHAME ROBERTSON
So it is over, the long bright Day,
And little Maid Twilight, quiet and meek,
Comes stealing along in her creep-mouse way
Whispering low—for she may not speak—
“The Gentle Dark is coming to play
At a game of Hide and Seek.”
Some babies are cross when she whispers them this,
And some are afraid and begin to cry.
I never can think what they find amiss.
Afraid of the Dark! I wonder why.
The Gentle Dark that falls like a kiss
Down from the sleepy sky.
O Gentle Dark, we know you are kind
By the lingering touch of your cool soft hand;
As over our eyes the veil you bind
We shut them tight at word of command,
You are only playing at Hoodman-Blind,
A game that we understand.
The voice is tender (O little one, hark!),
The eyes are kindly under the hood,
Blow out the candle, leave not a spark,
Trusting your friend as a playmate should.
Hold up your arms to the Gentle Dark,
The Dark that is kind and good.
[E] From “A Year of Song,” by W. Grahame Robertson; used by
permission of the publishers, John Lane Company.

THE FERRY FOR SHADOWTOWN
Sway to and fro in the twilight gray;
This is the ferry for Shadowtown;
It always sails at the end of the day,
Just as the darkness closes down.
Rest little head, on my shoulder, so;
A sleepy kiss is the only fare,
Drifting away from the world, we go,
Baby and I in the rocking-chair.
See where the fire-logs glow and spark,
Glitter the lights of the shadowland,
The raining drops on the window, hark!
Are ripples lapping upon its strand.
There, where the mirror is glancing dim,
A lake lies shimmering, cool and still.
Blossoms are waving above its brim,
Those over there on the window-sill.
Rock slow, more slow in the dusky light,
Silently lower the anchor down;
Dear little passenger, say “Good-night.”
We’ve reached the harbor of Shadowtown.

HUSH-A-BYE, BABY
Hush-a-bye, baby, in the tree top:
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
Down will come baby, cradle, and all.

THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
See the kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves—one—two—and three—
From the lofty elder tree!
Through the calm and frosty air
Of this morning bright and fair,
Eddying round and round they sink
Softly, slowly: one might think
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or fairy hither tending,
To this lower world descending,
Each invisible and mute,
In his wavering parachute.
But the kitten, how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws and darts!
First at one and then its fellow,
Just as light and just as yellow;
There are many now—now one—
Now they stop and there are none:
What intenseness of desire
In her upward eye of fire!
With a tiger-leap, halfway,
Now she meets the coming prey;
Lets it go as fast and then
Has it in her power again.
Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian conjuror;
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart.

From “The Book of the Little Past,” by Josephine Preston Peabody;
used by permission of the publishers, Houghton Mifflin Co.

A BLESSING FOR THE BLESSED
BY LAURENCE ALMA-TADEMA
When the sun has left the hilltop,
And the daisy-fringe is furled,
When the birds from wood and meadow
In their hidden nests are curled,
Then I think of all the babies
That are sleeping in the world.
There are babies in the high lands
And babies in the low,
There are pale ones wrapped in furry skins
On the margin of the snow,
And brown ones naked in the isles
Where all the spices grow.
And some are in the palace,
On a white and downy bed;
And some are in the garret,
With a clout beneath their head;
And some are on the cold, hard earth,
Whose mothers have no bread.
O little men and women,
Dear flowers yet unblown—
O little kings and beggars
Of the pageant yet unshown—
Sleep soft and dream pale dreams now,
To-morrow is your own.

MY DOLLY
Hush, Dolly, bye, Dolly, sleep, Dolly, dear,
See what a bed, Dolly, I’ve for you here;
Therefore, to sleep, Dolly! don’t fret and cry;
Lay down your head, Dolly, shut up your eye.
When the bright morn, Dolly, once more has
come,
Up gets the sun, and goes forth to roam;
Then shall my dear Dolly soon get up, too;
Then shall be playtime for me and for you.
Now go to sleep, Dolly, good night to you;
You must to bed, Dolly—I’m going too;
Just go to sleep without trouble or pain,
And in the morning I’ll come back again.

THE CHILD AND THE WORLD
I see a nest in a green elm-tree
With little brown sparrows—one, two, three!
The elm-tree stretches its branches wide,
And the nest is soft and warm inside.
At morn the sun, so golden bright,
Climbs up to fill the world with light;
It opens the flowers, it wakens me,
And wakens the birdies—one, two, three.
And leaning out of my window high,
I look far up at the blue, blue sky,
And then far out at the earth so green,
And think it the loveliest ever seen—
The loveliest world that ever was seen!

EVENING SONG
BY C. FRANCES ALEXANDER
Little birds sleep sweetly
In their soft round nests,
Crouching in the cover
Of their mother’s breasts.
Little lambs lie quiet,
All the summer night,
With their old ewe mothers,
Warm, and soft, and white.
But more sweet and quiet
Lie our little heads,
With our own dear mothers
Sitting by our beds;
And their soft sweet voices
Sing our hush-a-byes,
While the room grows darker,
As we shut our eyes.
And we play at evening
Round our father’s knees;
Birds are not so merry,
Singing on the trees,
Lambs are not so happy,
’Mid the meadow flowers;
They have play and pleasure,
But not love like ours.

ROCK-A-BYE, BABY
Rock-a-bye, baby, your cradle is green,
Father’s a nobleman, mother’s a queen,
And Betty’s a lady, and wears a gold ring,
And Johnny’s a drummer, and drums for the King.

THE SANDMAN
BY MARGARET VANDERGRIFT
The rosy clouds float overhead
The sun is going down,
And now the Sandman’s gentle tread
Comes stealing through the town.
“White sand, white sand,” he softly cries,
And as he shakes his hand,
Straightway there lies on babies’ eyes
His gift of shining sand.
Blue eyes, black eyes, gray eyes and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
when he goes through the town.
From sunny beaches far away—
Yes, in another land—
He gathers up at break of day
His store of shining sand.
No tempests beat that shore remote,
No ships may sail that way,
His little boat alone may float
Within that lovely bay.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
when he goes through the town.
He smiles to see the eyelids close
Above the happy eyes;
And every child right well he knows—
Oh, he is very wise!
But if, as he goes through the land,
A naughty baby cries,
His other hand takes dull gray sand
To close the wakeful eyes.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
when he goes through the town.
So when you hear the Sandman’s song
Sound through the twilight sweet,

Be sure you do not keep him long
A-waiting on the street.
Lie softly down, dear little head,
Rest quiet, busy hands,
Till, by your bed his good-night said,
He strews the shining sands.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
when he goes through the town.

THE FAIRY FOLK
BY ROBERT BIRD
Come cuddle close in daddy’s coat
Beside the fire so bright,
And hear about the fairy folk
That wander in the night.
For when the stars are shining clear
And all the world is still,
They float across the silver moon
From hill to cloudy hill.
Their caps of red, their cloaks of green,
Are hung with silver bells,
And when they’re shaken with the wind
Their merry ringing swells,
And riding on the crimson moth,
With black spots on his wings,
They guide them down the purple sky
With golden bridle rings.
They love to visit girls and boys,
To see how sweet they sleep,
To stand beside their cozy cots
And at their faces peep.
For in the whole of fairy-land
They have no finer sight
Than little children sleeping sound
With faces rosy bright.
On tiptoe crowding round their heads,
When bright the moonlight beams,
They whisper little tender words
That fill their minds with dreams;
And when they see a sunny smile,
With lightest finger tips
They lay a hundred kisses sweet
Upon the ruddy lips.
And then the little spotted moths
Spread out their crimson wings,
And bear away the fairy crowd

With shaking bridle rings.
Come bairnies, hide in daddy’s coat,
Beside the fire so bright—
Perhaps the little fairy folk
Will visit you to-night.

QUEEN MAB
BY THOMAS HOOD
A little fairy comes at night;
Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown,
With silver spots upon her wings,
And from the moon she flutters down.
She has a little silver wand,
And when a good child goes to bed,
She waves her wand from right to left,
And makes a circle round its head.
And then it dreams of pleasant things—
Of fountains filled with fairy fish,
And trees that bear delicious fruit.
And bow their branches at a wish.
Of arbors filled with dainty scents
From lovely flowers that never fade,
Bright flies that glitter in the sun,
And glow-worms shining in the shade.
And talking birds with gifted tongues
For singing songs and telling tales,
And pretty dwarfs to show the way
Through fairy hills and fairy dales.
But when a bad child goes to bed,
From left to right she weaves her rings,
And then it dreams all through the night
Of only ugly, horrid things!
Then lions come with glaring eyes,
And tigers growl, a dreadful noise,
And ogres draw their cruel knives,
To shed the blood of girls and boys.
Then stormy waves rush on to drown,
Or raging flames come scorching round,
Fierce dragons hover in the air,
And serpents crawl along the ground.

Then wicked children wake and weep,
And wish the long black gloom away;
But good ones love the dark, and find
The night as pleasant as the day.

LULLABY
BY GERTRUDE THOMPSON MILLER
Come lay your head on my breast, my dear,
That I may feel your sweet form near;
Then we’ll rock, rock, in the rocking chair,
And play we’re sailing up through the air.
Your body so warm, so close, and so round,
A more precious bundle ne’er was found;
Just nestle your head right here on my arm,
And Mother will keep you safe from all harm.
Now, we rock, rock, and away we go,
Over the houses and trees, just so,
Like the birds, we’ll fly to a sunny land,
And there we’ll join the fairies’ band.
We’ll take them to ride; we’ll sail for home,
For Father is there, and he’s all alone;
Then we’ll alight on the nursery bed,
Fairies for company in Mother’s stead.

KENTUCKY BABE[F]
BY RICHARD HENRY BUCK
Skeeters am a hummin’ on de honeysuckle vine,
Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
San’man am a comin’ to dis little coon of mine,—
Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
Silv’ry moon am shinin’ in de heabens up above,
Bobolink am pinin’ fo’ his little lady love:
Yo’ is mighty lucky, babe of old Kentucky,—
Close yo’ eyes in sleep.
Fly away, Kentucky Babe, fly away to rest,
Lay yo’ kinky, woolly head on yo’ mammy’s breast,
—
Um-um-um-um,—
Close yo’ eyes in sleep.
Daddy’s in de canebrake wid his little dog and gun,
—
Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
Possum fo’ yo’ breakfast when yo’ sleepin’ time is
done,—
Sleep, Kentucky Babe!
Bogie man’ll catch yo’ sure unless yo’ close yo’ eyes,
Waitin’ jes outside de doo’ to take yo’ by surprise!
Close yo’ eyes in sleep.
[F] Copyright, 1896, by the White-Smith Music Publishing Co.
These words are published by the Company in the form of a
musical composition by Adam Geibel, the well-known
composer.

MY POSSESSIONS
I’m a rich man,
If ever there was one:
I’ve a horse and an apple,
And both are my own.
But some others might wish
Such fine presents to keep;
So I’ll take them to bed,
To hold while asleep.
And when in the morning
I wake up once more,
I’ve my toy and my apple,
To me a rich store.

THE WAKE-UP STORY[G]
BY EUDORA S. BUMSTEAD
The sun was up and the breeze was blowing, and the five chicks, and four geese,
and three rabbits, and two kitties, and one little dog were just as noisy and lively
as they knew how to be.
They were all watching for Baby Ray to appear at the window, but he was still
fast asleep in his little white bed, while mamma was making ready the things he
would need when he would wake up.
First, she went along the orchard path as far as the old wooden pump, and said:
“Good pump, will you give me some nice, clear water for the baby’s bath?”
And the pump was willing.
The good old pump by the orchard path
Gave nice, clear water for the baby’s bath.
Then she went a little further on the path, and stopped at the woodpile, and said:
“Good chips, the pump has given me nice, clear water for dear Baby Ray; will
you come and warm the water and cook his food?”
And the chips were willing.
The good old pump by the orchard path
Gave nice clear water for the baby’s bath.
And the clean white chips from the pile of wood
Were glad to warm it and cook his food.
So mamma went on till she came to the barn, and then said: “Good cow, the
pump has given me nice, clear water, and the woodpile has given me clean,
white chips for dear little Ray; will you give me warm, rich milk?”
And the cow was willing.
Then she said to the top-knot hen that was scratching in the straw: “Good Biddy,
the pump has given me nice, clear water, and the woodpile has given me clean,
white chips, and the cow has given me warm, rich milk for dear little Ray; will
you give me a new-laid egg?”
And the hen was willing.

The good old pump by the orchard path
Gave nice, clear water for the baby’s bath.
The clean, white chips from the pile of wood
Were glad to warm it and cook his food.
The cow gave milk in the milk-pail bright,
And the top-knot Biddy an egg new and white.
Then mamma went on till she came to the orchard, and said to a Red June apple
tree: “Good tree, the pump has given me nice, clear water, and the woodpile has
given me clean, white chips, and the cow has given me warm, rich milk, and the
hen has given me a new-laid egg for dear little Ray; will you give me a pretty,
red apple?”
And the tree was willing.
So mamma took the apple and the egg and the milk and the chips and the water
to the house, and there was Baby Ray in his nightgown looking out of the
window.
And she kissed him and bathed him and dressed him, and while she brushed and
curled his soft, brown hair, she told him the Wake-Up Story that I am telling you.
The good old pump by the orchard path
Gave nice, clear water for the baby’s bath.
The clean, white chips from the pile of wood
Were glad to warm it and cook his food.
The cow gave milk in the milk-pail bright;
The top-knot Biddy an egg new and white;
And the tree gave an apple so round and so red,
For dear little Ray who was just out of bed.
[G] Used by permission of The Youth’s Companion.

ABOUT SIX LITTLE CHICKENS
BY S. L. ELLIOTT

“a little girl came out with some corn-meal in a
dish.”

A Mother Biddy sat on her nest, with what do you think in the nest? Six smooth
white eggs! After she had sat there quite a long time till she was very tired, what
do you suppose happened to one of those eggs? There was a noise that went
“snick, snick,” and out of the shell stepped something like a little fuzzy ball, but
with two bright eyes, and two bits of feet to walk on. What do you think it was?
A little chicken? Yes, and Mother Biddy was so glad to see it, and she called it
“Fluffy.” And Fluffy said “Peep, peep! I have some brothers and sisters in the
shells; if you call them, I think they will come.” So Mother Biddy said “Cluck,
cluck!” and something said: “Peep, peep!” and out came another chicken, as
black as it could be, so Mother Biddy called it “Topsy.” “Are there any more?”
said Mother Biddy. “Yes. Peep, peep! We’re coming; wait for us,” and there
came four more little chickens as fast as they could run. One was as white as
snow, and Mother Biddy called it “Snowball.” The next was yellow and white,
and she named it “Daisy.” Then there was a yellow one with a brown ring
around its neck, and that was called “Brownie.” And what do you think! one was
all black, only it had a little white spot on the top of its head that looked like a
cap, so Mother Biddy called it “Spottie.” Now they were all out of their shells,

and they said: “Peep, peep! We’re hungry.” So Mother Biddy said: “Cluck,
cluck! Come see my babies,” and out of the house, close by, came a little girl
with some corn-meal in a dish, and my! wasn’t she glad to see the chickens?

After they had eaten all they wanted, they thought they would take a walk and
see this queer world they had come to live in.
Pretty soon they came to a brook, and they all stood in a row and looked in. “Let
us have a drink,” they said, so they put their heads down, when—
“Peep, peep!” said Spottie. “I see a little chicken with a spot on its head.”
“No, no,” said Brownie; “it has a ring around its neck, and looks like me.”
“Peep, peep!” said Daisy. “I think it’s like me, for it is yellow and white.” And I
don’t know but they would all have tumbled in to see if they hadn’t felt
something drop right on the ends of their noses. “What’s that?” said Fluffy.
“Cluck, cluck!” said Mother Biddy. “Every chicken of you come in, for it is
going to rain, and you’ll get your feathers wet.”
So they ran as fast as they could, and in a few minutes the six little chickens
were all cuddled under Mother Biddy’s wing, fast asleep.

“TRADE-LAST”
By Lucy Fitch Perkins

“My frock is green.”
“My frock is blue.”
“You look pretty.”
“So do you.”

PHILIP’S HORSE
Little Philip was very fond of horses, and as he was
too old to sit on a chair or box or trunk and make
believe a rocking-horse was pulling it along his
bedroom floor, his father bought him a horse all
spotted brown and white, with a beautiful white mane;
and Philip loved to get up on his back.
In winter he would go out in his sleigh, even when the
snow was deep. It was jolly fun to be in the sleigh all
wrapped up cozy and warm in furry robes. He would
crack his long whip and make it sound almost as loud
as a fire-cracker. He used to carry a make-believe
pistol when he dressed up in his “Rough-Rider” suit
philip in his
and went horseback-riding. But all the neighbors
“rough-rider” suit. thought it was funny that Philip would always leave
the saddle on his horse when he went out in his sleigh.
But you won’t think it is funny when I tell you a secret—maybe you have
guessed it already—Philip couldn’t get the saddle off, because, don’t you see, his
horse was only a make-believe, hobby-horse.

philip in his sleigh.

The Kitten That Forgot How to Mew
By Stella George Stern
All little girls, and little boys too, like to read stories about kittens. Here is a
story about a dear little kitten that belonged to a dear little girl named Peggy.
Peggy had two brothers, and three cousins—all boys—and every boy had a little
dog. At first the dogs would tease the kitten, but they soon learned better. The
dogs and the kitten played together. All day long, out in the yard, you could hear
them going, “Bow-wow!” and “Mew!”

But, you see, there was only one little “Mew” and ever so many “Bow-wows,”
and after a while the kitten hardly ever spoke at all.
But one day the kitten wanted to mew, and—what do you suppose?—she had
forgotten how to do it! She tried and tried, and all she could say was “M-m-m-
bow!”—just as much like a dog as a kitten. She was so sad. She ran out into the
yard and cried.
The Big White Hen passed by and asked what was the matter.
“Oh, Big White Hen,” sobbed the kitten, “I have forgotten how to talk kitten-
talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!”
“Never mind, Kitty Cat,” said the Hen; “I will teach you to talk. Listen to this:
M-m-m-cut, cut, cut, cut, cut-ca-da-cut!”
“No,” said the kitten; “that’s not the way to talk kitten-talk.” And she cried
again.

Then along came the Sheep and asked, “What is the matter?”

“Oh, Sheep,” sobbed the kitten, “I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try
and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!”
“Never mind, Kitty Cat,” said the Sheep; “I will teach you to talk. Listen: M-m-
m-baa!”
“No,” said the kitten, “that’s not the way to talk kitten-talk.” And she cried again.
Then along came the Horse and asked what was the matter.
“Oh, Horse,” sobbed the kitten, “I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try
and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!”
“Never mind, Kitty Cat,” said the Horse; “I will teach you to talk. Listen to this:
M-m-m-neigh!”
“No,” said the kitten; “that’s not the way to talk kitten-talk.” And she cried
again.
Then along came the Cow and asked what was the matter.
“Oh, Cow,” sobbed the kitten, “I have forgotten how to talk kitten-talk. I try and
I try, as hard as I ever can, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow!”

“Never mind, Kitty Cat,” said the Cow; “I will teach you to talk. Listen to this:
M-m-m-moo!”
“No,” said the kitten; “that is more like it, but that’s not the way to talk kitten-
talk.” And she cried again.
The New Baby was sitting in her high chair at the kitchen door.
“Baby dear,” sighed the kitten, “I am in trouble. I have forgotten how to talk
kitten-talk. I try and I try, and all I can say is, M-m-m-bow! Can’t you teach
me?”
The Baby nodded her head and began, “M-m-m-google-google-goo!”
“No,” said the kitten; “that’s not the way to talk kitten-talk.” And she sat on the
kitchen step and cried again.
“What is the matter?” asked a soft voice behind her.
“Oh!” sobbed the kitten, without looking up, “I have forgotten how to talk
kitten-talk. I try and I try, and nothing can help me. All I can say is, M-m-m-
bow!”
“Look at me,” said the soft voice.
The little kitten looked. And there stood a beautiful big gray cat!
“I can teach you to talk,” said the Cat. And she did. She taught her so well that
the little kitten never again forgot how to mew, though she played out on the
soft, green grass with the dogs every day.

FLEDGLINGS
By Lucy Fitch Perkins

I saw a stork on a chimney high,
And called to him as I passed by,
“O stork! what’ll you bring,
Tucked away carefully under your wing?
A baby sister and a brother,
One for me, and one for mother.”

“TIME TO GET UP!”
BY ELLEN FOSTER
Little Elinor Gray lived in a big city, but her grandmother lived in a big house in
the country. Elinor and her Nurse Norah were going to visit her, and had to take
a long ride in the railway-train, and another ride in a carriage that Grandmother
sent to meet them, so it was almost dark when they drove up to the door.
Elinor’s grandmother had two beautiful dogs—“Bruno,” a big collie, and
“Bounder,” a little fox-terrier. And when they saw the little girl jump out of the
carriage, they barked and barked because they were so glad to see her. And they
said to themselves (I think they said to themselves): “We will let her have a good
sleep to-night, for she must be very tired and it is nearly dark. But to-morrow,
bright and early, we will ask her to come for a romp with us in the garden, and
show her how much nicer it is to live in the country than in the city, where little
girls have to walk so quietly along the streets, and dogs have to be led along the
sidewalk, and cannot frolic on the soft green grass.”
Elinor was very sleepy after her long ride in the train, and so, after she had had
her supper, her grandmother told her she might go to bed early and get a good
sleep, and that Nurse Norah would call her at seven o’clock in the morning.
But what do you think happened? Why, Bruno and Bounder somehow got into
the house before seven o’clock that morning, and came leaping up the stairs, and
went straight to Elinor’s door. Elinor was a very sound sleeper, and did not hear
them at first, and did not wake up. But soon Bounder began to scratch at the door
with his little, sharp claws and to make queer little whine-y sounds; and Bruno’s
bushy tail went “Rap! rap! rap!” on the door, too. Then Elinor woke up, and
listened a moment, and then she said: “Oh, I know what it is! It’s those darling
dogs!” And she jumped out of bed and opened the door, and there, sure enough,
was Bounder, dashing right into the room, barking, “Good morning! good
morning!” and big Bruno, looking at Elinor as if saying, “Good morning! didn’t
you hear us? It’s time to get up!”
Elinor said: “Oh, you beauties! Yes, I know! And I’ll get dressed right away!”
But what do you think happened then! Why, Bruno and Bounder didn’t give her
time even to call Nurse Norah and get dressed. You see, Bruno and Bounder did
not often have so nice a little visitor, and they were ready to begin play that very
minute. Bounder was jumping up and down and all over the room, and at last he

spied Elinor’s slippers on the floor and caught up one of them between his sharp
little teeth and ran round and round the room with it. But Bruno chased Bounder
all round the room trying to make him drop the slipper, while Elinor stood still
and laughed and laughed and laughed!
But just then Nurse Norah came rushing in from the next room, asking what was
the matter and in a minute, the naughty Bounder was made to give up Elinor’s
slipper, and Bruno chased him all the way out of the house.
And just as soon as Elinor had had her breakfast, she ran out and had a fine romp
with Bruno and Bounder in Grandmother’s garden.

“time to get up!”

(For Very Little Folk)
and Mrs. Squeaky
were two little, gray
mice. They lived
away back in the
corner of a great, big,
empty box in the
cellar.
One morning Mr. Squeaky
went up the cellar stairs on
tiptoes, to hunt for some bread
and cheese in the kitchen.
All at once he heard some one talking, and he hid behind the broom and was as
still as he could be.
It was the little boy Johnnie, who lived up-stairs. He had a big hammer and a
saw in his hand, and he was talking to his little sister.
“I think that big, empty box down cellar would make a fine dolls’ house,
Maggie. I can fix a little porch on it, and make an up-stairs and a down-stairs,”
the little boy said.
“Oh, Johnnie, that will be lovely,” his little sister said. “I’ll do something for you
sometime. Maybe—maybe—I’ll draw a whole slate full of el’phants, for you to
look at!”
Then they started down the cellar steps.
Mr. Squeaky was so frightened that he almost tumbled down the stairs.
“Oh, my dear,” he whispered, “they are going to break up our house with a big
hammer and a saw, and make a dolls’ house out of it! Let’s run as fast as we
can!”
Poor little Mrs. Squeaky began to cry.

“Where shall we go?” she whispered. “Oh, I am so afraid, and there are always
those dreadful traps around to catch us!”

But they ran as fast as they could to the darkest corner. Mrs. Squeaky’s sharp
little eyes saw a hole, and she ran into it, and Mr. Squeaky squeezed in after her.
Now where do you think they found themselves? Right inside of an old shoe!
The hole that they came through was just a hole in the shoe and made a nice
little door. And there was another hole a little higher up that made a nice little
window to peep out of.
“Why, this is the dearest little house, so cozy and warm,” Mrs. Squeaky said.
“Nobody will ever find us in here, I know.”
After they lived there a while, a whole family of
little pink baby mice came to live with them.
The papa mouse and the mama mouse were so
proud and so glad, they got little bits of cotton
and soft paper and rags, and made the nicest
little beds you ever saw.
The little pink baby mice could only say,
“Squeak! Squeak!” and cuddle up under the
warm covers, but Mr. and Mrs. Squeaky laughed, and thought they were the
smartest babies in the whole world.
“Why, I feel like ‘The Old Woman Who Lived in the Shoe and had so many
children she didn’t know what to do,’” Mrs. Squeaky said one day. She was
sitting by the little window rocking the baby mouse and taking a little rest.
Mr. Squeaky had gone out to hunt for some supper, and the four other little mice
were peeping out of the little hole in the toe of their shoe house, for Papa to
come home.
All at once, Maggie, the little girl who lived up-stairs, ran into the dark corner to
hide from Johnnie, just for fun. And what do you think she saw?

The four little mice peeping
out of the door, and the
poor, frightened mama
mouse and the little baby at
the window.
Maggie stopped just a
minute to whisper gently to
little, gray Mrs. Squeaky,
“Don’t be frightened, ‘Little
Old Woman Who Lives in
the Shoe.’ I’ll never, never
tell anybody where you live.
No, I won’t even tell
Johnnie or my kitty. They
might try to catch you. It
shall be my very own
secret—and yours!”

So nobody but little Maggie ever knew about Mr. and Mrs. Squeaky, and their
little pink babies in the old shoe—until long afterward, when she told me the
story, as I have told it to you.

“‘trot as fast as you can to market and get me a pail of
milk.’”

THE GOOD LITTLE PIGGIE AND HIS FRIENDS
BY L. WALDO LOCKLING
Once there was a little piggie, a very good little piggie, who obeyed his mother
so well that often she let him out of the pen to play with his friends on the farm.
One afternoon this little piggie was playing with them, when suddenly he heard
his mother calling “Piggie, wiggie, wiggie, wiggie, wiggie!”
“Piggie, dear,” she said, as he ran to her, “take this and trot as fast as you can to
market and get me a pail of milk for Father’s supper to-night.”

“‘where are you off to, piggie?’ said bossie calf.”
So Piggie took the pail between his teeth, and off he went to do what his mother
told him. Now, you must remember that this little piggie was such a dear, good
little piggie, that he had a great many friends among the other animals. So he had
not gone far when who should spy him but his friend Bossie Calf. “Hello, there!”
said the calf. “Where are you off to, Piggie?”
“I’m going to market to bring my mother a pail of milk for Father’s supper to-
night,” squealed Piggie.
“Are you? I believe I’ll go, too. I am so fond of milk.” And the calf leaped over
his master’s fence, and away he went scampering after Piggie.
By and by, who should come along but Piggie’s friend Billie Goat. “Mercy on
us!” baa-ed Billie. “Where are you going in such a hurry, Bossie?”
“Going with Piggie,” said the calf.

“Where are you going, Piggie?”
“Going to market to bring my mother a pail of milk for Father’s supper to-
night,” squealed Piggie, in a great hurry.
“Are you? I believe I’ll go, too. I am so fond of milk.” So Billie Goat ran out of
the barn-yard and hurried after the calf.
Just as they were passing the house, who should spy them but Rover the dog.
“Where are you going, Billie,” barked Rover, running out to the gate as he saw
them rushing along. “Going with Bossie,” said the goat.
“Where are you going,
Bossie?” “Going with
Piggie.”
“Where are you going,
Piggie?”
“I am going to market to
bring Mother a pail of milk
for Father’s supper to-
night,” squealed Piggie, in a
great hurry.
“Are you? I believe I’ll go,
too. I am so fond of milk.”
So Rover hurried along up
the road after the goat.
Just as they turned into the
road, who should come jumping along but Tabby the cat.
“Well, well!” he meowed. “When did the circus come to town, Rover?”

“This is not a circus parade,” said the dog, the goat, the calf, and Piggie all at
once, as they ran on.
“Then, where are you going, Rover?” again meowed Tabby.
“Going with Billie,” barked Rover.

“‘my, that’s good!’”
“Where are you going, Billie?” “Going with Bossie.”
“Where are you going, Bossie?” “Going with Piggie.”
“Where are you going, Piggie?”
“I am going to market to get my mother a pail of milk for Father’s supper to-
night,” squealed Piggie in a great hurry.
“Are you? I believe I’ll go along. I am so fond of milk.” So Tabby raced along
after Rover.
When they got to the market, Piggie told his friends to wait outside while he
hurried in and got the milk for his father’s supper. It did not take him long, and
he soon came trotting out because he was to hurry back home.
“Give me a sup for politeness’ sake,” meowed Tabby the cat, as she stuck her
head in the pail. “My, that’s good!”
“Pass it to me, Tabby,” barked Rover the dog, “for politeness’ sake. My, that’s
good!”
“Give me a sup for politeness’ sake,” said Billie Goat. “My, that’s good.”
“Do not forget me, Billie, for politeness’ sake,” said Bossie the calf. “My, that’s
good!”
“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” squealed Piggie, when he saw what had happened. “What
shall I do?” And away he trotted all by himself with an empty pail, to tell his
mother that he did really and truly get the milk, but that his friends had “supped”
it all up!

But just then the farmer came with a
great, big pail of milk and gave it all to
them, so that the good little piggie and
his father and mother had a fine supper,
and much more milk than Piggie could
have brought.
BABY’S PARADISE
By Lucy Fitch Perkins “away he trotted with an empty
pail.”

Over the hills and far away,
There’s a beautiful, wonderful place,
Where happy babies in gardens play,
With mothers dressed all in lace,—
Dressed all in lace and in silken gown,
With flowers in their hair,—

Where trees with blossoms are laden down,
And perfumes fill the air.

“who speaks first?”

from an engraving of the painting by arthur j.

elsley.

Moo, moo!
What can I do
For my little girl of three?
I will eat the sweet grass,
I will give her a glass
Of my milk for her tea;
Moo, moo! that ’s what I’ll do
For my dear little maiden of three.

Mew, mew!
What can I do
For my little girl of three?
I will catch all the mice,
And they shall not come twice
To the cake, you’ll see;
Mew, mew! that’s what
I’ll do
For my sweet little maiden
of three.

Bow-wow!
I will go now
With my little girl of three;
I will make a great noise;
I will frighten the boys,
For they all fear me;
Bow-wow! that is just how
I’ll guard my sweet maiden of three.

Neigh, neigh!
Out of the way
For my little girl of three!
I will give her a ride,
We will canter and glide
O’er the meadowy lea;
Neigh, neigh! that’s just

the way
I’ll help my sweet maiden
of three.

A FUNNY FAMILY

LITTLE BY LITTLE.
When Charley awoke one morning, he looked from the window, and saw the
ground deeply covered with snow.
On the side of the house nearest the kitchen, the snow was piled higher than
Charley’s head.
“We must have a path through this snow,” said his father. “I would make one if I
had time. But I must be at the office early this morning.
“Do you think you could make the path, my son?” he asked little Charley.
“I? Why, the snow is higher than my head! How could I ever cut a path through
that snow?”
“How? Why, by doing it little by little. Suppose you try,” said the father, as he
left for his office.
So Charley got the snowshovel and set to work. He threw up first one shovelful,
and then another; but it was slow work.
“I don’t think I can do it, mother,” he said. “A shovelful is so little, and there is
such a heap of snow.”
“Little by little, Charley,” said his mother. “That snow fell in tiny bits, flake by
flake, but you see what a great pile it has made.”
“Yes, mother, I see,” said Charley. “If I throw it away little by little, it will soon
be gone.”
So he worked on.
When his father came home to dinner, he was pleased to see the fine path. The
next day he gave little Charley a fine blue sled, and on it was painted in yellow
letters, “Little by Little.”

“safety first”

To Mother:
This is the kind of stories that the kindergartners call “cumulative,” or
“repetitive.” They keep repeating and then adding to themselves until they are
quite long. The repetition helps the children memorize them, and adding to them
holds the children’s attention and interest.
You will find these very useful to read and teach to the little ones.
The
Editors.

THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT
This is the house that Jack built.
This is the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cow with crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cock that crowed in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the farmer sowing his corn,
That kept the cock that crowed in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.

I
This is Giant
Thunder Bones.
II
This is the Dwarf with
anxious looks
Who guarded the castle and
kept the books
For Giant Thunder Bones.

III
This is the Gnome with beard so gray
Who digged for gems all night and
day
To please the Dwarf with anxious
looks
Who guarded the castle and kept
the books
For Giant Thunder Bones.

IV V

HIS is the
Prince so
brave and
is the Princess of Wandeltreg so

st e cess o Wa de t eg so
Who, while playing a game of Mumblepeg, grand
Was caught by the Gnome with beard so gray Who sailed
Who digged for gems all night and day over sea and
rode
over land

To please the Dwarf with anxious looks
Who guarded the castle and kept the books
For Giant Thunder Bones.

Till he found the
Princess of Wandeltreg
Who, while playing a
game of Mumblepeg,
Was caught by the
Gnome with beard so

gray
Who digged for gems
all night and day
To please the Dwarf
with anxious looks
Who guarded the castle
and kept the books
For Giant Thunder
VI Bones.

is the Goblin
with fingers so
frail
Who hopped with
ease
over mountain and
dale
As he chased the Prince so brave and
so grand
Who sailed over sea and rode over
land
Till he found the Princess of
Wandeltreg
Who, while playing a game of Mumblepeg,
Was caught by the Gnome with beard so gray
Who digged for gems all night and day
To please the Dwarf with anxious looks
Who guarded the castle and kept the books
For Giant Thunder Bones.

VII
is the Witch with
Broomstick and Cat
Who sputtered and snarled
and
shook her tall hat
When she missed the Goblin with
fingers so frail
Who hopped with ease over
mountain and dale
As he chased the Prince so brave
and so grand
Who sailed over sea and rode over
land
Till he found the Princess of
Wandeltreg
Who, while playing a game of Mumblepeg,
Was caught by the Gnome with beard so gray
Who digged for gems all night and day
To please the Dwarf with anxious looks
Who guarded the castle and kept the books
For Giant Thunder Bones.

VIII
last comes the Kobold who slept while ’twas light
And did all the housework in the dead of the night
To worry the Witch with Broomstick and Cat
Who sputtered and snarled and shook her tall hat
When she missed the Goblin with fingers so frail
Who hopped with ease over mountain and dale

As he chased the Prince so brave and so grand
Who sailed over sea and rode over land
Till he found the Princess of Wandeltreg
Who, while playing a game of Mumblepeg,
Was caught by the Gnome with beard so gray
Who digged for gems all night and day
To please the Dwarf with anxious looks
Who guarded the castle and kept the books
For Giant Thunder Bones.
Stella Doughty.

THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT
BY CAROLYN WELLS

This is the House that Jill built.

This is the Doll that lived in the House that Jill
built.

This is the Cake that
fed the Doll that lived in the House that Jill built.

This is the Oven that baked the
Cake that fed the Doll that
lived in the House that Jill
built.

This is the Wood that heated the
Oven that baked the Cake that
fed the Doll that lived in the
House that Jill built.

This is the Tree of a dusky shade that gave
the Wood that heated the Oven that baked
the Cake that fed the Doll that lived in the
House that Jill built.

This is the Ax with a shining blade that
chopped the Tree of a dusky shade that gave
the Wood that heated the Oven that baked the
Cake that fed the Doll that lived in the House
that Jill built.

This is the Woodman sober and staid who
slung the Ax with a shining blade that
chopped the Tree of a dusky shade that
gave the Wood that heated the Oven that
baked the Cake that fed the Doll that
lived in the House that Jill built.

This is the Horse
that pranced and

neighed when he
saw the Woodman
sober and staid
who slung the Ax
with a shining
blade that
chopped the Tree
of a dusky shade
that gave the This is the
Wood that heated Knight
the Oven that with the
baked the Cake red
that fed the Doll cockade
that lived in the who rode
House that Jill on the
built. Horse that
pranced
and
neighed
when he
saw the
Woodman
sober and
staid who
slung the
Ax with a
shining
blade that
chopped
the Tree of
a dusky
shade that
gave the
Wood that
heated the
Oven that
baked the
Cake that
fed the
Doll that
lived in the

House that
Jill built.

This is the Lady in gay brocade who followed the Knight with the red cockade
who rode on the Horse that pranced and neighed when he saw the Woodman
sober and staid who slung the Ax with a shining blade that chopped the Tree of a
dusky shade that gave the Wood that heated the Oven that baked the Cake that
fed the Doll that lived in the House that Jill built.

This is the Glittering Cavalcade that rode after the Lady in gay brocade who
followed the Knight with the red cockade who rode on the Horse that pranced
and neighed when he saw the Woodman sober and staid who slung the ax with a
shining blade that chopped the Tree of a dusky shade that gave the Wood that

heated the Oven that baked the Cake that fed the Doll that lived in the House that
Jill built.

This is the Donkey who loudly brayed at sight
of the Glittering Cavalcade that rode after the
Lady in gay brocade who followed the Knight
with the red cockade who rode on the Horse
that pranced and neighed when he saw the
Woodman sober and staid who slung the Ax
with a shining blade that chopped the Tree of a
dusky shade that gave the Wood that heated the
Oven that baked the Cake that fed the Doll that
lived in the House that Jill built.

This is the King who was much dismayed to hear the
Donkey who loudly brayed at sight of the Glittering
Cavalcade that rode after the Lady in gay brocade
who followed the Knight with the red cockade who
rode on the Horse that pranced and neighed when he
saw the Woodman sober and staid who slung the Ax
with a shining blade that chopped the Tree of a dusky
shade that gave the Wood that heated the Oven that
baked the Cake that fed the Doll that lived in the
House that Jill built.

THE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG[H]
An old woman was sweeping her house, and she found a little crooked sixpence.
“What,” said she, “shall I do with this little sixpence? I will go to market, and
buy a little pig.”
As she was coming home, she came to a stile, but the piggy wouldn’t go over the
stile.
She went a little further, and she met a dog. So she said to him: “Dog! dog! bite
pig, piggy won’t go over the stile; and I shan’t get home to-night.” But the dog
wouldn’t.
She went a little further, and she met a stick. So she said: “Stick! stick! beat dog!
dog won’t bite pig; piggy won’t get over the stile; and I shan’t get home to-
night.” But the stick wouldn’t.
She went a little further, and she met a fire. So she said: “Fire! fire! burn stick,
stick won’t beat dog; dog won’t bite pig; piggy won’t get over the stile; and I
shan’t get home to-night.” But the fire wouldn’t.
She went a little further, and she met some water. So she said: “Water! water!
quench fire; fire won’t burn stick; stick won’t beat dog; dog won’t bite pig;
piggy won’t get over the stile, and I shan’t get home to-night.” But the water
wouldn’t.
She went a little further, and she met an ox. So she said: “Ox! ox! drink water;
water won’t quench fire; fire won’t burn stick; stick won’t beat dog; dog won’t
bite pig; piggy won’t get over the stile; and I shan’t get home to-night.” But the
ox wouldn’t.
So she went a little further, and she met a butcher. So she said: “Butcher!
butcher! kill ox; ox won’t drink water; water won’t quench fire; fire won’t burn
stick, stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig; piggy won’t get over the stile;
and I shan’t get home to-night.” But the butcher wouldn’t.
She went a little further, and she met a rope. So she said: “Rope! rope! hang
butcher; butcher won’t kill ox; ox won’t drink water; water won’t quench fire;
fire won’t burn stick; stick won’t beat dog; dog won’t bite pig; piggy won’t get
over the stile, and I shan’t get home to-night!” But the rope wouldn’t.

She went a little further, and she met a rat. So she said: “Rat! rat! gnaw rope;
rope won’t hang butcher; butcher won’t kill ox; ox won’t drink water; water
won’t quench fire; fire won’t burn stick; stick won’t beat dog; dog won’t bite
pig; piggy won’t get over the stile; and I shan’t get home to-night.” But the rat
wouldn’t.
She went a little further, and she met a cat. So she said: “Cat! cat! kill rat; rat
won’t gnaw rope; rope won’t hang butcher; butcher won’t kill ox; ox won’t drink
water; water won’t quench fire; fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog; dog
won’t bite pig; piggy won’t get over the stile; and I shan’t get home to-night.”
But the cat said to her: “If you will go to yonder cow, and fetch me a saucer of
milk, I will kill the rat.” So away went the old woman to the cow.
But the cow said to her: “If you will go to yonder hay-stack, and fetch me a
handful of hay, I’ll give you the milk.” So away went the old woman to the hay-
stack; and she brought the hay to the cow.
As soon as the cow had eaten the hay she gave the old woman the milk; and
away she went with it in a saucer to the cat.
As soon as the cat had lapped up the milk, the cat began to kill the rat; the rat
began to gnaw the rope; the rope began to hang the butcher; the butcher began to
kill the ox; the ox began to drink the water; the water began to quench the fire;
the fire began to burn the stick; the stick began to beat the dog; the dog began to
bite the pig, the little pig in a fright jumped over the stile; and so the old woman
got home that night.
[H] From “English Fairy Tales,” collected by Joseph Jacobs;
used by permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam’s Sons.

THE LAMBIKIN[I]
Once upon a time there was a wee, wee Lambikin, who frolicked about on his
little tottery legs, and enjoyed himself amazingly. Now one day he set off to visit
his Granny, and was jumping with joy to think of all the good things he should
get from her, when whom should he meet but a Jackal, who looked at the tender
young morsel and said: “Lambikin! Lambikin! I’LL eat YOU!”
But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said:
“To Granny’s house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so.”
The Jackal thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.
By and by he met a Vulture, and the Vulture, looking hungrily at the tender
morsel before him, said: “Lambikin! Lambikin! I’LL eat YOU!”
But the Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said:
“To Granny’s house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so.”
The Vulture thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.
And by and by he met a Tiger, and then a Wolf, and a Dog, and an Eagle; and all
these, when they saw the tender little morsel, said: “Lambikin! Lambikin! I’LL
eat YOU!”

But to all of them Lambikin replied, with a little frisk:
“To Granny’s house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so.”
At last he reached his Granny’s house, and said, all in a great hurry, “Granny
dear, I’ve promised to get very fat, so, as people ought to keep their promises,
please put me into the corn-bin at once.”
So his Granny said he was a good boy, and put him into the corn-bin, and there
the greedy little Lambikin stayed for seven days, and ate, and ate, and ate, until

he could scarcely waddle, and his Granny said he was fat enough for anything,
and must go home. But cunning little Lambikin said that would never do, for
some animal would be sure to eat him on the way back, he was so plump and
tender.
“I’ll tell you what you must do,” said Master Lambikin; “you must make a little
drumikin out of the skin of my little brother who died, and then I can sit inside
and trundle along nicely, for I’m as tight as a drum myself.”
So his Granny made a nice little drumikin out of his brother’s skin, with the
wool inside, and Lambikin curled himself up snug and warm in the middle, and
trundled away gayly. Soon he met with the Eagle, who called out:
“Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?”
And Mr. Lambikin, curled up in his soft, warm nest, replied:
“Fallen into the fire, and so will you,
On little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too!”
“How very annoying!” sighed the Eagle, thinking regretfully of the tender
morsel he had let slip.
Meanwhile Lambikin trundled along, laughing to himself, and singing.
“Tum-pa, tum-too;
Tum-pa, tum-too!”
Every animal and bird he met asked him the same question:
“Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?”
And to each of them the little slyboots replied:
“Fallen into the fire, and so will you,
On little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too;
Tum-pa, tum-too; Tum-pa, tum-too!”
Then they all sighed to think of the tender little morsel they had let slip.
At last the Jackal came limping along, for all his sorry looks as sharp as a needle,
and he, too, called out:
“Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?”

And Lambikin, curled up in his snug little nest, replied gayly:
“Fallen into the fire, and so will you,
On little Drumikin! Tum-pa——”
But he never got any farther, for the Jackal recognized his voice at once, and
cried “Hullo! you’ve turned yourself inside out, have you? Just you come out of
that!”
Whereupon he tore open Drumikin and gobbled up Lambikin.
[I] From “Indian Fairy Tales,” edited by Joseph Jacobs; used by
permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam’s Sons.

THE CAT AND THE MOUSE[J]
The cat and the mouse
Played in the malt-house:
The cat bit the mouse’s tail off. “Pray, puss, give me my tail.” “No,” says the cat,
“I’ll not give you your tail, till you go to the cow, and fetch me some milk.”
First she leaped, and then she ran,
Till she came to the cow, and thus began:
“Pray, Cow, give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my
own tail again.” “No,” said the cow, “I will give you no milk, till you go to the
farmer, and get me some hay.”
First she leaped, and then she ran,
Till she came to the farmer, and thus began:
“Pray, Farmer, give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me
milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again.” “No,”
said the farmer, “I’ll give you no hay, till you go to the butcher and fetch me
some meat.”
First she leaped, and then she ran,
Till she came to the butcher, and thus began:
“Pray, Butcher, give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmer may give
me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may give cat
milk, that cat may give me my own tail again.” “No,” says the butcher, “I’ll give
you no meat, till you go to the baker and fetch me some bread.”
First she leaped, and then she ran,
Till she came to the baker, and thus began:
“Pray, Baker, give me bread, that I may give butcher bread, that butcher may
give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmer may give me hay, that I
may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat
may give me my own tail again.”
“Yes,” says the baker, “I’ll give you some bread,
But if you eat my meal, I’ll cut off your head.”

Then the baker gave mouse bread, and mouse gave butcher bread, and butcher
gave mouse meat, and mouse gave farmer meat, and farmer gave mouse hay, and
mouse gave cow hay, and cow gave mouse milk, and mouse gave cat milk, and
cat gave mouse her own tail again.
[J] From “English Fairy Tales,” collected by Joseph Jacobs; used
by permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam’s Sons.

HENNY-PENNY[K]
One day Henny-penny was picking up corn in the cornyard when—whack!—
something hit her upon the head. “Goodness gracious me!” says Henny-penny;
“the sky’s a-going to fall; I must go and tell the king.”
So she went along, and she went along, and she went along till she met Cocky-
locky. “Where are you going, Henny-penny?” says Cocky-locky. “Oh! I’m going
to tell the king the sky’s a-falling,” says Henny-penny. “May I come with you?”
says Cocky-locky. “Certainly,” says Henny-penny. So Henny-penny and Cocky-
locky went to tell the king the sky was falling.
They went along, and they went along, and they went along till they met Ducky-
daddles. “Where are you going to, Henny-penny and Cocky-locky?” says
Ducky-daddles. “Oh! we’re going to tell the king the sky’s a-falling,” says
Henny-penny and Cocky-locky. “May I come with you?” says Ducky-daddles.
“Certainly,” says Henny-penny and Cocky-locky. So Henny-penny, Cocky-
locky, and Ducky-daddles went to tell the king the sky was a-falling.
So they went along, and they went along, and they went along till they met
Goosey-poosey. “Where are you going to, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, and
Ducky-daddles?” says Goosey-poosey. “Oh! we’re going to tell the king the
sky’s a-falling,” says Henny-penny, and Cocky-locky and Ducky-daddles. “May
I come with you?” says Goosey-poosey. “Certainly,” says Henny-penny, Cocky-
locky, and Ducky-daddles. So Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and
Goosey-poosey went to tell the king the sky was a-falling.
So they went along, and they went along, and they went along till they met
Turkey-lurkey. “Where are you going, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-
daddles, and Goosey-poosey?” says Turkey-lurkey. “Oh! we’re going to tell the
king the sky’s a-falling,” says Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and
Goosey-poosey. “May I come with you, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-
daddles, and Goosey-poosey?” says Turkey-lurkey. “Oh, certainly, Turkey-
lurkey,” says Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddies, and Goosey-poosey.
So Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddies, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-
lurkey all went to tell the king the sky was a-falling.
So they went along, and they went along, and they went along till they met
Foxy-woxy, and Foxy-woxy says to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,
Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey: “Where are you going, Henny-penny,

Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey?” And Henny-
penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-Poosey, and Turkey-lurkey says to
Foxy-woxy: “We’re going to tell the king the sky’s a-falling.” “Oh! but this is
not the way to the king, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-
poosey, and Turkey-lurkey,” says Foxy-woxy; “I know the proper way; shall I
show it you?” “Oh, certainly, Foxy-woxy,” says Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,
Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey. So Henny-penny, Cocky-
locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, Turkey-lurkey, and Foxy-woxy all went
to tell the king the sky was a-falling.
So they went along, and they went along, and they went along till they came to a
narrow and dark hole. Now this was the door of Foxy-woxy’s cave. But Foxy-
woxy says to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddies, Goosey-poosey, and
Turkey-lurkey: “This is the short way to the king’s palace; you’ll soon get there
if you follow me. I will go first and you come after, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,
Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey,” “Why, of course, certainly,
without doubt, why not?” says Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,
Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey.
So Foxy-woxy went into his cave, and he didn’t go very far, but turned round to
wait for Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and
Turkey-lurkey. So at last Turkey-lurkey went through the dark hole into the cave.
He hadn’t got far when “Hrumph!” Foxy-woxy snapped off Turkey-lurkey’s
head and threw his body over his left shoulder. Then Goosey-poosey went in,
and “Hrumph!” off went her head and Goosey-poosey was thrown beside
Turkey-lurkey. Then Ducky-daddles waddled down, and “Hrumph!” snapped
Foxy-woxy, and Ducky-daddles’s head was off, and Ducky-daddles was thrown
alongside Turkey-lurkey and Goosey-poosey. Then Cocky-locky strutted down
into the cave, and he hadn’t gone far when “Snap, Hrumph!” went Foxy-woxy,
and Cocky-locky was thrown alongside of Turkey-lurkey, Goosey-poosey, and
Ducky-daddles.

“this is the short way”
But Foxy-woxy had made two bites at Cocky-locky, and when the first snap only
hurt Cocky-locky, but didn’t kill him, he called out to Henny-penny. But she
turned tail and off she ran home, so she never told the king the sky was a-falling.
[K] From “English Fairy Tales,” collected by Joseph Jacobs;
used by permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam’s Sons.

THREE GOATS IN THE RYEFIELD
ADAPTED BY CECILIA FARWELL
Once upon a time there was a little boy whose task it was to drive the goats to
and from the hills. One morning, as they went along the road, the first goat saw a
hole in the fence which shut off a field of rye.
“Oh,” said the first goat, “here is a chance to get into that field. I do not think
that we want to eat rye—there is plenty of grass on the hill. But we can go in and
see what it is like, just the same.”
With that he turned aside from the road and went through the hole into the
ryefield, and the others followed after him.
“Here,” cried the boy, “come out of that!”
But the goats did not come out, so the boy climbed over the fence and started
after them to chase them out. But the goats just ran round and round in the field,
until at last the little boy was so tired that he sat down by the fence and cried.
By-and-by a dog came down the road. “Why, little boy,” he said, “what are you
crying for?”
“I am crying because the goats will not come out of the ryefield. I was driving
them along the road to the hills and they went through the fence, and I have
chased them and chased them, and they will not come out.”
“Well,” said the dog, “that is nothing to cry about. Just you wait here and I will
go into the field and chase them out for you.”
So the dog ran through the hole and started after the goats, barking loudly. When
the goats saw him coming they started to run, and ran round and round in the
field until at last the dog was so tired that he sat down by the fence and cried.
By-and-by a fox came trotting down the road. “Why, dog,” he said, “what are
you crying for?”
“I am crying because little boy is crying,” said the dog.
“And what are you crying for, little boy?” asked the fox.

“I am crying because the goats will not come out of the ryefield. I was driving
them along the road to the hills and they went through the fence, and I have
chased them and chased them and they will not come out.”
“Well,” said the fox, “that is nothing to cry about. Just you wait here and I will
go into the field and chase them out for you.”
So the fox ran through the hole and started after the goats, barking shrilly. And
when they saw him coming they started to run, and ran round and round in the
field until at last the fox was so tired that he sat down by the fence and cried.
By-and-by a bee came flying lightly overhead.
“Why, fox,” he said, “why are you crying?”
“I am crying because dog is crying,” said the fox.
“And why are you crying, dog?” asked the bee.
“I am crying because little boy is crying,” said the dog.
“And why are you crying, little boy?” asked the bee.
“I am crying because the goats will not come out of the ryefield. I was driving
them along the road to the hills, and they went through the fence, and I have
chased them and chased them and they will not come out!”
“Oh,” said the bee, “that is nothing to cry about. Just you wait here and I will go
into the field and chase them out for you.”
So he flew over the fence and flew straight to the first goat and began to buzz in
his ear. The first goat lifted up his head and said: “Ho! What is this?” and he
looked all around him, but could see nothing from which to run.
“Buzz, buzz, buzz!” said the bee, and he lighted on the ear of the goat.
“Now here is someone that means business,” said the goat, and he shook his
head to shake off the bee, but the bee only clung the tighter.
“Buzz, buzz, buzz!” he said. Then he stung the first goat in the ear. “Now,” said
the first goat, “this is a serious matter. Ouch!” he added, as the bee stung him
again. “Come on, you,” he called to the others, “it is time to get out of here!”
With that he led them straight to the hole in the fence, and they ran through it, all
three of them, and out into the road where the little boy sat with the dog and the
fox.

“Oh,” said the dog, “the bee can do something that I cannot, even if he is so
small.”
“Yes,” said the fox, “the bee didn’t make much noise, but the noise that he did
make counted more than all of our barking.”

little bunnie brown is at the head of his class

TEENY TINY[L]
There was once upon a time a teeny-tiny woman who lived in a teeny-tiny house
in a teeny-tiny village. Now, one day this teeny-tiny woman put on her teeny-
tiny bonnet and went out of her teeny-tiny house to take a teeny-tiny walk. And
when this teeny-tiny woman had gone a teeny-tiny way, she came to a teeny-tiny
gate; so the teeny-tiny woman opened the teeny-tiny gate, and went into a teeny-
tiny meadow. And when this teeny-tiny woman had got into the teeny-tiny
meadow, she saw a teeny-tiny bone on a teeny-tiny stone, and the teeny-tiny
woman said to her teeny-tiny self: “This teeny-tiny bone will make me some
teeny-tiny soup for my teeny-tiny supper.” So the teeny-tiny woman put the
teeny-tiny bone into her teeny-tiny pocket, and went home to her teeny-tiny
house.
Now, when the teeny-tiny woman got home to her teeny-tiny house, she was a
teeny-tiny bit tired; so she went up her teeny-tiny stairs to her teeny-tiny bed,
and put the teeny-tiny bone into a teeny-tiny cupboard. And when this teeny-tiny
woman had been to sleep a teeny-tiny time, she was awakened by a teeny-tiny
voice from the teeny-tiny cupboard, which said:
“give me my bone!”
And this teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny bit frightened, so she hid her teeny-
tiny head under the teeny-tiny clothes, and went to sleep again. And when she
had been asleep again a teeny-tiny time, the teeny-tiny voice again cried out
from the teeny-tiny cupboard a teeny-tiny louder:
“Give Me My Bone!”
This made the teeny-tiny woman a teeny-tiny more frightened, so she hid her
teeny-tiny head a teeny-tiny further under the teeny-tiny clothes. And when the
teeny-tiny woman had been asleep again a teeny-tiny time, the teeny-tiny voice
from the teeny-tiny cupboard said again a teeny-tiny louder:
“GIVE ME MY BONE!”
At this the teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny bit more frightened; but she put
her teeny-tiny head out of the teeny-tiny clothes, and said in her loudest teeny-
tiny voice:
“ T A K E I T ! ”

[L] From “English Fairy Tales,” collected by Joseph Jacobs;
used by permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam’s Sons.

SONG OF THE PEAR TREE
Out in the green, green orchard
Standeth a fine pear tree;
The fine pear tree has leaves, too.
What on the tree may be?
Why, there’s a beautiful branch,
Branch on the tree,
Tree in the ground.
Out in the green, green orchard
Standeth a fine pear tree,
The fine pear tree has leaves, too,
And what on its branch may be?
A beautiful twig.
Twig on the branch,
Branch on the tree,
Tree in the ground.
Out in the green, green orchard
Standeth a fine pear tree,
The fine pear tree has leaves, too.
Now what on the twig may be?
A beautiful nest.
Nest on the twig,
Twig on the branch,
Branch on the tree,
Tree in the ground.
Out in the green, green orchard
Standeth a fine pear tree;
The fine pear tree has leaves, too.
Now, what in the nest may be?
A beautiful egg.
Egg in the nest,
Nest on the twig,
Twig on the branch,
Branch on the tree,
Tree in the ground.

Out in the green, green orchard
Standeth a fine pear tree,
The fine pear tree has leaves, too.
Now, what from the egg shall we see?
A beautiful bird.
Bird from the egg,
Egg in the nest,
Nest on the twig,
Twig on the branch,
Branch on the tree,
Tree in the ground.
Out in the green, green orchard
Standeth a fine pear tree;
The fine pear tree has leaves, too.
Now, what on the bird may be?
A beautiful feather.
Feather on the bird,
Bird from the egg,
Egg in the nest,
Nest on the twig,
Twig on the branch,
Branch on the tree,
Tree in the ground.
Out in the green, green meadow
Standeth a fine pear tree;
The fine pear tree hath leaves, too.
Now, what from the feather will be?
A beautiful bed.
Bed from the feather,
Feather from the bird,
Bird from the egg,
Egg in the nest,
Nest on the twig,
Twig on the branch,
Branch on the tree,
Tree in the ground.
Out in the green, green meadow
Standeth a fine pear tree;
The fine pear tree hath leaves, too.
Now, what in that bed may be?

A beautiful child.
Child in the bed,
Bed from the feather,
Feather from the bird,
Bird from the egg,
Egg from the nest,
Nest on the twig,
Twig on the branch,
Branch on the tree,
Tree in the ground.
Out in the green, green meadow
Standeth a fine pear tree,
The fine pear tree hath leaves, too,
And on it these things all be.

COCK-ALU AND HEN-ALIE
BY MARY HOWITT
In this tale is shown to you
How large the boast of Cock-alu;
But, when he comes to act, you’ll see
Small hope indeed for Hen-alie;
And thus you clearly will perceive
That who has great things to achieve
Must not stand talking but must do,
Else he will fail like Cock-alu.
For he who would perform the most
Will utter no vainglorious boast;
But still press onward, staunch and true,
With but the honest end in view.
Cock-alu and Hen-alie sat on the perch above the bean-straw. It was four o’clock
in the morning, and Cock-alu clapped his wings and crowed; then, turning to
Hen-alie, he said: “Hen-alie, my little wife, I love you better than all the world,
you know I do. I always told you so! I will do anything for you; I’ll go round the
world for you, I’ll travel as far as the sun for you! You know I would! Tell me,
what shall I do for you?”
“Crow!” said Hen-alie.
“Oh, that is such a little thing!” said Cock-alu, and crowed with all his might. He
crowed so loud that he woke the farmer’s wife, and the dog and the cat, and all
the pigeons and horses in the stable, and the cow in the stall. He crowed so loud
that all the neighbors’ cocks heard him and answered him, and they woke all
their people; and thus Cock-alu woke the whole parish.
“I’ve done it rarely this morning!” said Cock-alu; “I told you I would do
anything to please you!”
The next morning, at breakfast, as Hen-alie was picking beans out of the bean-
straw, one stuck in her throat; and she was soon so ill that she was just ready to
die.
“Oh, Cock-alu,” said she, calling to him in the yard, where he stood clapping his
wings in the sunshine, “run and fetch me a drop of water from the silver-spring

in the Beech-wood! Fetch me a drop quickly, while the dew is in it; for that is the
true remedy.”
But Cock-alu was so busy crowing against a neighbor that he took no notice.
“Oh, Cock-alu, do run and fetch me the water from the silver-spring, or I shall
die; for the bean sticks in my throat, and nothing but water with dew in it can
cure me! Oh, Cock-alu, dear, run quickly!”
Cock-alu heard her this time, and set off, crowing as he went. He had not gone
far before he met the snail.
“Where are you going, snails?” says he.
“I’m going to the cow-cabbage,” says the snail; “and what urgent business may
it be that takes you out thus early, Cock-alu?” says the snail.
“I’m going to the silver-spring in the Beech-wood, to fetch a drop of water for
my wife, Hen-alie, who has got a bean in her throat,” says Cock-alu.
“Oh,” says the snail, “run along quickly, and get the water while the dew is in it;
for nothing else will get a bean out of the throat. Don’t stop by the way, for the
bull is coming down to the silver-spring to drink, and he’ll trouble the water.
Gather up my silver-trail, however, and give it to Hen-alie with my love, and I
hope she’ll soon be better!”
Cock-alu hastily gathered up the silver-trail which the snail left. “This will make
Hen-alie a pair of stockings!” said he, and went on his way.
He had not gone far before he met the wood-pigeon. “Good morning, pigeon,”
says he; “and which way are you going?”
“I am going to the pea-field,” says the pigeon, “to get peas for my young ones;
and what may your business be this morning, Cock-alu!”
“I’m going to the silver-spring in the Beech-wood, to fetch a drop of water for
my wife, Hen-alie, who has got a bean in her throat.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” says the pigeon; “but don’t let me detain you, for water
with the dew in it is the best thing to get a bean out of the throat; and let me
advise you to make haste, for the bloodhound is going to lap at the spring, and
he’ll trouble the water. So run along, and here, take with you my blue velvet
neck-ribbon, and give it to Hen-alie with my love, and I hope she’ll soon be
better.”

“Oh, what a nice pair of garters this will make for Hen-alie!” exclaimed Cock-
alu, and went on his way.
He had not gone far before he met the wild-cat. “Good morning, friend,” says
Cock-alu, “and where may you be going this morning?”
“I’m going to get a young wood-pigeon for my breakfast, while the mother is
gone to the pea-field,” says the wild-cat; “and where may you be traveling to this
morning, Cock-alu?”
“I’m going to the silver-spring in the Beech-wood,” replied Cock-alu, “to get a
drop of water for my little wife Hen-alie, who has got a bean in her throat.”
“That’s a bad business,” says the wild-cat, “but a drop of water with the dew in it
is the right remedy; so don’t let me keep you; and you had better make haste, for
the woodman is on his way to fell a tree by the spring, and if a branch falls into
it, the water will be troubled; so off with you! But carry with you a flash of green
fire from my right eye, and give it to Hen-alie with my love, and I hope she’ll
soon be better.”
“Oh, what a beautiful green light, like the green on my best tail-feathers! I’ll
keep it for myself; it’s fitter for me than for Hen-alie!” said Cock-alu.
So he hung the green light on his tail-feathers, which made them very handsome,
and he went on his way.
He had not gone far before he met with the sheep-dog. “Good morning, sheep-
dog,” says Cock-alu; “where are you going?”
“I’m going to hunt up a stray lamb for my master,” says the sheep-dog, “and
what brings you abroad?”
“I’m going to the silver-spring in the Beech-wood, to get a drop of water for my
little wife Hen-alie, who has got a bean in her throat,” says Cock-alu.
“Then why do you stop talking to me?” says the sheep-dog, in his short way;
“your wife’s bad enough, I’ll warrant me; and a drop of water with the dew in it
is the thing to do her good. Be off with you! The farmer is coming to lay the
spring dry this morning. I left him sharpening his mattock when I set out. You’ll
be too late, if you don’t mind!” and with that the sheep-dog went his way.
“An unmannerly fellow,” says Cock-alu, and stood looking after him; “I’ll not
go at his bidding, not I!” So he clapped his wings and crowed in the wood, just
to show that he set light by his advice. “And never to give me anything for poor
Hen-alie, that lies sick at home with a bean in her throat! The ill-natured churl!”

cried Cock-alu to himself, and then he stood and crowed again with all his
might.
After that he marched on, and before long reached the Beech-wood, but as the
silver-spring lay yet a good way off, he had not gone far in the wood before he
met the squirrel.
“Good morning, squirrel,” says he; “what brings you abroad so early?”
“Early do you call it, Cock-alu?” says the squirrel; “why, I’ve been up these four
hours; I just stopped to give the young ones their breakfasts, and then set off to
silver-spring for a drop of water while the dew was in it; I’ve got it here in a
cherry-leaf. And pray you, what business may take you abroad, Cock-alu?”
“The same as yours,” replied Cock-alu; “I’m going for water, too, for my wife
Hen-alie, who has got a bean in her throat.”
“Ah, well-a-day!” says the squirrel, “that’s a bad thing! But run along with you;
for the old sow is coming down with her nine little pigs, and if they trouble the
water it will be all too late for poor little Hen-alie!”
And with that the squirrel leaped up into the oak-tree above where Cock-alu
stood, for that was her way home, and left him without further ceremony.
“Humph!” said Cock-alu; “she might have given me some of the water out of her
cherry-leaf for my poor little Hen-alie!” And so saying, he walked on through
the Beech-wood, and as he met no more creatures he soon reached the silver-
spring.
But it was now noon-day, and there was not a drop of dew in the water, and the
bull had been down and drunk, and the bloodhound had lapped, and the old sow
and her nine little pigs had wallowed in it, so the water was troubled, and besides
that the woodman had felled the tree which now lay across the spring, and the
farmer was digging the new watercourse, so the spring was getting lower every
minute. Cock-alu had come quite too late; there was not a drop left for poor little
Hen-alie.
When Cock-alu saw this he was very much disconcerted; he did not know what
to do, he stood a little while considering, and then he set off as hard as he could
go to the squirrel’s house to beg a drop of water from her. But the squirrel lived a
long way off in the wood, and thus it was a considerable time before he got
there.
When he reached the squirrel’s house, however, nobody was at home. He
knocked and knocked for a long time, and at last he walked in, but they were all

gone out; he peeped therefore into the pantry to see if he could find the water;
there was plenty of hazel-nuts and beech-nuts, heaps and heaps of them all laid
up in store for winter, but no water; at length he saw the curled-up cherry-leaf,
like a water-jug, standing at the squirrel’s bed-side, but it was empty; there was
not a single drop in it.
“This is bad business!” said Cock-alu to himself, and turned to leave the house.
At the squirrel’s door he met a woodpecker.
“Woodpecker,” says he, “where is the squirrel gone to? I want to beg a drop of
water from the silver-spring for my wife Hen-alie, who has got a bean in her
throat!”
“Lack-a-day!” said the woodpecker, “the old squirrel drank every drop, and
drained the jug into the bargain; he lay sick in bed this morning, but there was
such virtue in the water that he got well as soon as he drank it; and now he has
taken his wife and the little ones out for an airing; they will not be back till night,
I know. But if you will leave any message with me I will be sure and deliver it,
for the squirrel and I are very neighborly.”
“Oh!” groaned Cock-alu; “but what would be the use of leaving a message if
they have no water to give me!”
With that he came down from the old pine tree where the squirrel lived, set out
on his way home again, and came at length out of the Beech-wood, but it was
then getting toward evening.
He came to his own yard. There was the perch on which he and Hen-alie had so
often sat, and there was the bean-straw, and there lay poor Hen-alie just as he
had left her.
“Hen-alie, my little wife,” said he, crowing loudly as he came up, that he might
put a cheerful face on the matter, “I have been very unlucky; I could not get you
any water, but I have got something so nice for you! I have brought you a pair of
silver-gauze stockings which the snail has sent you, and a pair of blue velvet
garters to wear with them, which the ring-tail dove gave me!”
“Thank you,” said poor little Hen-alie, in a very weak voice, “but I wish you
could have brought me some water, these things will do me no good!”
“I could not bring you water, for the silver-spring is dry,” said Cock-alu, feeling
very unhappy, and yet wishing to excuse himself; “there’s not a drop of water
left in it!”
“Then it’s all over with me!” sighed poor little Hen-alie.

“Don’t be down-hearted, my little wife,” said Cock-alu, trying to seem cheerful,
“I will give you something better than all, I will give you the green-fire flash
from the wild-cat’s eye, which he gave me to wear on my tail-feathers. Look up,
my poor little Hen-alie, and I’ll give it all to you!”
“Alas!” sighed poor little Hen-alie, “what good will they do me! Oh, that
somebody only loved me well enough to have brought me one drop of silver-
spring water!”
All this while something very nice was happening, which I must tell you.
There was in the poultry-yard a shabby little drab-colored hen, very small and
very much despised; Cock-alu would not look at her, nor Hen-alie either; she
had no tail-feathers at all, and long black legs which looked as if she had
borrowed them from a hen twice her size; she was, in short, the meanest, most
ill-conditioned hen in the yard.
All the time, however, that Cock-alu was out on his fruitless errand, she had
been comforting Hen-alie in the best way she could, and assuring her that Cock-
alu would soon be back again with the water from the silver-spring. But when he
came back without a single drop, and only offered the fine silk stockings and
blue velvet garters instead, she set off, without saying a word, as fast as her long
legs would carry her out of the wood and down to the silver-spring, which she
reached in a wonderfully short time.
Fortunately the silver-spring had flowed into its new channel as clearly as ever,
and the evening dew had dropped its virtues into it. The owls were shouting
“Kla-vit!” from one end of the wood to the other, The dark leathern-winged bats
and the dusky white and buff-colored moths were flitting about the broad
shadows of the trees, but the little hen took no notice of any of them. On she
went, thinking of nothing but that which she had to do; and reaching the silver-
spring, she gathered up twelve drops of water, and, hurrying back again, came
into the yard just as poor Hen-alie was saying: “Oh, that somebody had loved me
well enough to fetch me only one drop of silver-spring water!”
“That I do!” said the shabby little hen, and dropped one drop after another into
her beak.
The first drop loosened the bean, the second softened it, and the third sent it
down her throat.
Hen-alie was well again; Cock-alu was ready to clap his wings and crow for joy;
and the little hen turned quietly away to her solitary perch.

“Nay,” said Hen-alie, “but you shall not go unrewarded; see, here is a pair of silk
stockings for you, and here is green fire which will make the most beautiful
feathers in the world grow all over your body! Take them all, you good little
thing, and to-morrow morning you will come out the handsomest hen in the
yard!”
So it was. There must have been magic in those silk stockings and that green
fire, for the shabby little thing was now transformed into a regular queen-hen.
The farmer’s wife thought she must have strayed away from some beautiful
foreign country, and gave her a famous breakfast to keep her. Cock-alu was very
attentive to her; and as to Hen-alie, she never ceased singing her praises as long
as she lived.

THERE IS THE KEY OF THE KINGDOM
There is the key of the Kingdom.
In that Kingdom there is a city;
In that city there is a town;
In that town there is a street;
In that street there is a lane;
In that lane there is a yard;
In that yard there is a house;
In that house there is a room;
In that room there is a bed;
On that bed there is a basket;
In that basket there are some flowers.
Flowers in the basket,
Basket on the bed,
Bed in the room,
Room in the house,
House in the yard,
Yard in the lane,
Lane in the street,
Street in the town,
Town in the city,
City in the Kingdom,
And this is the key of the Kingdom.

bunnie: “you see what it says on this sign? now stop your
barking and go right away or i’ll call a policeman!”

TOMMY AND HIS SISTER AND THEIR NEW
PONY-CART
BY DEWITT CLINTON FALLS

Tommy
took his
sister out
in their
new pony-
cart for a They
ride. met a
little
friend
very
soon,
and
asked
her to
ride,
too.

Then
Billie
came
along and
of course
they had to But they
invite him. had
forgotte
n how
fat
Billie
was, so
their
ride
ended
very
suddenl
y!

THE ADVENTURES OF THREE LITTLE
KITTENS

“hurrah!
we are
going to
see the “oh dear,
world!” this is
dreadful!
”

“yes, it is
sweet
milk; it’s
your turn but they
next.” made such
a noise
that—

jack came
out and so
frightened
them that they ran
— home as
fast as
they
could go.

THE LITTLE KITTENS’ SURPRISE

i. “now
kitties, lie
down and
go to ii. “what’s
sleep.” that
noise? see!
a mouse
tail!”

iii. they
make a
dash for
the door, begin to
and— pull.

now, “all
together!”
— but this is
what it
was.

an unwelcome guest

playmates
from photographs by harry w. frees

more playmates
from photographs by harry w. frees

Top: doggie:——“don’t you know that it’s dangerous to sit on the third
rail?”
chorus of bunnies:——“may be, but at present it doesn’t seem nearly so
dangerous as some places we know of.”

Bottom: father owl to mr. woodpecker:——“hey! who’s that knocking out
there? don’t you know better than to disturb our day’s rest? call again at a
reasonable hour.”

THE REUNION OF THE BRUIN FAMILY
AT THE SEA SHORE.

Top: “now, children, this is one of the greatest and most dangerous
temptations you will ever meet. i will show you how it works so that you may
remember and always avoid it.”

THE BABY MICE ARE INSTRUCTED BY THEIR FOND PAPA
Bottom: and it worked finely!

ROLY POLY ON VACATION
drawn by culmer barnes

Top: conductor: “all aboard for the jungle! step lively, please! both gates!”
Bottom: the three giraffe boys: “come on in, roly poly, we’re dying for a swim,
but the water isn’t deep enough.”

MOTHER GOOSE’S LAST TROLLEY RIDE

on a runaway car: “here, you, conductor. i want a
transfer and i want it NOW!”

mother goose: “lucky for you i fell in the water. i’ll
never trust myself on land again as long as i live.”

IVAN AND THE WOLF

From top:
- ivan sees the wolf
- and takes refuge in a hollow tree
- having fastened the basket with his staff.
- while two baby bears left in the tree impede his way,
- the mother bear comes home,
- and ivan escapes with the cubs.

HOMEWARD BOUND

mr. bunnie: “come, mr. moley, try the elevated road,
once.”
mr. moley: “no, thank you, i prefer the subway for
several reasons. i can see so much better for one
thing.”

the fretful porcupine: “huh! nobody ever gives me a
boost!”

THEIR LITTLE JAR

1. two bears on mischief bound 2. a big jar of honey
found.

3. before they made a better plan 4. both to eat at once
began.

5. whitey bumped on bruin’s crown; 6. bruin then pushed
whitey down.

7. this to rough and tumble led, 8. till they were heels
over head.

9. bruin thought he was in clover; 10. whitey came and
turned him over.

11. then did whitey roar with laughter, 12. not aware what’s
coming after—

13. the jar is broken on his head; 14. jar and honey both
are fled!

see the
15. sad and sorry,
comrades
very slow,
homeward go.

Little Eski and the Polar Bear
An Arctic Story in Four Chapters

THREE LITTLE BEARS

BY M. C. McNEILL

Three little bears came into the town.
“How do you do?” said everybody.
Their faces were smiling, with never a frown.
“How sweet!” said everybody.
The three little bears made three little bows.
“How very polite!” said everybody.
They bowed as boys bow in dancing-school.
“What airs and what grace!” said everybody.

One little bear had a little red coat.
“How smart!” said everybody.
One had a tippet all made of soft down.
“How cozy and warm!” said everybody.
And one was a fiddler of great renown.
“What charming music!” said everybody.
The three little bears began then to dance.
“How cute!” said everybody.
“What do you want, you little black bears
With manners so nice?” said everybody.
“I don’t like to be a fool, so I want to go to school,”
Said the red-coated bear to everybody.
Then Tommy Perkins, making a bow,
Right in front of everybody,

Took down his book and his slate as well,
And began to explain to everybody
Just what the little black bears should do
To read and to cipher like everybody.
“Sit up quite straight, and mind your stops;
Say, ‘A, B, C,’ for everybody.”
“A, B, C,” said the three little bears,
All in one voice, to everybody.
“A, B, C! What fiddle-dee-dee!”
Was whispered aloud by everybody.
“I want to count,” said one little bear.
“One! Two! Three! Four!” shouted everybody.
“We’re not at all deaf!” said the three little bears.
“Oh! I beg your pardon!” said everybody.

“We’d like to learn manners,” said the three little bears;
“And we’d like to learn from everybody,
But every one hasn’t fine manners,” they said.
“Some have very bad manners,” said everybody.
“What manners you have may be better than ours,”
Said the three little bears to everybody,
“For we live in the wood—which no manners requires.”
“Then how did you learn?” said everybody.
“For when you came in you were quite as polite
As Tommy Perkins,” said everybody.
“You bowed and you danced, while we all sat
entranced,
So sweet were the notes,” said everybody.
“You wanted to learn to say, ‘A, B, C,’
Like good little bears,” said everybody.
“And when we exclaimed, ‘Such fiddle-dee-dee!’
No notice you took,” said everybody.
“And when we all shouted out, ‘One! Two! Three!

Four!’
Instead of roaring,” said everybody,
“You gently reminded us all that in school
We must not be noisy,” said everybody.
“If you won’t teach us manners,
We’re going back home,”
Said the three little bears to everybody.
“For after the night falls it won’t do to roam;
So we’ll say our farewells to everybody.”
Then they stood up and bowed, and held out their paws,
And shook hands all round with everybody.
“We’ll dance all the way, for we know how to play,”
Said the three little bears to everybody.
“And with our best compliments we wish you good
day.”
“Good day and good luck!” said everybody.

THE SNOWMAN
BY W. W. ELLSWORTH
One day we built a snowman.
We made him out of snow;
You’d ought to see how fine he was—
All white from top to toe!
We poured some water on him,
And froze him, legs and ears;
And when we went indoors to bed
I said he’d last two years.
But in the night a warmer kind
Of wind began to blow,
And winter cried and ran away,
And with it ran the snow.
And in the morning when we went
To bid our friend good day,
There wasn’t any snowman there—
Everything’d runned away!

TINY HARE AND THE WIND BALL
a story for very little folk to read. no word in it has more than four letters

BY A. L. SYKES
“I want to do just as I like,” said Tiny Hare to his Mama one day, as he ran to the
door of his home.
“What do you want to do, my dear?” she said.
“I do not know, but I want to do just as I like,” said Tiny Hare.
“You may run out a wee bit of a way, and run
and jump and play in the sun,” said his
Mama.
“I do not want to run and jump and play. I
want to do just as I like,” said Tiny Hare.
“You may eat the good food that you can find
near our home,” said his Mama, “but if you
go far MAN may get you, or DOG may eat
you, or HAWK may fly away with you.”
“I do not want to eat the good food that I can
see here. I want to do just as I like.”
Papa Hare then said very low and deep,
“What do you want to do, my son?”
“soon MAN came by.”
“I do not know,” said Tiny Hare, “but I want
to do just as I like.”
Then said Papa Hare, “Do not wake me from my nap any more now, and when
the big moon is high in the sky, and it is just like day. I will take you far out in
the wood, and you may run and jump and play and eat, and be very safe, for
MAN will be in his home, and DOG in his, and HAWK in hers.”
“I do not want to go out in the wood, and run and jump and play when the moon
is high in the sky. I want to do just as I like.”
“Do not wake me,” said Papa Hare, and he shut his eyes and put his ears down.

“Come here,” said Mama Hare, “and I will tell you a tale of the cold time of the
year when snow is over bush and tree and our good food, and what came to the
hare who did just as his Mama told him not to. Step, step, step in the snow he
went till he came to the Red Fire, and—”
“I do not want to hear the tale,” said Tiny Hare. “I want to do just as I like.”
“Do not wake me from my nap, then,” said
his Mama, and she shut her eyes and put her
ears down.
Just then Tiny Hare saw a Wind Ball roll by.
A Wind Ball is the part of one kind of a
weed that is left when the weed does not
grow any more, and it is dry and like wool,
and it can roll like a ball, and fly as fast as a
bird.
“I can run as fast as you,” said Tiny Hare. “I
can do just as I like, and I want to get you.”
On went the Wind Ball, roll, roll, roll, and on
went Tiny Hare, leap, leap, leap. Just as he
was near it, the Wind Ball rose into the air,
and flew like a bird, and on went Tiny Hare,
jump, jump, jump. Roll and fly, roll and fly “he saw HAWK far up in the
sky.”
went the Wind Ball, and leap and jump, leap
and jump went Tiny Hare till he was not able
to run any more, and his feet were sore. He lay down to rest, but soon MAN
came by, and Tiny Hare ran into a hole in a tree, and now how he did wish that
he was at home!
By and by he came out to try to hunt for his home, and DOG came by, and Tiny
Hare ran into a hole in a wall, and how he did wish he was at home! By and by
he came out to try to hunt for his home, and he ran, and he ran, and he ran! And,
by and by, he saw HAWK far up in the sky, and Tiny Hare ran into a bush, and
how he did wish he was at home.
By and by he came out to try to hunt for his home, and Wind Ball went by once
more.
“I can’t get you, and I don’t want to,” said Tiny Hare, but the wind was low, and
Wind Ball went roll, roll, roll, slow, slow, slow, and Tiny Hare went with it,
limp, limp, limp, and by and by he saw his home. Tiny Hare ran as fast as a hare

with lame feet can run, and soon he went in
and lay down in the home by his Mama.
“I have not been good, Mama,” he said very
low in her ear in a way that a tiny hare has.
“Be good now, then,” she said.
“I want to,” said Tiny Hare, and then he said,
“Do not wake me,” and he shut his eyes, and
put his ears down, and they all took a nap.

“DOG came by, and tiny hare
ran into a hole.”

HOW TINY HARE MET CAT
[in words of not more than four letters]
BY A. L. SYKES
Once, just as the long, dark time that is at the end of each day came, Mama Hare
said to Tiny Hare, who was at play,
“Come in, now, it is time for bed. You know you must hide from Man, and Dog,
and Hawk; but I must tell you that you are to hide from Cat, also.”
“Who is CAT?” said Tiny Hare.
“CAT is not so big as DOG. She has soft fur and two big wild eyes.”
“She is just like me,” said Tiny Hare. “I have soft fur and big eyes; then CAT is
just a Hare.”
“The very idea!” said Mama Hare. “You have not big wild eyes, and your tail is
not long like CAT’S. CAT is not good for a Hare to meet. She can run very fast,
and she has a claw for each toe,” and she gave Tiny Hare a wee bite.
“Does CAT live in our wood?” said Tiny Hare.

tiny hare sees cat by the fire.

“No, she is with MAN and DOG, but she goes out in the day time or at dark, and
she can get a Tiny Hare who runs away from home when he is too tiny.”
“Am I too tiny?” said Tiny Hare. “Yes, yes, yes; far too tiny,” said his Mama;
and how she did wash him from his head to his feet!

“I wish to see CAT,” said Tiny Hare.
“No, no, no,” said his Mama; and how she did wash his soft fur!
He did not wish to see CAT for many, many days, but one day the rain came, and
it was cold, and his Mama told him to stay at home in the dry hay.
“I want to go with you,” said Tiny Hare to his Mama and Papa when they were
to go out for food.
“It is too wet,” said his Mama. “If your fur gets too wet you can’t run far and
fast, and it is not safe for you to go.”
“I like rain. I like the wet. I want to go out. I want to do just as I like,” said Tiny
Hare, and he laid his ears back, and half shut his eyes, and put his pink lip out,
and did not look kind.
“Hush!” said Papa Hare, in a low, deep tone. And Mama Hare and Papa Hare
went away, and left Tiny Hare at home.
Do you know what Tiny Hare did then? Oh, it was not good!

“when he saw tiny hare he gave a loud bark, ‘bow-wow-
wow-wow!’”

“I will go to see CAT,” he said, very loud. He ran out, over the damp moss in the
wet, wet wood, and, oh, dear me! up the path to the door of MAN and CAT. The
door was open. CAT sat by the fire in a box. She was most sad, for once she had
two baby cats in that box, and now they were gone. She did not purr. She did not
eat. She did not wash her soft fur. She just sat by the fire and was sad. By and by
she was so sad with no baby cat to love that she said very low and deep: “Mew!
Mew!” Tiny Hare was so wet and so weak he just had to lie down on the step.
Then CAT saw him.

How fast she did jump out of the box, and run to the door! Tiny Hare saw her
long tail, and her big wild eyes. He shut his eyes; and how he did wish he was at
home! But CAT did not eat him. She took him in her soft lips, and laid him in the
box by the fire.
“Now she will eat me,” said Tiny Hare; and how he did wish he was at home!
Then MAN and DOG came in. MAN was wet, and had much mud on him. He
took the box away from the fire to put fresh hay in it, and then he saw Tiny Hare.
Then MAN went near the fire to get warm and dry, and DOG ran to CAT to look
at her baby cat. When he saw Tiny Hare he gave a loud bark, “Bow-wow-wow-
wow!” and his tail did not wag any more. But just as he was to JUMP on Tiny
Hare, CAT put a claw on his nose.
“Wow!” said DOG, and MAN made DOG lie down, and he came once more to
look at CAT in her box. “Well, well,” said he, “a hare for a baby cat! Do you
mean to eat it, Puss?”
“Purr, purr, purr,” said CAT, and Tiny Hare did not like to hear her purr, and he
said: “She will eat me now”; and how he did wish he was at home!
CAT did not want to eat Tiny Hare, but she did want to wash him, and play that
he was her own baby cat. And she did wash him, oh, so hard, and so much, from
head to feet, and from feet to head, over and over and over. She gave him a wee
bite now and then when she felt a knot in his wet fur.
“Wee! Wee! Wee!” said Tiny Hare, very loud and high, when she hurt him too
much, but CAT did not care, and did not stop.
By and by when Tiny Hare was warm and dry, and his fur was like silk, MAN
and DOG went out to tea; and CAT saw that the eyes of Tiny Hare were shut, so
she went out to tea. When CAT was gone, oh, how fast did Tiny Hare jump out
of the box, and run out of the door, and skip up the long road, and leap past the
wet wood, home to his Mama. The rain was over, and the sun was warm, so he
was now dry, and his fur was like silk.
“I will be good now, Mama.” “Oh, dear,” said his Mama. “This is a CAT.”
“Oh, no, no, no, no, NO!” said Tiny Hare. “I am your Tiny Hare.”
“Is it our Tiny Hare?” said Mama Hare to wise Papa Hare.
“Yes,” said Papa Hare, “it is, but he is too much like CAT.”
Tiny Hare was not glad, and he did not want to play, so he sat near his home till
the dark came. Then his Mama grew too sad for his sake, and she came out to

him. How she did rub him with moss and hay, and how she did wash him, from
his head to his feet. Tiny Hare did not like it, but he did not say one word.
“Now, you are like my dear Tiny Hare,” she said at last, and she took him home.
When it grew dark, Tiny Hare said: “I am your Tiny Hare, and I will be good
now,” and Papa Hare said, “Yes, I am sure you will,” and gave the ear of Tiny
Hare a wee bite for love.
Then Mama Hare put her ears down, and Papa Hare put his ears down, and Tiny
Hare put his ears down, and they all took a long, long nap till the dawn.

tiny hare at home.

THE WEE HARE AND THE RED FIRE
[in words of not more than four letters]
BY A. L. SYKES
One day in the cold time when he lay snug and
warm by his Mama, Tiny Hare said, “Tell me of
the hare who went step, step, step in the snow till
he came to the RED FIRE.”
So his Mama gave him a hug and said:
Once upon a time was a wise Wee Hare who
knew how to run fast when MAN came by. He
knew how to hide when DOG was near, and when
he saw the dark spot in the sky that HAWK made,
how fast he did jump to his Mama! But Wee Hare
did not like to go out and run and jump and play
in the sun.
“I do not want to run and jump and play in the sun. I want to run far, far in the
wood, and find the red bush. I have seen it away off in the dark. It is good for me
to eat, I know.”
“It is FIRE,” said his Mama. “Only MAN can make it, and it is not good for you.
It can burn and hurt. You may eat the good food that you can find near our
home,” and she bit his ear for a kiss.
“I do not want to eat the good food that I can see here. I want to do just as I like.
I want to pick the red food from the red bush. I know it is like buds in the warm
time.”
“Hush,” said Papa Hare, very low and deep. “You are not good. When you are
good, and the moon is high in the sky, and it is just like day, I will take you far
out in the wood, and you may run and jump and play and eat the food that is best
for you.”
“I do not want to go out in the wood, and run and jump and play when the moon
is high in the sky. I want to do just as I like. I want to eat the red buds from the
red bush,” said the Wee Hare.

“Shut your eyes, and put your ears down, and take your nap,” said his Mama.
“You are too tiny to go away from me. Now, hush, do not say one more word.
The red bush is the RED FIRE. It can hurt and burn. MAN has it, and DOG is
with man. They can hurt you, and if you run too far in the wood, WIND may
blow too hard for a wee hare, and SNOW may come and bury you. Shut your
eyes, and put your ears down, and take your nap.”
It was noon; the sun was high in the sky.
Good Papa Hare took his nap, and Mama Hare took her nap. The Wee Hare shut
his eyes, and put his ears down, but he took no nap. By and by he went out of the
door, and ran and ran till he came to the wood. Then he ran and ran in the wood,
but he did not come to the RED FIRE, and he ran and ran and ran till his feet
were sore, but he did not come to the RED FIRE, and he ran and ran and ran and
ran till he was not able to run any more, and no RED FIRE did he see. He lay
down to rest in a bush, and very soon his eyes were shut, and he did not see or
hear, for it was long past the hour for his nap. When he woke SNOW lay on all
the open ways of the wood. The Wee Hare gave a leap from his bush, for he
knew that SNOW can grow deep and deep, and a wee hare cannot walk in it.
How he did wish he was at home!

“then dog said: ‘wow!’ and put his ears up.”
The sun was far down in the west, and its last rays lay red on the SNOW. Step,
step, step went the lame Wee Hare in the cold SNOW. He went back into the
wood to try to find his way home. It grew gray, and it grew dark, and SNOW
grew so deep that the Wee Hare had hard work to walk. Then WIND came. It
was so cold, and blew him out of the path, and how he did wish he was at home!
Step, step, step in the SNOW he went. The WIND blew more and more.

“I can not walk; my feet are too lame,” said the Wee Hare, and just then he saw
the RED FIRE! It grew in the path in the wood, and by it sat MAN and DOG.
Oh, how the Wee Hare felt! His nose grew hot, and his ears grew cold, and he
was not able to move. Then DOG said “WOW!” and put his ears up, but MAN
said: “Lie down,” and DOG lay down by the RED FIRE. The Wee Hare went
into a tiny, tiny hole in a tree, and sat on his feet to warm them. He saw the RED
FIRE. He did not like to see it. MAN and DOG did not let it come too near them,
and he saw them keep away from the RED FIRE.
“They fear it, too,” said the Wee Hare. “It is not good for me. I must take care or
it will come and hurt me.” He sat on his cold feet, and did not dare to take a nap.
By and by MAN put SNOW over the RED FIRE, and he and DOG went away,
and the Wee Hare went step, step, step in the snow, soft, soft, soft, for fear.
“I wish I had been good,” said the Wee Hare, and WIND and SNOW were able
to hear, and they felt sad for a wee hare.

“how fast he went—hop, skip, and jump!”
“We will help him,” they said, but low and soft so he did not hear. The moon
came up high in the sky till it was just like day, and it grew very cold. SNOW
grew hard as ice in the cold, and the Wee Hare did not sink in it any more.
WIND did not blow so hard. It came back of Wee Hare now, push, push, push, to
help the Wee Hare over the SNOW. How fast he went—hop, skip, and jump!
Soon he came to his home. How glad he was! He went in and lay down by his
Mama.
“I have not been good, Mama,” he said, very low in her ear.

“Be good now, then,” his Mama said, and he did not know how glad she was to
have him back.
“I want to be good,” said the Wee Hare; and he shut his eyes, and put his ears
down, and they all took a nap till the dawn came.
“Just like us,” said Tiny Hare, and he was glad that he lay snug and warm by his
Mama, and he was glad she had told him the tale of the Wee Hare and the RED
FIRE.

Once upon a time there was a King in Spain who had only one leg. He was a
Good King and he had a big Animal Farm where he kept all the animals who had
lost one or more of their legs.
In another part of Spain there was a Little Half Chick with only one eye, one
wing and one leg. The other chickens with two eyes and two legs gobbled up the
corn so fast that Little Half Chick was nearly starved.
One day a Donkey told Little Half Chick about the Good King and his Animal
Farm. Little Half Chick at once started hoppity-hop for Mother Hen and said,
“Mother Hen, I am going to Madrid to see the Good King.”
“All right,” said Mother Hen, “good luck to you.”
So Little Half Chick started off, hoppity-hop, hoppity-hop along the road to
Madrid to see the Good King.

Soon she met a Two-legged Cat going along hippity-hip, hippity-hip on her leg
and crutch. The Cat said,
“Hello, Little Half Chick, where are you going so fast?”
Little Half Chick said, “I am going to Madrid to see the Good King.”
“May I go too?” said the Two-legged Cat.
“Yes,” said Little Half Chick, “fall in behind.”
So the Cat fell in behind. Hoppity-hop, hoppity-hop went Little Half Chick.
Hippity-hip, hippity-hip went the Two-legged Cat.
Soon they met a Three-legged Dog going along humpity-hump, humpity-hump.
The Dog said:
“Hello, Little Half Chick, where are you going so fast?”
Little Half Chick said “I am going to Madrid to see the Good King.”
“May I go too?” said the Three-legged Dog.
“Yes,” said Little Half Chick, “fall in behind.”

“They Both Laughed as All These Funny Animals Came
Up.”
So the Dog fell in behind. Hoppity-hop, hoppity-hop went Little Half Chick.
Hippity-hip, hippity-hip went the Two-legged Cat. Humpity-hump, humpity-
hump went the Three-legged Dog.

Soon they met a One-legged Crow going along jumpity-jump, jumpity-jump.
The Crow said:
“Hello, Little Half Chick, where are you going so fast?”
Little Half Chick said: “I am going to Madrid to see the Good King.”
“May I go too?” said the One-legged Crow.
“Yes,” said Little Half Chick, “fall in behind.”
So the Crow fell in behind. Hoppity-hop, hoppity-hop went Little Half Chick.
Hippity-hip, hippity-hip went the Two-legged Cat. Humpity-hump, humpity-
hump went the Three-legged Dog. Jumpity-jump, jumpity-jump went the One-
legged Crow.
Soon they met a Snake with no legs at all. He had caught his tail in his teeth and
was rolling along loopity-loop, loopity-loop. The Snake said:
“Hello, Little Half Chick, where are you going so fast?”
“I am going to Madrid to see the Good King,” said Little Half Chick.
“May I go, too?” said the Snake.
“Yes,” said Little Half Chick, “fall in behind.”
So the Snake fell in behind. Hoppity-hop, hoppity-hop went Little Half Chick.
Hippity-hip, hippity-hip went the Two-legged Cat. Humpity-hump, humpity-
hump went the Three-legged Dog. Jumpity-jump, jumpity-jump went the One-
legged Crow. Loopity-loop, loopity-loop went the Snake with no legs at all.
Soon they came to Madrid and saw the Good King. With the King was his little
daughter Margaret. They both laughed as all these funny animals came up. The
King said to Little Margaret:
“Do you want to see us all go out to the Animal Farm?”
“Yes,” said Little Margaret, “I will lead the way.”
So she led the way along the street to the Animal Farm. Behind Margaret came
the One-legged King. Next came the Little Half Chick, next the Two-legged Cat,
next the Three-legged Dog, next the One-legged Crow, and last of all the Snake
with no legs at all. So they all went out to the Animal Farm. And there they lived
happily ever after.

EARLY AND LATE
By W. S. Reed
Go to bed early—wake up with joy;
Go to bed late—cross girl or boy.
Go to bed early—ready for play;
Go to bed late—moping all day.
Go to bed early—no pains or ills;
Go to bed late—doctors and pills.
Go to bed early—grow very tall;
Go to bed late—stay very small.

BY JASMINE STONE VAN DRESSER
Once there was a little pink pig with five little spotted brothers and sisters. They
had a nice home in the wood lot with their mama, and a nice yard with a little
white fence around it. The little pigs were very happy playing in the yard. They
made mud pies and baked them in the sun.
One day the little pink pig asked his mama to let him go out of the gate into the
big road.

“You are too little and do not know enough yet,” said his mama. “When you
grow bigger I shall teach you about the big road, and then you may go. Now, be
a good little pig, and run and play with your brothers and sisters.”
But the little pink pig would not play with his brothers and sisters. He ran off in
a corner by himself and would not make mud pies.
Pretty soon the milkman came in his wagon
to bring the milk for dinner. He carried it in
and knocked at the back door, and poured it
in a pail for mama. Then he ran out as fast as
he could and hopped up in his wagon and
drove away.
But he forgot to close the gate.
The little pink pig saw the gate was open,
and he ran right out into the big road. “the black and white thing
rolled him over in the dust.”
“I will show my mama how much I know,”
he said. And he trotted down the big road as
fast as his little pink legs would carry him.
He had not gone very far when he saw a big black and white thing. The black
and white thing ran after the little pig, and rolled him over in the dust.
The little pig squealed and squealed, and the black and white thing rolled him
and rolled him over, and kept saying “Bow wow!” But by and by he turned and
went away.
The little pig got up and tried to shake off the dust, but he couldn’t shake it all
off. He wanted to go home, but he had rolled over and over so much, that he
couldn’t tell where home was. So he ran into a cornfield to hide, till he was sure
the black and white thing was gone.
Pretty soon a man came along and found him in the cornfield and said:
“Hello, pink pig, are you eating my corn?”
“Oh, no!” said the little pig. “I would not eat your corn.”
“Then you should keep out of my cornfield,” said the man. “I will take you
home and shut you in a pen.”
And he took the little pink pig home and shut him up in a pen.

“I do not want to be shut up. Please let me out,” said the
little pink pig.
But the man did not let him out. It was not a nice pen, and
the little pig got all muddy and dirty in it. He wished he
was at home in his own little house with his mama, and
his spotted brothers and sisters.
He ran round and
round till he found a
little hole in the fence.
He was such a tiny pig
that he squeezed
through the hole and
got out, though he had
a hard time, for the
“and he took the
buttons on his jacket
little pink pig
got caught, and he
home.”
could hardly get loose. “the big red thing tossed the
He did not know which little pink pig in the air.”
way to go to find his home, but he ran as fast
as he could to get away from the pen.
He ran through a fence into a big place where there was plenty of grass. There
were some very big red things in there, and one saw the little pig and ran after
him.
“Oh, dear!” said the little pink pig (only he was not pink any more because he
was all covered with mud), “are you a big pig?”
The big red thing shook its head and said “Moo!” and tossed the little pig up in
the air. The little pig fell on the ground with a hard bump. He lay still till the red
thing went away. Then he got up and ran as fast as he could.
He ran out in the road, and right into a black and white speckled thing with two
legs. The speckled thing puffed up and said “Squawk!”
The little pig ran as fast as he could because he thought the speckled thing was
chasing him. But it wasn’t.
The little pig did not know where he was running, and he did not have time to
find out. The first thing he knew he almost ran into a lot of two-legged things.
They had big yellow mouths.

One of them said “Hiss-ss!” and ran out and
nipped the little pig’s hind leg. The little pig
squealed and ran the other way.
“Oh, dear!” he thought, “if I ever get back to
my mama, I will never try to go down the big
road again, till she teaches me what these
queer things are.”
“‘hiss!’ it said, and it nipped the
Just then he found himself in front of his own little pig’s leg.”
little house with the white fence around it. He
ran into the house and told his mama
everything that had happened to him. “Oh, mama,” he said, “what was the black
and white thing?”
“It was a dog,” she said. “Dogs sometimes
chase little pigs.”
“Oh, mama,” he said, “a man found me in
his cornfield and put me in a pen.”
“You must keep out of cornfields,” said
mama. “People do not like pigs in their
cornfields.”
“the speckled thing puffed up “Oh, mama, what was the big red thing with
and said ‘squawk!’”
sharp things on top of its head?”
“It was a cow,” said mama. “You should not go where cows are till you are big
enough to keep out of their way.”
“Oh, mama, what was the speckled thing that puffed up and said ‘Squawk?’”
“It was a hen,” said mama. “She was not chasing you, she was only going to the
other side of the road.”
“Oh, mama, what was the white thing that nipped me?” “It was a goose. You
should always keep away from them.”
“Oh, mama, this is a big world, and there are lots of funny things in it.”
“Yes,” said mama. “That is why it is best for little pigs not to go out on the big
road till they know more. You need not be afraid of anything if you know what it
is. You have learned a great deal today for such a little pig, but if you are patient
and wait till I teach you, you will not have such a hard time. We shall walk out
every day, and I will teach you how a little pig can take care of himself all the

time.” Then she put the little pig in the wash-tub, for
he was all covered with mud, and washed him nicely
—and before long he was the little pink pig again.

the little pink pig runs
home to his mother.

“Oh, Mama!” cried Fuzzy Wuz, running into the burrow where her mother lay
dozing, “may I go walking with Chatter Chuk?”
Mrs. Wuz opened one eye sleepily and looked at Fuzzy.
“If you are careful,” she said; “and don’t go near Juggerjook’s den; and watch
the sun so as to get home before the shadows fall.”
“Yes, yes; of course,” returned Fuzzy, eagerly.
“And don’t let Chatter Chuk lead you into mischief,” continued Mrs. Wuz,
rubbing one long ear with her paw lazily. “Those red squirrels are reckless things
and haven’t much sense.”
“Chatter’s all right,” protested Fuzzy Wuz. “He’s the best friend I have in the
forest. Good-by, Mother.”
“Is your face clean, Fuzzy?”
“I’ve just washed it, Mother.”
“With both paws, right and left?”
“Yes, Mother.”

“Then run along and be careful.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Fuzzy turned and darted from the burrow, and in the bright sunshine outside sat
Chatter Chuk on his hind legs, cracking an acorn.
“What’d she say, Fuz?” asked the red squirrel.
“All right, I can go, Chat. But I’ve got to be careful.”
As the white rabbit hopped away through the bushes and he glided along beside
her, Chatter Chuk laughed.
“Your people are always careful, Fuz,” said he. “That’s why you see so little of
the world, and lose all the fun in life.”
“I know,” replied Fuzzy, a little ashamed. “Father is always singing this song to
me:
“Little Bunny,
Don’t get funny;
Run along and mind your eye;
It’s the habit
Of a rabbit
To be diffident and shy.”
“We squirrels are different,” said Chatter Chuk, proudly. “We are always taught
this song:
“Squirrel red,
Go ahead!
See the world, so bright and gay.
For a rover
May discover
All that happens day by day.”
“Oh, if I could run up a tree, I shouldn’t be afraid, either,” remarked Fuzzy Wuz.
“Even Juggerjook couldn’t frighten me then.”
“Kernels and shucks! Juggerjook!” cried Chatter Chuk, scornfully. “Who cares
for him?”
“Don’t you fear him?” asked Fuzzy Wuz, curiously.

“Of course not,” said the squirrel. “My people often go to his den and leave nuts
there.”
“Why, if you make presents to Juggerjook, of course he won’t hurt you,”
returned the rabbit. “All the beasts carry presents to his den, so he will protect
them from their enemies. The bears kill wolves and carry them to Juggerjook to
eat; and the wolves kill foxes and carry them to Juggerjook, and the foxes kill
rabbits for him. But we rabbits do not kill animals, so we cannot take Juggerjook
anything to eat except roots and clover; and he doesn’t care much for those. So
we are careful to keep away from his den.”
“Have you ever seen him or the place where he lives?” asked the squirrel.
“No,” replied Fuzzy Wuz.
“Suppose we go there now?”
“Oh, no! Mother said—”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ve looked at the den often from the trees near
by,” said Chatter Chuk. “I can lead you to the edge of the bushes close to his
den, and he’ll never know we are near.”
“Mother says Juggerjook knows everything that goes on in the forest,” declared
the rabbit, gravely.
“Your mother’s a ’fraid-cat and trembles when a twig cracks,” said Chatter, with
a careless laugh. “Why don’t you have a little spirit of your own, Fuzzy, and be
independent?”
Fuzzy Wuz was quite young, and ashamed of being thought shy, so she said:
“All right, Chat. Let’s go take a peep at Juggerjook’s den.”
“We’re near it, now,” announced the squirrel. “Come this way; and go softly,
Fuzzy Wuz, because Juggerjook has sharp ears.”
They crept along through the bushes some distance after that, but did not speak
except in whispers. Fuzzy knew it was a bold thing to do. They had nothing to
carry to the terrible Juggerjook, and it was known that he always punished those
who came to his den without making him presents. But the rabbit relied upon
Chatter Chuk’s promise that the tyrant of the forest would never know they had
been near him. Juggerjook was considered a great magician, to be sure, yet
Chatter Chuk was not afraid of him. So why should Fuzzy Wuz fear anything?

The red squirrel ran ahead, so cautiously that he made not a sound in the
underbrush; and he skilfully picked the way so that the fat white rabbit could
follow him. Presently he stopped short and whispered to his companion:
“Put your head through those leaves, and you will see Juggerjook’s den.”
Fuzzy Wuz obeyed. There was a wide clearing beyond the bushes, and at the
farther side was a great rock with a deep cave in it. All around the clearing were
scattered the bones and skulls of animals, bleached white by the sun. Just in front
of the cave was quite a big heap of bones, and the rabbit shuddered as she
thought of all the many creatures Juggerjook must have eaten in his time. What a
fierce appetite the great magician must have!
The sight made the timid rabbit sick and faint. She drew back and hopped away
through the bushes without heeding the crackling twigs or the whispered
cautions of Chatter Chuk, who was now badly frightened himself.
When they had withdrawn to a safe distance the squirrel said peevishly:
“Oh, you foolish thing! Why did you make such a noise and racket?”
“Did I?” asked Fuzzy Wuz, simply.
“Indeed you did. And I warned you to be silent.”
“But it’s all right now. We’re safe from Juggerjook here,” she said.
“I’m not sure of that,” remarked the squirrel, uneasily. “One is never safe from
punishment if he is discovered breaking the law. I hope the magician was asleep
and did not hear us.”
“I hope so, too,” added the rabbit; and then they ran along at more ease,
rambling through the forest paths and enjoying the fragrance of the woods and
the lights and shadows cast by the sun as it peeped through the trees.
Once in a while they would pause while Fuzzy Wuz nibbled a green leaf or
Chatter Chuk cracked a fallen nut in his strong teeth, to see if it was sound and
sweet.
“It seems funny for me to be on the ground so long,” he said. “But I invited you
to walk with me, and of course a rabbit can’t run up a tree and leap from limb to
limb, as my people do.”
“That is true,” admitted Fuzzy; “nor can squirrels burrow in the ground, as
rabbits do.”

“They have no need to,” declared the squirrel. “We find a hollow tree, and with
our sharp teeth gnaw a hole through the shell and find a warm, dry home inside.”
“I’m glad you do,” remarked Fuzzy. “If all the animals burrowed in the ground
there would not be room for us to hide from each other.”
Chatter laughed at this.
“The shadows are getting long,” he said. “If you wish to be home before sunset,
we must start back.”
“Wait a minute!” cried the rabbit, sitting up and sniffing the air. “I smell
carrots!”
“Never mind,” said the squirrel.
“Never mind carrots? Oh, Chatter Chuk! You don’t know how good they are.”
“Well, we haven’t any time to find them,” he replied. “For my part, I could run
home in five minutes, but you are so clumsy it will take you an hour. Where are
you going now?”
“Just over here,” said Fuzzy Wuz. “Those carrots can’t be far off.”
The squirrel followed, scolding a little because to him carrots meant nothing
especially good to eat. And there, just beside the path, was an old coverless box
raised on a peg, and underneath it a bunch of juicy, fat, yellow carrots.
There was room under the box for Fuzzy Wuz to creep in and get the carrots, and
this she promptly did, while Chatter Chuk stood on his hind legs a short distance
away and impatiently waited. But when the white rabbit nibbled the carrots, the
motion pulled a string which jerked out the peg that held up the box, and behold,
Fuzzy Wuz was a prisoner!
She squealed with fear and scratched at the sides of the box in a vain endeavor to
find a way to escape; but escape was impossible unless some one lifted the box.
The red squirrel had seen the whole mishap, and chattered angrily from outside
at the plight of his captured friend. The white rabbit thought he must be far away,
because the box shut out so much the sound of his voice.
“Juggerjook must have heard us, and this is part of his revenge,” said the
squirrel. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I wonder what the great magician will do to me.”
He was so terrified by this thought that Chatter Chuk took flight and darted
home at his best speed. He lived in a tree very near to the burrow where Mrs.
Wuz resided, but the squirrel did not go near the rabbit-burrow. The sun was

already sinking in the west,
so he ran into his nest and
pretended to sleep when his
mother asked him where he
had been so late.
All night Mrs. Wuz waited
for Fuzzy, and it was an
anxious and sleepless night
for the poor mother, as you
may well believe. Fuzzy
was her one darling, several
other children having been
“they hopped through the bushes.” taken from her in various
ways soon after their birth.
Mr. Wuz had gone to attend a meeting of the Rabbits’ Protective Association and
might be absent for several days; so he was not there to help or counsel her.
When daybreak came, the mother rabbit ran to the foot of the squirrels’ tree and
called:
“Chatter Chuk! Chatter Chuk! Where is my Fuzzy Wuz? Where is my darling
child?”
Chatter Chuk was too frightened to answer until his mother made him. Then he
ran down to the lowest limb of the tree and sat there while he talked.
“We went walking,” he said, “and Fuzzy found some carrots under a box that
was propped up with a peg. I told her not to eat them; but she did, and the peg
fell out and made her a prisoner.”
You see, he did not mention Juggerjook at all, yet he knew the magician was at
the bottom of all the trouble.
But Mrs. Wuz knew rabbit-traps quite well, being old and experienced; so she
begged the red squirrel to come at once and show her the place where Fuzzy had
been caught.
“There isn’t a moment to lose,” she said, “for the trappers will be out early this
morning to see what they have captured in their trap.”
Chatter Chuk was afraid to go, having a guilty conscience; but his mother made
him. He led the way timidly, but swiftly, and Mrs. Wuz fairly flew over the
ground, so anxious was she to rescue her darling.

The box was in the same
place yet, and poor Fuzzy
Wuz could be heard moaning
feebly inside it.
“Courage, my darling!” cried
the mother, “I have come to
save you.”
First she tried to move the
box, but it was too heavy for
her to stir. Then she began
scratching away the earth at
its edge, only to find that it
had been placed upon a big,
flat stone, to prevent a rabbit
from burrowing out. “‘i smell carrots!’”

“fuzzy crept under the box.”
This discovery almost drove her frantic, until she noticed Chatter Chuk, who
stood trembling near by.
“Here!” she called; “it was you who led my child into trouble. Now you must get
her out.”
“How?” asked the red squirrel.

“Gnaw a hole in that box—quick! Gnaw faster than you ever did before in your
life. See! the box is thinnest at this side. Set to work at once, Chatter Chuk!”
The red squirrel obeyed. The idea of saving his friend was as welcome to him as
it was to the distracted mother. He was young, and his teeth were as sharp as
needles. So he started at the lower edge and chewed the wood with all his
strength and skill, and at every bite the splinters came away.
It was a good idea. Mrs. Wuz watched him anxiously. If only the men would
keep away for a time, the squirrel could make a hole big enough for Fuzzy Wuz
to escape. She crept around the other side of the box and called to the prisoner:
“Courage, dear one! We are trying to save you. But if the men come before
Chatter Chuk can make a hole big enough, then, as soon as they raise the box,
you must make a dash for the bushes. Run before they can put in their hands to
seize you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother,” replied Fuzzy, but her voice wasn’t heard very plainly, because
the squirrel was making so much noise chewing the wood.
Presently Chatter Chuk stopped.
“It makes my teeth ache,” he complained.
“Never mind, let them ache,” replied Mrs. Wuz. “If you stop now, Fuzzy will
die; and if she dies, I will go to Juggerjook and tell him how you led my child
into trouble.”
The thought of Juggerjook made the frightened squirrel redouble his efforts. He
forgot the pain in his teeth and gnawed as no other squirrel had ever gnawed
before. The ground was covered with tiny splinters from the box, and now the
hole was big enough for the prisoner to put the end of her nose through and beg
him to hurry.
Chatter Chuk was intent on his task, and the mother was intent upon watching
him, so neither noticed any one approaching, until a net fell over their heads, and
a big voice cried, with a boisterous laugh:
“Caught! and neat as a pin, too!”
Chatter Chuk and Mrs. Wuz struggled in the net with all their might, but it was
fast around them, and they were helpless to escape. Fuzzy stuck her nose out of
the hole in the box to find out what was the matter, and a sweet, childish voice
exclaimed: “There’s another in the trap, Daddy!”

Neither the rabbits nor the squirrel understood this strange language; but all
realized they were in the power of dreadful Man and gave themselves up for lost.
Fuzzy made a dash the moment the box was raised; but the trapper knew the
tricks of rabbits, so the prisoner only dashed into the same net where her mother
and Chatter Chuk were confined.
“Three of them! Two rabbits and a squirrel. That’s quite a haul, Charlie,” said the
man.
The little boy was examining the box.
“Do rabbits gnaw through wood, Father?”
he asked.
“No, my son,” was the reply.
“But there is a hole here. And see! There
are the splinters upon the ground.”
The man examined the box in turn,
somewhat curiously.
“How strange!” he said. “These are marks
of the squirrel’s teeth. Now, I wonder if
the squirrel was trying to liberate the
rabbit.”
“Looks like it, Daddy; doesn’t it?” replied
the boy.
“I never heard of such a thing in my life,” “‘where is my child?’”
declared the man. “These little creatures
often display more wisdom than we give them credit for. But how can we
explain this curious freak, Charlie?”
The boy sat down upon the box and looked thoughtfully at the three prisoners in
the net. They had ceased to struggle, having given way to despair; but the boy
could see their little hearts beating fast through their furry skins.
“This is the way it looks to me, Daddy,” he finally said. “We caught the small
rabbit in the box, and the big one must be its mother. When she found her baby
was caught, she tried to save it, and she began to burrow under the box, for here
is the mark of her paws. But she soon saw the flat stone, and gave up.”
“Yes; that seems reasonable,” said the man.

“But she loved her baby,” continued the boy, gazing at the little creatures
pitifully, “and thought of another way. The red squirrel was a friend of hers, so
she ran and found him, and asked him to help her. He did, and tried to gnaw
through the box; but we came too soon and captured them with the net because
they were so busy they didn’t notice us.”
“Exactly!” cried the man, with a laugh. “That tells the story very plainly, my son,
and I see you are fast learning the ways of animals. But how intelligent these
little things are!”
“That’s what my mother would do,” returned the boy. “She’d try to save me; and
that’s just what the mother rabbit did.”
“Well, we must be going,” said the man; and as he started away he picked up the
net and swung it over his shoulder. The prisoners struggled madly again, and the
boy, who walked along the forest path a few steps behind his father, watched
them.

“the prisoners scampered away.”
“Daddy,” he said softly, coming to the man’s side, “I don’t want to keep those
rabbits.”
“Oh, they’ll make us a good dinner,” was the reply.
“I—I couldn’t eat ’em for dinner, Daddy. Not the mama rabbit and the little one
she tried to save. Nor the dear little squirrel that wanted to help them. Let’s—
let’s—let ’em go!”

The man stopped short and turned to look with a smile into the boy’s upturned,
eager face.
“What will Mama say when we go back without any dinner?” he asked.
“You know, Daddy. She’ll say a good deed is better than a good dinner.”
The man laid a caressing hand on the curly head and handed his son the net.
Charlie’s face beamed with joy. He opened wide the net and watched the
prisoners gasp with surprise, bound out of the meshes, and scamper away into
the bushes.
Then the boy put his small hand in his father’s big one, and together they walked
silently along the path.

“All the same,” said Chatter Chuk to himself, as, snug at home, he trembled at
the thought of his late peril, “I shall keep away from old Juggerjook after this. I
am very sure of that!”
“Mama,” said Fuzzy Wuz, nestling beside her mother in the burrow, “why do
you suppose the fierce Men let us go?”
“I cannot tell, my dear,” was the reply. “Men are curious creatures, and often act
with more wisdom than we give them credit for.”

“What you burying, a
bone?”
“Nop, interning a muzzle.”

THE LITTLE GRAY KITTEN
BY MARY LAWRENCE TURNBULL
Once upon a time there was a little gray kitten, who had wandered far away from
home. At first she liked all the strange sights she saw, but by and by she began to
feel very homesick, and wished she was once more cuddled up with her brothers
and sisters.
Now the only word this little gray kitten knew was “Mew, mew!” So when she
was lonely she would say “Mew;” when she was hungry, “Mew;” when she was
cold or tired, glad or sad, it was always “Mew.” At home they knew what she
meant when she said “Mew,” but out in the wide, wide world, nobody seemed to
know.
Wandering along the street, she came upon a little squirming earthworm. “Mew,”
said she, meaning, “Where is my home?”
The earthworm, however, did not notice little gray kitten, but crawled away
across the street.
Next, the little gray kitten met a butterfly on the top of a dandelion. “Mew,” said
the little gray kitten, meaning, “Can you tell me where my home is?” But the
butterfly did not say anything, and flew away.

mischief

from an engraving of the painting by fred

morgan.

The little gray kitten walked on, and then she spied a robin on a stone wall near-
by. “Mew,” said the little gray kitten, “Where is my home?”

But the robin, cocking his head on one side, answered, “Chirp, chirp,” and then
spreading his wings, flew away.
She felt very sad indeed, but running
along she came up to a big black dog.
“Mew, mew!” said the little gray
kitten, “Oh, can you not tell me where
my home is?”
But the big black dog shook his tail,
“Running Along She Came Up and barked “Bow-wow, bow-wow-
to a Big Black Dog.”
wow-wow!” so loudly that the little
gray kitten ran away from him as fast
as she could go.
The little gray kitten was very tired, but she still ran on, and soon met a big red
cow. “Mew, mew-ew,” said the little gray kitten, “Can you not tell me where my
home is?”
The big red cow, however, hardly looking at the little
kitten, stretched out her big head, and shouted, “Moo,
moo-oo!” which so frightened the little gray kitten that
she jumped over a fence and landed right in the middle of
a flower-bed.
There she caught sight of a little girl running up to her,
and with such a sweet smile on her face that the little gray
kitten ran toward her and said once more, “Mew, do you
know where my home is?”
“Oh, you dear fluffy gray ball!” said the smiling little girl, “‘Oh, You Dear
catching the kitten up in her arms. “I’m going to take you Fluffy Gray Ball,’
right home to live with me.” Said the Little
Girl.”
The little girl was the only one who had understood, and
the little gray kitten purred softly. She was happy for she
had found a home.

PUSSY’S WHEELS
BY ANNIE W. McCULLOUGH
I wonder what you’re thinking of, my darling little cat.
It may be meat, it may be cream, that makes you nice and
fat;
It may be all the fun you have in barn-loft warm and dry;
It may be mice you try to catch as by their hole you lie.
Perhaps you think of trees to climb, with birds that sing up
there,
They always get away from you, although you creep with
care.
Perhaps you think of warm, green grass, and basking in the
sun,
Or of your ball, that slides so fast as after it you run.
I hope you think of me, sometimes, because I love you well;
I hope you love me back again, although you cannot tell;
And how I know you’re thinking (it’s a secret that I’ve
found),
Is ’cause I hear, close to my ear, your thought-wheels going
round.

THE SMALL

GRAY MOUSE
BY NATHAN HASKELL
DOLE

The small gray Mouse ran East
And the small gray Mouse ran West
And could not tell in the least
Which way was best.
The small gray Mouse ran North
And the small gray Mouse ran South
And scurried back and forth
To escape the Kitten’s dreadful teeth-lined
mouth!
But Kitty thought it precious fun
To see the panting Mousie run,
And when it almost got away
Her furry paw upon its back would lay.

But Kitty grew too vain and sure;
She thought she had the Mouse secure;
She turned her head, she shut her eyes.
That was not wise,

And ere she knew
The gray Mouse up the chimney
flew,
Where dainty cats could not
pursue.
So she had nothing else to do
But miew—oo—oo—!

“you make so much noise i can’t sleep!”
from the painting by j. h. dolph.

THE RABBIT, THE TURTLE, AND THE OWL
The little girl and the little boy stood in the corn-field near
the hollow tree where the Owl lived. The corn was in shocks
like wigwams, and the yellow pumpkins lay on the ground.
The Turtle came up from the brook below the corn-field, and
stuck his head out of his shell to watch. The Rabbit sat on
the edge of the slope, with his ears sticking straight up, to
listen.
The sleepy Owl stirred behind his knot-hole.
“Don’t you think,” said the little boy, “that the Rabbit—”
“And the Turtle—” said the little girl.
“And the Owl,” went on the little boy, “should have a Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Yes, a good dinner,” replied the little girl, “right here in the corn-field.”
“We could have a pumpkin table,” said the little boy.
“And pumpkin chairs,” said the little girl.
So, as Thanksgiving was that very day, and there was no time to lose, they began
to work. They found a fine, big, flat-topped pumpkin, and placed it for a table at
the foot of the Owl’s tree. Then they found three little pumpkins for stools.
“They won’t want to eat until night,” said the little boy.

“No,” said the little girl; “the Owl and the Turtle and the Rabbit, too,—they like
dinner at night.”
“We will lay everything out for them before we go to Grandmother’s,” said the
little boy, “and when we come home, we can see all eating their good
Thanksgiving dinner.”
The little boy ran and brought parsley and cabbage leaves for the Rabbit; and
when the Rabbit saw that, he trotted home in a hurry, for fear he might be

tempted to eat before it was time.
The little girl brought a fine big mushroom for the Turtle, for
she had once seen a turtle nibble all around the edge of a
mushroom.
“The Owl will have to bring his own dinner,” said the little boy,
“but I will get him a piece of bread to eat with it.” So he did.
That night the little girl and boy drove home by moonlight
from their grandmother’s farm. When they were in their own
room they looked out of the window toward the corn-field. They saw the corn-
shocks, like wigwams, with black shadows. They saw the tree dark against the
sky. They saw the big round yellow moon rising above the ridge of the field.
They saw the pumpkin table and pumpkin chairs. They saw, sitting on one chair,
the Rabbit, with his ears sticking straight up as he ate his parsley and cabbage.
They saw the Turtle, stretching his head out of his shell as he nibbled his
mushroom. They saw the Owl on his chair, eating the dinner he had brought.
“Oh, isn’t it beautiful!” said the little girl. “Beautiful!” said the little boy.

My bunnies like their cozy house, although they scamper out to
play;
My chickens like the slatted coop where all the mother hens must
stay.
My kitten likes her basket bed out in the woodshed near our door,
My puppy loves his cellar box; he sleeps and plays, then sleeps
some more.
But I have got the nicest home. My house is better far than theirs;
Its windows let the sunshine in; it has a porch, it has some stairs.
But I like best the kitchen warm, with table, stove, and pantry
neat;
The place where Dinah works, and makes good things for us to
eat!

Here comes our dinner!

A Shower of good things.

MEAL-TIME IN THE BEAR-PITS AT THE ZOO.

“full inside.”

from an engraving of the painting by arthur j. elsley.

THE FINE GOOD SHOW
BY JESSIE WRIGHT WHITCOMB

“‘good morning, cow, come and take a walk with us.’”
A little girl and a little boy started down the road together to take a walk. They
met a dog.
“Good morning, Dog,” said the little girl. “Bow-wow!” answered the dog.
“Come and take a walk with us, Dog,” said the little boy.
So they all went down the road together.
Pretty soon they met a cat.
“Good morning, Cat,” said the little boy. “Miaouw!” answered the cat.
“Come and take a walk with us, Cat,” said the little girl. So they all went down
the road together.
Pretty soon they met a rooster.
“Good morning, Rooster,” said the little girl. “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” answered
the rooster.
“Come and take a walk with us, Rooster,” said the little boy.

So they all went down the road together.
Pretty soon they met a duck.
“Good morning, Duck,” said the little boy. “Quack, quack!” answered the duck.
“Come and take a walk with us, Duck,” said the little girl.
So they all went down the road talking merrily with one another.
Pretty soon they saw a little pinky-white pig with a funny little curly tail.
“Good morning, Pig,” said the little girl.
“Grunt, grunt!” answered the pig.
“Come and take a walk with us, Pig,”
said the little boy.
So they all went down the road together.
Pretty soon they came to a pasture.
In the pasture was a nice, old, red cow.
“Good morning, Cow,” said the little
boy. “Moo, moo!” answered the cow. “‘good morning, duck, come and take
a walk with us.’”
“Come and take a walk with us,” said
the little girl.
But the cow shook her head; she couldn’t open the pasture bars.
“We will let down the bars for you, Cow,” said the little boy and the little girl.
So they let down the bars, and the dog, and the cat, and the rooster, and the duck,
and the little white pig with the curly tail, and the little boy, and the little girl, all
went in to see the cow.
The little girl climbed on the cow’s back, and the little boy climbed on the cow’s
back, and the dog jumped on the cow’s back, and the cat jumped on the cow’s
neck, and the rooster flew up on the cow’s head, and the little white pig with the
curly tail, and the duck, walked behind the cow, and they all went down the road
together just as happy as they could be.
Pretty soon they met a carriage with two women in it.
“Mercy on me!” said the two women. “What’s this!”

“This is a fine, good show,” answered the
little girl.
“Well, I should think it was!” said the two
women. “It is a beautiful show.”
“Thank you,” said the little boy.
“Good-by,” said the two women.
“Good-by,” said the little girl.
So the cow, carrying the little boy, and the
little girl, and the dog, and the cat, and the
“‘good morning, pig, come and take rooster, with the little white pig with the
a walk with us.’”
curly tail, and the duck, walking along
behind, all went down the road together.
Pretty soon they met a wagon with three men in it.
“Well! Well! Well!” said the three men. “Just look! What’s all this?”
“This is a fine, good show,” said the little boy, bowing very politely.
“Indeed it is!” said the three men. “It’s great!”
“Thank you,” said the little boy, “I am pleased that you like it.”
“Good-by,” said the little girl.
So the cow, carrying the little girl, and the little boy, and the dog, and the cat,
and the rooster, with the little white pig with the curly tail, and the duck, walking
behind, all went down the road together.

the fine, good show.

Pretty soon they came to a store. The Store Man stood out in front of his store.
“Good morning, Mr. Store Man,” said the little boy, “I have a little silver piece
in my pocket.”
“Good morning!” said the Store Man. “What can I do for you?”
“We want to buy some things for our Show,” said the little boy.
“I’m glad of that!” said the Store Man.
So the little boy jumped down, and the little girl jumped down, and the dog
jumped down, and the cat jumped down, and the rooster flew down.
“We want to buy a little corn for our cow and our pig,” said the little boy.
“And we want to buy a little wheat for our rooster and our duck,” said the little
girl.
“And we want to buy a little meat for our dog,” said the little boy.
“And we want to buy a little milk for our cat,” said the little girl.
“And we want to buy some great, long sticks of candy for us!” said the little boy
and the little girl together. “I hope you have some.”
The Store Man took the money and brought out all the things.

The cow and the little white pig with the
curly tail ate the corn; the rooster and the
duck ate the wheat; the dog ate the meat, and
the cat drank the milk, and the little girl and
the little boy ate the great, long sticks of
candy.
“Good-by, Mr. Store Man,” said the little
girl.
“Good-by, Mr. Store Man,” said the little
boy.
“Good-by, all of you,” answered the Store
Man.
So the little girl, and the little boy, and the
dog, and the cat, and the rooster, and the
duck, and the little pig with the curly tail, all
went back up the road again.
“the store man brought out
Pretty soon they came to the pasture. The all the things.”
cow walked in.
“Good-by, Cow and Dog and Cat and Rooster and Duck and Pig!” shouted the
little boy.
“Good-by, Pig and Duck and Rooster and Cat and Dog and Cow!” called the
little girl.
“Moo-moo!” answered the cow.
“Grunt-grunt!” answered the pig.
“Miaouw, miaouw!” answered the cat.
“Quack, quack!” answered the duck.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” answered the rooster. “Bow-wow!” answered the dog.
And the little boy and the little girl put up the bars and ran back home as fast as
they could go.
Jessie Wright Whitcomb.

“the little boy and the little girl
put up the bars.”

GAY AND SPY
(A Rhyming Story for Little Folk)
One beautiful day in the month of May,
A little girl whose name was Gay
(They called her that, because, you see,
She was always cheerful as she could be)
Went for a walk in the woods near by,
And her dog went with her (his name was Spy).
As they strolled along a fine woodland path
She saw a little bird taking a bath.
She kept very still and watched him splash,
When all at once, with a sudden dash,
Into the brook jumped little dog Spy.
My, how he made the water fly!
“What a bad, bad dog you are!” said Gay.
“Birdie won’t bathe any more to-day.
You frightened him so, but, never mind,
He’s only frightened, not hurt, he’ll find.
We’ll walk on further and you must try
To be good and quiet.”
“Bow-wow!” said Spy.

“into the brook jumped little dog spy.”

They had only walked on a little way,
When something rustled: “What’s that?” said Gay.
Out from the leaves sprang a squirrel red
And sped like a flash down the path ahead.
Close behind him was little dog Spy.
He paid no heed to the little girl’s cry.

“‘you’re young,’ said gay, ‘and is that why you act so
silly?’”

She whistled and called; they were out of sight.
She waited a moment, then laughed outright.
For who was this coming? Why, little dog Spy!
But he didn’t look happy—with head held high—
Indeed, he looked rather ashamed instead
For he hadn’t caught the squirrel red.
Spy couldn’t climb trees, and so, you see,
Master Squirrel escaped quite easily.
“You’re young,” said Gay, “and is that why
You act so silly?”
“Bow-wow!” said Spy.
“I’m tired of walking,” the little girl said,
“I think I will pick some flowers instead.
I will take them home to my Grandma, dear;
She loves them but she can’t walk out here.”
There were plenty of flowers all around.
Sweet white violets covered the ground.

There were lovely long-stemmed blue ones, too,
And all around the May-flowers grew.
But when she had all her hands would hold,
It was time to leave, it was growing cold.
The sun was sinking. But where was Spy?
She whistled and called,—but no reply!
“Where can he be?” she said, when hark!
Off in the distance she heard him bark.
“He must have a rabbit,” said she, “that’s all.”
And sure enough, by an old stone-wall,
Spy was barking away as hard as he could—
As if scaring the rabbit would do any good.
“The rabbit is safe in that wall,” said Gay,
“He wouldn’t come out if you barked all day.
So you better come home for it’s growing late.
And Mother will wonder why I wait.
Supper’ll be ready, too. Oh, my!
Are you hungry as I am?”
“Bow-wow!” said Spy.

“i’se biggest!”

from an engraving of the painting by arthur j. elsley.

THE THREE BEARS[M]
Once upon a time there were three bears who lived in a castle in a great wood.
One of them was a great big bear, and one was a middling bear, and one was a
little bear. And in the same wood there was a fox who lived all alone; his name
was Scrapefoot. Scrapefoot was very much afraid of the bears, but for all that he
wanted very much to know all about them. And one day as he went through the
wood he found himself near the Bears’ Castle, and he wondered whether he
could get into the castle. He looked all about him everywhere, and he could not
see any one. So he came up very quietly, till at last he came up to the door of the
castle, and he tried whether he could open it. Yes! the door was not locked, and
he opened it just a little way, and put his nose in and looked, and he could not
see any one. So then he opened it a little way farther, and put one paw in, and
then another paw, and another and another, and then he was all in the Bears’
Castle. He found he was in a great hall with three chairs in it—one big, one
middling, and one little chair; and he thought he would like to sit down and rest
and look about him; so he sat down on the big chair. But he found it so hard and
uncomfortable that it made his bones ache, and he jumped down at once and got
into the middling chair, and he turned round and round in it, but he couldn’t
make himself comfortable. So then he went to the little chair and sat down in it,
and it was so soft and warm and comfortable that Scrapefoot was quite happy;
but all at once it broke to pieces under him and he couldn’t put it together again!
So he got up and began to look about him again, and on one table he saw three
saucers, of which one was very big, one was middling, one was quite a little
saucer. Scrapefoot was very thirsty, and he began to drink out of the big saucer.
But he only just tasted the milk in the big saucer, which was so sour and so nasty
that he would not taste another drop of it. Then he tried the middling saucer, and
he drank a little of that. He tried two or three mouthfuls, but it was not nice, and
then he left it and went to the little saucer, and the milk in the little saucer was so
sweet and so nice that he went on drinking it till it was all gone.
Then Scrapefoot thought he would like to go upstairs; and he listened and he
could not hear any one. So upstairs he went, and he found a great room with
three beds in it; one was a big bed, and one was a middling bed, and one was a
little white bed; and he climbed up into the big bed, but it was so hard and lumpy
and uncomfortable that he jumped down again at once, and tried the middling
bed. That was rather better, but he could not get comfortable in it, so after
turning about a little while he got up and went to the little bed; and that was so
soft and so warm and so nice that he fell fast asleep at once.

And after a time the Bears came home, and when they got into the hall the big
Bear went to his chair and said, “Who’s been sitting in my chair?” and the
middling Bear said, “Who’s been sitting in my chair?” and the little Bear said,
“Who’s been sitting in my chair and has broken it all to pieces?” And then they
went to have their milk, and the big bear said, “Who’s been drinking my milk?”
and the middling Bear said, “Who’s been drinking my milk?” And the little Bear
said, “Who’s been drinking my milk and has drunk it all up?” Then they went
upstairs and into the bedroom, and the big Bear said, “Who’s been sleeping in
my bed?” and the middling Bear said, “Who’s been sleeping in my bed?” and the
little Bear said, “Who’s been sleeping in my bed?—and see here he is!” So then
the Bears came and wondered what they should do with him; and the big Bear
said, “Let’s hang him!” and then the middling Bear said, “Let’s drown him!” and
then the little Bear said, “Let’s throw him out of the window.” And then the
Bears took him to the window, and the big Bear took two legs on one side and
the middling Bear took two legs on the other side, and they swung him
backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, and out of the window. Poor
Scrapefoot was so frightened, and he thought every bone in his body must be
broken. But he got up and first shook one leg—no, that was not broken; and then
another, and that was not broken; and another and another, and then he wagged
his tail and found there were no bones broken. So then he galloped off home as
fast as he could go, and never went near the Bears’ Castle again.
[M] From “More English Fairy Tales,” edited by Joseph Jacobs.
Used by permission of the publishers, G. P. Putnam’s Sons.

THE LITTLE BEAR’S STORY
BY C. F. HOLDER
“Yes,” the little bear cub would say, “that is my picture. I am a native of the State
of California. I don’t remember distinctly where I was born, but it was up in the
Sierras, where the snow lies in great banks, and the giant trees stand like
sentinels, and where you might travel for days and weeks and meet no one but
bears.
“The first thing I recollect was finding myself in a big burrow covered with
snow, then my mother broke the way out and led us (I had a brother) down the
mountain. We soon left the snow; and I remember one day, at sunset, we stood
on an overhanging rock, and my mother showed us the green valleys and nice
dark forests where we could hide, and far off was the gleaming sea. Mother did
not care very much for the water, I think.
“My mother was hungry, after the long winter fast, and every day took us lower
and lower, until one night she led us into a sheep ranch. Then our troubles began,
for she left us to catch a lamb, and never came back. We heard all about it
afterward. Some ranchers had seen her, and rode out on horseback to enjoy the
cruel sport of ‘roping a bear’. As they rode around her, one threw his lariat about
her neck; another caught her forefoot as she stood up, another her hind leg; and
then they dragged her away to the ranch-house—and so we became orphans.
“It was not long before the dogs found us, and a man carried me home in a
basket to his wife, who treated me very kindly. I did not like it, but pretended I
did, and ate all I could, always watching and hoping for a chance to run away to
my mountain home. My mistress, however, soon thought I was too knowing, and
put a chain about my neck. Finally, when I was about four months old, they sent
me to a friend in San Francisco. I shall never forget how people looked at me
and laughed when I stood on my hind legs, as if there was anything laughable in
that! But they gave me sugar and other good things, and I fared well.
“My new master was a butcher, and most of the time I stayed in his shop. But
some days, when I was very homesick, and longed for my mother, and the little
cub who had been carried off, I did not know where, the butcher’s wife would
take me into her room back of the shop, and then I would go to sleep, cuddled up
close upon a rug, with my paws on her hand, and dream that I was back in my
mountain home.

“One day I heard my master say I was to be pho-to-graphed, and I thought my
time had come. You see, I had never heard the word before. There was no
escape, as I was kept tied, and the next morning my master took me under his
big coat in the cable-cars. I could just peep through one of the button-holes, and
all at once I uttered a loud whine. You should have seen how the passengers
stared at my master, who I know looked embarrassed, as he gave me a
tremendous squeeze. We soon got out, and I was carried up a flight of stairs, and
placed on a table in a room, the walls of which were covered with pictures of
people’s faces, all of which seemed to keep their eyes fixed on me.
“My master petted me and gave me some sugar, and I began to think that being
photographed was possibly not so bad, after all. Presently a man came in. He
looked very much astonished, and said, ‘Why, I thought you engaged a sitting
for “a descendant of one of the early settlers”?’
“‘So I did,’ replied my master; ‘there it is,’ pointing to where I stood up, blinking
with all my might.
“‘Why, it’s a cub bear!’ exclaimed the man.
“‘Well, it is a relative of some early settlers, all the same,’ my master answered.
“At this the man smiled good-humoredly, then he went into another room, while
my master petted me and gave me so much sugar that I had the toothache from
it. After a while the man came back and said he was ready, and I was taken into a
room where there was a big thing like a gun on three legs, with a cloth over it.
My master sat down in a chair and held me in his lap while the man pointed the
gun at us.
“I thought I was to be shot, and tried to get away, and this made the man so cross
that he came out from under the cloth and said he couldn’t do it. Then my master
put me up in a child’s chair and propped something tight against my head, at
which they both laughed so loud you could have heard them in the street, and I
jumped down.
“Finally, the man tapped his forehead and said, ‘I have it.’ He put a screen before
the gun and my master set me on top of it, holding my chain while the man crept
under the cloth. I did not dare move, as I was astride of the screen, my hind feet
hanging in the air. I prepared for the worst. Then the man came out again, looked
at me sharply, and turned my head a little, telling me to smile, at which my
master laughed. The man next shook a tambourine at me, and as I turned to see
what the noise meant, I heard a click! and just then my master took me down and
carried me home, much to my relief.

“I wondered what it was all about until one day my master took me on his knee,
and, holding up a card, said, ‘Well, here you are!’—and what do you suppose it
was? Nothing more or less than my picture; just as I was perched astride the
screen the day when I thought I was going to be killed. Here it is”:

THE HARE AND THE HEDGEHOG
BY THE BROTHERS GRIMM
This tale, my young readers, will seem to you to be quite false; but still it must
be true, for my Grandfather, who used to tell it to me, would wind up by saying,
“All this is true, my son, else it would never have been told to me.” The tale runs
thus:—
It was a fine summer’s morning, just before harvest-time; the buckwheat was in
flower, and the sun was shining brightly in the heaven above, a breeze was
blowing over the fields, where the larks were singing; and along the paths the
people were going to church dressed in their best. Every creature seemed
contented, even the Hedgehog, who stood before his door singing as he best
could a joyful song in praise of the fine morning. Indoors, meanwhile, his Wife
was washing and drying the kitchen, before going into the fields for a walk to
see how the crops were getting on. She was such a long while, however, about
her work that Mr. Hedgehog would wait no longer, and trotted off by himself. He
had not walked any very long distance before he came to a small thicket, near a
field of cabbages, and there he espied a Hare, who he guessed had come on a
similar errand to himself; namely, to devour a few fine heads. As soon as Mr.
Hedgehog saw the Hare, he wished him a good morning; but the latter, who was
in his way a high-minded creature, turned a fierce and haughty look upon the
Hedgehog, and made no reply to his greeting. He asked, instead, in a very
majestic tone, how he came to be walking abroad at such an early hour. “I am
taking a walk,” replied the Hedgehog.
“A walk!” repeated the Hare, in an ironical tone, “methinks you might employ
your legs about something better!”
This answer vexed the Hedgehog most dreadfully, for he could have borne
anything better than to be quizzed about his legs, because they were naturally
short, and from no fault of his own. However, he said to the Hare, “Well, you
need not be so proud, pray, what can you do with those legs of yours?” “That is
my affair,” replied the Hare. “I expect, if you would venture a trial, that I should
beat you in a race,” said the Hedgehog.
“You are laughing! you, with your short legs!” said the Hare contemptuously.
“But still, since you have such a particular wish, I have no objection to try. What
shall the wager be?”

“A louis d’or,” replied the Hedgehog.
“Done!” said the Hare, “and it may as well
come off at once.”
“No! not in such great haste, if you please,”
said the Hedgehog; “I am not quite ready
yet; I must first go home and freshen up a
bit. Within half-an-hour I will return to this
place.”
Thereupon the Hedgehog hurried off,
leaving the Hare very merry. On his way
home the former thought to himself, “Mr.
Hare is very haughty and high-minded, but
withal he is very stupid, and although he
thinks to beat me with his long legs, I will find a way to defeat him.” So, as soon
as the Hedgehog reached home, he told his Wife to dress herself at once to go
into the field with him.
“What is the matter?” asked his Wife.
“I have made a wager with the Hare, for a louis d’or, to run a race with him, and
you must be witness.”
“My goodness, man! are you in your senses!” said the Wife, “do you know what
you are about? How can you expect to run so fast as the Hare?”
“Hold your tongue, Wife; that is my affair. Don’t you reason about men’s
business. March, and get ready to come with me.”
As soon, then, as the Hedgehog’s Wife was ready they set out together; and on
the way he said, “Now attend to what I say. On the long field yonder we shall
decide our bet. The Hare is to run on the one side of the hedge and I on the other,
and so all you have to do is to stop at one end of the hedge, and then when the
Hare arrives on the other side at the same point, you must call out, ‘I am here
already.’”
They soon came to the field, and the Hedgehog stationed himself at one end of
the hedge, and his Wife at the other end; and as soon as they had taken their
places the Hare arrived. “Are you ready to start?” asked the Hare. “Yes,”
answered the Hedgehog, and each took his place. “Off once, off twice, three
times and off!” cried the Hare, and ran up the field like a whirlwind; while the
Hedgehog took three steps and then returned to his place.

The Hare soon arrived at his goal, as he ran
all the way at top speed, but before he could
reach it, the Hedgehog’s Wife on the other
side called out, “I am here already!” The
Hare was thunderstruck to hear this said, for
he thought it really was his opponent, since
there was no difference in the voices of the
Hedgehog and his Wife. “This will not do!”
thought the Hare to himself; but presently
he called out, “Once, twice, and off again;”
and away he went as fast as possible,
leaving the Hedgehog quietly sitting in her
place. “I am here before you,” cried Mr.
Hedgehog, as soon as the Hare approached.
“What! again?” exclaimed the Hare in a
rage; and added, “Will you dare another trial!” “Oh! as many as you like; do not
be afraid on my account,” said Mr. Hedgehog, courteously.
So the Hare then ran backwards and forwards three-and-seventy times, but each
time the Hedgehogs had the advantage of him, for either Mr. or Mrs. shouted
before he could reach the goal, “Here I am already!”
The four-and-seventieth time the Hare was unable to run any more. In the middle
of the course he stopped and dropped down quite exhausted, and there he lay
motionless for some time. But the Hedgehog took the louis d’or which he had
won, and went composedly home with his Wife.

THE WEE ROBIN’S CHRISTMAS SONG
a scotch story, attributed to robert burns

adapted by jennie ellis burdick

There was an old gray Pussy Cat, and she went away down by a brookside.
There she saw a wee Robin Redbreast hopping on a brier bush.
Says the gray Pussy Cat: “Where are you going, wee Robin?”
And the wee Robin makes answer: “I’m going away to the King to sing him a
song this glad Christmas morning.”
And the gray Pussy Cat says, “Come here, wee Robin, and I’ll let you see a
pretty white ring I have around my neck.”
But the wee Robin says: “No, no! gray Pussy Cat, no, no! You worried the wee
mousie, but you cannot worry me!”
So the wee Robin flew away until he came to a wall of earth and grass, and there
he saw a gray greedy Hawk sitting.
And the gray greedy Hawk says: “Where are you going, wee Robin?”
And the wee Robin makes answer: “I’m going away to the King to sing him a
song this glad Christmas morning.”
And the gray greedy Hawk says: “Come here, wee Robin, and I’ll let you see the
bright feather in my wing.”

wee robin and the old gray pussy cat

But wee Robin says: “No, no! gray greedy Hawk, no, no! You pecked the little
Meadowlark, but you cannot peck me!”
So the wee Robin flew away until he came to a steep, rocky hillside, and there he
saw a sly Fox sitting. And the sly Fox says, “Where are you going, wee Robin?”
And the wee Robin makes answer: “I’m going away to the King to sing him a
song this glad Christmas morning.”
And the sly Fox says: “Come here, wee Robin, and I’ll let you see the pretty spot
on the tip of my tail.”
But the wee Robin says: “No, no! sly Fox, no, no! You worried the little Lamb,
but you cannot worry me!”
So the wee Robin flew away until he came to a grassy meadow, and there he saw
a little shepherd boy.
And the little shepherd says: “Where are you going, wee Robin?”

And wee Robin makes answer: “I’m going away to the King to sing him a song
this glad Christmas morning.”
And the little shepherd boy says: “Come here, wee Robin, and I’ll give you some
crumbs from my lunch.”
But the wee Robin says: “No, no! little shepherd boy, no, no! You caught the
Goldfinch, but you cannot catch me!”
So the wee Robin flew away till he came to the King; and there he sat on a
plowshare, and sang the King a cheery song. And the King says to the Queen:
“What will we give to the wee Robin for singing us this cheery song?”
And the Queen makes answer to the King: “I think we’ll give him the wee Wren
to be his wife.”
So the wee Robin and the wee Wren were married, and the King and the Queen,
and all the court danced at the wedding. Then the wee Robin and the wee Wren
flew away home to the wee Robin’s own brookside, and hopped on the brier
bush.

THE FOX
The Fox set out in a hungry plight,
And begged the moon to give him light,
For he’d many a mile to travel that night
Before he could reach his den O!
First he came to a farmer’s yard,
Where the ducks and geese declared it was hard
That their nerves should be shaken, and their rest be
marred
By a visit from Mr. Fox O!
He seized the gray goose by the sleeve,
Says he, “Madam Gray Goose, by your leave,
I’ll carry you off without reprieve,
And take you away to my den O!”
He seized the gray duck by the neck,
And flung her over across his back,
While the old duck cried out, “Quack, quack, quack,”
With her legs dangling down behind O!
Then old Mrs. Flipper Flapper jumped out of bed,
And out of the window she popped her head,
Crying, “John, John, John, the gray goose is gone,
And the Fox is off to his den O!”
Then John went up to the top of the hill,
And he blew a blast both loud and shrill.
Says the Fox, “That is fine music, still
I’d rather be off to my den O!”
So the Fox he hurried home to his den,
To his dear little foxes eight, nine, ten.
Says he, “We’re in luck, here’s a big fat duck
With her legs dangling down behind O!”
Then the Fox sat down with his hungry wife,
And they made a good meal without fork or knife.

They never had a better time in all their life,
And the little ones picked the bones O!

THREE COMPANIONS
BY DINAH MARIA MULOCK-CRAIK
We go on our walk together—
Baby and dog and I—
Three little merry companions,
’Neath any sort of sky
Blue as our baby’s eyes are,
Gray like our old dog’s tail;
Be it windy or cloudy or stormy,
Our courage will never fail.
Baby’s a little lady;
Dog is a gentleman brave;
If he had two legs as you have,
He’d kneel to her like a slave;
As it is, he loves and protects her,
As dog and gentleman can.
I’d rather be a kind doggie,
I think, than a cruel man.

“’FRAID CAT!”
BY FRANK MUNRO
To Pussy-town, the other day,
The movies came.
And you must know,
The only chance mice have to play
Is when the cats
Go to the show!
(Yes, mice have certain little “rights”—
Though I confess
’Em hard to see!
And one is to stay up o’ nights
And steal our cheese—
If cheese there be!)
Well, in the playhouse, on the screen,
The pussies saw
(And so may you)
True love run smoothly, I ween:
But “also ran,”
A dog in blue!
The foolish cats, in great alarm,
Dashed out, nor
Asked for money back!—
A dog policeman has no charm
When he is close
Upon one’s track!
They did not use their heads. I fear;
(Some boys and girls
Are just like that)
And so the pussies now must hear
The grown folks say
“’Fraid cat! ’Fraid cat!”

the cats at the movies
from a drawing by culmer barnes

THE SPIDER AND THE FLY
BY MARY HOWITT
“Will you walk into my parlor?” said the Spider to the Fly,
“’Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show when you are
there.”
“Oh, no, no,” said the little Fly, “to ask me is in vain;
For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down
again.”
“I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so
high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the
Fly.
“There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are
fine and thin;
And if you like to rest a while, I’ll snugly tuck you in!”
“Oh, no, no,” said the little Fly, “for I’ve often heard it
said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!”
Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, “Dear friend, what can
I do
To prove the warm affection I’ve always felt for you?
I have, within my pantry, good store of all that’s nice;
I’m sure you’re very welcome—will you please to take a
slice?”
“Oh, no, no,” said the little Fly, “kind sir, that cannot be,
I’ve heard what’s in your pantry, and I do not wish to
see!”
“Sweet creature,” said the Spider, “you’re witty and
you’re wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are
your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf;
If you’ll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold

yourself.”
“I thank you, gentle sir,” she said, “for what you’re
pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I’ll call another
day.”
The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon be back again;
So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing:
“Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver
wing;
Your robes are green and purple, there’s a crest upon your
head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as
lead.”
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by:
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer
drew—
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple
hue;
Thinking only of her crested head—poor foolish thing! At
last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den
Within his little parlor—but she ne’er came out again!

“hello! is this the clover nook dairy?
please send me some milk at once. good-by”

BY ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE
PICTURES BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE

A LITTLE GENTLEMAN
When Mother drops things on the floor,
My father asks me: “Who
Should always pick them up for her?”
And so I always do.
He says I haven’t far to reach
And that a gentleman
Must do things for his Mother
And be helpful as he can.
But Mother bends down just the same,—
She has to, don’t you see?
For after she’s said “Thank you, dear,”
She stoops and kisses me.

TIME FOR EVERYTHING
There’s a time to run and a time to walk;
There’s a time for silence, a time for talk;
There’s a time for work and a time for play;
There’s a time for sleep at the close of day.
There’s a time for everything you do,
For children and for grown-ups, too.
A time to stand up and a time to sit,—
But see that the time and actions fit.

UMBRELLAS AND RUBBERS
Umbrellas and rubbers
You never forget,
Whenever it’s raining
Or snowy or wet;
But if it should clear up,
While you are away,
Please bring them back home
For the next rainy day.

WHISPERING IN SCHOOL
“Do not whisper” is a rule
You will find in every school,
And the reason here is given
In a rhyme:
For children all will chatter
About any little matter—
And there’d be a dreadful clatter,
All the time!

RECESS
The romping boys
Make lots of noise,
And run and jump and laugh and shout,

While here and there,
With quiet air,
The girls in couples walk about.
A game begins,
But no one wins,
Although they play with might and main,
For long before
The game is o’er
The bell rings out for school again.

AFTER SCHOOL
Although we like to go to school,
We’re rather glad to put away
Our books and slates and other things,
When it is over for the day.
And off we go to play and romp,
While teacher, who is good and kind,
Is left behind all by herself—
But then, perhaps, she doesn’t mind.

MONDAY’S LESSONS
Study them well on Friday,
For it’s much the better way,
Because when once they’re finished
You’ve all Saturday for play.

AT DINNER
No matter where we children are
We run in answer to the bell,
And dinner comes in piping hot;
It makes us hungry just to smell.
Poor Father sharpens up his knife,
And carves with all his might and main;
But long before he’s had a bite
Our Willie’s plate comes back again.
We eat our vegetables and meat,
For Mother, who is always right,
Says those who wish to have dessert,
Must show they have an appetite.
And when a Sunday comes around,
So very, very good we seem,
You’d think ’most any one could tell
That for dessert we’d have ice-cream.

VALOR.
By Lucy Fitch Perkins.

There isn’t any giant
Within this forest grim,
And if there were, I wouldn’t be
A bit afraid of him!

A DOMESTIC TRAGEDY
By Lucy Fitch Perkins.

My doll, my doll, my Annabel,
She’s really feeling far from well! Her arms were
Her wig is gone, her eyes are out, stolen by the pup,
Her legs are left somewhere about, The hens ate all her
sawdust up,
So all that’s really
left of her
Is just her clothes
and character.

THE CAPITALIST.
I always buy at the lollipop-shop,
On the very first day of spring,
A bag of marbles, a spinning-top,
And a pocketful of string.

IN MERRY ENGLAND.
By Lucy Fitch Perkins.

In merry, merry England,
In the merry month of May,
Miss Mary Ella Montague It looks like rain to-day,
Went out in best array. my dear;
Her wise mama called out to her, You’d best take your
“My darling Mary Ella, umbrella!”
That silly girl she paid no
heed
To her dear mother’s
call.
She walked at least six
THE GOOSE GIRL. miles that day,
By Lucy Fitch Perkins.
And it never rained at
all!

Oh, I’m a goose, and you’re a goose, and we’re all geese
together.
We wander over hill and dale, all in the sweet June weather,
While wise folk stay indoors and pore
O’er dusty books for learning lore.
How glad I am—how glad you are—that we’re birds of a
feather:
That you’re a goose, and I’m a goose, and we’re all geese
together!

THE PHILOSOPHER
By Lucy Fitch Perkins.

Let me make you acquainted with Mrs. O’Toole,
Though she’s had little learning, she’s nobody’s fool,
She loves her fine geese, but when they are dead
She’ll comfort herself with a new feather bed.

EVERY-DAY
VERSES
BY ALDEN ARTHUR

KNIPE
PICTURES BY EMILIE
BENSON KNIPE

THIRSTY FLOWERS
I have a little wat’ring-
pot,
It holds two quarts I
think,
And when the days are
very hot
I give the plants a
drink.
They lift their heads as flowers
should,
And look so green and gay;
I’m sure that if they only
could,
“We thank you, Sir,” they’d
say.

SHARING WITH
OTHERS
Sometimes Mother gives to me
Such a lot of money—See!
But it’s very hard to buy
All the things you’d like to try,
And you always share your
penny
With a child who hasn’t any.

POCKETS
Pockets are fine
For marbles and twine,
For knives and rubber bands;
So, stuff them tight
From morning till night
With anything else but hands!

WAITING FOR DINNER
When one is very hungry,
It’s hard to wait, I know,
For minutes seem like hours
And the clock is always slow.
There isn’t time to play a game,
You just sit down and wait,
While Mother says, “Be patient,
Our cook is never late.”
It’s best when one is hungry,
To think of other things,
For then, before you know it,
The bell for dinner rings.

THE CRITIC

If only more people would write fewer books
How well pleased I would be!
If all the authors would change into cooks
’T would suit me perfectly.

DIPLOMACY
By Lucy Fitch Perkins

The Widow Hill has a fine plum-tree!
The Widow Hill is fond o’ me.
I’ll call on her to-day!
The plum-tree grows by her front door.
I’ve been meaning to call for a week or more
To pass the time o’ day!

IF I WERE QUEEN.
By Lucy Fitch Perkins

If I were Queen of Anywhere,
I’d have a golden crown,
And sit upon a velvet chair,
And wear a satin gown.
A Knight of noble pedigree
Should wait beside my seat,
To serve me upon bended knee
With things I like to eat.
I’d have bonbons and cherry pie,
Ice-cream and birthday cake,
And a page should always stay near by
To have my stomach-ache!

THOUGHTS IN CHURCH
By Lucy Fitch Perkins

Oh, to be a sailor
And sail to foreign lands—
To Greenland’s icy mountains
And India’s coral strands!
To sail upon the Ganges
And see the crocodile,
Where every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile.
I’d love to see the heathen
Bow down to wood and stone,
But his wicked graven image
I’d knock from off its throne!
The heathen-in-his-blindness
Should see a thing or two!
He’d know before I left him
What a Yankee boy can do!

THE DAYS OF THE WEEK

THIS IS THE WAY
This is the way we wash our clothes,
Wash our clothes,
Wash our clothes;
This is the way we wash our clothes,
So early Monday morning.
This is the way we iron our clothes,
Iron our clothes,
Iron our clothes;
This is the way we iron our clothes,
So early Tuesday morning.
This is the way we mend our shoes,
Mend our shoes,
Mend our shoes;
This is the way we mend our shoes,
So early Wednesday morning.
This is the way we visit our friends,
Visit our friends,
Visit our friends;
This is the way we visit our friends,
So early Thursday morning.
This is the way we sweep the house,
Sweep the house,
Sweep the house;
This is the way we sweep the house,
So early Friday morning.
This is the way we bake our cake,
Bake our cake,
Bake our cake;
This is the way we bake our cake,
So early Saturday morning.
This is the way we go to church,
Go to church,
Go to church;

This is the way we go to church,
So early Sunday morning.

DAYS OF BIRTH
Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is brave and glad,
Thursday’s child is never bad,
Friday’s child is loving and kind,
Saturday’s child is clear in mind,
The child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is fair and wise and good and gay.

THE WASHING
They that wash on Monday
Have all the week to dry;
They that wash on Tuesday
Are not so much awry;
They that wash on Wednesday
Are not so much to blame;
They that wash on Thursday
Wash for very shame;
They that wash on Friday
Wash because of need,
And they that wash on Saturday,
Oh, they are lazy indeed!

SOLOMON GRUNDY
Solomon Grundy,
Born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday:
This is the end
Of Solomon Grundy—
Born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married, etc.